#imagine their dynamic with bella

[seattlesellie]

the fact that they already cast abby … the fact that i’m praying to god 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 that it’s liv hewson or shannon berry 💗💗💗🩷🩷 please !!!!!!!!! please !!!!!!!

[sukibenders]

Me when I see people compare the Cullens calling/referring to Jacob and the rest of the wolf pack as "dogs", "mutts" or "mongrels" to being the same as them being called "bloodsuckers" "leeches" or even, in Rosalie's case "blonde.":

[freeabortionslol]

Injury Report (quinn hughes x actress!reader)

summary: fluff!! childhood bsfs to lovers, mutual pining, you go to a Canucks game during one of your free days to see your best friend, quinn hughes play. unfortunately the game results in a knee sprain. you and quinn go back to your house where you take care of him, and he realizes he can't spend another day without you.

warnings!! baby fever, domesticity, injury (knee sprain), makeout, kinda suggestive

a/n why is the reader always an actress? why are they always best friends to lovers? why is the team always playing the ducks? idk man leave me alone

wc: 4.4k

It was supposed to be a good night, at least a normal one. That’s what you thought as you were sitting up in the box seats with your hair curled as you smiled wide in Quinn’s jersey. Ellen and Jim were tucked away in New Jersey to see Jack and Luke, so you took it upon yourself to go see Quinn play. It was an away game in Anaheim, and you just happen to have a small home in Los Angeles, so you thought it would be the perfect time to go to a game. You and Quinn had planned this about a month out, realizing the game fell during a week where you had absolutely nothing going on. It was rare to have these moments considering you’re constantly working on new projects, but you were more than happy to spend that time with Quinn. You were cozied up in between Bella Boeser and Natalie Miller, watching as Natalie tried to tame her small children. One of her daughters, Scarlett, sat in front of you staring as you spoke with Bella about the latest fashion trends.

“Do you really have super powers?” Scarlett cut off your conversation, referring to your role in the marvel films.

“Man, I wish! I just play pretend for the movies.” You shifted your focus to the small blonde girl who was sitting in front of you. In her eyes you could see the infatuation she had for you. You let your attention slip away from the game as this little girl asked you question after question. No doubt you had serious baby fever. It was hard not to when Natalie and J.T somehow made the most well behaved children on the planet.

“Who's your favorite player on the team?”

“Ooh probably Quinn Hughes because he’s one of my best friends, but your dad is pretty cool too.”

“Um, did you know that um Mr. Quinn has um two other brothers that play hockey too?” her T’s coming out as D’s.

“Yes I did! I’m also very good friends with Jack and Luke.”

“Do you like the brothers teams better or daddy’s team with um Mr. Quinn?”

“That's tough. I can’t pick or they’ll all get mad at me, but tonight I'm a Canucks fan.”

You didn’t know at the time, but while you were in deep conversation with Scarlett, the stadium's camera panned to you. This was always bound to happen whenever you went to one of the boy’s games, considering you were an A list actress with an impressive catalog. Quinn, who had just gotten off the ice, shifted his attention to the screen above him and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you being so gentle with the little girl. He was so hopelessly in love with you and everyone knew it, except for you. Watching you being so good to the small child made his mind create the scenario of you being the mother of his own children. It’s all he’s ever wanted, but the dynamic between the two of you always made him hesitant. Worried that it might create tension between himself and his brothers. Unfortunately for him, the tv camera quickly shifted to the smile he wore while watching you. The media was constantly trying to conjure up stories about the two of you. That you were secretly dating, hookup buddies, engaged, pregnant, but the sad truth is that the two of you had always just been friends. You and Quinn weren’t the type of people to talk about each other to the media, so you always left it up to the people to keep guessing. All they knew was that the two of you grew up together, and the rest was up to their imagination. 

“Hey! That’s my kid!” J.T yelled, pulling Quinn from his trance. “And my wife!” He waved up at the screen. “Wait, why are they showing my family?” Quinn’s attention was still on the screen, focused on the woman who was now cut slightly out of frame as Scarlett climbed into Natalie’s lap.

“Look who’s next to em.” Quinn pointed to the screen causing the realization to hit J.T.

“Oh! It’s little miss Movie Star.” He nudged Quinn’s shoulder “Huggy bear’s bunny.”

“She’s not my bunny. She’s just a good friend.” Just. The word stung as it came out of his mouth. He didn’t want to be just a good friend, he wanted to be your person.

The game continued as normal now five minutes into the second period. You sipped on a terrible IPA that Bella grabbed for you, as you attempted to fix the beanie on top of your curled hair. You weren’t too nervous about tonight considering the Canucks were on a winning streak and were already leading 3-0 with Quinn scoring one goal. The feel of the night made you wish you could do this all the time. You wished to be wearing Quinn’s jersey in a way that said “He is mine. I love him and I claim myself as his.” instead of in a “I’m a famous actress who just wanted to go to a hockey game and I didn’t have anything to wear so I wore your jersey because we're friends.” way. You watched as the small children focused on the ice from the barrier in awe, casually throwing out a “Mommy, look at how fast daddy skated!” You wanted little hockey stars and movie stars to watch Quinn skate on the ice every night. You let your mind drag you to a world where you became a Canucks WAG, had your own last name on the back of your jersey, sitting back as your children cheered on their dad from the box. They would probably have the signature Hughes chestnut colored hair and striking smile. You wondered if they would want to be a hockey player like their dad, or an actress like their mom. You were kidding yourself knowing damn well that Quinn would have those kids on the ice before they could even walk. You let yourself get wrapped in the imagery of white picket fences and family dinners with Quinn, you almost missed the moment that shifted your entire night. 

You heard a loud bang and several “Oooh”s from the box, and looked down to see Quinn kneeling on the ice. He was in the neutral zone with the puck when one of the Ducks slammed their body directly into him causing him to fly over another player's back, landing legs first onto the ice. You immediately sprung from your seat, hand covering your mouth, as you made your way toward the barrier. You placed your free hand on the rail, leaning as far out as possible. Your heart began to race and your eyes filled with tears of shock as you watched the scene before you. As he tried to get up, Quinn’s face shifted from disgruntled to agonized in an instant. You felt a lump in your throat watching as he couldn’t manage to lift himself from the ground. You’d never seen him so hurt. His face tightened as he kept trying to pull himself up. You wished you were closer so you could scream at him to stop, but he was never one to throw in the towel. He was clearly trying to convince himself that he could get up and keep playing, but his body was failing. A mix of terror and sadness creeped through your entire body as the trainers pulled him from the ice. You stayed silent watching him disappear to the locker room, each breath shakier than the last. The media was going to have a field day with the shot of tears in your eyes watching him leave, but you weren’t thinking about that at this moment. Natalie walked over to you, placing a hand on your back to try and reassure you that he would be okay, as she guided you back to your seat. You couldn’t speak and frankly you didn’t want to. You didn’t even know what to say because everything you wanted to pour out was suggestive to the fact that you were really in love with him. 

The game was now 7 minutes into the third period, and Quinn has yet to emerge from the locker room. At this point, you assumed he wasn’t coming out at all. You sat back in your seat still staying silent as you anxiously watched the game in front of you. Your mind kept drifting to the sight of Quinn broken down on the ice like that. He was in so much pain and your fears heightened as you glanced back to the memory of him not being able to lift himself from the ground. You couldn’t just sit there waiting for an answer any longer, so you decided to pull out your phone in the hopes that maybe Quinn had his in hand. Your fingers shaking as you carefully typed out a message.

You: hey i dont know if you have your phone or not but im just really worried. are you okay? please please please tell me it’s not something serious?

quinny <3: Miss me on the ice? Bet the game is boring without me.

You: OMG YOURE ALIVE whats wrong? is it bad??

quinny <3: Luckily, I didn’t break anything. I sprained my knee. I'll be out for 2-4 weeks. The pain isn’t too terrible at the moment thanks to the meds they gave me.

You: meds?

quinny <3: Advil. Meet me outside the locker room after the game. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Canucks won 5-2 without Quinn on the ice. Now, you stood outside the locker room with Bella and Natalie, waiting anxiously for him to walk out. Brock came out first, giving you reassurances that Quinn would be alright before walking out with Bella, hand in hand. J.T arrived next, swooping his two daughters off the ground after greeting his wife with a victory kiss. He teased you about the way Quinn smiled at you when you were on the screen. Natalie sent him a slap to his chest and the family made their way out. It was only you left standing. All the other players had exited along with their families. You tapped your foot on the carpet below you, pulling your phone out to the time every couple seconds. Finally, your gaze caught Quinn’s as he walked out of the doors with crutches at his side and a brace on his knee. His eyes soften at the sight of you.

“Hey, Quinny.” Your tender voice trembling out at the sight of his injured knee.

“Hey Y/n/n” He says before placing his crutches against the wall to bring you into a tight embrace. You stuffed your face into the crook of his neck, getting a whiff of his designer cologne. His grip on your waist tightened at the comfortability of your touch. You moved your head to rest on the soft fabric of his hoodie as you gave him one final squeeze. As you pulled back, hands resting on his arms, you caught a slight smirk on his face.

“Nice jersey. That mine or yours?”

“Might’ve maybe stolen it last time I was at your place.” Your smile widened as he let out a soft chuckle.

“Was wondering where that went.” He grabbed the crutches from off the wall, leaving your touch. You stared at him and grew a frown at the thought of him being in pain. When he was settled you grabbed his hand, subtly rubbing against his fingers.

“I was so scared, Quinn.” You gave him an empathy filled half smile.

“Yeah, I know.” His eyebrows raised as he reached towards his back pocket to grab his phone. He quickly handed it to you so you could see the photo of you in the box with the caption “Y/n L/n in tears after Quinn Hughes’ injury” Your mouth gaped open as you underestimated how quick they would be “That’s the official NHL instagram account, by the way.” He laughed as you stared down at the phone. He quickly snatched the phone from your grip when he caught you looking through the comment section. “Nope. Not doing that.”

“Hey I was still looking.” You protested, crossing your arms.

“No, because when you read the comments you get all sad, and then you cry, and then I have to comfort you.”

“You don’t like comforting me?” You tilted your head to the side with a fake frown.

“That’s not what I meant. I would just much rather hang out with the happy version of you.” He gave you a soft smile as he squeezed your hand. “I don’t mean to be pushy, but I was promised a bed tonight.”

“Alright then” You laughed and turned your body towards the exit “Onward we go captain!” Quinn’s hand left yours as the two of you exited the arena

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arriving at your small, cozy home in LA you quickly raced to the door to hold it open for Quinn. Faint noises from the city rang through your ears as he slowly pulled himself towards the door in silence. You couldn’t help but frown at the state he was currently in. You shut the door behind him, taking in the scent of your fresh linen candle. You walked over to the back porch to crack it lightly, allowing the fresh California air to fill the small home. You turned around to find Quinn making his way to the kitchen.

“No no no.” You quickly walked to him and grabbed his shoulders to lead him to the couch. “You need to rest.”

“Y/n I’m fine, seriously.” He protested as you pushed him closer to the cushions. He took his spot sitting on the couch, placing the crutches on the ground as you stared at him on your feet.

“Let me take care of you, please.” His gaze shifted towards the back porch. “Do you want food?” Your hands on your hips as you gave him a stern look. He sighed as his eyes softened, looking back at you accepting defeat. 

“What do you have?” He shifted his position to where he was laying on his side to face you, kicking off his shoes.

“Frozen pizza?” You asked quietly, brushing his hair back with your fingers. He leaned into your touch, nudging his head closer to your hand.

“Sounds good to me.” He gave you a soft smile, watching as you removed your hand from his hair walking towards the kitchen. He picked the remote from off the coffee table, his gaze still centered on you, as you reached for the pizza in the fridge. He laughed quietly to himself watching you prepare him food in his jersey. He wanted this to be every night for him, coming home to see your face after a bad game. He admired the way your highlighter beamed off your cheekbones from the soft glow of the sink light. You began preheating the oven while he turned his focus to the tv in front of him. Quickly turning on The Office, knowing you’d seen it a million times, so you would be okay with having conversations with him during the show. You made your way back to the couch, stopping at your tracks in front of him, giving him a good stare while the TV played softly in the background.

“Can I help you?” He laughed watching you stand directly in front of him.

“Do you have a shirt I can wear?” You asked, squinting your eyes at him.

“This is your house. I know you have your own shirt.” He smiled looking up at you.

“Not any comfy ones! All my good clothes are in New York. You know I'm never here.” You huffed out crossing your arms. Quinn let his head hang in defeat, pointing at the bag towards the door. He moved his head to prop on the arm of the couch to watch you walk to his bag. He stared with a soft smile as you unzipped the bag, finding his white tee with a blue Canucks logo in the top corner. It was one of his favorites and he knew he wasn’t getting back. He admired your figure as you brought the shirt to your chest to see how it would fit you. What he didn’t expect you to do, was rip off your jersey right there at the entryway. The sight of you in only a bra and leggings made his heart drop and his face pink. He quickly turned his attention back to the TV, propping his head up with his hand. He glanced at you in his peripheral vision, trying his hardest not to look. Were you doing this on purpose? He didn’t know, but if you were, it was killing him. He glanced as you pulled the shirt over your head, pulling your leggings off to leave yourself in only your underwear. You decided that since the shirt cut just above your knees, there was no need to put in a pair of shorts. You left your clothes on the floor and made your way back to the couch where Quinn was sitting. His face flushed as he stared at the screen in front of him. You took your spot on the other end of the couch, lying down and letting your legs tangle in his. Your eyes were locked on the TV, but Quinn was only watching you. Admiring the way you looked, the way his heart dropped every time you shuffled your legs, and thinking back on the sight of you half naked in front of him. The two of you stayed in this spot for a while, with you getting up to put the pizza in the oven, and then again to get it out. As you walked back to him with two plates in hand, his mind was only on the fact that you had no pants on under his T-shirt so casually in front of him. 

“Thanks, Movie Star.” He grinned wide as you handed him the plate. The two of you sat up, close to each other but not touching, as you ate. “Seriously, I mean. For taking care of me.” He nudged your shoulder, as you leaned into his touch letting your head fall to his bicep.

“Anything for you, Quinny.” He laughed at your comment as you took another bite of your pizza. The two of you sat in silence, finishing every last bite of your pizza. Well, you ate it up to the crust and Quinn stole the leftovers from off your plate. When you both finished, you brought both plates to the kitchen to set them down in the sink. Quinn shifted his position back to lying down as you returned empty handed. So very naturally, you made your way back to the living room, lying down in between him and the back of the couch. You rested your head on his chest and wrapped your arms around his torso. He maneuvered himself so he was able to place his arm around your back. You and Quinn had been in this position before, it was normal for you to cuddle up with each other when you watched TV. Tonight however, things felt different. Like there was a new found spark between the two of you. Quinn felt his nerves tense up in a way they had never before as you played with the bottom of his hoodie, your fingers slightly brushing against his bare skin. You could feel his heart beating against your ear which was always bound to make your body relax against him. You shifted the attention of your fingers from his hoodie down to his knee. Your touch grazed over the brace, a feeling of pity washed over you.

“Does it hurt?” You asked quietly, your eyes never leaving his knee.

“No. It’s not too bad. I’ve dealt with worse.” He let out a soft chuckle. “What’s gonna get me is the fact that I can’t play, but i’d like to distract myself from that right now.” He took your hand in his, moving from the brace back up to his side. Your thumb rubbed the soft fabric of his hoodie back and forth as you took in the scent of his laundry detergent. His hand lightly tracing up and down your back while the two of you watched the TV. You melted into his touch, having to fight the urge to keep your eyes open as he tickled your back in such a comfortable way. You moved yourself slightly, to where you were now lying on his shoulder. Your head was tucked into the crook of his neck, his beard subtly scratching your forehead as he tightened his hold on you, bringing you closer to his body. 

“I love you, Quinn.” you murmured softly.

“I love you too.” He nuzzled his head in closer to yours. It made you sad, but it shouldn’t. He loves you, but he doesn’t love you in the way that you want him to. You carefully played with the strings of his hoodie as he absentmindedly leaned into your touch further. The two of you let the show play, not saying a word to each other. Just appreciating the peaceful moment. It caused Quinn to realize that he couldn’t play pretend anymore. He couldn’t keep acting like there was nothing between the two of you, because there most definitely was. He knew he wanted to marry you, have children with you, see your beautiful face at every Canucks game, and have every night be exactly like this. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, and he wanted the rest of his life to start now.

“Are you asleep?” He asked quietly, part of him hoping you were.

“Almost.” You nuzzled deeper into his neck

“Well, wake up. I got some things I want to tell you.” His voice was shaky, knowing that he was about to indulge in his childhood fantasies, or ruin a 15 year long friendship. You shifted yourself up looking down at him. Your hands on either side of his body.

“What’s on your mind Quinnifer?” You asked innocently, blissfully unaware of what was about to come. Quinn let out a long sigh, throwing his head back before looking back at you. Seeing you in this light, in his t-shirt, you looked more beautiful than any other woman he’s ever seen. He thought for a moment about saying nevermind, but he was already locked in to his plan at this point.

“Do you remember that time we both went to that gala in New York two years ago?”

“Mhm.” You nodded your head, still not understanding the situation.

“We went separately. Each of us dateless.” you laughed, making his face blush at the sound. “I walked into the room which was so crowded. Mostly with women, and Brock was teasing me asking which one I was gonna bring home that night.” He took your hand in his as you crinkled your nose. “But my eyes were only searching for you in the sea full of people, and when I finally found you standing by the bar in your silky navy blue dress, I thought none of these women compare.” Your face quickly turned red, your heart beating fast as you realized what he was getting at. “You were the most beautiful woman in the entire room. I stared at you for as long as I could before you caught me and ran over. You basically leapt into my arms and said…”

“Are you here with a date? Cool. Me neither. You’re my date now.” You finished his sentence, letting out a small nervous laugh.

“Let me finish!” He scolded with a smile. “When you placed your hand in the crook of my arm, that was the moment I knew I was in love with you.” Your face grew a shocked expression. Butterflies swarmed throughout your stomach, not expecting him to be this direct. You also had no idea that he felt this way, and it was the most blissful surprise you’ve ever received.

“Quinn, I-” you started but he quickly cut you off.

“Y/n, I wanna be your person.” A small smile grew across your face. “I don’t want to be ‘best friend Quinn’ anymore. I wanna be ‘boyfriend Quinn’. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I'm sorry if this is weird o-or if it makes you uncomfortable, but it’s the truth.” You cupped his face, hinting at his nervousness. “I just love you so much, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t. It actually pains me to walk around telling people that I'm just your friend.” You bit your lip, smile growing wider. “Oh and by the way, you're an asshole for taking your shirt off in front of me like that.” Your mouth gaped open and you started laughing. “Do you know how hard it was not to look?” His voice grew from anxious to relieved at your reaction to his speech. You moved in closer, now with each of your legs on either side of his body.

“Does it make me evil if I told you I did it on purpose?” You scrunch your nose. 

“Yes!” He laughed making you laugh along with him. You nervously began playing with the strings of his hoodie, his hands moving to your waist.

“Quinn, I’ve waited for you to say those words since the day you taught me how to drive the boat in eighth grade.” His smile grew wide in relief pulling you in closer. Your faces now only inches apart. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Please.” He said eagerly as you closed the space between the two of you. Melting into his lips immediately, the kiss was one that had clearly been held back for far too long. His hands squeezed your waist while yours ran up through his soft hair. You parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth. You let out a soft moan at the feel of his hands moving down to your ass, a touch that you’ve wanted for so long, but could never express. You both pulled back, resting your foreheads against each other. The sound of the TV drowned out by the heavy breathing from the two of you. Quinn managed to steal one last peck from you, moving one of his hands up to cup your face.

“I love you so much, Quinn.”

“I love you, Y/n.”

[obsidian-pages777]

Bella in your Astrology Chart: Your Beauty and Grace.

The asteroid Bella (number 695) in astrology is associated with beauty, grace, and attraction. Its placement in the houses and signs of a natal chart can reveal how these qualities manifest in a your life and how you appreciate and express beauty.

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Bella in the Signs

Aries:

Bella in Aries suggests a dynamic and bold approach to beauty. There is a preference for vibrant, energetic, and pioneering styles. Confidence and a direct manner in expressing attractiveness are highlighted.

Taurus:

In Taurus, Bella's energy is sensual and grounded. There is a strong appreciation for natural beauty, comfort, and luxurious aesthetics. This placement often indicates a classic and earthy style.

Gemini:

Bella in Gemini emphasizes versatility and variety in beauty. There is a fascination with different forms of expression, often changing styles frequently. Communication and intellectual charm are attractive qualities.

Cancer:

With Bella in Cancer, there is a nurturing and sentimental approach to beauty. Comfort and emotional connection to aesthetics are important. Traditional and homely styles are often preferred.

Leo:

Bella in Leo brings a dramatic and glamorous energy. There is a love for attention-grabbing styles and a flair for the dramatic. Confidence and creativity in self-expression are emphasized.

Virgo:

In Virgo, Bella's energy is modest and refined. There is an appreciation for subtle, clean, and well-organized aesthetics. Practicality and attention to detail in beauty routines are highlighted.

Libra:

Bella in Libra emphasizes harmony, balance, and elegance. There is a strong attraction to aesthetically pleasing environments and relationships. Sophistication and a diplomatic approach to beauty are key themes.

Scorpio:

With Bella in Scorpio, there is an intense and mysterious energy. There is a preference for deep, transformative, and sometimes edgy styles. Passion and magnetism are prominent qualities.

Sagittarius:

Bella in Sagittarius brings an adventurous and free-spirited approach to beauty. There is an appreciation for diverse and culturally rich aesthetics. Optimism and a love for exploration are attractive qualities.

Capricorn:

In Capricorn, Bella's energy is disciplined and classic. There is a preference for timeless, structured, and professional styles. Practicality and a sense of responsibility in beauty choices are emphasized.

Aquarius:

Bella in Aquarius emphasizes innovation and individuality. There is an attraction to unconventional and avant-garde aesthetics. Originality and a forward-thinking approach to beauty are key themes.

Pisces:

With Bella in Pisces, there is a mystical and dreamy energy. There is a preference for ethereal, romantic, and imaginative styles. Sensitivity and a connection to the spiritual in aesthetics are highlighted.

Bella in the Houses

1st House:

Bella in the 1st house suggests that beauty and grace are integral to your identity. You may be seen as attractive and charming, and these qualities are prominent in your self-expression.

2nd House:

In the 2nd house, Bella's energy focuses on values, resources, and personal security. There may be a talent for making a living through beauty-related fields, and a strong value placed on aesthetics.

3rd House:

Bella in the 3rd house emphasizes communication, learning, and local community. You may have a gift for sharing beauty knowledge or creative ideas through writing, teaching, or speaking.

4th House:

With Bella in the 4th house, there is a focus on home, family, and emotional foundations. Beauty and aesthetics may be central to your family life, and you may create a nurturing and artistic home environment.

5th House:

Bella in the 5th house highlights creativity, self-expression, and children. There is a strong emphasis on using artistic talents or beauty in a joyful and playful manner. You may also be involved in creative projects with children.

6th House:

In the 6th house, Bella's energy is directed towards daily routines, work, and health. There may be a focus on integrating beauty practices into your everyday life or using your creative talents in a work setting.

7th House:

Bella in the 7th house emphasizes partnerships and relationships. You may seek or attract partners who are involved in beauty or creative fields. Aesthetics and charm play a significant role in your relationships.

8th House:

With Bella in the 8th house, there is a focus on transformation, shared resources, and deep psychological processes. This placement can indicate a talent for creating beauty out of intense experiences or using aesthetics as a means of transformation.

9th House:

Bella in the 9th house emphasizes philosophy, higher learning, and travel. There may be a focus on exploring beauty practices from different cultures or using creative talents to express philosophical ideas.

10th House:

In the 10th house, Bella's energy is directed towards career and public life. There may be a strong desire to achieve recognition in beauty or creative fields. Ambition and a sense of responsibility are prominent.

11th House:

Bella in the 11th house highlights friendships, groups, and aspirations. You may be involved in beauty or creative communities, and these themes are central to your long-term goals and aspirations.

12th House:

With Bella in the 12th house, there is a focus on spirituality, subconscious, and hidden aspects of life. This placement can indicate a talent for finding beauty in the unseen or using aesthetics as a means of connecting with the divine or the subconscious mind.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Don't Mess With The Doctor's Wife 💘 | Carlisle Cullen Snippet

Twilight Masterlist Part 1

Characters & Pairings: Carlisle Cullen x female!vampire!reader (romantic), Bella Swan x Edward Cullen, Edward Cullen x reader (platonic)

Content warnings: fluff, light angst, suggestive themes right at the end | female reader (she/her) | wc: 1.4k

Premise: Just some good ole fluff of a married vampire couple of a few dumbass teen immortals.

Note: So many people loved 'The Doctor's Wife' and asked if I could continue it! not sure if I'll make it long imagines but I definitely plan on making small snippets like this that is good ole fluff of the golden couple of the Cullens dealing with their chaotic teenage immortal children. Enjoy and thank you so much for the positive reception on my work!

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

“Honey….,” Carlisle leaned against the door of their bedroom, treading carefully on water he knew better than to cross. But their whole family dynamic was at stake and as the patriarch--and coven leader--he needed to fix it. 

Without any bloodshed.

Her glare, however, spoke against his hopes for peace. “Don’t honey me, Carlisle Cullen.” Clothes flung everywhere, the room in utter disarray contrary to its usually unkempt nature. “He is being ridiculous and you know it.” Tossing a pair of Manolo Blahnik pumps into the suitcase she gave him another look, “And yes, I know he can hear me.” Carlisle had opened his mouth, but closed it, his wife not having to the mind reader in the family to know what he was about to say. 

“You have every right to be upset. I’m not happy about the situation either, but we have to do what’s best for our family.”

Carlisle came over to where she was, beginning to pack his clothes into his own suitcase. Brushing away the stray hairs that fell from her hair scarf, Y/n’s eyes turned serious, “What happened was unfortunate--and it is a shame Bella got hurt. He’s been beating himself over it the entire weekend and I understand that, Carlisle. But what I don’t appreciate is him uprooting us and using you as the excuse.”

Following Bella’s birthday party gone wrong, Edward didn’t waste a second in making the executive decision to the family that they had to leave Forks. Saying they were a danger to Bella and to ensure her safety and no more harm comes to her as a result of his doing, they needed to remove themselves from the picture. And Edward’s genius move was to tell Bella it was because the staff at the hospital were starting to notice Carlisle’s lack of aging. 

“His concern is valid. We’ve been here four years now. It was bound to happen.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve heard people talk at the hospital?” She challenged.

“I don’t need to hear them say it aloud, Y/n,” he tells her with a knowing look. “Their stares are enough confirmation. I had one nurse ask me last week if I had a skincare routine.” His attempt at a joke doesn't work. She doesn’t so much as crack a smile, but he tries again. “Soon they’ll be asking what botox doctor I go to.”

Y/n knew Carlisle had a point. It always happened wherever they moved. They settled down, spent maybe five or six years until all the kids graduated from high school for the hundredth time, then did it all over again. If it wasn’t nosy hospital workers, it was teachers. If it wasn’t the bakery owner she frequented asking how she managed to look 27 after seven years, then it was the engineer she was collaborating with on a project. 

“It’s not fair,” she goes on, carefully folding her dress shirts, skirts, and pants. Not looking forward to having to pack up her art studio. All the supplies, artwork, and projects she was working on. “And I feel so awful for her,” her frown made his own appear, “You see the way she looks at him. It’s utter devotion, as though he was a sentient being sent from the heavens. And Edward,” her voice drops to a whisper, “he worships the ground she walks on. And this decision not only punishes her, it punishes him.”

The pair fall into a silence when the front door opens and slams shut. Edward’s lingering scent disapparating, causing Y/n to groan and place her head in her hands. The anger and not caring if her adoptive son heard her rant suddenly vanished. Replaced with shame. 

Carlisle sighs, setting down the pile of towels he folded to walk over to her. Gently grabbing her shoulders, he brings Y/n into a comforting embrace, letting his hands fall to her waist, allowing her to sink into his arms with a content hum. 

“Listen to me,” she closes her eyes, not wanting to meet his gaze where she’ll find judgement. “I sound ridiculous--and I’m being unfair to him and his feelings on the matter.”

“You care for him dearly,” Carlisle strokes her hair, “he understands that. And I think deep down he knows you’re right, but won’t admit to it because he believes he’s doing the right thing for Bella.” Carlisle leans back to look into her eyes, “Remember, he was turned at a young age--and has never experienced this type of love before. He’s learning all this for the first time.”

“I know,” she mumbles, deflated but understanding. They stayed in their embrace for a few minutes before separating to continue packing up. Edward returned later that night with brighter eyes, indicating he had fed to which resolved some of the tension between the two when they finally sat down to have the conversion they’d been dreading. Him apologizing for uprooting the family suddenly, and for the harm he was to cause Bella. And Y/n apologizing for the words she spoke before he left. They hugged it out, neither able to stay mad at the other, and Edward helped her pack the art room throughout the remainder of the night. 

The time away from Forks was odd but somewhat comforting. Carlisle and Y/n decided to spend their time on the island they owned just off the coast of Brazil. Rosalie and Emmett traveled to New York, Alice and Jasper in Mississippi and Edward in Rio de Janeiro. They spoke on the phone frequently, sent letters and postcards, or emailed. Edward would spend a night or two on the island to hunt, Y/n painted canvas after canvas, and Carlisle worked on a medical textbook he was in the process of writing.

“You hear that?” She asked one night when they were cuddling on the couch. A random movie playing on the TV.

“What?”

“It’s quiet,” she whispered, a grin spreading on her lips. “No kids. No animals. No workers. Absolute silence.” Carlisle mirrored her smile. 

“You’re right. We haven’t had complete silence in ages.”

“More like eighty years--give or take,” she snorted. 

When the shit hit the fan in Italy, Y/n nearly killed Edward herself. Not just for the danger he put himself in but for the whole family. Alice and Rosalie also met her wrath--Rosalie for not explaining clearly to Edward the vision, and Alice for dragging Bella to Italy. 

Yeah, none of them wanted the smoke. 

The sight of the three siblings sitting on the couch with their heads down and twiddling their thumbs while Y/n paced in front of them while shouting a motherly tangent had Emmett straining to hold back his laughter. Carlisle didn’t dare intervene. 

Back in Forks the family settled back into their routines. Carlisle in the hospital and Y/n working on projects. The kids in school and planning for the summer. 

Then shit hit the fan again.

This time in the form of a newborn vampire army created by the red-headed lover of the tracker they disposed of the year prior. Victoria. And she was out for revenge against Edward and Bella. 

Y/n was not the fighting type, but that didn’t mean she did not know how to throw down. She could get her hands dirty if she desired. Emmett and Jasper taught her the ropes, Edward taught her how to anticipate opponents moves. 

“C’mon old man!” she dodged Carlisle’s attack, giggling as she pivoted to kick lightly at his chest. “Don’t be getting sleepy on me now. That’s not like you.” Carlisle smirked, catching her off guard by grabbing her waist and flipping her onto the ground.

“I’d watch who you call old, sweetheart,” he mocked right as Jasper yelled, “Never turn your back on your enemy!” 

Let’s just say…they did more than spar that night once the sun went down. 

[metalomagnetic]

I re-read "it runs in the blood" and am now absolutely obsessed with the Bella/Rodolphus and Sirius dynamic. I definitely need Rodolphus' perspective on Sirius and Bella's relationship. How he would come to Lestrange Manor as a little boy just for Bella. Somehow, it feels like Rodolphus was a very distant older brother/role model (anti-role model) for mini-Sirius. If the age difference between Sirius and Bella/Rodolphus was bigger, they would really be like a very dysfunctional family (they do, but there is still a sibling relationship system there)

Not exactly what you asked for, but here is a little funny something:

----

As soon as he enters the manor, he hears loud, shrill laughter over the blaring music.

Rodolphus already has a headache, he doesn’t need this on top of it.

He makes his way towards one of the living rooms, the noise getting louder with each step, irritating him.

“Control your temper,” Orion just told him after the Wizengamot session that took forever, testing Rodolphus’ patience. “You are no longer a child.”

His brother is a child, however, a fifteen-year-old fool, and when Rodolphus peeks through the partially open door, he sees Walden’s sister perched on Rabastan’s knee, bottles of alcohol all around them.

Other little fools are drinking and dancing all around, and-

Fuck it, Rodolphus thinks, deciding against going inside and scolding them.

Fuck it. He’s tired of attempting to guard Evelyn’s virtue, or the Macnair’s good name, when clearly no one in that family bothers to do the same.

What a disgrace. The only girl in a gathering of boys, sitting there on his brother’s lap.

Bella used to be the only girl in-

Yes, but Bellatrix never behaved like this. Oh, she’d sit in a room full of men, but she commanded respect, with her back straight, her eyes narrowed, and she was interested in talking politics, not climbing into boys’ laps.

With a shrug, he decides not to waste his breath anymore, and he turns around and heads upstairs.

It’s already close to midnight, the session took hours, boring old farts loving to hear themselves talk, arguing over nothing. Even Lucius looked half asleep at Abraxas’ side by the end of it.

He heads to Bella’s room, instead of his. He rarely uses his own room, Rodolphus hasn’t stepped inside it for at least a few months, since the wedding.

Blissfully silent few months, with his brother at Hogwarts. Rabastan has only returned home for three days and already Rodolphus wants to strangle him.

He discards his annoyances, replaced with the anticipation of sneaking into Bella’s bed and holding her close.

Perhaps if she hasn’t fallen asleep, they could engage in more pleasurable activities.

Alas, when he carefully opens the door, and the room is shrouded in darkness, he doesn’t feel disappointed.

Just holding her close as he drifts asleep is a pleasure he still can’t believe he has the right to.

He walks to her dresser, where half of his clothes are, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. He discards his clothes, decides against searching for a sleeping shirt, and heads to the bed.

Bella’s sleeping form, her back turned to him, her hair all over the pillow, already makes him smile.

Until he gets close enough to see she’s not alone in bed.

On her other side, snuggled into her-

“Fucking Blacks!”

Bella blinks awake, shifts her head, though her arms remain around her cousin.

This was sweet, two years ago, when Rodolphus would risk his head, and sneak into her room in her father’s manor, only to find her there with Sirius in her bed. It was sweet. He was a child, and it filled Rodolphus with longing, imagining what a good mother Bellatrix will one day make to their own child.

But Sirius is no longer a child.

He’s grown a lot since the wedding, it seems. When he pulls the sheets of them, Sirius looks closer to a man than a child, long limbs intertwined with Bella’s, twice as thick at her, his jaw, nestled into her neck, is sharper now, had lost all pretence of a boyish form.

At least he’s dressed.

Bella smiles at him, and half of his anger melts. Well, all of his anger melts, but the annoyance doesn’t.

“He’s a grown man!” he snarls, and Bella shushes him, as if her cousin truly is a baby, not to be disturbed from his precious sleep.

“He’s thirteen!” she argues, in a whisper.

“He’s as tall as you are!”

“Shh!” Sirius stirs, but doesn’t wake, only tightens his hold on Bella.

My Bella.

This is worse than Evelyn in Rabastan’s lap! This is a married woman in bed with another man. Man-child, fine, but Sirius and Bella walk around calling each other soulmates.

That was sweet, too, years ago, when he only came up to her bellybutton.

“I haven’t seen him in months,” Bella whispers, with a pout. “I missed my sweet boy!”

“I didn��t!”

“Shh!”

“Stop shushing me!” he demands, but to his embarrassment, he does so in a whisper, too.

“Climb in,” she offers, carefully extracting an arm out of Sirius’ hold, patting the mattress behind her.

“I’m not-! Kick him out!”

“He’s drunk. Your brother let him drink half a bottle of fire whiskey!”

“So what?”

Rodolphus cannot believe he’s made to whisper in his own house, so as not to wake the boy in his wife’s bed.

“What if he throws up in his sleep?”

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Shh! Come on, climb in!”

“I’m not sharing your bed with him!”

She shrugs. “Then leave and let me sleep.”

Unbelievable.

Rodolphus stomps out- though he takes care to do it silently. Oh, how he’d love to slam the door behind him, but…he doesn’t.

He sulks, once inside his own room. His bed looks cold and uninviting.

Perhaps he should go downstairs and yell at his brother. It’s his fault Sirius is in Bella’s bed, after all, if he got the boy drunk.

What he should do, is hunt Orion down and drag him here, to get his son.

But Orion is also probably in a bed he shouldn’t be in, and he wouldn’t be best pleased with the interruption.

He lectured Rodolphus enough in the past few hours, no need to expose himself to that cold glare of his for more than it is needed.

Twenty minutes later, Rodolphus carefully climbs into Bella’s bed.

He’ll just have to pretend it’s like two years ago, and that Sirius is still small and cute, and not this horrible tempered teenager he’s turning into.

He was never cute, he remembers. Always a little shit. But it was easier to suffer him back then.

Bella giggles when Rodolphus settles at her back. “You’re such a baby,” she whispers. “Men never grow up, it seems.”

“Shh,” Rodolphus admonishes, mockingly, and she only giggles harder. “When will he be gone?”

“He leaves for Greece in two days.”

Thank the gods. Now Rodolphus has to find a way to get rid of his brother as well, send him to visit some of their relatives in France, maybe, and he can have his wife and his manor and his peace back.

His irritation is gone, however. If he doesn’t think too hard about it, it’s as if Sirius isn’t there at all.

He rests his head against Bella’s shoulder, and he falls asleep relatively fast.

In the morning, he wakes with Sirius grinning above him. “You snore,” he informs Rodolphus, and before Rodolphus can throw him out of the bed, Bella comes out of the bathroom and gives him a warning glare.

[pearl-tarotist]

ꕥღ What fanfic trope do your fs and you resemble?ღꕥ

As the first PAC of my collection "cliche moments with your fs", this tarot reading tries to tag the dynamic of your relationship with your fs in a fanfic trope.

P1-P2-P3:

PILE 1: "Sometimes I lay in bed at night just saying your name"

Insecure love interest x Successful lover

The dynamic between your fs and you feels protective and encouraging. But it seems that one of you, even if you are successful and productive, does not feel good enough to be in a relationship with the love interest. I see cute and beautiful interactions at the beginning of your relationship, where the insecure part blushes and hugs themselves in a protective way, while the other part is just happy to be able to interact with them, their eyes shining and body leaning towards the other in interest. The more secure person is truly successful with the magician's energy. This connection really makes sense if it is interpreted in an "office scenario" where the more extroverted part is doing a good job in a more visible department while the other is busy with the internal operations of the company. The extroverted part is always smiling for the other, but it seems that their romantic signals and flirting goes unnoticed by the insecure one, nevertheless, they just keep trying and scheming to interact with the "insecure" person in a way that seems unplanned, even when they are really planning it so the interactions seem natural and do not scare the other. Once the outgoing person understands that their romantic interest likes them but is keeping their distance to avoid damaging their reputation, they will increase their efforts to win them over. They will compliment and affectionate touch them for a time. Building up their love interest's self-esteem appears to be the initial step towards a stable relationship, so they will strive to accomplish this.

(5 of Gems - Ten of Shells - The Magician - Ace of Roses - Five of Shells)

Channeled messages:

Katniss Everden and Peeta Mellark: "You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know"

Edward x Bella in Twilight.

Bridget Jones!!

"Bridget: I read that you should never go out with someone if you can think of three reasons why you shouldn't. Mark: And can you think of three? Bridget: Yes. Mark: Which are? Bridget: First off, I embarrass you. I can't ski, I can't ride, I can't speak Latin, my legs only come up to here, and yes, I will always be just a little bit fat."

PILE 2: "pieces of me exist in every person i've ever loved"

"Work team trope"

The start of this relationship has a purpose. Maybe it's because of your job. It seems you both spend time together to achieve an objective. It may be due to work, a college project, a competition or debate... Both of you would be interested in achieving a common goal. It appears that for this aim, the both of you ought to work together and express your ideas, visions, and intentions for the project. This love is honest and gradual. It will occur without any of you noticing. For instance, one day you may go to work and notice that they appear more attractive than usual or that their smile is lovely. You will get used to each other's presence without even realizing it. And when that person is no longer around, you will notice their absence greatly! You will miss each other so much that it will drive you both crazy. You'll wonder why you feel this way. It's a strange but warm feeling in your chest. When you collaborate with them, you'll start to stutter, blush, and get nervous in their presence mid-collaboration! I can also imagine some of you working in a laboratory or hospital - somewhere bright and very clean. This project will be a triumph that warrants some revelry! You will realize that you are a great team and are likely to continue working together on other topics.

(King of Shells - Ace of Wings - 3 of Shells - 7 of Shells)

Channelled messages:

(500) Days of summer

The office (Pam and Jim)

The fault in our starts: “As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.”

PILE 3: "you are such a soft and messy thing"

"Love at first sight x long-distance relationship"

In a trip, in a foreign land, you meet someone so beautiful in your eyes that you are convencied that they are your soulmate. You start to develop these unlogical feelings of posesiveness every time you see them with another person and you try to keep the same behaviour even if your feelings are not. You wait for a sign as the days go by, while you need to return to your country. You are unsure whether you should express your feelings towards someone you have recently met. You have and want the "perfect life" and this just feels like an obstacle to achieve it. Regardless, on the day before departing, you express your emotions to the other individual and initiate a relationship with them, even if it requires sacrificing some aspects of your life. The other person shares your feelings, but they did not want to stop your development in other aspects of your life such as work or college, that's why they did not declare. You both form a relationship, sometime, long-distance or in-person, and take the time to get to know each other and the cultures you each belong to.

Channelled messages:

Romeo and Juliet

Mamma Mia

[imaslutforwritingshit]

Edward Cullen Imagine (F!Reader)

Y’all this took 2 hours 😨

WARNING- smut, biting, oral (m receiving)

PART ONE

Fem. Reader-

Name: Calypso Sawyer (Callie)

Origin- From New Mexico, came to Forks with her father. Had just been introduced as Edward’s girlfriend to the Cullen family<3 A human girl, similar dynamic with Edward, and personality as Bella (but not as y/n tropey as Bella acted💀)

EDWARD CAN READ CALLIE’S MIND*

He just fell in love with her cuz she’s hot af

Setting- The Cullen Mansion

“I think I have to go now.”

Edward furrowed his perfect eyebrows, a tug of smile reaching his lips. “That’s not really necessary, Calypso.”

God, the way my name sounded on his lips made me wild.

I forced myself to think straight. “But Alice and Jasper already left. Emmett says he’s about to, too.”

Edward chuckled, a sweet, soft sound. “Jasper’s only leaving because you smell so mouthwatering. He wouldn’t want you to leave on his behalf. Stay.” The last words felt urgent on his tongue, and a sudden jolt of electricity ran through my veins.

Staying, at Edward’s house.

Alone with him.

Maybe I should be scared that I’m going to be alone with a vampire. A cold blooded killer.

But I’m more terrified of what I’ll do around him. The way he makes my senses heighten, and the rest of the world disappear. How he makes my heart feel close to bursting with a brush of his fingers.

I’m scared of myself.

“I don’t know, Edward.” The lie felt far-away in my mouth.

Edward’s smile faded, and he repositioned his body on the large bookshelf. “Because of me?” The look in his eyes told me he had read the words in my mind, the fear I felt, even if it wasn’t directed to him.

“No!” I rushed the words out, and stood off the sofa to touch his face, leaning my body to his shoulders. “No, anything but you. I just don’t want to mess this up.”

Edward laughed, a heavenly vibration on my neck. The small gesture warmed my insides. “You can’t mess this up, Callie. Nothing you could do would pull me away from you.”

I looked up at him. The strong line of his jaw, those predatory, bewildering amber eyes. My gaze wandered to the soft curves of his lips, and I couldn’t help myself when I leaned in.

He gripped my lower back in response, pulling me closer as we kissed. He was delicate, careful with his movement as always, but the intoxicating tease of his tongue on mine was different. He explored my mouth with a new passion, trailing his fingers on my waist. I shivered at the cold, yet exhilarating touch. Edward immediately coiled back, his chest rising and falling quickly from the touch.

“Are you okay?” I knew he already understood I was okay, the light in his eyes proving he already read my mind.

I almost laughed. “Yes, God. I’m okay, Edward.” A playful smile reached my lips, and I grabbed the collars of his shirt, letting my warm fingertips slide over his neck.

The feeling of my skin caused Edward to tilt his head back roughly, the clench of his jaw stronger. His tussled hair spread on old books rearranged on his shelf, and he closed his eyes, like my fingers were blades.

The room was blanketed in a heavy softness, so comfortable I pushed even more, letting my fingers fall to the smooth lines of his collarbones.

“Fuck, Callie!” Edward pushed away from me, and rushed his body to the balcony with supernatural speed, grabbing the railings with brutal strength. I stared with shock as his his body heaved with breath, the thin fabric of his grey shirt untucked from his dark blue slacks.

I covered my mouth and backed up. “Shit, is it my blood?” I hadn’t stopped to consider what my scent could have done to him. I even wore an extra layer of perfume to try to offset it, but it might’ve made it worse.

Edward turned around, walking to me in quick strides, and I fell back on the sofa. He kneeled in front of me, balancing his body on his palms on the cushion.

“That’s not what’s driving me crazy right now.”

I leaned closer, letting my lips part slightly. “Then what is it?”

Edward dropped his head from my eyesight, and curled his fingers near my own. “Vampires, especially males,” Edward lowered his voice, struggling to get the words out. “We go through potent episodes of…lust.”

My mouth fell open, and I manually forced my jaw to shut. “What?” My voice was an octave higher. “Like… in heat?”

Edward laughed a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.” His eyes met mine, the predatory color returning, like the way he had looked at me the first day we met.

I unconsciously almost moved back, but decided against it. Curiosity dared me to ask the next words. “So…um-how do you… take care of it?”

Edward’s hands snaked to my fingers, casually tracing circles on my knuckles. “How any guy would. Calypso, I’m still 17 in body.”

My face burned. The thought of Edward touching his body, pleasuring his self- it was too much to bear. Edward saw the blush on my face, and his nails dug into my fingers. His jaw was clenched so strongly I thought it would break, and his eyes had a dark coat of desire. He looked so desperate, a biological need for my body on his. So desperate for me. I could practically feel my mind, naked for him, all the images of his body spilling out of my thoughts.

I spoke before I could stop myself, the husky pitch of my voice unrecognizable.

“I suppose I could help you, then. It’s only fair.”

Those words alone flipped Edward over the edge. His fangs bared white, and he grabbed the small of my back, pulling me to the floor. My thighs landed, kneeled up, hitting the planes of his shoulders. He growled, running his hands over my body in animal-like movements.

“You don’t understand,” he groaned lowly, “what I want to do to you. It would sicken you. Everything I’ve thought about.”

I moaned at his touch, the embarrassment from the sound reaching the burn of my face. But it seemed to affect Edward more than me, because his breath changed into a rapid pace on my shoulder blades.

“I’d do anything for you, Edward.”

It was true.

He let out a breathy sound, and snaked his hands under my shirt, each point of my skin electrified into flame at the smooth pressure of his palm.

“You know what I want to do with you, Callie?” He brought his hand higher under my shirt, just above my ribs.

Desire clouded my vision.

“Show me.”

He exhaled in my ear, and roughly dropped his lips to mine, a strange sensation of cold skin meeting my warm one, causing fire to pop in my mouth.

“I won’t be able to control myself, Calypso.” His voice was so raw, stripped bare. He needed me, now. The very sound set me over the edge.

“I already can’t control myself when I’m around you.” I trailed my fingers from the muscles of his back, all the way to the seam of his pants. I traced the lines holding me back from his body, and he shuddered in the crook of my neck.

And he pushed a sharp sting of pressure on my neck- a bite. Edward breathed heavily, licking the area he drew his fangs in my body.

This was a dangerous, dangerous game. He was biting me so hard, the layers of my skin ripped, but not hard enough to draw blood.

This was a reckless mistake, a taste of his full desire for me.

And fuck, it was attractive. I could feel the area between my thighs throbbing, and I tried to clench my legs together, but his body was practically spreading mine out now.

Edward tenderly kissed the area, then dragged his teeth up my neck, biting just under my jaw. It stung even more this time, and his wet tongue drew circles, making my fingers tremble.

A loud whimper slipped from my mouth, and I dropped my head on his broad shoulder. I could feel the vibrations of his chuckle, and he pulled the fabric of my shirt over my head, a strange confidence washing over him.

“You’re so beautiful, Callie.” His voice had softened, but the low desire still edged on his words, and he let his fingertips meet the clasp of my bra. I gasped, and pushed my palms on his chest. “Please-“

Edward tugged on the lace, a sign to shut me up. “Let me enjoy this. I want you to feel good.”

I was practically leaking out of my panties now, and I prayed to God it didn’t show from my shorts.

He undid the bra, carefully letting the lace fall off my body. The cold air met my already hard nipples, and I fought the urge to cover my body.

I felt so vulnerable. But I liked it. Feeling vulnerable for him.

Edward didn’t hide the breathy moan in his throat, and he kissed my breasts, starting from the low curve to the area near my collarbone. “You’re so perfect, it’s driving me insane. Insane.”

But his hands were grasped tighter around me, nails practically poking through my skin. I knew he was getting impatient.

I pushed him off, gentle enough to be kind, but strong enough to send a message. He wiped his mouth, the swell of his pink lips shining in the light of the open room.

“Get on the bed.” I paused, and added a sweet plead to my tone. “Please.”

Edward slowly rose to his feet, holding the tips of my fingers, but his eyes didn’t rise off my bare body. I could feel the blood rushing to my face.

He sat on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs effortlessly. I watched the strong muscles of his thighs, then trailed my eyes higher, to the bulge in his pants.

Shit.

He leaned back on his arms, a cocky expression smoothing over his features. He was watching me, seeing what I was going to do.

But the urgency in his eyes didn’t fade, and I knew one thing, and one thing only.

I wanted to please him.

I dropped to my knees, and Edward immediately raised his body, closing his knees a little. I pushed the top of his thigh open, and he relaxed tentatively.

“Callie, you don’t have to-“

I rose my eyes to his, hoping the innocent expression would get him to stop talking. It did. His words caught when he stared back down at my breasts, and he shifted his legs uncomfortably to try to hide the reaction of his body.

A smile danced on my lips, and I pulled down the zipper of his pants. He was so big, and I hadn’t even seen his boxers yet.

I wondered if this ever happened before, if he had ever gotten hard to the thought of me.

“Yes. It did. And I have.” Edward smiled, savoring the embarrassment on my face.

The fact he read my mind, heard those thoughts,

I didn’t hesitate when I pulled down his pants.

He was wearing dark grey boxers, clean and neat around his lean frame. His cock was pressing against the fabric, the shape almost being explicit against his underwear.

His voice was thick with mockery. “Do you need me to help you, pretty girl? You seem a little nervous.”

I ripped those off, too.

His cock sprang up, and wo-ow, his body is probably entirely perfect. A pink head, delicately sculpted on his thick shaft, the entire shape veiny, like some work of art, smooth, pale skin twitching with anticipation.

He laughed, the admiration of his dick apparently seeping through my thoughts. I slowly let my fingers wrap around it, and Edward’s breath hitched. I brought my body closer, the points of my nipples grazing over his knees, and I let my mouth touch the tip of his cock. He immediately arched his neck, throwing his head back as if every small touch was causing him overwhelming pleasure. I could see the way his hands were gripping the sheets, and I suddenly wished he was grabbing my hair, instead.

As if he was reading my mind, (he was), Edward let his hand drag on my scalp, urging my mouth to go farther.

I dropped my lips, pushing his dick to the back of my throat, but the length of his shaft was too much for me to fit all the way. Edward didn’t make any complaints, though, because he was too busy trying to control the raspy moans slipping from his tongue.

“That’s it. Yeah, good-“ he broke into a low groan, bucking his hips forward. “Good girl.”

The pet name had me bobbing my head even more, warming his entire dick with the saliva of my mouth. I could feel Edward’s eyes on me, taking in the skin of my back, the feeling of my lips. He clenched the scalp of my hair, and began pushing my head on his body, working my mouth the way he wanted.

He forced my head down, dropping it all the way on his dick, and I made myself take it all instead of gagging. He jerked my head up, over and over, each thrust of his hips in my mouth messier and shorter, as if he was close already. His dick warmed the back of my throat, but he pulled my lips all the way up, saliva coating my tongue. Edward’s eyes were pools of black now, so dark it slightly terrified me.

Whatever episodes of lust he was talking about, he must’ve hit his peak now. It seemed like he was on the brink of destroying me.

“Get up.” His voice was hoarse, and his mouth twitched with the words.

As soon as I did, Edward used his strength to slam me to the couch, letting my stomach hit the cushion. I repositioned my head, trying to meet his eye, but he crawled on top of me, and whispered low in my ear,

“The way I’m about to make you scream, my love, is gonna hurt way more than my cock in your pretty throat.”

Part TWO here

[black-dhalias]

The Bear, the Rose, and the Song

Rosalie Hale X Emmett Cullen X Poly!Reader

Includes SMUT towards the end

Nothing quite like an evening at the mountain peak, especially with such a wonderful woman at your side. You glance over, noting the perfection that is your wife—nothing quite like it at all.

The way she tucked her legs up under her as she leaned into your side, her left hand twisting circles in your hair. Her right hand intertwined with yours. In the sunrise, you both shimmered, but she seemed to shine—her eyes shut as the sunlight brushes her cheeks. Is this heaven?

Your hum, seemed to call to her as she glances in your direction. Nothing short of perfection. "Are you ready to head back?" You shook your head, adamant that you want to stay—your cheek against her hair, enjoying the dance of sun off the blonde curls.

"I could stay like this forever..." She smiles, you hum again and return the gesture—your fingers tightening their grasp as she slides closer.

A scream cuts through the silence, splitting the mountains in two as a breeze shifts the air. The thick scent of blood that sings like a song you once sang.

"Y/N?" You look back, realizing you had stood and were now at the cliffs edge—you swallow, there is concern in those amber eyes. An emotion that often clings to her, she worries too much, but now—in this moment, you can't explain the song. You tug her hand, eyes shifting in the direction of the scent—begging her listen, pleading her to hear your pleas.

Rosalie always understood, but now, she hesitates. You were older and more compassionate, you had more control—more experience. You were simply a better person.

In this moment, you felt different.

She notes the purse of your lips, the way your eyes shifted ever so slightly. She notes the way you tugged her hand again, this time more forcefully. Ready to take the leap, with or without her, and she'd never let you jump alone.

That was the day you found Emmett, you can recall the bloodlust with a perfect clarity, until you saw the way Rosalie looked at him. Even in that moment, even knowing the song his blood sang—you were content in waiting back.

Watching as her gentle fingers brushed his curls and whispered comforts as she carried him. Now as you watch them, you smile fondly at the pair—embracing the chaos of their many personalities left you whole in ways you did not understand.

Ways you felt you did not deserve.

"Y/N!" Emmett makes grabby hands in your direction, the way Rose was tucked in his chest already as he lounged across the bed.

You smile, notating the way he seemed to brighten with the gesture. The way his blood once sang, now it was simply him. Rosalie, she was your lover, a mate, and Emmett was your singer. A connection that could hardly be matched, except by a mate. It seemed perfect when you all connected, falling into rhythm like a symphony.

.

.

.

"So Y/N can't talk?" Bella asked Edward, as he explained his family dynamic—one of the elder Cullens, you didn't go to school like the rest despite being similar in age.

"More like doesn't. Y/N wasn't changed by Carlisle and only joined him a few months after he left the Volturi—a lot of their human memories are fuzzy, but they were maimed in an experimental procedure." Bella's eyebrows furrowed, trying to imagine why you wouldn't speak—you seemed so sweet, but never spoke a word.

"Ho-?" The word didn't even finish before Edward interrupted her.

"Someone crudely removed their vocal cords among other things, so when they turned. They healed, but—" Edward inhales, glancing over at Bella in the passenger seat.

"But they never quite recovered. Y/N is roughly 200, but only found Rosalie in 1933 and Emmett 2 years later. She spent her first 100 years alone and unheard, Rose helped her find a voice again." Bella notes his smile at his adopted siblings.

"They still don't talk?" He shakes his head.

"But they sing."

Rosalie could hear the velvety sound of your voice, it seemed to carry warmth and comfort. Every word echoes off the walls of the cottage as the rain patters on top of the porch roof—you spoke next to nothing, but your voice seemed to bury itself in song.

There were no reservations, the piano seemed to harmonize with the rain. Rosalie leaned her head onto the doorframe, just listening as everything poured out of your soul.

You never let Rosalie walk alone, every strain and stress was your burden to share. Your love was never questionable to her, held no strings or stipulations—she never had to earn it.

She felt Emmett’s presence, close, but too close. His eyes shimmering a brilliant red, you were quick to bring him here. The little getaway cabin where you spent many years with Rosalie, enjoying her without the shame. “Have they always talked?”

He couldn’t remember ever hearing you say a word, but he remembered your face with perfect detail. The way you smiled. How Rosalie gravitated to you.

“It’s complicated.” She smiles softly, never looking away. “They’ll sing everything you’ll ever need to hear.” You use ASL mostly, Rosalie had taken it upon herself to learn years ago, but you kept to yourself.

Emmett had found this new life complicated, it felt intricate and challenging, but these two women. You and Rose. It didn’t seem impossible.

“It’s about you isn’t it?” She hmmms, you smile through the lyrics���playing out the notes. Emmett gestures, “The song. It’s about you.” Rosalie’s expression is soft as she looks at you.

“Maybe it’s about you too.”

Looking back, you’re almost certain that was the moment Emmett realized he would never be alone again. That he would always have someone on his side, no matter what.

Introspectively, you knew from the first minute, he was simply meant to be in your life. The same with Rosalie, she had been changed with the intent of being for Edward (a perverted thought that bothered you even now), but once you saw her. Heard those screams—not even Carlisle could deny it.

You didn’t move for three days as she begged you for death, and the silence that followed her change. “I’m so sorry he did this to you.” she recalls the whisper as she met your eye, “I never would have wanted this for you.”

It was the first and only time you ever spoke to her, your voice was soft and tender—it felt broken, she could feel the broken in your tone. Now she understands you more, loves you deeper than then.

“Rose?” Emmett looks up at her, before glancing at you across the room. There’s something so curious about quiet need held within his eyes. “Y/N?” You look back, practically coming to them instantly—you bent to their needs at all hours.

Emmett folded your hand in his and then hers, the dynamic felt natural as he summoned some courage. “I want to go with the others to school, with you Rose.” You smile, not feeling at all bothered that he felt ready to explore himself more. To venture away from the home the three of you built—in these four walls, it was just the three of you.

You nod, folding your other hand over his with eagerness—you place it over your heart, knowing you wouldn’t join them.

“I don’t want you to feel left—” You don’t even let him finish as you shake your head, moving your joined hands over his own heart. “But—” You lean up to give him a quick kiss, “Thank you. For always loving me.”

You feel Rosalie snake her arm around you, enjoying the way she leans down to kiss the top of your head. Was Emmett always this sentimental, no, but he always meant it.

••SMUT BELOW••

Rosalie laid out beneath you, lips hovering above her clit as your tongue rolled across the sensitive point. Your thumbs rolled circles in her thighs as your face buried itself in between, the soft pull of her fingers in your hair encouraged you. Her back arches as her body shivers beneath your mouth, she tasted like perfection.

The soft moans you elicited from her etch into your brain, as you pull away—her legs draped across shoulders and grin as you lick your lips. Even without needing breath, her chest heaves—the soft mounds of flesh grabbing your attention as they rise and fall in perfect harmony.

"Do you like what you see?" It felt like a dare, and she swears your eyes seem to come alight as you drop her legs and drag yourself upwards between them. Your bare stomach pressed against hers as you hover above: "Cmon love, I'm not going to break." You lower yourself, keeping your eyes locked on her—memorizing the face she makes as your lips lock over her nipple, tongue flicking as you grasp the other. Her eyes close, lips parting to let out another moan.

Letting go of her breast, you let your fingers drag across her soft skin—not an imperfection in sight. Without a second to breathe, you palm her mound with your hand—resting your middle finger just above the clit. Giving it just enough of a touch, to remind her exactly what it means to be yours. "Please..." You comply with the plea, sliding your finger downwards to touch her entrance before sliding inside.

Rosalie didn't shy away from moaning your name as you work her entrance, pacing yourself as you begin to kiss the other breast before bringing your lips up to kiss. Hoping she can taste herself on you.

You start slow with only a single finger, only entering half an inch before removing. After a minute, you place a second finger—driving it deeper as her lips part. Sweet noises bringing your closer as you increase your pace, working your thumb along her clit as you drive three fingers into her.

Large hands reach around your chest as the mattress shifts under Emmett's added weight. He palms your breasts in his hands, thumb and forefingers rolling your nipples. "I go out hunting, and almost miss all the fun." His tone is light as you smile at him, retracting your fingers and bringing them to his lips. He wraps his mouth around them, before smiling—looking down at Rosalie who was still breathless. "Oh Rose, you taste wonderful." He leans down to place a kiss between her thighs, never breaking eye contact as she bends to them both.

They were safe. They were warm and good, and everything icy about her melted beneath their fingertips.

Emmett wraps his hand around yours as he brings it back to her pussy, "I love when you do that.”

Your legs on either side of her thighs, one hand bracing while the other works Rosalie. You feel Emmett lay down on the end of the bed before his lips kiss your entrance. You shiver in anticipation, feeling him grasp your hips and pull you lower as his tongue moves through your folds and onto your clit with precision.

Rosalie came quickly again, her insides quivering as kisses you deeply enjoying the way your moans feel against her lips. She could feel your pleasure in every hesitation when his tongue hit the right spot. You felt warm like the world was on fire, as you remove your fingers from Rosalie and bury them in her hair.

Skin to skin, and you still attempted to bring her closer. Her breasts against yours, you felt high as you came. Breathing heavily as Emmett enjoyed every drop of your climax, loving your taste as he slid out from under you.

The mattress shifts as he lays beside you both, spooning your forms as Rosalie moves to lay inbetween. Her facing Emmett as you spoon her from behind—you can think of no better place than behind Rosalie Hale.

“Remember our first?” The memory lights up your mind as you recall your first time with the pair. You’d been with Rosalie before, but with them both, everything felt like it clicked into place.

Emmett was gentle with his touch, hesitant to get close to either of you knowing your past. But he wasn’t them, and as you guided his hands to grip onto Rosalie’s hips—you felt his confidence growing.

You smile up at him, sitting up with your head resting against your fist. Giving a soft nod, Emmett cannot explain how it feels to love you both.

It felt like a warm spring after a cold winter. A soft autumn breeze to cool the summer sun. It was the lull of water against the sand, or the roar of the falls against the rocks.

Emmett didn’t have many words and was never one for poetry, but that seemed to be a good start.

[blorger]

I find the family dynamics interesting Bella seems to still care for Cissy and Andromeda too despite Andromeda becoming a traitor

Sirius on the other hand only care for the Potters as I think he really didn't care much for Regulus (I could be wrong though)

But honestly this has been bugging me but why was Sirius still able to inherit Grimmauld when he was disowned/removed from the tapestry?

How can the Will be written? It wasn't sure he is still part of the family, and he prefers to spend time with the Potters and after their death, wasn't he busy chasing after Peter before being thrown to Azkaban?

Friend, you have set a terrible curse upon me. I went combing through the books to look for any mention of wizarding laws, since we know so terribly little about them, and now I'm sitting on an essay on law in the magical world :(((

As for the rest:

Your guess is as good as mine vis à vis the inheritance of Grimmauld. I went through the conversation that Dumbledore and Harry have in book 6 about it and we learn very little:

and

and

and

We basically learn that Sirius's will is legally binding because Harry becomes Kreacher's owner, which means that somehow wills in the magical world (or at the very least some wills) are also magically binding.

I also find it interesting that Dumbledore seems very sure that:

There's a separate enchantment on Grimmauld to prevent it from being owned by non-purebloods

The ownership of Grimmauld has passed onto Bellatrix.

We are generally supposed to take Dumbledore's word as law so it's interesting that he's proven wrong and Bellatrix isn't the rightful owner. I get the vague sense that Dumbledore didn't put much faith in Sirius's abilities and partly added enchantments to Grimmauld because of that.

Also, it's never proven conclusively wether said anti non-pureblood enchantments even exist.

As to the matter of Sirius's will, I find this passage from book 3 to be interesting:

To me, this reads like Harry's parents appointed Sirius as Harry's guardian on top of him being made godfather, not as part of it; mayhaps as part of a will?

It's not unreasonable, they did know they were being haunted, and perhaps this also helps us establish when Sirius's will was also made. I can imagine Sirius making (or amending) his will as a consequence of the Potters' will, especially since this likely happens after Regulus died and he also knows Grimmauld is likely to pass onto him.

Just throwing this out there, idk.

Changing subjects completely, these are the only times Sirius talks about his brother:

and

and

I think Sirius's words are vague enough that you can read them pretty much however you please. I get the vague impression that Sirius himself is not sure how he feels about his brother but he recognizes that Regulus behaved they way he did in order to please their parents (and perhaps to compensate for Sirius's own unwillingness to uphold the family ideals).

I also went looking for proof that it was Sirius who kept Regulus's room unchanged once the order moved into Grimmauld, since it's a popular fandom assumption, and the books say nothing on the subject. I honestly think it's more likely that Kreacher is the reason why the room was kept as is but that is just pure conjecture.

[obsidianpen]

Howdy! Awhile back you mentioned you weren't likely to get back to Enticed and asked if anyone wanted to pick up and write the rest, you could share your plot/plan with them... I'm no where near as good of a writer as you and couldn't do that (it actually terrifies me the idea of trying to continue a fic that you started tbh, you are one of my favorite writers). But I still find myself sometimes imagining what happens in later chapters of Enticed, for instance the big showdown at the end of OotP where Harry finally presents at the Ministry, and then in Year 6 when Harry as an Omega leads to some kind of huge Alpha fight (I imagine something like a massive chaotic bloody fight in the Great Hall where the Alphas are all triggering each other & beating each other to a pulp/dueling while the Omegas hide and Betas run for cover and teachers try to stop it). So, I wanted to ask if you wouldn't mind sharing maybe your general plot/key scenes with us just for fun? And maybe the endgame couples? If not, no worries! :)

sure! Spoilers ahead!

so yeah Harry presents as a delta (omega) during the whole ministry fiasco, ofc, and it’s about as dramatic as you would expect me to make it. It happens during the possession scene and so V is right there - like couldn’t be closer to it really - and loses all self control and sense of self, trying to uh, get Harry lol but Bella, also a delta, is there, and she and Harry’s dynamics actually revolt each other so she’s not affected at all. She manages to drag her lord away to safety (she is the only one who would be powerful enough to do this), where he otherwise would have been caught by Dumbledore.

Harry meanwhile is a mess, and it’s too late for any kind of repressing potion for him. He gets taken away by Dumbles (who has MUCH more self control than Voldemort btw) and is put into quarantine. Poor Harry, it’s not a fun time.

he eventually resurfaces and is told what all happened. He has a nice little chat with Dumbledore about the uniqueness of being a Delta, which Dumbles knows all about, because duh, Grindelwald was a delta. (He also learns ollivander is a delta).

year 6: Harry is getting all the stares. He’s finally able to perceive magic and now he GETS it. He and Ginny (also an omega) have insta-bonded. Hermione is protective and already planning future ministry legislation. Ron is uncomfortable but is still Harry’s best friend and ride or die.

Draco Malfoy keeps a great distance from Harry but can’t seem to keep his eyes off him. Harry gets it because he’s having the same problem with him and about six other alpha wizards. He still hates him.

Harry is no longer able to stay in the boys dorm. He now has to stay with the other omega girls in their special dorm room, which he finds mortifying at first, but then realizes how necessary that is, and grows to enjoy them quite a lot.

Harry is aggressively adopted by Godiva (self appointed Head Omega of the Gryffindor squad) and is forced to be ‘one of them’ (though he still escapes all the time and prefers to hang out with his ‘lowly beta’ friends). Godiva is upset when she learns his name is not Hadrian or Harrison. She calls him Hadrian anyway. In lieu of being able to give him a real proper lady make over, she and Fey (who has a muggle mother as I’m writing her) figure out Harry’s glasses prescription and get him some contacts ‘so that his lovely eyes can be admired properly’ and because ‘those glasses are hideous and you’re going to make us all look worse if you wear them’. Harry is sort of into it once he gets used to it. Snape kicks him out of class when he shows up without them with no explaination.

Harry becomes obsessed with Draco Malfoy. Hermione tells him it’s just because he’s an alpha and says be needs to go shag someone else to get over it. Ron is still uncomfortable. Harry says it’s def only because Malfoy is up to something Bad but he isn’t sure if he trusts himself anymore.

Harry (who has to be even more meticulous with taking repressants btw, because he’s not as predictable as a delta) thinks yeah maybe hermione is right actually but every time a bold alpha dude hits on him he panics and can’t handle it. Godiva sighs and makes it her mission to teach him.

the Myrtle bathroom scene with Draco goes very differently. Idk for sure how that would go but probably Malfoy has been forgetting to take his repressing shit what with how stressed he is and there’s probably some pretty intense hate sex, or at least very close to hate sex and plenty of hate snogging. Is this drarry? Maybe

the death eaters still break in, Harry still goes with Dumbledore, Dumbledore still dies

seventh year starts semi similarly, Harry is out with Ron and Hermione doing their thing and hunting horcruxes but they have a limited supply of the repressing elixir for Harry. Voldemort, being a bastard who still very much wants to kill Harry (perhaps more than ever now, because deltas are exceptional and this makes Harry more of a threat in some ways), puts insane regulations and safety measures around repressing elixirs for omegas, as well as any ingredient needs to brew it, making it impossible for Harry to get his hands on any without outing himself. They eventually run out when they’re out camping in the woods when Ron is with them and they have the locket.

he has no options. Hermione and Ron have to tie him up and help him suffer through a heat when one hits (they’re beta so they can’t help in the uh, other way). Harry is losing his mind halfway through it. The only thing that helps at all is the locket. He somehow gets to it and puts it on. Locket Tom reaches him in a dream and manages to convince a half-mad Harry to say ‘voldemort.’

the snatchers show up first. This includes Fenrir Greyback. He immediately goes insane upon finding Harry like that. But voldemort has been waiting for something like this to happen, so he shows up too.

big crazy alpha duel. V versus Fenrir. Hermione and Ron can’t get anywhere near the insane magic that’s happening, but Harry can. He’s having the wildest magical awakening of his life, and when he commands these two alphas (who he no longer sees as individuals in his current state) to kill for him, they do (or they try to anyway; Voldemort wins)

and then ofc Voldemort is supposed to kill Harry because that was the point of all this. But he sees his locket and Harry’s wearing it and that poses many questions and, well, if he’s going to kill Harry anyway he might as well enjoy him first. Somewhere in the middle of that much more intense and messed up hate sex, he realizes what Harry is, so of course he takes him ‘home’ (and don’t worry either he takes him away from hermione and Ron first or more likely Harry somehow banished them, idk the details there but I would not have them watching that lmao).

uhhhh yeah that’s about how far I had the plot going in my head!

[morningstargirl666]

hi! do you have any long canon klaroline fic recommendations?

i’m missing klaroline and actual canon isn’t gonna cut it

I'm going to assume by long fics you mean multichaps? I've always found this fandom seems to be lacking in them, and I'm not talking about the 5-10 chapter fics --- I mean the long ass, epic-length fics that transport you to another dimension and rob you of nine hours of your life in a back-alley because you couldn't close the ao3 page at 1am. Other fandoms seem to have dozens of them but klaroline? Not so much. Writers here seem to prefer the 50k one-shots or playing with a different AU altogether, which is fantastic of course, but sometimes you crave something different, you know? Something you can lose youself in. It's what made me write TBBW, initially. However, that doesn't mean the fandom doesn't have some canon-divergent gems.

Epic-Length Wonders:

Red Queen by KS_Caster / @ks-caster

3-Part Series, Over 200k+ words. Season 4 Canon-Divergent. The last part is a WIP. I absolutely adored this fic when I first read it and I still adore it now. Klaus puts Caroline first and continues to put her first during the search for Silas' cure and it is fucking amazing. The werewolf/hybrid world building in the second fic inspired me to write more fics like it. It's not had as much attention since it was moved to AO3, but trust me, this fic is a hidden gem.

Wicked Schemes by willowaus / @willowaus

30 Chapters, 260k+ words. Season 1 TO Canon-Divergent. Ignores the baby plot. Caroline inherits the powers of a harbringer and the way its weaved into the fic so flawlessly makes you question if it wasn't just canon to begin with. Honestly epic world building. Wolf!Klaus also makes an appearance! A true klaroline classic.

make them bow. by for_darkness_shows_the_stars / @stars-and-darkness

35 Chapters, 220k+ words. Season 1 Canon-Divergent. Klaus is dropped into season one while Caroline is still human. Klefan bromance. Damon retribution. Forbes family dynamics. Klaus covered in blood. Council Members and Founding Family warfare. There's a reason this is the most commented-on fic in the entire fandom even though it's barely been out a year.

Binge-In-One-Sitting Multichaps:

Til I Tasted You by KiryTheStitchWitch / @kirythestitchwitch

4 Chapters, 22k. Canon Divergent/Soulmate AU. Will ruin you with single most devastating declaration of love in existence, forewarning you now.

throw roses into the abyss by marxandangels / @marxandangels

7 Chapters, 99k+. WIP. Technically Season 6 Canon-Divergent (after Liz dies) but ignores canon for the most part, especially TO wise. Explores the concept of humanity-less vampires so well, with a dash of world building on the side. Klaus and Caroline's relationship is also explored with such nuance --- like these two aren't just attracted to each other but entwined by their very souls, kind of nuanced. Oh, and the bloodsharing scene drawn by here by @stardust414 lives rent-free in my mind.

Someone's First Choice by unpublishednovelist

10 Chapters, 29k+. Post-Canon. This one's a WIP but I'm keeping my eye on it because it's good. Like hella good. Caroline decides to say fuck it and goes with some college friends to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, accomadation covered by our favourite Original hybrid. She breaks up with Tyler over voicemail. Queen shit.

All I Need by emeraldvixen

14 Chapters, 60k, E rated. Canon-Divergent/Wolf Mate AU. In the mood for some hot and steamy smut? Emeraldvixen's got you covered.

the fate makes for a lousy poet by for_darkness_shows_the_stars / @stars-and-darkness

7 Chapters, 50k+. Season 3 Canon-Divergent/Soulmate AU. The Originals in pajamas. Need I say more?

Who put Bella down the Wynch Elm? by for_darkness_shows_the_stars / @stars-and-darkness

7 Chapters, 60k+. Post-Canon. A murder mystery whodunnit with original side characters and Caroline in all her bad ass glory, after she's left Mystic Falls and its hellmouth-worthy shenanigans. Just - for a minute - imagine canon expanded on the tvd universe and revisted the fact the Originals are little more than nightmarish stories in the supernatural world, or that Stefan is the most infamous mass murderer on the east coast and maybe you'll understand how amazing this fic is.

Important to note these were all specifically Canon-Divergent multichaps. There's plenty more gems out there, just for different AUs and lengths. I also only looked at my ao3 bookmarks for this, so like, I'm probably forgetting several.

[camzeecorner]

𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚃 𝚂𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙾𝙻𝙾 ₊˚ෆ𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒

smut ღ dividers → @bernardsbendystraws ฅ^._.^ฅ

April 24, 2003 Tatum’s story began in a quaint little town, where the sun painted the sky with hues of gold every morning. She was born into a family that seemed perfect on the surface. Her parents, loving yet strict, instilled in her the values of hard work and respect. As a child, Tatum was a dreamer, often found with her nose buried in books about far-off places and fantastical adventures. She had a wild imagination, creating elaborate worlds where she was the heroine, conquering dragons and saving kingdoms.

September 16, 2007 Growing up, Tatum was close with her younger sister, Bella. They shared everything—secrets whispered under the covers, laughter echoing through the halls, and dreams of what the future might hold. The bond between them was unbreakable, a sanctuary in a world that sometimes felt overwhelming. Their home was filled with warmth and love, but it also had its shadows. Tatum's parents had high expectations, and the pressure to excel weighed heavily on her shoulders.

February 3, 2013 As Tatum entered her teenage years, the innocence of childhood began to fade. She became acutely aware of the expectations surrounding her. School became a battleground where grades defined worth, and friendships were tested by the whims of popularity. Tatum struggled to fit in, often feeling like an outsider looking in. She found solace in her art, pouring her emotions into sketches and paintings that spoke of her inner turmoil.

March 18, 2016 Despite the challenges, Tatum had a few close friends who understood her. They would spend hours in her room, sharing secrets and dreams, creating a safe space where they could be themselves. But as high school progressed, the dynamics began to shift. Friendships grew strained, and jealousy crept in, leading to heartbreak and betrayal. Tatum felt increasingly isolated, her once-vibrant spirit dimming under the weight of loneliness.

It was during this tumultuous time that she met him—a boy who seemed to understand her in ways no one else could. Their connection was intense and passionate, but it soon turned dark. Tatum found herself ensnared in a relationship marked by manipulation and jealousy. One fateful evening, after a seemingly normal dinner together, Tatum began to feel unwell. At first, she dismissed it as a minor illness, but as the hours passed, her condition rapidly deteriorated.

In her final moments, she realized the truth: her lover had slipped a lethal substance into her drink, driven by jealousy and rage. The investigation that followed uncovered the chilling details of their tumultuous relationship, revealing a pattern of control that had been hidden behind a facade of love. Tatum's tragic end served as a haunting reminder of the dangers that can lurk behind closed doors, leaving her family and friends to grapple with the loss of a vibrant soul taken too soon.

November 29, 2019 Tatum’s story continued even after her tragic demise, as whispers of her spirit began to circulate in the town. Her afterlife was shrouded in mystery, with many claiming to have seen her ethereal figure wandering through the halls of her former home. The house, once a place of laughter and love, transformed into a chilling reminder of her untimely end. Shadows danced in the corners, and a cold breeze swept through the rooms, leaving an unsettling feeling for anyone who dared to enter.

March 8, 2021 As time went on, it became clear that Tatum’s spirit was restless. The pain and betrayal she endured in life fueled her desire for vengeance. Those who moved into her home reported strange occurrences—objects moving on their own, disembodied whispers echoing through the night, and an overwhelming sense of dread that seemed to seep into their very bones. Tatum, in her spectral form, sought to reclaim the power that had been stripped from her, targeting anyone who dared to live in the house where she had suffered.

June 4, 2024 Her presence became a legend in the town, a cautionary tale for those who might overlook the history of the place they called home. Tatum’s spirit was said to linger, watching, waiting, and ensuring that no one could forget the life she lost and the love that turned into a nightmare. In her afterlife, she became both a guardian and a haunting specter, forever entwined with the memories of her tragic past, seeking justice for the betrayal that had cost her everything.

August 1, 3:13 AM

The clock struck 3:13 AM, its chime echoing through the stillness of the house, a haunting reminder of the time when the boundaries between the living and the dead blurred. Tatum, a ghost caught in the liminal space of her former life, drifted through the shadowed corridors of her once-vibrant home. She could feel the chill of the night wrap around her like a shroud, the air thick with an unsettling silence that seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something—anything—to break the calm.

Moonlight spilled through the dusty windows, casting a silvery glow that illuminated the remnants of her past. Tatum floated through the living room, her translucent form shimmering like a wisp of smoke. The furniture, draped in white sheets, looked like forgotten memories, each piece a testament to the life that once filled the space with laughter and warmth. She paused to gaze at a faded photograph resting on the mantle, its edges curled with age. It captured a moment frozen in time: a family picnic, her and Chloe grinning wide, the sun shining bright, oblivious to the shadows that would soon engulf their lives.

As she moved, Tatum felt the weight of her memories pressing down upon her, a mix of joy and sorrow that twisted in her chest. The walls, once alive with the sounds of her family, now stood silent, their painted surfaces peeling away like the layers of her own forgotten identity. She could see flashes of her life—her and her sister playing in the yard, the smell of freshly baked cookies wafting through the air, the warmth of her parents embrace. But those moments felt like a distant dream, replaced by the chilling reality of her existence as a spirit.

Hovering near the staircase, Tatum reached out with her ethereal fingers, brushing against the banister. It felt cold and unyielding, a stark contrast to the warmth of the life she once knew. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be swept away in the tide of nostalgia, each memory flooding back with vivid clarity. She could hear the laughter echoing in her mind, the sound of tiny feet running across the hardwood floors, the joy that filled the air like the sweet scent of blooming flowers in spring.

But as quickly as the warmth enveloped her, it was replaced by a biting chill that seeped into her very essence. Tatum opened her eyes, and the reality of her situation crashed over her like a wave. She was trapped in this house, a mere observer of the life she once cherished. The playful banter of her laughter was now a ghostly whisper, fading in and out of her consciousness. She felt the ache of longing for the simple moments—the bedtime stories, the shared meals, the laughter that filled the room as they played games on rainy afternoons.

With a heavy heart, Tatum descended the staircase, each step a reminder of her existence in this in-between world. The air grew colder as she approached the door leading to the backyard, where she and her friends had spent countless hours playing and giggling ready explore the world around them. She could almost feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, the way it had kissed her cheeks during those long summer days. But now, the door stood ajar, revealing a darkened expanse that seemed to stretch into infinity.

Outside, the garden lay overgrown, the once-vibrant flowers now wilted and tangled in a wild embrace. Tatum floated into the yard, her heart heavy with the realization that time had continued to move forward, even as she remained stuck in this spectral limbo. The swing set, once a source of joy and laughter, creaked in the wind, its chains rusted and forgotten. She could see the remnants of her playful antics, the way she had soared through the air, her laughter ringing like music, a beautiful symphony that now felt like a cruel reminder of what she had lost.

As she wandered through the yard, Tatum caught sight of the old oak tree, its branches stretching wide like welcoming arms. It had been a sanctuary for her and Chloe , a place where they had built forts, climbed high, and shared secrets. She could almost hear their voices, the excitement in their laughter as they played beneath its protective canopy. But the tree, too, had aged, its bark rough and gnarled, a reflection of the passage of time that had left her behind.

Tatum closed her eyes, allowing the memories to wash over her, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love that had once filled this space. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, a ghostly shimmer that faded into the night. In that moment, she realized that while she may be trapped in this ethereal existence, her love for her friends and family remained, an unbreakable bond that transcended the veil between life and death.

As the moon cast its silvery glow upon her, Tatum made a silent vow to watch over her loved ones.

PRESENT DAY, 2:46 AM

Hovering in the dim light, Tatum felt the passage of time stretch endlessly before her. Days turned into weeks, each one marked by a deepening loneliness that gnawed at her essence. The world outside continued, oblivious to her plight, as the seasons changed and the leaves turned from vibrant green to muted browns and grays. Each dawn brought with it a fresh wave of despair, a reminder of the life she could no longer touch.

With each passing day, the hatred she harbored for her untimely fate festered like an open wound. The emptiness of her home echoed her feelings, amplifying her isolation. She could hear the whispers of the wind outside, carrying the laughter of children playing in the distance, a stark contrast to the silence that enveloped her. The walls, once filled with love, now seemed to close in around her, suffocating her spirit with the weight of unfulfilled dreams and lost moments.

As the nights grew longer, Tatum's energy waned, and she found herself drawn to the window, staring out at the world she could no longer be part of. Shadows danced across the lawn, and she could almost see herself running, the laughter ringing in her ears like a bittersweet melody. But the joy of those memories was tainted by the bitterness of her reality. She was trapped in a realm of darkness, her heart heavy with the knowledge that she could never again be the girl she once was.

Tatum's thoughts were abruptly shattered by the sound of laughter echoing from outside, a raucous symphony of joy that felt like a personal affront to her years of solitude. Anger surged within her, a fiery response to the intrusion of her carefully constructed isolation. How dare they? How dare a new family come and claim the space that had once been hers, a sanctuary filled with memories? The very air around her thickened with resentment as she pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window, her fists clenching at her sides until her knuckles turned white.

The voices floated through the air, carefree and jubilant, slicing through her memories like a hot knife through butter. Each giggle and shout was a reminder of the family she had lost, now ghosts in her mind, their laughter replaced by the exuberance of strangers who had no right to occupy her sacred ground. Tatum could almost see them racing across the lawn, their faces lit up with delight. The sight ignited a bitterness that coursed through her veins, a reminder of what she had lost.

Her heart raced, pounding in her chest like a war drum, urging her to act. She felt a primal urge to scream, to lash out, to demand that they leave her home, the home that had once been filled with her own happiness. The walls that had sheltered her from the world now felt like a prison, and the anger twisted in her gut, a whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume her whole. She could feel her breath quickening as the laughter continued, each peal ringing in her ears like a taunt, a challenge to her very existence.

It had been about a week since the boys had made themselves at home in my space, and during that time, I had learned their names and a few tidbits about them by eavesdropping on their animated conversations. Matt, Nick, and Chris were triplets from Boston, their laughter and banter echoing through the hallways, while Nate, their friend, also hailing from Boston, seamlessly blended into their dynamic. They had sprawled across my living room, claiming every corner as their own, and I was completely outraged by this invasion.

I found myself lurking in the shadows of the dimly lit halls, watching every step they took and listening intently to every word that spilled from their lips. My heart raced with frustration; how dare they intrude upon my sanctuary, the one place where I could feel a semblance of freedom? Well, something like that. I was determined to take action, to reclaim my space and restore order to my home. Anything to regain control over the chaos that had taken root around me.

Day by day, I began shifting their belongings around, making subtle changes that I hoped they might notice. But, to my frustration, they never did. So, I decided to escalate my tactics. It was around midnight when the house was enveloped in silence, all four boys nestled in their rooms, deep in slumber. I crept toward the first bedroom— Matt.

Matt was quiet, his voice barely above a whisper, a stark contrast to the boisterous energy of the others. I appreciated that about him; his calm demeanor was a refreshing change. I could lie to myself and insist he wasn’t attractive, but deep down, I knew the truth. He had medium-length hair that framed his face perfectly, complemented by a stubble beard that added a rugged charm. Standing tall with a slender figure, he exuded an effortless elegance. Unlike his brothers, who were loud and brash, Matt was much more closed off, a completely different kind of boy altogether.

He reminded me of myself in so many ways, and I found comfort in that connection. There was an undeniable quality about him that drew me in, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I often found myself lurking in his bedroom at night, captivated by his presence. Watching him in the soft glow of the moonlight, I couldn’t explain why I felt compelled to do so, but it was a pull I couldn’t resist.

As I strolled closer to his bedroom, faint noises reached my ears, causing my heart to race. He was awake? He was never awake this late. I approached cautiously, each step deliberate and quiet. Pressing my ear against the door, I strained to listen. Was that... whimpering? Panic surged through me—was he hurt? My curiosity and concern propelled me forward as I gently pushed the door open, peeking my head in first and turning toward the side of the room where his bed was. The dim light barely illuminated the space, but I could make out the outline of his body. He lay there, but he was moving restlessly, tossing and turning as if trapped in a restless dream.

He was moving a lot, and I couldn't help but wonder if he was having a bad dream. I crept closer, eager to study his sleeping figure, the way the shadows danced across his face in the dim light. At least I thought he was sleeping, but something about his restless movements made me question whether he was truly at peace or caught in a turmoil of nightmares.

His head was thrown back, eyebrows deeply furrowed. His eyes were shut tight, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. Was he... awake? I couldn’t believe it; the realization hit me like a bolt—he wasn’t asleep at all.

I stepped closer to him, positioning myself right beside his bed, and let my gaze trail down his body. The blanket was bunched up around his lower stomach, revealing a glimpse of his form beneath. I noticed his hand moving beneath the fabric, shifting in a slow yet frantic rhythm, as if caught in a struggle. His mouth opened slightly, releasing soft, involuntary sounds that hinted at the turmoil within him.

He was whimpering softly, arching his back slightly off the bed, a vulnerable display that held me captive in a trance. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, though I wasn’t sure if I wanted to. Slowly, I began to crawl on top of him, feeling as if my mind was racing ahead of my body. It was as if I could feel myself slipping out of my translucent skin, a sensation that made me acutely aware of my own existence. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. He could see me; I could see him. His breath quickened, and he stammered, “W...who... h-how...” I shushed him gently, placing my hand over his mouth, trying to calm the storm brewing between us.

As we sat there in the stillness, his racing heart began to settle, the rhythm gradually calming. I felt limp against his waist, my gaze locked into his eyes, searching for some understanding. He shook his head slowly, disbelief etched across his features. “Who are you...” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. I glanced down at my hands, feeling the weight of the moment. “Tatum,” I replied, my voice low but hurried. His eyes darted across my face, searching for more answers, urging me to elaborate. “...I live here...” I continued, locking my gaze back onto his.

He began to pant, shaking his head in denial. “N-no you don’t... I live here! With my brothers and Nate. This is our home... h-how long... how long have you been here?” His words spilled out in a rush, breathless and frantic. I offered him a sweet smile, trying to soothe the tension. “My whole life... Matt.”

He threw me to the side and crawled away, his hands covering his face in disbelief. “How the fuck do you know my name?” he shouted, his voice rising in intensity. Never did I think I would be uttering the next sentence. “I died here... I grew up here my whole life. I know it sounds crazy...” I began to crawl toward him, resting my hand gently on his arm. He tilted his head down, glancing at our contact before meeting my gaze again. “I’ve been here, trapped here, dead and alone for years,” I confessed.

He chuckled nervously, groaning as he rubbed his hands down his face in frustration. “This is unbelievable,” he whispered to himself, grappling with the weight of my words. I grabbed his phone, quickly unlocking it after memorizing the code from my countless observations. I searched for the home address followed by ‘Tatum Roat’ and clicked on the link that appeared. Handing him the phone, I watched as curiosity flickered in his eyes. He sat there scrolling, reading the horrific news—my murder, my history, my life laid bare before him.

He turned off his phone, setting it aside with a heavy thud, and sank into himself, his head bowed low. He licked his lips, taking a deep breath that seemed to fill the silence around us. Slowly, he turned to me, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. He cocked his head to the side, a hint of curiosity mingling with disbelief. “So what... you’re a... ghost?” he asked, his voice careful, as if testing the weight of the words. I nodded, my gaze drifting away, the cold truth settling heavily in my chest. Hearing it spoken aloud stung more than I anticipated.

“That’s actually kind of cool... and hot,” he murmured softly, a hint of a smile creeping onto his lips. I glanced up at him, a smirk playing on my own lips, my heart fluttering with a flicker of hope. “Yeah?” I asked, my voice laced with anticipation. “Yeah,” he confirmed, his eyes sparkling with an unexpected acceptance.

I began to take my place back on top of him, feeling the weight of the moment shift in the air. This time, he let me, his earlier fear replaced by a curious acceptance. I searched in his eyes, staring deep into his icy blue orbs that seemed to hold a world of secrets. Memories flooded back to me—his whimpering, the reason I had come here in the first place. A smirk played at my lips, a teasing glimmer in my gaze. “Why don’t you pick up where you left off? I didn’t mean to disrupt your playtime,” I said, my voice laced with playful mischief.

He looked at me with widened eyes, surprise etched across his features. “W-what...” he spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper. I began tracing my fingers up his neck, reveling in the softness of his skin beneath my touch. “You heard me,” I replied, leaning in closer, my breath warm against his ear as I whispered the words that hung between us.

His breath quickened, and he cleared his throat, the tension in the air palpable. I climbed off of him, settling beside him on the bed, my heart racing with anticipation. I glanced down toward his lap, a smile spreading across my face as I looked back up at him. He was hard, the evidence of his desire undeniable. He gulped, his gaze darting to the side, avoiding mine.

The dim light cast a soft glow across his features, highlighting the beads of sweat that trickled down his forehead, a testament to the heat of the moment. I tilted my head to the side, pouting slightly, my eyes locking onto his. “What are you waiting for... just act like I’m not here,” I purred, my voice dripping with seduction, inviting him to abandon his hesitation.

His hands moved deliberately towards his lower body, retracing the path they had taken before. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pulled the blanket off of him, shedding the extra layer that felt too constricting in the charged atmosphere. He undid the string of his sweatpants, the fabric slipping down inch by inch, revealing more of him with each gradual pull. He paused for a moment, glancing over at me, and I could feel the intensity of his gaze. I was watching his every move, my breath hitching in anticipation.

My eyes flicked up to meet his, and I caught a glimpse of a pleasing look on his face, a mix of confidence and vulnerability. But just as quickly, he shifted his gaze back down, as if the intensity of the moment was too much to bear. He tugged his pants down to his thighs, leaving them still clinging to him, the fabric taut against his skin. His briefs followed closely after, slipping down with a teasing grace, revealing even more of him.

I gasped at the sight, my breath catching in my throat, causing his head to snap up in surprise. He looked nervous, visibly biting the inside of his cheek, a telltale sign of his unease. “What?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. I shook my head, a light smile playing on my lips. “S’pretty, baby,” I murmured, tugging my lip between my teeth to stifle the sounds that threatened to spill out. He blushed, his cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson as he looked away from me. “...thanks...” he mumbled softly, the word barely escaping his lips.

He inched his hands down to his fully hardened dick, softly groaning as he made contact. He whimpered softly. God I could listen to that sound all day. Beginning to move at a slower pace, he began pumping his hand up and down faster, gaining speed. He furrowed his eyebrows, shutting his eyes tightly. His strokes were starting to get more sloppy. I could tell he was insanely close. His mouth hung low at he thrusted his hips in the air lightly. I was completely in love with the sight.

“O-oh go-” he tossed his head back, tears glimmering like tiny crystals as they streamed down his flushed cheeks. His legs trembled slightly on the bed, betraying the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. He breathed heavily, each gasp filled with a mix of pleasure and vulnerability, as he wiped his eyes with his clean hand.

He panted softly coming down from his intense high. I noticed the mess on his lower stomach, trailing my fingers towards him scooping some up. I placed my fingers in my mouth his sweet cum tasted like icing, rich and indulgent. I hum at the taste, licking everything up leaving nothing behind. I look up to meet Matt’s face, his eyes widened in shock, for the second time tonight.

tags- @shaquilles-0atmeal @monroesturnns @blahbel668 @mattssluttywaist @jetaimevous

[theweeklydiscourse]

I’m not sure if I was too young to see this but do you think the wish fulfillment narrative prevalent in acotar was also present in twilight? I can see some likening between the two series, some characters in both series being a red flag if you choose to analyze them but at the time it being super thrilling and romantic (don’t get me started on the problematic baby thing going on in both series) plus the whole Team X vs Team Y with the shipwar. I read that series when I was little, Breaking Dawn released when I was 12, and I don’t remember inserting into Bella that much but I remember the insane amount of Team Edward or Team Jacob discourse still I never really cared that much about the series. Maybe I just wasn’t old enough? I remember it had so much hype even amongst peers that weren’t avid readers like I was (I was a nerd that used reading as escapism) I imagine the discourse might have been on the same level, or worse, as acotar had twilight been a thing around this day of media.

Sorry I got carried away, basically, do you think there are similarities between the two? including the wish fulfillment narrative?

Also please ignore me if you don’t really know or care about Twilight, I love your takes and I’m just curious about what you might think on how the world works around two very popular series 😊 thank you for being so kind about my thoughts ❤️

I’m so glad that you like my takes! Thank you for this ask :)

The wish fulfillment narrative of Twilight is arguably one of its most recognizable elements and it provides a useful basis for analyzing what makes it so appealing to readers. On the surface, there is the simple explanation of two powerful supernatural hotties chasing the same (relatively passive) reader-identified character. However, the wish fulfillment narrative runs deeper than that, and engaging with Twilight on that level can allow us to see how ACOTAR bears many similarities to it.

In both series, the heroine’s identification with the masculine allows her to assert power and dominance vicariously while still maintaining her position as the protected party. My understanding of this subject is largely informed by Contrapoints’ video essay “Twilight” which discusses this phenomenon at length. In her essay, Contrapoints engages with the psychological aspects of the wish fulfillment narrative and analyzes the pleasurable elements of the series. In Twilight, Bella achieves this vicarious power through an alignment with a powerful masculine figure who then enables her to become more powerful through a supernatural transformation. Feyre also undergoes a major transformation, but in her case, the pursuit of vicarious power does not end through her union with Tamlin.

The reason why Maas constantly reiterates that Rhysand is the strongest high lord in history is because that’s what makes the notion of his attention so enticing. Feyre becoming the object of his affection and praise is meant to be a testament to her worth and establishes her as someone who can receive power through him. This way, the reader cannot only identify with the heroine, but also with the love interest whose view of the heroine is then looked at by reader. The pleasurable aspect of this dynamic is that the heroine gets to watch herself being looked at and recognize herself as a “sight” for the male love interest. It’s a dynamic that essentially affirms her worth, but in a manner that prevents her from existing as the male love interest does.

With reference to Tamlin, the reason why he is continuously relevant even after the conclusion of his character arc is that his continued self-inflicted isolation and misery affirms Feyre’s power over him. Feyre, the reader-identified character, gets to have it all. She can have a perfect marriage with Rhysand while also being able to enjoy her indirect ownership over Tamlin’s heart even if she no longer desires him. For Twilight, a similar situation occurs when Jacob imprints on Bella and Edward’s daughter and is then shackled to them through a supernatural bond. This way, Jacob stays in Bella’s orbit (albeit in a pretty bizarre way) and she gets to have the best of both worlds: powerful vampire soulmate and a former love interest who remains tethered to her.

Alongside the Contrapoints video, I’d also reccomend this video essay if you want to delve more into this topic. Most of what I’m writing comes from what I’ve learned in those two videos.

[gregoriaofnyssa]

Demystifying Female Romance

The basis of female romantic interest is relation-- it is autoerastisphillia. Love of oneself as the lover. This is the true explanation behind the tendency for “female centered” romantic media to have a bland female protagonist and a dynamic, interesting, and often pained male romantic interest. The typical explanation of this is that the female protagonist is supposed to be a blank slate for the female reader to relate to; the female fantasy is to be loved by a dynamic, interesting, rich, and pained man. I am sure there are some women who interact with romantic media in this way, but I am also sure this is not typical, at least not subconsciously. Instead, the bland as bread female protagonist is a conduit for the female reader to relate to and romantically embody the male love interest. 

I experienced this recently when I started playing BG3 recently. I’ve never felt like this about a fictional character before. My heart is inflamed. I think about Astarion, and I giggle like a child. But what is my real interest here? My interest is in myself. I realized I do not so much as have affection for Astarion, but rather I have a great deal in common with him. Our traumas could not be more similar unless I was kidnapped by something supernatural. I was abused; Astarion was abused. I had my body taken from me; Astarion had his body taken away from him. Horrible things were done and said to me; horrible things were done to Astarion. Astarion had his flesh cut into; I had my flesh cut into. 

I always thought fictional crushes were weird, especially when I was a child and my abuse was happening. But now I understand it. The great quality of art is that it allows you to be seen. Really seen. Validated. Only, this art had abs and a lovely voice. This art, and all art I love, makes me want to be a part of it. I love the art because I want to be it.

Autoastarionphillia. Love of oneself as Astarion. It is extremely strange, like much of the rest of female psychology. Masculinized female psychology is even weirded. Reflecting upon this, I recall when I was younger and my abuse was happening, I connected greatly to the character Killian Jones from the ABC show Once Upon a Time. I was enthralled by the relationship between him and Emma Swan, but I really had no interest in Emma. I have always related more to male characters in general, actually. I relate to many male characters more than most real women in my real life. As far as Killian goes, I related to his anger, his pain, and his hunger for vengeance. At the time, I almost didn’t know why I related so. It took me some reflection to realize what was being done to me.

My desire wasn’t so much for the character (it was especially not for the actor), but to be loved like he was, and redeemed like he was. The same is true for Astarion. I relate to his pain, intimately, and I relate to his anger. I wish I could’ve brought vengeance like Astarion will in this (and every) playthrough. I wish there would’ve been someone to pluck me from the horror of what was happening to me. I wish someone would’ve defended me. I wish someone was there to be my mirror. 

This is why the woman in virtually every romance novel (or movie, TV show, or videogame), is a dishwater blonde or brunette with a meek, unknowable personality. (Emma Swan was not like this by any means, but we should still consider why I still related to Hook more than her). This is so prominent that I can’t actually decide if I find Twilight so memorable because of Bella Swan the character, because of Kristin Stwert’s acting, or because of the zeitgeist around the saga in general. The very fact I’m having this debate in my head I take as proof she is not memorable.

There is no question, however, that Edward Cullen is memorable. He spawned more discourse and fandom than I can even imagine (Twilight is slightly before my day). Just think, a pained, superpowered vampire who sparkles. The men in these novels (Twilight is not the first and shall not be the last) are dangerous, powerful, emotional, eccentric, and relatable, and the women are self-described insecure and frumpy, and nothing else described. This is not a fault of the genre, but a feature. 

Male love-interests in romance fiction are, furthermore, usually pained in a feminine way. They are violated, abused, degraded, raped, beaten, and so on. These are means of suffering most common to women. Further, they often inflict self-wounds of hatred, vengeance-seeking, self-hatred, and self-blame. In women especially, these wounds fester. Women believe they are unlovable, and so does the love interest. Their psychologies, as love interests, are also more similar to women. 

Astarion is strong, funny, and capable in a way I wish I could be, but never will be. I wish I could be loved as I love him --as my character loves him. I wish I could be supported and corrected and held, I wish my shame could be refuted, I wish my ugliness could be seen as beauty. 

No matter how much I am loved, I will never feel it. I will never really feel my shame refuted, or my ugliness turned to beauty. So, I possess it vicariously, through someone who will. 

All this is to say I am Astarion’s juice box. Because I wish I could drink the beloved’s blood.

[blankensnappeas]

My Thoughts on Malevolent Ships.

John/Arthur: a classic. Honestly there's so much fuel to the fire with this in canon. The tenderness, the constant divorces... although I really adore the queer-platonic interpretations

Arthur/anyone without John: I feel before touching on other specific ships I should touch on this. How cruel, your mind so small to not accept a poly ship? Only one I could see like this is pre-canon ships. Just imagining John constantly third wheeling and being ignored breaks my heart....

John/anyone without Arthur: please just imagine how funny it would be. Please. Arthur having to constantly wingman for John, relaying what he's saying to the other person is very funny to me actually.

Arthur/Parker: adds a certain angst to Parker's death. Rip to Arthur losing a wife and a husband. I prefer this platonic tbh but I can see the appeal.

Mr. Scratch/Arthur: Something something Eldritch swap AU. I love swap AUs and while I don't know what this would look like I just enjoy the idea of Malevolent but Mr Scratch instead of John.

Arthur/Oscar/John: priest x demon/demonically possessed is always a solid ship dynamic BUT THIS GUY LITERALLY CAME IN WITH A "you are my life's purpose" FUCK MAN. Also the whole Jealous John thing adds a fascinating spice because it's like "oh he's jealous because no one else should be close to Arthur? NO WAIT HES JEALOUS BECAUSE HE WANTS TO TALK TO OTHER PEOPLE IM SOBBING"

Arthur/Noel/John: Oscar was killed by the narrative so this ship could run. Someone finally being able to see John, to talk with him. Someone who finally GETS Arthur, on multiple levels, someone he can confide in about the horrors of it all. Noel even accepting John being a fracture of the KiY.. yeag this is good

Arthur/Butcher: Listen they match each other's freaks.

Arthur/John/KiY (and any variations on this): just a more complicated Private Eyes ship, and I eat that shit up every time.

Arthur/Kayne/John: honestly I don't vibe with this one so much. Not that I hate it, it just doesn't click for me

Arthur/Bella: The original divorce duo <3 Wish we could get more about Bella as a person, I'm deeply fascinated by her. Definitely though this ship DOES NOT SAIL but much like Private Eyes I'm fascinated by Queer Platonic take on this. Clearly Arthur at least had some feelings for Bella even if they weren't right for each other romantically... I want a Bella lives AU