#paul can't catch a break

[menlove]

I'm such a paul girl that I wrote paul as sympathetically as possible in wynyly and am BLINDSIDED by comments being like "I love how hot and cold he is poor john"

[lady-shadow-and-darknesss]

Verlaine was intrigued by Rimbaud, and replied, "Come, dear great soul. We await you; we desire you."

Source : Wikipedia

The real life Rimbaud and Verlaine were so complicated. Verlaine abused his wife and child and both of them lost themselves to drugs and alcohol. And then Verlaine shot Rimbaud.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-nine —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 4.4k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. SA and implication of child SA (very subtle). summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

You trip over a tree root, catching yourself against the rough bark. You don’t stop. You scream for him again, your legs propelling you toward the road, boots sliding over loose gravel.

He pushes past the others and closes the distance.

You slam into him, nearly falling, and grab his shirt, using him to steady yourself. “Simon, we have to go. Now. We need to leave.”

“What’s going on?” Someone asks—Price?—but it barely registers.

"We need to fucking leave!" you urge.

Ghost clamps onto your shoulders. “Twix, breathe. What did you see?”

“There is a body—and blood, on the wall—I don’t know what it says, but it's fresh—” You shake your head, heart erratic. The words won’t come out right. You can’t explain the wrongness crawling under your skin, the terrible dread in your stomach. You thrust a finger in the direction of the chapel as if they will understand. The quiet air rolls through the flowers. You feel it now. It's too quiet. Too calm. You can only manage a whisper. “Someone had to have written the words. We’re not alone.”

You barely catch the unfurling of his eyes before the world erupts into black smoke, and then you can't see him at all.

They already knew you were here.

He grabs you, shouting something you can’t make out.

Your first thought is Blue, and your second is the bow.

Your hands fumble as you blindly slap an arrow onto the string, but someone's body slams into yours, and it falls. You can’t even see where it landed.

The cloud of smoke burns your lungs, and a string of coughs spasm up your throat.

Ghost’s grip slips from you.

"Blue!" you choke out. 

You stumble forward, reaching aimlessly, even though you don’t know what you’ll do when you find her. Your vision blurs with painful tears, and then you feel it—a sharp prick at your neck.

The pain is a numb, searing sensation down your spine.

Your muscles seize, then convulse.

"Ghost," you think you say. The soft ringing in your ears drowns everything. You try to take a step, but your leg won't move. You succumb to the numbness. The ground rushes to meet you, though darkness steals you first.

You swim between disjointed visions. Viewing them from behind plexiglass. At first, you are talking to Paul. It's a sunny day. The birds are chirping through canopies of oaks. Then, you are in a room bathed in white. Fingers prod at you. You can't react to them. A soft voice hums sweetly, almost soothing, but it twists and warps back into Paul’s voice.

"The world kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry."

You bite a smile. "You know I have those words memorized."

"Good. Don't forget them," he says, not looking up from the wooden bird he whittles between leathery hands. It is a raven, you think. Though, you're no expert like he is. 

"You missed the first part, though."

His brow lifts. "Remind me."

"The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places," you recite. 

A weathered mouth stretches at the corners. "Which one will you be, then? Broken or killed?"

You look down at the knife in your hand, the one you've been using to carve the arrow for the bow he's made you. The blade is dulled. You drag a thumb over it, shrugging. "I guess only time will tell."

"I suggest deciding for yourself, Twix."

You look back at him. "What did you call me?"

He responds, but his voice slurs into something unintelligible. 

White sunlight catches on his knife’s blade, almost blinding you. You close your eyes against the glare, but the light doesn’t fade when you reopen them—it grows, washing out the blue sky until it shifts into a stark white ceiling. Paul is gone. The birds have been silenced. The crisp scent of fresh linen reaches you. Is this a new dream, or the kaleidoscope rolling before the surrender to death? Your body feels like a borrowed shell, your mind straining to instruct your fingertips to move. They manage a weak press into the soft sheets below, rubbing against the fabric as if to convince yourself it’s truly there.

You are alive, then. Or the brain is incredible at tricking you into thinking so. 

Moving your neck feels like a daunting task, as if the vertebrae in your spine have been rewired, so you shift your eyes, searching for clues, but your memory is faulty at best. The walls are all white and bare. There is a dark wood table at the far corner, and a single shut door to your right. Then, there are...bars. Metal bars stripe the view, and you realize with a sudden jolt in your chest that you are enclosed by them, kept in a confined rectangle at one part of the room. 

Awareness strikes as you realize you're nearly naked, clad only in a thin, white shift. Someone has changed you. You ignore the lingering ache as you crane your neck upward and steal leverage from your elbows. The small bed below you creaks with the shift in your muscles. 

There are two other cots in the enclosure, and in them lay two unconscious figures. One lays flat, limbs spread in an unnatural way, while her black hair curtains over the white linen like splats of ink. The other is a smaller girl, her body curled into a haphazard fetal position.

There is no one else in the room.

Only you, Nereida, and Blue.

Audibly dry breaths stagger up your throat. Your mouth feels like painful sandpaper no matter how much spit you try to gather. You try to sit up more, but your legs won't move the way you tell them to, and you end up almost crumpling onto your back again. 

"F...uck."

They are still asleep, or knocked out, or whatever it is that has been done to you. They are alive, though. This much you know, based on the steady movement in their chests. Still, you want to reach them. You try to lift up once more, managing to lean your back against the wall for support, but just when you are ready to throw your weight into swinging a leg over, a gentle creak comes from the door.

"Tu es réveillée!"

Your gaze snaps to a young woman—a stranger—dressed in a long white cloak with a hood and veil. She might look like a ghost if not for the faint shimmer of her features on the other side of the veil: soft cheeks, a slightly crooked nose, but still pretty. She can't be older than you. In her hands is a tray with three mugs of what appears to be a porridge. Nothing about her emits a threat except for the fact she is on the other side of the metal bars. A sharp intake floods your lungs, a scream caught in your throat as she approaches, tilting her head in a look that feigns concern.

"Forgive me, I forget you speak anglaise. Please, do not be afraid. My name is Salome." The accent is thick but ignorable. She glances at the other two with a gentle smile. "I am happy you are awake. Your friends will be awake soon, as well. Are you hurting?"

When you say nothing, frozen, she reaches a mug through the bars and sets it on the floor. "Here. For you. Eat it slowly. Your body is still recovering."

A stretch of silence hangs between you, broken only by your uneven breathing. The understanding sinks in with full force as you glance between her, the other two, and the mug. It’s an understanding spliced with confusion—missing pieces. All you know is that your nostrils twitch, and you have no desire to move an inch toward the offering of food.

You observe her in more detail. The cloak hangs loosely on her frame, but she isn't boney, in fact a distinguishable swell shifts under it when she adjusts the tray in her hands. She is pregnant. A pregnant woman is your kidnapper. No, that's not right. She couldn't have carried the three of you, nor could she have done whatever the hell has been done to the four males who are clearly not present. There has to be others. The thought digs your nails into the soft mattress. 

She looks ready to say something again when her eyes dart to the side. You follow her gaze to see that Blue is moving her leg, eyes still closed, but she is moving.

The sight gives the rush of adrenaline needed to rip the sheet off your body and bring your feet to the floor. On wobbly legs, you rush to her cot, ignoring the woman's presence in favor of cupping Blue's cheeks, checking her pulse. Her skin is warm and the artery is beating steadily. You give her a little shake, but her eyes won't flutter. 

"She might not wake for longer than you. Do not be worried. The dosage has a stronger effect on children."

You stiffen.

A snarl cuts through you as anger surges, ripping free from the pit in your chest.

"Dosage?" 

You whirl around, careening toward the bars, gripping them when you almost lose your balance. "Do not be worried? You drugged a fucking child and shoved us in a cage." Your hands tighten, the metal biting into your skin. You don't care that your voice hurts from disuse. "Where are the others? Why aren't they here?" She startles back a step, her soft eyes downcast.

"I see you are upset," she says, her tone soft and careful. "I know this is... much for you. Sometimes God works in ways we do not understand right away, but I promise, He has blessed you. You are safe here." A light touch to her belly. Whispering now, she adds, "You are coveted." 

Then, she lowers the other two mugs through the bars and slips out of the room, cloak silently brushing her feet. 

Breathing hard, the energy deflates.

You half-crawl back to Blue's bed.

Staring at her pink cheeks.

Head pounding.

She claims you are safe. The lack of hostility might suggest that, but the enclosure and fact that she could not answer your question about the others say different. 

You spend a strange amount of time sifting through the recesses in your brain, plucking the memories out, from the bloody chapel to the smoke to this, before Nereida shifts in her bed. Her eyes actually open, and then she is gazing around, the same process of understanding contorting on her face. 

"Twix," she breathes. "What is—where are we?"

You tell her about Salome and everything you know, which is next to nothing. 

"But the guys—"

"I don't know where they are. She wouldn't tell me anything."

The mugs of porridge go cold. 

You hear movement outside in the distance—someone stepping through the grass, a passing exchange between French-speaking men—but the window is on the other side of the bars.

"Maybe if we try to just..."

Nereida attempts to poke half of her face through the bars to look out, but by the way she claws at her hairline in frustration, you don't need to ask to know she can't see a thing. 

Your muscles feel mostly in control now, and despite the howl in your stomach, you refuse to eat.

Nereida does, too. She does some silent prayer—if that's what you could call closing her eyes and humming hypnotically to herself—and when she is done, she reopens them and says, "John will come soon. He will."

"They could be dead."

"We would know if they were."

"No, we wouldn't."

"I would know," she whispers, and circles her arms around her knees, thumbing the scar on her shoulder. "He isn't dead."

Neither of you speak for some time. 

You watch Blue, her pulse steadying you, even if by a little. Absently, you stroke her hair. The pieces of the puzzle fall together with grim clarity. No weapons. Ghost, Price, Kyle, and Ari could be dead. The thought is a weight you can barely carry. You shove it away, refusing to let it consume you. If you let yourself linger too long on the possibility, you'll break down. You can't—merely for Blue's sake, not when you're holding onto the fragile thread keeping you together.

As the sunlight through the window starts to fade, you try to determine whether it's been a day or more since you were knocked out, and when exactly Salome will return. That's when Blue finally wakes up.

"Twix?"

Her lashes flicker.

"Blue. Blue, I'm here." You carefully scoop her in a tight hug, breathing her in closely. 

"What... what happened?" She lamely pulls away, shoulders sagging, and trembles in confusion. "I can't—I don't remember anything."

"We were drugged. Someone—I don't know who or why—but someone is keeping us in here."

"Are they going to kill us?" she whispers.

"I think they would have by now if they wanted to."

Her breath staggers. "But where is—why isn't Ghost here?"

You swallow. "I don't know if he... I don't know where he is."

Her eyes dart around.

"You mean my dad—he could be..."

She clutches at the shift on her chest.

At first, when you see her eyes begin to gloss over, you fear she is in pain. But then the panic becomes palpable, tearing through her ability to breathe, and she starts clawing at her own skin. 

"My dad is dead! My dad is fucking dead! He's not here. Why isn't he here!"

Her screams pierce the room.

You grab her wrists to stop the damage from her nails, welts already beating red on her neck.

"Blue, stop! Stop it!"

But she won't stop. She grabs the pillow and stuffs it in her mouth, howling into it, her face red and wet.

She begins to rock violently.

"I can't survive without him."

You watch helplessly, trying to hold her. 

"Please, just—breathe. We don't know if he's—"

The door opens. Salome rushes in beside an older woman similarly dressed in white. 

"Le pauvre enfant a peur! Dieu montre ta grâce." The other woman carries the tray this time, with what looks to be more food along with a syringe. She hands it to Salome. "Dites-leur que cela aidera."

Salome offers the needle through the bars as you glare at her, tightening your arms around Blue. "This will help her calm down."

"I am not giving her that. Stay the fuck away."

Blue is shaking so hard she bumps her skull into your jaw. Nereida touches your arm. "Twix, it could help her."

"You don't know what the fuck they put in that thing," you hiss at her. "I'm not drugging her even more."

"I will leave it here for your choosing. Your dinner will not be hot for long. Please, all of you, eat." Salome bows her head as she places the syringe and tray on the floor in front of the cell, and leaves with the other woman before you can demand more from them. 

It is only after minutes of listening to Blue scream, unable to stop her from scratching herself any longer, that you concede and ask Nereida to bring it to you. Carefully, you sweep the hair from her face, steadying the tremble in your hand as you sink the needle into a vein in her arm, with Nereida helping to keep it extended.

"There. Please, Blue, please calm down. We cannot think the worst. Not yet, okay?" Your eyes threaten moisture but you blink hard to keep it at bay.

Whatever it was acts the moment it seeps into her bloodstream. She sags into you, face turning sticky as the tears are given time to dry, and her wailing dies down to silence. 

"Are you hungry?" 

She shakes her head.

That first night is spent without sleeping. 

You entangle yourself with Blue in the cot, watching the evening turn to a sliver of moonlight across the floor. She doesn't fall asleep, either, oscillating between silent tears and a void stare at the ceiling. Nereida stays in her own bed, humming here and there in that way that she does. At one point, you hear her whisper into the pillow: "John, give me strength. You always do."

You keep your emotions steady by counting the notches in Blue's spine, one by one, then starting back at the top. As you do, you think about what Salome said. You are not just safe, you are coveted. They want you to eat. They are not trying to harm you. Coveted. She's touched her stomach when she said it. The connection between it all grows starker in your mind. 

You share this with Nereida at the break of dawn when Blue seems to finally have succumbed to fatigue.

"They want us because we are women. That's why the others aren't here."

She nods, whispering. "I was thinking the same."

"Then we use that to our advantage."

"How?"

You palm your temple. "I don't know. I mean, we have some standing here. They value us in some way, right?"

"But we don't even know who 'they' includes," she murmurs, leaning her forehead briefly against the wall, then sitting straighter. "There are men here, too. That much we know. And if they were able to take out all of us at once, then there could be many."

"But none have come to see us," you point out. "Why is that?"

"Because they aren't allowed to." She places a finger on the wall, drawing it around, as if it helps her think. "Why would they be? We are coveted, remember? Something to be protected. Why else would they bother feeding us and keeping us tucked away in here."

"So maybe the guys aren't dead yet," you exhale, wishfully. "Maybe they are just in separate... housing or something. Another cell of their own. Kept away from the women, that's all."

Based on the interior of the room, this feels it was once a small, detached home. Maybe on a farm. The walls are painted stone; cold to the touch. All of the buildings you recall seeing on your way here were old, little farmhouses. Perhaps they have an established settlement. 

Mewling it over, you finally touch the cold food, taking a small bite of the cut-up meat to confirm it's something you haven't tasted in years: beef. They have cattle. What else do they have? Drugs, apparently. Or at least some type of sedatives extracted from plants. They are well-versed in the land. They are religious. And women are coveted for reproduction. 

"But then what was the shit in that chapel for?" you whisper to yourself, the image of the mangled body staining the backs of your lids when you close them.

When they reopen, Salome is at the doorway.

"Bonjour, mesdames. I have some oatmeal—" she frowns at the tray on the floor. "Oh... my. You have not eaten for two days. This is not the Lord's wishes. Your bodies are chosen, and they are in need of—"

"Tell us where they are, and we’ll eat," you cut her off, rising to your feet. You grip the bars tightly. "Tell us if they're still alive. One of them is her father. If you don't want her screaming again, you will tell us if he's okay."

She stares at you, then nods. "Eat first. All of you."

The oatmeal is sweetened with ripe blackberries that burst on your tongue. Blue awakens just when you and Nereida finish scarfing the last bite. You hand her the last bowl of oatmeal and urge her to eat, knowing that Salome won't cooperate if she doesn't. Blue takes minuscule bites. She hacks some of it back up, but with a sip of water passed through the cage, she is able to finish the rest.

She wipes a hand over her mouth and looks at Salome. "My dad. Where is he?" Her voice is low.

"He is alive. Of course, he is. They all are." A tremendous sense of relief washed over you. She cups her belly, her fingers tracing the shape. "Life is sacred... and so is death. We must be careful not to let more death come than is needed. The world... it has already seen too much of it."

Your brow scrunches. "Bullshit. I saw that corpse you guys left in the—"

Nereida gives your wrist a light squeeze, a reminder to hold back. You bite your tongue, knowing this woman is the only one who might give you any answers.

Salome tilts her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "I do not mean the world does not deserve the plague it bears. Men... they grew too sinful. Strayed far from God's will. It was His plan for them to atone for it." Her lips stretch into a faint smile, a thin, almost sad expression. "Your friends—they cannot come closer to God until they make amends. They must atone before they can be worthy of the future we will bring."

You blanch. "What the hell does that mean? 'They must atone?'"

Her gaze drifts to the left, and she mutters something under her breath in French, her words faint, then lowers her head to collect the tray, her back to you. You can’t hold yourself back any longer, pushing your face between the bars. "Don’t you fucking dare. You’ve hardly told us anything!"

"I... I fear I cannot say more." She pauses, glancing over her shoulder. "You are in a delicate state, and Maman will see to you today. Please... trust me, this is the way it must be."

Maman?

The door quietly clicks shut and you growl at it.

A hand cups your shoulder. 

"She told us they're alive. That's what matters, right?'

You face Blue, leaning your spine into the metal. "Yeah. But we still have no way of getting to them."

The red rim around her eyes has faded to the same flush as her lips. She takes a slow breath through her chest, clenching and unclenching her hands, before asking, "What do you think they are doing to them?"

"I don't know," you say with a heavy exhale, your tongue pressing between your cheek and teeth.

G

Pennies.

When Ghost swims to the surface of semiconsciousness, the smell of pennies wafts up his nose first, then the feel of icy, hard restraints around his wrists hits him second. It is the kind of smell that is deeply woven into the floors and walls. Old blood calling for new. He could remember smelling it for the first time in Mexico when he'd awoken in a cell, stripped. The flush of air against his chest suggests this time is now different, but upon forcing his lids apart, a glance downward reveals he still has jeans on.

Ghost thinks he hears someone scream his name—Simon!—but it is merely a memory from right before the world went dark. He'd fought against it all he could, keeping the tail of Twix's shirt in one hand, and trying to seek Blue with the other, but then he had to choose one to let go of to grab his gun. The memory swims up to the forefront; the fumbling of his fingers at his belt loop, seeking the pistol, the loss of motor function as something pricked his neck. The pistol slipped from his grasp, and so did they.

He forces the reel of Twix's screams to the back of his mind where they play in a distant loop. Through hazy vision, he looks around, taking in the lack of light. No windows. It is a small room, with grey stone walls, and only one door at the far end. None of the others are here. Not the girls or Price or Gaz. There wouldn't even be space for all of them to fit in here. The shackles on his wrists are rusty, nicking his skin when he tries to shift around. His heart thumps steady and slow between his ears. Whatever they drugged him with is fading with each shake of his head and forced blink of his eyes.

He tugs on the manacles once more in vain when there is a voice from the other side of the wall.

It is muffled through stone, but grows crisper as booted footsteps close in.

Then they stop.

The door creaks open.

The man who steps in is cloaked in grey.

He waves a metal bar, whistling lowly, and kicking the door shut behind him. 

"You must be an early riser." His chuckle is wry. "Up before your friends. Tell me, Brit. What brings you all the way to l'Hexagone? Not a fun trip over the water, is it?"

The man circles him. A light tap of the bar on his bare shoulder blade. 

"No? Not much of a sharer?" The end of the bar presses in, just slightly, but the pain doesn't register. Only the cold wetness of a trickle of blood on his back when it pulls away. A hand fists his hair, and yanks his head back. "Nous allons régler ça, sale racaille. Je me ferai un plaisir de t'aider à retrouver la lumière."

His head is thrown forward with force. Ghost blinks down at the floor, teeth grinding. Through them, he breathes hard—

"Where are they?"

"Which ones? The pretty ones?" The accented voice lowers to the shell of his ear. "I would not get your hopes up of seeing them again. They will be saved for the most worthy of us."

- Nous devons expier nos péchés...We must atone for our sins. - Tu es réveillée!...You're awake! - Le pauvre enfant a peur! Dieu montre ta grâce....The poor child is afraid. God show your grace. - Dites-leur que cela aidera...Tell them it will help. - Nous allons régler ça, sale racaille. Je me ferai un plaisir de t'aider à retrouver la lumière...We'll sort this out, you dirty scum. I'll be happy to help you get back to the light.

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʀᴜɪɴɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒⌒★ Yandere!Dune Men x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒴𝑜𝓊 ♡ ｡ ゜  

☾⋆ Paul Muad'Dib Atreides | پل معادب آتریدس

He dreamed of you again tonight. Something cathartic laying across the sands. Your touch haunts his skin, tracing scars and stars across his cheeks. He wonders what you see him as, something sacred or something exotic. Neither matters so long as you love him...

Paul's a volatile star, always one breath away from exploding. You're scared to touch the golden boy, lest your fingers return burned and your skull rattles with the echo of the cosmos. Still, it's hard to miss the devotion when his lips grace your knuckles. Hard to miss the cacophony of his heart as it reverberates across the desert. 

ᯓ★ Leto Atreides | لتو آتریدس

Leto kisses butterflies into your shoulder, the taste of your skin feels like nectar on his tongue. His mind is always racing vying for your affection, your attention, your adherence. He traces your name across his star maps, each letter scribbled in a melancholy blue. You grace his chambers again tonight, it feels so wrong to only see your silhouette, to not feel your love bleeding like his does. He kisses you again, something akin to devotion. He needs to feel you under him again, needs to feel the softness of your flesh under his fingers. Something in him shatters, something inside him rearranges. You make him feel so erratic. Why must he love you this way?

𓆩⚝𓆪 Duncan Idaho | دانکن آیداهو

his lips taste of chaos, he pours his passion into you. 

He feels you rattle inside his bones. Feels you coursing through his veins like unaltered spice. He's on another mission, laying in the sand and daubing your essence into constellations. He dreams of your fingers running over his muscles pushing adoration into him with a rusted kitchen knife. Your eyes never gaze at him for long. And yet each stare holds the weight of a nebula. He falls asleep to the phantom melody of your sweet voice. Dreaming of returning to you once more. 

༺🕸༻ Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen | فید روتا هارکونن

There's a blade in his hand, blood marring pale fingers again. In every droplet, he sees your face. Phantom pains rampage when he hears your name. He dreams of you holding a knife to this chest, breaking the skin, and riving through muscle. Each night your ghost plagues him. Hurting him in all the ways he craves. He dubs you ecstasy, overdosing on everything he wants to do to you. Everything he wants you to do to him. He etches your name upon his bones, dedicating each open wound to you. He's going mad over the notion of you between his sheets, limbs entwined in a bloody mess. His tongue craves the taste of your flesh, starved like the trees on Arakkis. He must have you, he will have you. 

-`𖤓´- Stillgar | ستیلگار

Stillgar's love is a desert tune, the winds rustling through the grains before the breaching of a sandworm. He falls harder and harder with each soulful gaze. He's spent his whole life chasing prophecies that he's forgotten how to wholly love something not written in blood and legend. He prays upon every star, that the maker has written your names together. That maybe some prophecy exists where you are to become his. He watches you sitting across the dunes, watching as the sunset pales compared to you. He whispers prayers beneath his breath, hoping you'll be with him soon. 

݁˖☘��� Gurney Halleck | گارنی هالک

He stiffens under your touch, under the sonority of your voice. His battered heart rattles in your presence, the air in his lungs freezes and he momentarily forgets that he is a soldier, a protector, a tool carved to fight for the Atreides. He's not meant to love, to crush, he's meant to kill, to teach, to follow. A weapon in every sense of the word. And yet he'd throw the world at your feet for a sliver of your attention. Gurney can't help the flames that grow within him. The raging pyro each night when he catches a rogue glimpse of you through the crack of your door. He wishes to kiss you, to hold you. To make you his in every way he knows he can't. 

[writinginatree]

Paul x reader - Vampires Will Never Hurt You

Summary: Paul reveals his true nature to you when he has to save you from an attacker, and immediately panics about how you'll react.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, blood & murder

Santa Carla is not a safe place to walk alone at night, everyone knows that. You have never felt particularly unsafe being out late despite that, used to the night life thanks to your boyfriend and his brothers, who have the worst sleeping rhythm imaginable and a bad enough reputation to scare off any possible threats, but now, as you walk along the beach to where you're supposed to meet Paul, a chill creeps down your spine.

You fight the urge to look back over your shoulder again. The surf nazi that has been following you since the boardwalk will still be there if you look, you're sure, and you're not willing to let him see how much he's scaring you.

You've almost reached the meeting spot, and the sun is just disappearing into the ocean, which means you're right on time. Paul will be there any moment.

You cling to that thought, walking faster.

Only a small rise of the ground separates you from where you hope Paul is already waiting, when the sound of footsteps alerts you to the fact that the distance to your pursuer is growing ever smaller.

No amount of telling yourself you'll be safe with Paul in just a minute can help against the feeling that a hand will close around the back of your neck any moment. You try to just keep walking, but the tension becomes too much. You need to know what to expect, what your pursuer is up to, so you whirl around to face him, wishing you had some kind of weapon in case you have to defend yourself.

The shock of just how close he is has you staggering a step backwards, your own galloping heartbeat drowning out all other sounds as a glinting switchblade appears in his hand. In the falling darkness, you can just barely make out the surfer's cruel features, crazed hatred shining in his eyes. The conflict between Paul's group and these people is nothing new — anyone who spends enough time on the boardwalk can witness it — but now you realize with growing terror that you may have underestimated just how far it goes. This guy is fully prepared to kill you just to get to Paul.

He says as much, crossing the remaining distance between you with two huge steps as you stand frozen in fear.

Scream. You should scream. If Paul is already close-by — and he should be, if he's on time — he'll hear and come help you. But you can't seem to make a sound, or move at all.

Your eyes are glued to the knife. That's your mistake, because he doesn't use it yet. Instead his free hand grabs for your throat.

Finally breaking from your stupor, you jump back with a yelp.

Now he does lift the knife, and as you lift your arms in a weak attempt to protect yourself, you promise yourself to learn some self-defense techniques if you live to see the morning.

He's almost upon you when a blur of movement behind the attacker catches your eye. Looking over his shoulder, you recognize the blond mess of your boyfriend's hair, but his face is different — all glowing eyes and sharp teeth. He rips the surfer away from you, moving so fast your eyes can barely follow the movement. All you can see is flailing limbs and spurting blood, and the next thing you know, there's a body laying at your feet, the whole thing over before you can even begin to comprehend what happened.

When Paul turns around to you, his face looks just like always. If it wasn't for the blood smeared all over his face and the disfigured corpse sprawled on the sand, you might be inclined to think you had only imagined it.

Shock keeps you frozen in place, too stunned to say anything — not that you have to, what with Paul rushing to your side, his hands digging into your shoulders as his panicked gaze roams your form for any injuries. His voice trembles as he asks if you're alright, at which you manage a silent nod.

By the time Paul has assured himself you're unharmed, you have finally regained enough of your composure to ask him what the fuck just happened. He only now seems to realize what he just let you witness, that he revealed what you assume was supposed to remain a well-protected secret. Fresh panic flares in his eyes, and for a moment you wonder if he'll kill you now. Whatever just went on with him, can he risk letting you get away and potentially giving him away to others? Ha! As if anyone would believe you if you told them what you just saw. Besides, he went berserk to protect you.

That thought gives you the courage to touch Paul — who is staring at you with that look that you know means there's a hundred thoughts racing through his head at once — on his arm, and ask again. "Paul, what was that? You— You killed that guy. And your face—"

You're not sure what else to say.

Neither is Paul, it seems. He winces, opens his mouth to speak, closes it again. Twice he starts a sentence and breaks off after the first word, frustratedly shaking his head. "I'm a vampire," he finally blurts out, words coming out so fast he stumbles over them. "Me and the boys all are. This— this isn't how I wanted you to find out but I— that guy— I just had to protect you."

For a moment, you can only stare at him, wide-eyed and unmoving as your brain tries to process that information. Vampire. A fucking vampire?

"You... are a vampire," you repeat. It's not really a question — you understood his words perfectly well, and you know what you saw. After that, it's easy enough to believe, also explaining why you only ever get to see Paul and his brothers at night. Even so, the word gives you the unreasonable urge to laugh as you can't help but imagine Paul as one of the little bloodsuckers from a cartoon you used to watch. As you just witnessed, real vampires are nothing like the ones they show on the TV for children, and the lingering smell of blood in the air makes it easy to bite down the threatening laugh, but a feeling of unreality remains. The fact that vampires exist would have been enough of a shock on it's own, but that Paul of all people is one... You're not really sure how to cope with that.

How the hell is one supposed to react when finding out one's boyfriend is secretly a vampire?! Should you be scared? You suppose any sane person would be, when faced with such a bloodthirsty killer. But... bloodsucker or not, it's still Paul. Your sweet, dorky, chaotic and extremely loving Paulie. You just can't bring yourself to see him as a monster, even as you watch the blood continue to drip from his chin. He killed the surfer, sure, but he did that to save you. He wouldn't hurt you, right?

While all these thoughts race through your head, Paul nods and rushes to explain that he doesn't pose any danger to you. You barely listen. You aren't scared of him, you realize. A little disturbed, sure. The events of the last few minutes are too strange and horrifying to really think about without losing your mind, but you know in your bones that Paul would never harm you.

Coming to this realization, you take his bloodstained hand in yours and interrupt his rambling. "I know. I know you're not dangerous to me. I love you, even if you're a vampire — which I'll definitely need some time to wrap my head around, but—"

You're interrupted as Paul breathes a huge sigh of relief and pulls you into his arms, which you're pretty sure he's only held back from doing before because he was scared of scaring you. You hug back, bringing one hand up to pet his hair when you feel him trembling.

"It's okay, Paul. I'm okay. Everything's okay."

When he can finally bring himself to pull away from the hug, Paul tries to give you a kiss, but you quickly take a step back, immediately feeling bad about the hurt look on his face.

"Nuh-uh, I'm sorry, but I'm not kissing you when you have blood on your mouth," you say nonetheless, putting a hand on his chest to keep him at distance.

"Oh c'mon," he whines. "Please, babe!"

The little pout on his lips and the puppy-eyes he's giving you make it almost impossible to resist, and so with a sigh you pull your sleeve down over your hand and use it to wipe away the worst of the blood on his face. Then you allow him to kiss you — and almost immediately regret it, when the taste of blood still clinging to his lips hits you.

You suppose you'll have to get used to it. Now that you know about Paul's true nature, seeing — and kissing — him while he's covered in blood will probably become a common occurrence, whether you like it or not.

[babybearnation]

i love it because i love you

⎇f1 drivers x gn!reader ; he talks about you in his native language (reactions) ⎇contains: arthur leclerc, charles leclerc, dino beganovic, zhou guanyu, kimi antonelli, max verstappen, mick schumacher, paul aron, pierre gasly, yuki tsunoda ⎇author's note: new content style round 3 :D full summary: he talks about you in his native language and you overhear but he doesn't realise you speak the language. native english speakers not included because i don't think it makes sense lol. ⎇content warnings: n/a ⎇word count: 1.2k

arthur leclerc:

horrified. straight horrified. not only did he not realise you were right behind him, he also didn't know you spoke french. he's blushing ferrari red and charles is laughing at him but he's frozen to the spot. he wants to run away and act like he doesn't exist, but he's stuck in place, stuck under your gaze like you're medusa and he's the idiot who fell into your trap.

when you come over and shoo everyone else away before whispering your responding confession to him in shaky french, he can't stop himself from leaning forward to kiss you. it's only a quick peck but soon he's pulling back and babbling apologies in such messy, frantic french that you literally cannot understand him now because you're still a newbie at the language.

it's adorable, really.

charles leclerc:

you think mans isn't just running off and finding the nearest hiding place? you're wrong. after hearing you respond to his confession of his feelings for you in damn near perfect french, he starts running away like a damn cartoon character. except, in true charles fashion, he's kinda fucking dumb, and he forgets that you can literally see him as he runs away.

when you open the door to his hiding spot and hit him with your best "seriously?" look, he flushes, avoiding eye contact and squeaking out a shy little apology. it makes you giggle and he perks up before he's asking you out, a sudden rush of confidence flooding his veins. when you say yes, he's tugging you into the hiding spot with him so he can kiss you, entirely unaware of how suggestive it looks.

yeah, he gets in trouble with his pr team for that one..

dino beganovic:

he's awkwardly chuckling and stammering out apologies in a mix of swedish and english because he isn't sure which language is the best option and all of his friends are laughing at him (fondly, of course) so he eventually just shuts up and meets ur gaze with a tight-lipped smile. you, of course, find this charming.

when you step forward and take his hands in yours before sharing that you feel the same way in adorably broken swedish, dino can't help but get shy all over again, prompting another round of laughter from his friends. it only gets worse when you lean up and kiss his cheek before promising to talk later and practically sprinting off.

he's bright red for the rest of the day.

zhou guanyu:

f1 is so european-centric that whenever guanyu hears another person speaking mandarin, he gets all excited. this time, however, he's mortified. he'd been yapping on the phone about you in mandarin before you'd appeared, prompting him to end his call. when you shakily confess your feelings to him in mandarin, he's shook.

he stammers and stutters before bowing to you, not knowing how else to express his gratitude and admiration for you. when you giggle at his actions, he looks up fondly before immediately launching into a rapid monologue in mandarin that you can barely understand. he seems to catch on and just sighs, shaking his head at his own stupidity.

"i like you, y/n. that's a decent enough summary of what i just said."

kimi antonelli:

honestly, he lowkey makes it worse? when he comes to realise you've overheard him and understood what he's been saying about you, he breaks and starts speaking only italian. luckily, you understand the language quite well, but it makes the entire situation so awkward. like.. there really is no denying that kimi likes you now.

luckily, you like him back and you say as much to him, prompting a very cute blush to spread across his face. he's still very much broken so he ends up responding in italian and eventually, the two of you have settled back into speaking casually the way you were before. it's only when someone notices you're speaking italian that kimi gets reminded of what you two said before and he gets shy again.

yeah, he ends up speaking exclusively italian all day because of it.

max verstappen:

oh boy, he's fucking embarrassed. it takes a lot to embarrass him or make him shy but you? you make him so flustered and giddy he forgets basically every english word ever and just speaks exclusively in dutch around you. it's very much a problem, then, when he discovers you speak fluent dutch. oh god.

when he asks if you've understood his dutch in the past and you hit back with some form of teasing over hearing his many admissions of his feelings for you, he gets embarrassed. when you kiss him, however, the old max returns and he's all confident again, kissing you back and claiming that you're his.

that doesn't mean you won't stop teasing him about this, though.

mick schumacher:

oh this sweet boy is horrified. he's almost positive he's going to get rejected when he discovers that you can speak german and that you've been hearing him consistently praise you over and over to his friends practically right in front of you. then again, that does explain why you kept blushing...

but when you share your feelings for him in slightly wonky german, he can't help but giggle and get all happy, shyly lifting his hands to his face in a weak attempt to hide his rapidly worsening blush. you end up blushing as well, and really, you're just a pair of cherries at this point with how red you both are.

but hey, you both get a partner out of this blunder, so who's upset?

paul aron:

estonian is not a common language to hear in amidst the world of f1. paul is aware of that. that's why, when his brother is supporting him at races, he freely speaks estonian to him, especially when he's talking about you. so when he overhears you talking to his brother in estonian, he's fucking terrified.

of course, before he can run off, ralf spots him, and so he's forced to confront you and the knowledge that you know about his feelings for you. rather than being upset, however, you shoo his brother away and shyly confess your feelings. paul goes speechless and decides to just kiss you as a response instead.

ralf never lets him live it down.

pierre gasly:

he's actually not as shy as the others when he learns that you can speak french and have spoken it this entire time. he thinks its cool and you two end up bonding over and speaking almost exclusively in the language... and then he forgets and starts talking about his feelings for you in front of you.

you giggle and pull him to one side before explaining your own feelings and even then, even after being so embarrassed that he'd slipped up so easily, he recovers quickly and starts flirting with you, making you laugh and smile.

and really, isn't that what he wanted to achieve?

yuki tsunoda:

you know that one clip of him where he calls swearing beautiful and then retracts it almost immediately? yeah, something similar happens when he discovers you can understand him when he's speaking in japanese. he's horrified, literally pale as a ghost, when you respond to his lovesick comment with a shaky expression of gratitude.

before he can run off and join a travelling circus or something, you're pulling him into a kiss, soft and tender. when you two part, he can't focus and the words "will you be mine?" slip out from his mouth (in japanese of course). when you giggle and respond in japanese, it's game over and he's running off, claiming he needs to do a lap of the paddock to calm down.

you find it so adorable that you really can't complain.

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[plutoswritingplanet]

It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt.3

a/n: so i lied about this being the last chapter, there's one more, i know im sorry....... also shout out to my friends, who were unbelievably helpful with the smut part because oh, there's smut here

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (yuuuh yuuuuuuh), Alcohol, like....a tiny bit of Humiliation.

Summary: The month-long courting comes to an end with a bang! As your engagement party commences, wine flows and darker feelings rise to the surface

Pt. 1, Pt.2 Pt.4 (finale)

In the darkness of the night, he still comes to you in your dreams, knife in hand, body taunt and ready to strike. Every single morning, you awake with a gasp, as visions of your tormentor plague you. In some, he slits your throat, reveling in the way red cascades down your nightgown. Other times, it's a quick and brutal stabbing, your insides twisting as you wake. 

But then, there are those rare nights where you rise from your bed, sweat clinging to your skin, as you fight with the pressure in your stomach, try to rid yourself of the images, before making yourself presentable for breakfast. 

Those dreams, nightmares, are the worst. 

White, elegant fingers, grabbing, pulling, pinching every surface of your exposed skin. Defined arms around you, squeezing your pliant body in an embrace that is as tender and romantic, as a snake suffocating its victim. Deceivingly soft lips, mapping a trail down your front, pulling back to reveal teeth, which make that same trail visible, hurting.

In those dreams, he paints you with black. Taints you, until you're molded into his perverse image, until there's no telling where he ends, and you begin. He makes you into a sculpture, in a way that an artist cuts away pieces of clay, slowly robbing you of all agency, until there's only what he wants to see. And you let him, with a trembling smile on your lips, hands twisted into the stained sheets of your bed. 

Ignoring him has become an art form as well.

Since your faithful tangle at the training barracks, you did everything in your power, to never appear in the same room as him, or at least, never alone. You became a shadow in your own home, a whisper of the person you used to be. Shame is a powerful thing, and you wore it like a wedding veil over your face. Paul would always help you, silently. Never asking outright what had happened between you and the Harkonnen, but somehow always knowing. Your brother, your salvation, breaks your heart everytime he grabs your hand, and leads you away from the predator in the room.

The date of your engagement party has been set a week into the future. The nervous bustling of the court only heightening your already wracked thoughts, as the inevitability of your situation begins to haul you to the ground. 

Your Mother took most of the preparations on her back, directing the servants, the kitchen, the musicians. She picked out a dress for you, some flowing abomination, which hung in your closet, reminding you every morning, that you will have to wear it with a smile. You hoped, there will be wine at the feast, hope that it will be sweet enough to dull your insides. 

As the date of the feast comes closer and closer, you begin to spend more time outside. 

The air is crisp and smells of seawater, and you can't help but inhale fully, every time. You want it seared into your brain, so whenever you're taken away from your home, you can run back to this memory, to the feel of grass under your fingers. 

- You'll catch a cold, if you keep sitting here.

Paul's voice brings you back from your dark thoughts, and you look up, from your spot in the grass. He stands a couple paces back, hands folded behind his back in a manner, that is reminding you of your Father more and more every day. 

- Do you want to join me? - you ask, your lips quirking up into a small smile - Or would you prefer to stand there like a pillar of salt?

Your brother shakes his head, before coming closer and plopping down next to you, his skinny legs stretched out in front of him. The both of you sit in silence for a while, enjoying the breeze ruffling your hair, the smell of ocean and the waves crashing into the cliffs. There are seagulls flying over your heads, and you feel the moisture from the grass seep into your clothing. 

A wistful sigh escapes you, before you can stop it, and you let yourself fall, laying flat on the hill. 

Paul looks down at you, undescribable sadness swimming in his eyes, and an instinct of sister awakes in you, a need to comfort, despite being a wreck yourself. So, you offer him a smile, a tired one, but a smile nonetheless. 

- Do you think we could take the horses for a ride today? - your brother asks with naive hope, his eyes turning to the sea.

- Mother won't allow me to go, she wants me to spend my pondering the proper behavior during the feast - try as you might, you can't hide the bitterness in your voice - Besides, I could fall off and hurt the merchandising. 

Paul's hand finds yours, and he squeezes your fingers tightly. It's hard not to break, in moments like these. When you're forced to remember, you'll most likely never see your family again. 

- If I could do something, anything... - you recognize that feverish note in your brother's voice, it's devoid of reason, impulsive, too much like you.

- But you can't, so you won't.

A frustrated sound escapes his mouth, and he turns back to the sea. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, eyelashes falling heavily on your cheeks. He looks like a Duke, you conclude, and that thought feels strangely comforting. No matter where you'll be shipped off, no matter what life has in store for you in the future, somehow, you know your brother will persevere. 

- Do you remember that time Gurney made us train on the beach? - you ask, a sudden wave of nostalgia washing over you, as the clouds float in the sky above you - Cause of the... The balance. We had to try to balance in the sand.

Paul twists his head towards you, surprised at the turn of the conversation, before cracking a smile. 

- Yes, he slipped on the rocks, nearly broke his backbone - he starts to wave his hands around in a wonderful reenactment of your mentor's fall, before collapsing next to you in the grass.

Your laughter mingles with the sounds of the sea, as the both of you, the future of House Atriedes, share memories, scenes from the life you've lived together. The good and the bad. The horse races through plains and hills of Caladan, the many, many food fights. It's hard to tell, how much time you spend together, laying in the grass, but when you finally fall into silence, the air has become considerably more chilly. A sign, it's time to return to reality, to your duties. 

- You should've been me, and I you - Paul whispers suddenly, and you close your eyes in a pained expression. 

Perhaps it's true. Perhaps Lady Jessica made a mistake, and gave a Daughter where she should've given a Son. Now, it's no longer important. Your roles have been set in place, all you could do, is fulfill them. Somewhere back, in the direction of the Palace you can hear a voice calling your names. A reminder, that the world outside this grassy sanctuary exists, and can't wait any longer. 

You move to stand, Paul gathering himself up closely behind. Your clothes stick to your body, and you're shivering from the cold, but if you could spend just one more moment exactly like that, you would've taken that chance without question. 

An arm snakes around your elbow, and you lean onto your brother's shoulder, as you start to walk back, steps swaying like a pair of drunkards. Then, Paul tugs you closer, you can feel him tense suddenly, as he leans with a sullen expression on his pale face.

- I hate the way he looks at you - he confesses, waves upon waves of righteous Atriedes fury crashing in his voice.

You don't know how to respond to that, so you stay silent, giving his arm a reassuring tug.

That was the last conversation you've had with your brother.

*** While the House Atriedes is characterized by a rather mellow temper, there was one thing they took extremely seriously. And those, unfortunately for you, were engagement rituals. 

So, that's why you sit posed like a porcelain doll in a deep chair, next to your soon-to-be husband, at the foot of a long table, surrounded by music, and dancing, and food. There are ribbons hung from the high ceilings, and flickering lights float around them like little fireflies. You watch, as they dance above you, the ridiculous headdress placed on your hair digs into your skul. Color surrounds you, your own dress flowing like a waterfall, elegant, yet delicate. The pools of fabric gather around your legs, a chiffon monstrosity, that you know, is supposed to make you beautiful. 

And perhaps you would've felt beautiful, if this was any other occasion. A birthday feast, perhaps. Dare you say, and engagement party with someone you actually loved. 

Speaking of which, your betrothed sits beside you, sticking out like a sore thumb. He looks utterly bored, eyes following the celebrating masses, hand playing with a steak knife. Not enough blood for his tastes, you suppose. He's dressed in traditional Harkonnen attire, which you think, doesn't really look that much different from all the other outfits you've seen him in. Black, sleek, efficient. You must be a curious pair, a mass of colorful materials and a black-stone pillar. 

The wine, thankfully, is sweet. It warms your face, and turns your insides into a pleasant mush. You should've eaten more, but then again, it was a celebration of your imprisonment, and if you wanted to get drunk, you would. And you did get drunk. Quickly. 

The dress moves with you, as you slowly slide down the chair, one leg resting up on the seat. A frightfully unbecoming sight, but you can't find it in yourself to care. Another, clumsy drink from your cup, and you sigh deeply, blinking a couple of times to rid yourself of sudden dizziness. 

Your betrothed gives you a look, whether it's of warning or amusement, you're not sure. And you don't care. Your nose scrunches in the general direction of his smooth head, and you take another sip, just to spite him.

- Shut up - you grumble, a slurr entering your words.

- I haven't said a word - he counters, and this time you can see him smile.

- You're thinking, it's annoying.

Feyd Rautha has an unpleasant laugh. 

Sharp and low, and very rough around the edges. It's like listening to an old spaceship try to take off, and you're sure you don't want to hear him laugh ever again. That's it, your goal in this, frankly, fucked up marriage, will be to never make your husband laugh. Although, it's best not to think about it so loudly, he might be a hidden mind reader, and would most likely laugh in your face every day, just to torture you. 

God. You were going to regret every sip come tomorrow morning.

- You're wrapped like a present - Feyd Rautha leans down with a smirk playing on his full lips, and you have to crane your neck to look him straight in the face - Shall I unwrap you here, while your family watches?

Despite the light tone, you shiver under his gaze. Something in the way his body seems relaxed yet tense at the same time tells you, this shameless man would do it in a heartbeat, if you as much as inclined your head. 

- Gross - you groan, hand untangling itself from the amassing of chiffon to push back at his face.

It's the first time, you've touched him out of your own volition, and even in your drunken daze, you note the sudden glint in his eyes. Fingers grab at your wrist, keeping you in place, as he leans further into your touch, turning his head slightly. Wine mixes with sudden embarrassment, as his lips brush against the meat of your palm. Then, black teeth shine and your heart jumps to your throat, as he bites down on your skin, hard enough to make you jump. Tongue darts out, licking a stripe up your thumb, before giving your fingertip a tiny nibble.

You tear your hand away from him, pressing it into your chest with an appalled expression. There are indents just below your thumb in the shape of his teeth, and the confounding feelings you've been trying to stoke for almost a month now, come crashing down upon you.

He looks satisfied with himself, returning back to his seat, and his steak knife. The utensil reflects the flowing lights, and despite yourself you swallow thickly, turning back to your cup, which is quickly becoming empty.

God, it was getting incessantly hot in this cursed dining hall. 

Whether it was the wine, or the sudden wave of knee-bending arousal washing through you, you couldn't tell. (It was both, you were fully aware it was both) And you're uncomfortable, terribly so. You fidget in your seat, almost painfully aware of the heat, which has now spread further down. The fabric of the dress slides against your body, skin becoming far too sensitive, too hungry for touch. You try to relieve some of your torment, legs squeezing and rubbing together. Treacherous tongues of self-awareness rear its ugly heads, and you look up, and...

Of course he noticed. 

Feyd Rautha places his chin in his hand, and he observes you with a knowing look, which turns dark and terrifying as soon as your eyes meet.

- Careful, lest the court starts talking - he warns you, his voice somehow becoming deeper than before, and you take a shuddering breath.

Dagnerous, this is dangerous.

 You're seated far away from your family, from any consolation, and even if they were close enough to intervene, the masses of dancing people, the sound of their laughter... Your heart stops, a snake curling itself around your insides. Truly, if that beast of a man wanted to, he could make do of his threat from earlier, and take you where you sit. Haunted by that thought, both terrifying and arousing, you down the rest of your wine. 

It doesn't taste as good anymore. Hell, it threatens to come back up, until you force it to sit in your stomach. 

Duncan, you need to find Duncan, or you'll do something incredibly stupid. You'll do something incredibly stupid either way, but at least the regret will be less biting. So, pulling yourself up on trembling arms, you shuffle out of your chair, your betrothed's heated gaze following you on your way through the hall. 

People don't even look at you, too enraptured with free food and drinks, and the music, which flows loudly through the air. Good, in any other case, the Duke's Daughter, stumbling drunk through corridors, would certainly lift some eyebrows. Your feet carry you towards the training barracks, a familiar route you've followed many times. Indulging in sex with your Father's most trusted advisor was not the healthiest form of regulating emotions, but you needed something, and God knows, you'd rather die than get it from anyone else. From Him especially.

The choice is made for you, however, as a strong hand wraps itself around your arm, just above your elbow, yanking you backwards, behind a stone column. The world spins in front of your eyes, and for a second you worry the company of wine warming your insides is about to abandon you along with breakfast. 

- Do you truly thought, you could sneak away from me?

Finally, your eyes focus on Fey Rautha's face, almost demonic in the low light of the corridor. Shadows play on his expression, falling heavily over his eyes, and you try to wrench yourself from his grasp.

- What I do is none of your business - you slurr out, wringing your arm every which way, his fingers digging painfully into your flesh - Let go of me.

The Harkonnen presses himself closer to you, trapping your body between the stone and himself. His nose nearly crushes itself into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, taking a disturbing long whiff. You can feel his chest vibrate against your own, as he groans deep within his throat. It sobers you up in record speed, and you start to thrash in his hold. He subdues your outburst, as if he was made for it, before dragging his nose up, towards your hair. You snarl like a wild animal.

- Let me go. 

His body moves on its own accord, tearing itself away from you in an instant, legs tripping over themselves, to put distance between your bodies. He looks up at you, muscles tense and an expression of shock painted across his pale face. 

The ability to use the Voice was something you rarely took part in. Training sessions with your Mother went well, as expected of a woman, but you still had a lot of work ahead of you. You blink forcefully, steadying yourself against the wall behind you. Then, you notice the borderline murderous look on your soon-to-be husband's face.

- Witch - he spits out, baring his blackened teeth at you.

- I am the Daughter of Duke Atriedes - your voice carries a note of righteous pride, despite dread climbing up your spine - And you will treat me with respect, wedded or not.

He straightens himself with petrifying speed, and as he takes a step towards you, actions overtake reflection. Your hand winds back, and you bring a resounding slap across his sharp cheekbone. While your palm blooms with pain, he seems to barely react, closing the distance between the two of you after a tense beat. Before you have a chance to react again, his hands grab at your face, and his lips crash against yours in a punishing kiss.

Teeth clink together and the momentum of the kiss makes your head collide with the stone pillar behind you. He's fingers dig into your cheeks and your jaw, as he devours you completely, bringing down all your defences in one swoop. You kiss him back, almost immediately, opening your mouth to let him in, to meet his tongue halfway. It's almost grotesque, how much you hate and love this at the same time, the buzzing of the wine mixing with the sound of your racing heart, with the sound of his unabashed sounds of pleasure. 

Hands flail at your sides, as you grab all you can take, pulling him even closer by the thick fabric of his tunic. 

His hands however, know exactly what they want, and as he lets go of your face, they both sink down. Fingers hook into the neckline of your dress, and he tears it down, your entire body swaying with the force of his movement. Your breasts are freed for only just a moment, cold air hitting them in a way that would be uncomfortable, if they weren't immediately covered by your betrothed's large palm. He palms at your chest, as if he wants to crush it, and you bite back a whine, which threatens to spill from your abused lips. 

- Don't - he growls a warning, unoccupied hand tangling itself within your hair - Sing.

And you do. As his mouth descends upon your neglected breast, where he alternates between licks and bites that make your back fly off the wall. Once again you don't know what to do with your hands, finding them entirely useless in the Harkonnen's overpowering grasp. One, grabs at his shoulder, undecided on whether to push him off, or pull him in closer. The other one scratches four lines into his skull, as he sucks on the sensitive skin under your ribs. 

Finally, he detaches from you completely, standing straight and regarding you with a look so intensely ravenous, it shakes you to your core. Your exposed chest rises and falls in tandem with your heaving breaths, and you shiver, as cold air hits your skin. His gaze drinks in your dissheveled hair, the way your lips are puffy and red. A beautiful sight for his blackened eyes. 

- I know who you went looking for - he starts, stalking towards you once again - Can't have that, can I?

You debate feigning confusion, outrage at such accusation, which hasn't really been uttered yet. But, as Feyd Rautha stops just short of the bottom hem of your dress, you suddenly find yourself unable to speak. Instead, as a last ditched effort to rid yourself of him, your hand extends, a half-hazard attempt at liberation. He swats it away, as one would a mere fly, before sinking to his knees in front of you. 

- Lift up your dress, Viper - his voice is like thunder in your ears, and you bite your lips at the sight of his eyes, dark and surprisingly eager.

Hands move clumsily in an effort to gather all those translucent layers. You nearly trip over yourself, earning a rather nasty chuckle from below. As soon, as your legs are visible, he dives between the chiffon, his head dissapearing from sight. You can feel his lips, traveling up the expanse of your calf, giving a light bite under your knee. 

Anticipation siezes your gut, and you grab onto the wall, as if that would save you. His hands grab your leg, skin incredibly warm to the touch for someone who looks so cold, and then, with forceful tugs, he starts to manouver you. 

You let out an unbecoming squeak, as he yanks your leg over his shoulder. Strong hands keep you in place, and he reaches out around the upper part of your thigh to all but tear your undergarments off of your core. The force of this action makes you jump in place on your one available leg, just to hold your balance, and for a second you consider swatting at him. 

That thought leaves you almost immediately after it appears, as an onslaugh of kitten licks unleashes downward. A vague, head like shape moves under your dress, the chiffon floating from place to place like a hypnotizing river. The wine must've heightened your senses to an alarming degree, because as soon as Feyd Rautha begins his ministrations, you're a mess. 

It's honestly humiliating, the way you fight for any purchase on the wall behind you, as he begins to lick in earnes, parting your legs further with one hand, while the other wraps securely around your used leg. While there, he cops a feel of your behind, fingers biting into the soft flesh, and you lock your lower lip between your teeth so hard, you can taste blood on your tongue.

As if he's developed some new telepathic talents, his hand leaves your ass, in favor of winding up, and slapping it harshly. The action makes your jump in place once again, a sound stuck between outrage and glee fleeing your throat, before you have the chance to stop it. Right, "sing", you remind yourself, and immediately feel him change his tactics. 

Your bundle of nerves opens new possibilities of torment, and as his lips close around the bud, you can't help the whine, escaping through your lips. The music is loud, you remind yourself. They won't hear, no one will hear. His hand pushes your dangling leg further up your shoulder, and your back arches from the stone. You will be sore as all hell after this is done, but for now, it doesn't matter. Nothing really matters, except the way your betrothed eats you out, like a man who's been starved for decades.

- Oh shit - you curse, hands flailing uselessly - Oh fuck!

All of a sudden, everything stops, and your building peak subsides into a dissatisfactory simmer. Feyd Rautha's head emerges from under the fabric, a terrible, shit-eating grin on his wet lips.

- Such language? - he teases, tongue darting out to lap at your arousal - So unbecoming of a-...

- Fucking don't stop! - there's panic in your movements, as you grab the back of his head, and shove him right under your dress again.

The laughter should be unsettling for you, but he returns to his post with twice as much motivation, and however more strength, and before you know it, your orgasm sneaks upon you. A sudden tightness in your core is all the warning you get, before the coil snaps, and your entire body starts to spasm in pleasure. 

It's good. Incredibly so. You'd risk saying it's the most intense you've ever came, but never out loud, never to him. That shameful secret was between you and whatever God that was listening. Stars erupt behind your eyelids, your breathing stopping for just a moment. 

And then you go deliciously limp, legs giving out completely. 

To his credit, the Harkonnen catches you before you hit the floor, the arm curling around your leg proving to be an unmeasurable support. His head emerges from under the dress once again, and he lets you slide down the wall, until you're seated. He sways on the balls of his feet, still towering you, even as he crouches. 

You swallow, throat slightly raw from all the noise you've done moments ago, and he follows the movements of your neck muscles with greedy eyes. Still greedy, after taking so much. Truly, he was a Harkonnen. And before you can stop yourself, a thought materializes in your brain, a treacherous little information, which would shake you to the core, if your muscles weren't currently made of taffy.

He blushes pink. Your betrothed blushes pink, from the exercise of making you cum on his tongue alone. God, what a precious sight.

He must've noticed the serene smile playing upon your lips, and his nature to ruin comes to light. His hand reaches back, and you freeze in your spot, as you recognize that damned golden steak knife. The blade shines in the dimly lit corridor, making your breathing faster, questions swimming behind your eyes. You don't really want to fight him in this state, but you fucking will, if he tries anything. 

- An engagement present, for you, Viper. - he rasps, licking his reddened lips in an obscene display, which doesn't repulse you quite as much as it should. 

- I have nothing to give in return - your voice is stern, and your betrothed flashes you an evil grin.

Then, he presents you the tip of the knife, golden utensil hanging between his slender fingers, and you look up at him, not understanding what is expected of you. Placing one knee on the floor, Feyd Rautha lowers himself to your eye level, for the hundredth of times surprising you with the sheer grace in his movements. 

- Kiss - he whispers, into the space between the both of you.

Your eyes fall to the knife, then, to him and you take a long, deep breath. Pride, your biggest flaw, takes a deadly hit, as the man twists the knife in his fingers, looking at you expectedly. You hate him, truly and deeply, and it must be showing on your face, because he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, as soon as your eyes meet. 

Swallowing your pride, you keep his gaze, leaning towards the blade. Your lips press delicately against the cool metal and the Harkonnen flashes you a nasty, self-satisfied smirk, before slipping the knife up his sleeve and standing up. 

- I'll see you back at the feast - he gives you a small bow, and you press your lips tightly together.

- Fuck you.

- After the wedding, my Viper.

And with that, he turns around.

 You're left there, on the floor, your dignity in shambles, the exertion catching up to you all at once, as if his presence alone was the only thing keeping you from feeling pain. A stupid thought, you chastize yourself, before slowly pulling yourself from the cold tiles. 

It takes you a couple of shameful minutes, trying to put yourself back together again. The ridiculous headdress, which has slipped all the way down from your hair, will probably never look the same, as when your Mother has styled it, but you can't find it in yourself to care. 

The music still plays, as you enter the hall, and thankfully, no one notices your arrival. No one but your betrothed, who raises his drinking cup in your direction, as if nothing had happened. His face is annoying, you conclude, and turn away, your aching legs taking you towards the center of the room, where people danced and sang in celebration of your engagement. What a lovely sight, what a lovely couple. Opposites attract, right?

Bitter, aching and humiliated, you throw yourself into the crowd, let it sway you from place to place, as you dance away this whole wretched week. The whole month-long courting rituals, which were just a bullshit attempt at torture. 

It's said, that when Death comes to take your soul, you're allowed one more dance before the eternal void. 

So you dance. 

[bumblesimagines]

“then shut up and kiss me already.”

- Paul Lahote

“then shut up and kiss me already.” changed this line a bit

pronouns: they/them, gender neutral

It'd been a devastating and hectic month for the Clearwater household. From the unexpected passing of your father to your siblings suddenly shifting, it seemed as if you couldn't catch a break. You had to pause your life in California to return to Washington out of grief and concern for your family, having to put in a notice at your job and assure friends and colleagues you were alright.

But you most certainly weren't.

Even with Leah being a year older than you, responsibility always seemed to fall on your shoulders and thus you were left to pick up the pieces. From ensuring Sam was willing to keep an eye on your siblings to planning the funeral with your mother, your time back in La Push felt more like work than anything else.

Which was why, you found yourself at the beach, feet covered by cool sand and wind gently caressing your skin. The beach had been the best part of living in La Push. The sound of the waves always helped back in high school, back when life felt equally as chaotic. You'd been there to witness Leah's breakdown when Sam abruptly left her for your cousin and watched Seth's older friends slowly distance themselves to join Sam's pack.

"You doin' okay?" A voice called out and you looked over your shoulder, peering up at Paul Lahote. You'd seen him around once or twice, though only properly met him at Sam's place a week prior. Since then, most of Sam's pack seemed to keep an eye on you. You chalked it up to Sam expressing concern over your tired state.

"As well as can be given everything." You responded and his face dropped, a grim frown appearing on his face. It was surprising to see him so... hurt and concerned. Leah had complained plenty of times about him over the phone, mentioning his overconfident and short-tempered behavior often.

"If you..." He trailed off, voice full of uncertainty. "If you need anything, I'm here. I'll get you whatever you want, whatever you need."

"That's really sweet of you, Paul." His eyes shot up to meet yours, smile tugging at his lips at your words. Your brows furrowed and you reached out to pat the sand beside you. Without a second of hesitation, Paul took the offer and sat down. His keen eyes remained on you and your face, constantly studying and analyzing. You pressed your lips together and his gaze jumped down to them, his expression suddenly becoming shy.

Oh, Christ...

"Paul..."

"Yeah?"

"Did you imprint on me?" You asked softly, watching his features contort into guilt. He dipped his head and sighed heavily, silently nodding and confirming your suspicions. You turned your attention back out to the waves and hummed quietly. The way your skin warmed and your stomach fluttered annoyed you, but you couldn't deny the relief of knowing the universe had given you a soulmate, someone who you'd spend the rest of your life with.

"I know it's not a good time but we can't control it. I was- I wanted to wait until after the funeral 'cause I knew you've been busy these past few weeks but just looking at you makes my chest hurt. I know we just met and you're Emily's cousin but I can't stand seeing you like this. I-I can keep my distance, if you want. I'll wait days, weeks, months until you want to talk-"

“Shut up and kiss me already, Paul."

[therealsaintscully]

Fanfic opening lines

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your latest fanfics (or up to if you have less!) & tag 10 people. Here they are, by most recent to oldest:

"Paul should go to bed, but he doesn’t." ("Under Dove-Grey Skies", mclennon)

"John doesn’t need the drink. He takes it anyway." ("Transatlantic", mclennon)

"The door to their office closes behind her with a soft, almost apologetic click. Her back meets the cool wood, and she leans into it, letting it bear her weight." ("Paper Thin", MSR)

"The wireless crackles in the sitting room as Paul's fever breaks, leaving him weak but restless." ("Gretna Green Waltz", mclennon)

“Thank you for calling Britannia Crown. Your call is very important to us and will be answered by the next available representative…” ("On Hold", johnlock)

"The first text message catches John in surgery midday; a horrible day, in which each patient is more miserable than the last." ("The Eye Begins to See", johnlock)

"From his seat on the floor the following Monday, with Rosie hanging off his arm, John’s eyes follow Mary fluttering around the flat all evening." ("Turned - Part II", johnlock)

"John moves back to Baker Street on the last day of summer." ("things we can't untie", johnlock)

"John doesn’t usually do this." ("Simon (or: Love Calls You by Your Name", johnlock)

"It’s three and a half hours by train from Kings Cross to Sunderland." ("Life and Death in Sunderland", johnlock)

Tagging @discordantwords @javelinbk @arwamachine @sgtpeppers @calaisreno @crepesuzette2023 @totallysilvergirl @stonedlennon @helloliriels @unchaineddaisychain and @fishfingerpies but also anyone else I didn't tag and would like to participate :)

[sunflowersinthedirt]

AFTER SHOW | PAUL MCCARTNEY 🎸

Where Paul really wants you and can't stand hiding it anymore OR where you have low self-esteem and don't see yourself as feminine and beautiful enough to attract anyone's attention.

female!reader, fluff.

| mentions of alcohol and pot, mature language and reader not feeling feminine enough. Written in first person. |

english is not my first language and gifs are not mine.

—

1965.

Nothing could have prepared me to see Paul being interviewed after the tenth show of that tour in the hotel by this girl. Sure, it was a usual scene, but she… She was beautiful. Red-haired, medium height, and rosy-skinned. She looked like one of those porcelain dolls people order for decoration. Delicate, polite and apparently funny. The hazel eyes of the english singer were solely focused on her, his smile stretching from ear to ear.

It made me sad in a way. But my mind couldn't figure out if it was because Paul was close to such a beautiful woman with a courteous smile for so long without me seeing him next to a woman, or if it was because she was everything I was not: Too beautiful.

The truth is it was always like this. I always had to compare myself with every woman who got close to the boys. I had been working with the Beatles for almost four months and had yet to see any erratic behavior from them towards me or any woman - They´are flirty, but not disrespectfull. Far from me wanting all of them, but sometimes a doubt would light up inside me: Am I pretty enough for a Beatle to notice me? Of course, not just them, but any man.


I walked down the hotel hall to my room, not wanting to notice anyone's presence there and hoping they wouldn't see me either. I went up to the corridor of the rooms so quickly that not even a camera flash would catch me if someone photographed me there. I heard footsteps behind me and felt a tap on my arm.

— Where are you going in such a hurry, luv? — It was Paul. His warm touch sent an electric current and a shiver through my stomach. I felt my face heating up too, but it could have been the wine Brian offered me earlier at the after show. — To my room. — I replied, a bit intoxicated by his scent and how close he was to me. Either I was too tipsy for having had two glasses of weak Chilean wine with Brian Epstein, or Paul's eyes had a different sparkle that night.

— Can I be your company? — He asked boldly and irresistibly. — I want to get out of here too.

I nodded positively. Paul and I walked down the room corridor, and I felt drained by the energy of the place. Paul seemed tired and high... His eyes continued to disturb me. I couldn't judge him because I was this high too.

His eyes shone and disturbed me in an attractive way, of course. After seeing him with the red-haired girl, I started comparing myself to her automatically. I wasn't unkempt, but I didn't feel feminine enough either. It was always a battle to get ready and force myself to see myself as a feminine woman. And being in Paul's company that night had a strange atmosphere.

Why would he prefer to stay with someone like me, so clumsy? He was my best friend... But what could I offer him if we were seen together? In my mind, we simply didn't match. Paul and I were closer because we had similar tastes. I adored him, and he was totally my type. A Liverpool gentleman, contrary to the thoughts of people who had prejudice against Liverpudlians. He liked photographs, good music, and had accompanied me (when he had time) to cinemas and theaters.

When I entered that room, I had almost forgotten he was my company that night. A cold, electrifying air passed through me, and my body shivered. I felt small in the vastness of the night of the tenth show of that tour. I was too lucky and knew it, knew that girls my age would die and kill to be in my place and work with the Beatles.

— What's wrong with you? — He asked, breaking the silence. A tone of concern was perceived. — You seem too quiet today.

I threw myself onto the double bed in the room. It was soft, comfortable, and had pocket springs. I heard the springs' noise, and my body wobbled a bit with the impact of my lazy throw onto it. I wanted to stay in that position forever if possible.

— It's nothing. — I lied. I didn't want to worry Paul. He and the other guys had an incredible performance at the show today. Brian was proud and trusted me blindly to accompany them in all this madness. — Just tired, and I drank too.

Paul threw himself on the mattress next to me, very close to me. Now we both stared at the white ceiling of the hotel room.

— Darling, stop it. I know when something is wrong with you. I didn't even see you smile today. — Paul commented, now turning to me. He knew, he knew me well... And I kind of hated myself for making it too obvious. It took me a while to turn to him and take my eyes off that ceiling.

Not because the hotel room ceiling was more interesting than Paul but because I could commit a big madness being centimeters away from his face. I could blame the earlier glasses of Chilean wine or realize that I had been in love with Paul for a long time and stop hurting myself so much. I knew this would end our friendship in a bad way.

— I smiled when you guys were on stage. — I didn't look at him. I could feel Paul's gaze burning my cheeks.

— I didn't see... — He said, his voice huskier, whining. Almost a moan. — Look at me, love. Tell me what's going on, hm? — He pleaded. I felt butterflies in my stomach. The wine's effect seemed to be affecting me more than it should.

I started to wonder if there was something more in the wine or if I was drunk intoxicated by Paul.

— Paulie... — I whispered his name, finally looking at him. I wanted to laugh nervously, so I bit my lips. Paul looked at me with the most needy expression in the world at that moment. Either that or I was going completely crazy...

Shit. He's beautiful, and I really liked him.

— Hm? — He murmured softly in response to me calling him. His eyes were low and dark, a look I had never seen in all this time working with the Beatles. — If I ask you something, would you be upset with me? — He asked, his voice low and firm.

— You know that I can't be angry with you. Just.. go ahead...— I blinked quickly, trying not to appear intoxicated by him.

— Can I? — He sounded nervous. — I mean, can I kiss you, darling? — He asked me. His hazel eyes locked on mine.

I took a deep breath, trying to process what I had just heard. It wasn't possible, was it? He wanted to kiss me. He. Wanted. To. Kiss. Me.

— Paul, I-

— I'm sorry. — He interrupted me, and I felt like an idiot. His eyes darkened, and the boy's face now had a sad expression. He sat on the bed with his back to me.

— Paul, I...

— It's just that I'm feeling different. I don't want to mess up our friendship. — He interrupted me again, and honestly, I couldn't be mad at him for interrupting me. I sat on the bed. Paul looked at the lamp, his long and curved eyelashes making a perfect drawing on his eyelid. I confirmed that even his profile was beautiful. — I'm kind of tired of this. And you keep disturbing my thoughts, you know? I can't sleep without thinking about you. — He finally confessed, now looking back at me. His thick lips moist and shining with his saliva.

My heart felt like a philharmonic band. He was driving me crazy.

— Y/N, I don't want to lose your-

I interrupted him and did the craziest thing. I silenced him with my lips on his. Paul gently held my face, his thumbs relaxed on my right cheek. I wanted to go fast, thirsty for him, he wanted to go slow. He tamed me like no one else could that night, tilting his head to deepen the lazy kiss. I felt like I would melt there... His mouth was warm, moist, the taste of wine sweetening my mouth. It was intimate and moved me like no man had ever done. The need for air became apparent, and we pulled apart, Paul still daring to steal a peck. Our lips swollen and red.

Suddenly, I felt shy. I had indeed kissed him, caught him by surprise. He had too, he kissed me back... Unbelievable that he reciprocated me and my repressed feelings.

— Paul... — I whispered, intoxicated, feeling my lips moist with his saliva. Our faces were still close but not close enough to be strange.

— Shh... — He gave me a long peck. — I know. Me too, darling.

And then nothing else mattered in that room but him and me.


[aviradasa]

The lost boys main hcs

Marko

5th times the charm with trying to post this.tumblr hates me. This isn't proofread. Sorry it's short I'm tired as fuck and irritated. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless 🖤

Marko is an only child, and he grew up without a father. His mother was a seamstress and worked out of their home when he was a child. His mother was Italian, and his father was Swedish. When Marko was born, they were already living in the united states though so Marko had never been to either country, and he had never met any of his other family members. his dad died when he was 8, so he hardly remembers him now. His mother, on the other hand, died on his 16th birthday, falling victim to the san Francisco plague in 1904. Which was an epidemic of the black plague. He had to abandon her in their home to avoid catching it himself. Taking the last of the money they had and the necklace his mother wore with a picture of their family in it. Not long after, he found the boys, and they all stuck together (as you can guess), but not until after he struggled around town by himself for a few months. God, i need to stop making this shit sad hand on switching gears. He was the youngest when the boys got turned into vamps he had only turned 18 that summer He really tries to act more mature than he is, but as soon as something funny happens, that's over. Marko has a really good sense of humor, but he finds a lot of really stupid shit funny. He's the type of dude to watch his friends fall face down ass up on concrete and start laughing and snapping a photo before asking if they are ok (he is me) This also can lean into how he does lowkey bully people on the boardwalk. Mostly surf nazis but let's be so deadass he's kind of a dick to everyone there in his own special way. Him and paul have a tendency to double team people to: like whoever they come at wont have a chance to say anything cause as soon as one of them pauses the other jumps in to just dog on the person who annoyed them. Some of his insults get pretty creative as well: so if he says something to you thats just out of pocket,like 85% of the time its one of the ones that makes you stop to think about it before you can even get offended 🤣 Strange enough, though. He is very well spoken and charismatic when you talk to him normally. When talking, you notice after a while that he's not one of those folks that cuss every other sentence. Like he will throw it in there like everyone does, but not all the time if you feel me Idk how to describe it. he still talks like a normal person and uses slang and stuff, but he is oddly classy vocabulary wise. He's got a slightly softer tone to his voice as well, which makes his way of speaking come off smoother. He's also extremely smart. Having conversations with him is never really dull or unpleasant. (Unless you're an unlucky boardwalk asshole) Marko is very imaginative and creative. He never stops coming up with things. He hoards hobbies like a dragon hoard gold. From painting to sewing to cooking to wood carving, He just knows how to do this stuff, and he loves it. You will never catch him doing nothing. Even when he's spaced out at the wall, the dude is fiddling with something or sewing. Something together, he just can't stop. He loves giving gifts to friends as well. All of the boys have gifts from Marko that he's made himself. Mostly cause he loves showing off he has skill and unlike Paul he doesn't care if people touch his stuff so he will drag you around his space handing you stuff and showing you everything he's made/ collected cause he's just so proud. Just don't break it. He will be fucking pissed if You break it. Or if you give away anything he gifted you. Also he will talk to you about this stuff for hours on end if you let him (Do let him. He will love you for life if you show Intrests in the things he likes) his space is really cluttered. But looking around, it's mostly albums,art, fabric,patches, and various random objects.

other then that he's really clean. On that note He does not like getting covered in blood when he eats just sayin. He's like the least messy eater of the group mainly cause he hates getting it on his jacket. Plus the texture of dried blood on him makes him want to rip his skin off. It's just one of those things he can't stand So he makes sure to clean up fast. That doesn't mean he doesn't like toying with victims though he's a jumpscare master. He likes to scare his victims half to death before beating the shit outta them. He jokes that hes “tenderizing The meat”. When he does this He gets a kick outta that one. Oh he also likes music, he's not like overly into it though He likes alot of different types as well. Some of his favorite generas are Rock,goth,classical, and some 30s jazz strange enough. He does not give a DAMN what the others have to say about his music taste. if He wants to play his music it will be loud and proud. If they don't like it they are free To take it up with him. (They never will)

[sonayesul]

paul repeatedly being referred to as a geek throughout nightmare time episodes will never not be funny to me like the man can't catch a break he's not even there to defend himself LMAO

[wolfish-nightmares]

Imprint On My Heart

Pairings: Paul Lahote x fem!reader

Warnings: bad language

Category: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: Your heart has always wanted Paul but as your life begins to shift you learn how much you truly love him.

Twilight Masterlist

Paul Lahote was fireball. The type of person who never backed down from anything. He was always going to be heard and he never allowed anyone to disrespect him. That explosive personality is what caught your attention.

You were Paul's other half, quite literally attached at the hip. If Paul was there, so were you. Since day one of kindergarten the two of you were beyond inseparable. There was no bond that came close to the one you had with Paul. It was more than friendship or love. Neither of you could handle separation.

Unless of course the separation was forced.

“I'm sorry Paul but she has strep,” you mom did her best to block the door. “You really can't see her.”

“Not even for a second? She can't be that contagious,” Paul whined at the door.

You couldn't help but laugh at the way he sounded. The laughed turned into coughing and you did you best to quiet them.

“Please, she sounds like she's in pain.”

“I'm sorry Paul, I really am but you cannot see her. Your dad would have my head if you came back with strep,” your could hear that your mom was doing her best not to break.

“Fine. When can I see her again?”

“In a week.”

“A week!?”

“Yes, a week. Now you have to go Paul,” the door shut and you could imagine how he looked behind the door. It was hard for Paul to accept he couldn't always be attached to you. “If Paul comes to the window do not let him in!”

“I won't Mom!”

That was a lie but it wasn't like your mom didn't know that either. Paul was at your window in a second and you sprang out of bed to let him in.

“Hey,” he climbed through the window and pulled you into a hug. “How do you feel?”

“Like my throat is raw,” you wrapped your arms around his waist and laid your head on his shoulder. “But it's better now that you're here.”

“Come ‘ere,” you gasped as he suddenly picked you up. “Let's get you in bed.”

Ever since Paul began hanging out with that group of older boys he's changed. He cut his hair short, stopped wearing shirts, became stronger and suddenly became hotter. Not just looks wise, but his skin felt warmer than it had ever felt before. He rivaled the temperature of your feverish skin.

“I missed you.”

While he did all that changing he disappeared from you. Only three days but still you spent every lonely day looking like a lost puppy. Then suddenly you catch strep and he's back at your door begging to see you.

He sighed as he climbed into your bed and laid you down, “I know. I missed you too, I just had some stuff to take care of.”

“Obviously,” you ran you hand over the new tattoo on his shoulder. “Are you in a gang now?”

He snorted, “No, not a gang.”

“Why'd you disappear?”

“I can't tell you.”

“Paul-”

“I know, no secrets but I really can't tell you. I promise. I wish I could.”

It hurt that Paul was suddenly keeping secrets, something you two never did but something about his tone told you he was really telling the truth. You wondered what secret was so important he couldn't even tell you.

He let out a loud yawn, “You know I could really use a nap.”

“Oh so you just came here to sleep in my bed?”

“Fine, I'll leave then,” he moved to get up but you grabbed his shoulder.

“No!”

He grinned, “Oh so I can nap here?”

You rolled your eyes and rolled over so your back was against his chest. He pulled you back against him and wrapped his arms around you, almost like he was holding a teddy bear. Back in the warm comfort of Paul's arms you fell asleep quicker than you have in the few days without him.

Loud knocking on the door pulled you from your nap. You cracked your eyes open as your mom opened the door. She showed no surprise to Paul being in your bed.

“I made some soup,” she sat a tray down on your nightstand. “There's some for Paul too.”

Before you could respond she shut the door. Paul groaned and rolled over, taking you with him as if you weighed nothing. You tried to break his grip on you but he didn't budge. Paul was always strong before but it seemed in these past three days he lived in the gym.

“Mom made food.”

He let out a short grunt, one thing that could always wake Paul was food. His grip loosened enough for you to wiggle out.

“It's chicken noodle.”

Paul sat up so quick he nearly pushed you out the bed. You squealed as he pulled you back to him. He didn't seem as aware of his newfound strength as he accidentally pulled you right back on top of him. Your nose bumped his and you both froze.

Something in Paul's expression changed. He leaned back and reached for the tray. Your chest ached as you tried not to pay attention to the way he scooted back from you a bit, you knew it wasn't because you were sick. You two were best friends, that's how it always been but you couldn't deny the feelings you felt for him for years, you just wished he felt the same.

“I uh,” he paused to clear his throat. “I gotta get home tonight.”

“Do you wanna eat before or…”

“Of course I can eat.”

You did your best not to think about it as you two ate. Nothing was ever going to change about your friendship so you decided it was best to squash those feelings. Paul sucked down the soup like it was absolutely nothing. You were only halfway through your bowl by the time he finished.

“I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow,” he slipped out your window and took off.

The soup was no longer appetizing. Something was changing with Paul, something you weren't a part of. The thought of losing him made your belly ache with anxiety. You stacked the bowls up and took them to the kitchen.

“I'm assuming he left.”

“Why?”

She snorted, “Because you're out here.”

You shook your head as you sat the bowls in the sink, “Yeah he said he had to get home.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, “He's changed.”

“I know,” you tried your best to keep your tone steady.

“He's gotten cuter.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“His dad thinks he has a girlfriend now.”

It felt like the world was suddenly flipped. For a moment you swore your vision went black as your mom's words rang in your ears.

“What?”

“Honey are you okay?”

You chest began to burn with anger. Was this the secret he had to keep? Was this why he disappeared for three days? Your mom got up but you simply marched back to your room and slammed the door.

No matter what you did you couldn't get rid of the burning feeling in your chest. The anger just seemed to settle there. You tried to convince yourself that the anger was from Paul's disappearance but you knew it was truly just jealousy.

“Y/n…..Y/n,” Paul gently rubbed your back as he woke you. “Good morning sleepy head.”

“Pau-,” your throat was raw and your voice cut out midway through his name.

“Oh, hey, no more talking,” he covered your mouth with his hand. “I just came because I wanted to let you know I can't hang today. I'm really sorry but you are sick and do need to rest.”

He has never cared about you being sick. No matter what you had he would still stay with you and sleep in your bed unless his dad came and got him, which rarely happened. Even if Paul did catch whatever you had, the most his dad would do was yell and complain about it.

“I'll be here to tomorrow,” he slipped back out your window.

If Paul really did have a girlfriend why did he think he couldn't tell you? Maybe you did have feelings for him but you wouldn't hesitate to push those down. You'd cut out your own heart if it meant you wouldn't have to lose Paul.

As sad as you felt the anger felt stronger. It burned through your body like a wildfire. You felt drained as you curled up and did your best to go back to sleep. Being sick wasn't helping any of your fraying emotions. Paul was kind of right, you did need to rest.

The only problem was you could barely sleep. Your room felt like it was a thousand degrees and the anger felt like it was literally pumping through your veins. The room seemed to swirl as you slipped out of bed. The heat was becoming too much. You were absolutely delirious as you ripped the door open and stumbled down the hall.

“Oh baby, you're dripping sweat,” you mom's voice rattled around your skull as she suddenly pressed a towel against your skin. “The doctor said you'd probably have a high fever.”

You didn't even realize that you had fallen on the floor of the kitchen. The usually cold tiles of the kitchen floor felt like scorching asphalt. This obviously wasn't a strep fever, this was something worse, something else was happening but you were so weak you couldn't even bring yourself to open your mouth. You didn't even have a voice to speak with.

The phone rang loudly, ripping you from your sleep. It had taken hours for the heat to die down and when it finally did the exhaustion took over. But now the annoying trill of the phone had woken you. The ringing stopped as you mom grabbed the phone. She answered with a few yes and nos before hanging the phone back up.

“That was Paul,” she stood in the doorway of the kitchen. “He’s coming over to check on you. Sounded like there was a woman there too. I think he might be bringing his girlfriend over.”

You exploded, literally. Shreds of clothes covered the kitchen like confetti. A deep low growl rumbled from your chest. You snarled, snapped your teeth around the phone line and ripped it from the wall. Your mom screamed as she ran to the living room. The rage felt like it was consuming your mind. You couldn’t control yourself as you tore through the walls of the kitchen.

“It happened, please hurry!”

The fear in your mom’s voice made you stop. It made you realize that you had turned into a monster. You felt so ashamed and disgusted. The monster disappeared as you shifted back into your old body. You sobbed into your hands as you curled up on the floor.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey baby,” your mom kneeled next to you. “It’s not your fault. I promise, someone will be here to explain what happened.”

“I’m a monster,” you whined.

“Not a monster,” she gently rubbed your back. “I need to call Paul-”

You started wailing at the sound of his name, feeling guilty that you had done all this because of him. How could he ever want to look at you after what you just did?

“I'm only calling him to tell him not to come,” your mom quickly said as she picked up the phone.

Your cries died down to sniffles as your mom explained to Paul that he'd have to come another time. His voice sounded sad, which only made you feel worse. She hung up the phone and grabbed the blanket off the couch.

“Here, just in case this happens again,” she gestured to the state of the kitchen as the threw the blanket over you.

“I'm really sorry mom, I don't know what hap-”

She put her hand up to cut you off, “It's okay really. I never expected this to happen with you but they always said there was a possibility. Especially with how close you are to Paul.”

“What?”

“Billy will explain it all when he gets here.”

You sniffled, “Mr. Black?”

“He usually is the one who tells all the Quileute legends.”

The conversation didn't help any of your confusion. In fact it only made it worse. You nearly jumped off the floor as someone knocked at the door. As your mom went to open the door you wrapped the blanket around yourself to make sure you were completely covered.

You mom helped roll Billy in as you sat up. He look at the kitchen and gave you a reassuring smile. While it was obviously meant to make you feel better his smile only made you feel guiltier for what you had done.

He chuckled, “Never thought I'd live to see the day we get a female wolf. Always thought they were just a myth.”

“A what?”

Billy smiled, “What do you know about Quileute legends?”

You shook your head, “Nothing.”

“Come take a seat, you have a lot to learn.”

A growl rumbled in your chest as you pumped your legs, rounding the backyard for the 357th lap.

“I know you hate it but Billy said exhausting yourself will help you shift back,” you mom called from the back porch.

That morning Paul tried to come over but the thought of him sent you flying into a fit. The anger you felt towards him eventually evolved into anger towards yourself. Which made it impossible to shift back.

Your mom called Billy to try and help. The rest of the day was spent trying every idea he could think of. When none of it worked he finally suggested you trying to exhaust yourself into shifting back. But for some reason the anger only seemed to fuel you. With each lap it only made you run faster and harder.

“I’m going inside to start dinner!”

You made a few more laps around the backyard before skidding to a halt. It was the faintest whiff but you were certain it was Paul. It had been a day since you first shifted but because you were having such a hard time controlling your shifts Billy suggested you stay at the house until you gained some control. Which also meant no visitors, even Paul, especially Paul. No matter how bad it hurt.

Despite being told multiple times by you mother that you couldn’t take visitors, Paul still tried to drop by. Your mom had to board your window up to keep him from accidently seeing something. You felt horrible having to disappear on him, although he had done the same to you, but there was no way you could ever let him learn about what you had become.

The fear of Paul catching you let you shift back. You sighed as your now human body fell to the ground. Now no longer a wolf all those laps began to weigh on your body. The faint sound of Paul’s voice echoed down the street. Somehow you found the strength to push yourself to your feet and sprint into the house.

“Hey Streaker,” your mom greeted calmly as you shot to your room.

“Paul!”

Instantly your mom dropped the spoon and raced towards the front door as you dove towards your closet. Before you could close the door there was a knock at the window.

“Y/n please,” Paul voice was faint through the board. “I just want to know you’re okay.”

Instantly all the guilt came flooding back through your body. But you remembered the way he disappeared on you too. You couldn’t control yourself as the guilt turned the anger and you shifted.

Your closet couldn't handle the size of your wolf. You could hear your mom scream at the sound of walls being broken. Everything was so overwhelming, you broke through the closet and shot through the wall. You didn't even spare Paul a glance as you raced across the street, jumped a fence and took off towards the woods. There was no doubt Paul saw the giant wolf that came crashing out of your house. You weren't exactly sure how you were going to fix that but right now, you just needed to get away.

Suddenly it sounded like something was running after you. You pushed yourself to run faster, sliding around trees and doing your best to lose the follower. Something black flashed in the corner of your eye. You turned to look and something crashed into your body, sending you rolling through the leaves.

“Y/n,” Paul’s voice rang through your head.

What the hell?

You whipped around to find out what was happening. In front of you stood a large grey wolf. It felt like the world stopped moving, for a moment you couldn’t breathe. It was all too much and you tried to back away. A deep growl behind you stopped you from moving. It was beginning to look like you were surrounded.

“You're gorgeous,” Paul’s voice spoke again.

You were so confused about what was happening. The wolf in front of you made a noise like it was trying to laugh. Before you could truly think about it you growled and snapped at the wolf.

“Ooh baby wolf is fiesty,” Paul chuckled.

Paul?

“You figured it out.”

The grey wolf in front of your grinned as the pieces clicked into place. You jumped in excitement, Paul was a wolf too. The other wolf behind you let out its own chuckle, which sounded more like deep rumbling in its chest.

“Why’d you run away?”

The past week ran through your head as you thought about why. You only ran from Paul because you didn’t want him to know that you were the monster. It was also embarrassing that he was the reason you even shifted. Although he wasn’t even really the reason, it was simply the mere thought of him having a girlfriend that made you shift.

“Oh baby,” Paul sighed as he sat down. You ducked your head, feeling ashamed. “I should have told you. You’re my imprint.”

Your what?

“So basically we’re wolf soulmates?”

Paul laughed as he bit into his muffin. Sam grinned and shook his head, he had spent the last half hour explaining to you what imprinting was and you wrapped it all up in one sentence.

“You know it’s pretty ironic that your shift happened because you thought I had a girlfriend,” Paul paused to swallow the bite of muffin, you could feel your face heating in embarrassment. “Because I shifted when I thought you had a boyfriend.”

“When did I ever make you think that?!”

“I saw you and that Tyler kid buying ice cream,” he huffed.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “Just so we could have something to eat while he tutored me for math because we had a huge exam coming up, which you missed by the way.”

“I thought it was a date,” Paul growled. "I wanted to kill him."

You shook your head, Paul was the only boy you ever liked so even if “that Tyler kid” did like you, it’d never happen. He was your imprint but you seemed to know that before you became a werewolf.

“I’m sorry.”

“What, why are you sorry?”

He paused before looking down, “If I would have told you when I imprinted then you probably wouldn’t have shifted the way you did…you wouldn’t have thought you were a monster.”

“How did you-”

“We can hear each other’s thoughts in wolf form.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when you imprinted?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Because I thought you would think I’m a monster.”

You giggled as Paul pulled you back in for another kiss. The two of you were meant to be getting hot dogs for the campfire, not making out in front of the meat section. Paul groaned as he pulled away from your lips, his phone was buzzing loudly in his back pocket.

“Yeah?”

“Stop macking on each other and get out here,” Embry snapped over the phone. He didn’t even give Paul a chance to reply as he hung up.

“Alright baby wolf, we gotta go,” Paul grabbed your hand as you two began to walk to the registers.

“We didn’t even get the marshmallows,” you sighed as you looked in the basket. “How’d you grab the graham crackers and the chocolate but not the marshmallows.”

Paul grinned, “I was distracted by your gorgeous ass.”

You rolled your eyes as you slipped down the aisle and grabbed multiple bags of the jumbo sized marshmallows. Feeding a group of werewolves always meant you had to buy like you were feeding the entire marine corps. He groaned as his phone began buzzing again.

“What,” he growled into the phone as he answered it.

“Hurry up! Bella will be there soon,” Jacob whined over the phone.

Paul made a retching sound as he hung up, “That kid is gross. I wish Leah came instead of him.”

“You act the same way,” you pointed out.

“Because it’s you! Besides, you’re my imprint, Bella isn’t Jacob’s.”

“Fair point.”

He loaded everything onto the belt, refusing to let you touch anything after you asked to help. His phone buzzed again as he paid. Instead of answering he grumbled more stuff about Jacob being annoying. You laughed as you followed behind him. He shot you a playful glare so you tried to quiet down as you reached Sam’s SUV but Jacob’s annoyed face sent you into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Paul and Jacob argued, leaving you and Embry breathless as you both laughed hysterically. When Jacob began to shake with anger Sam stopped the argument and made everyone sit in absolute silence on the way back.

Three years ago Paul would have gotten just as angry, which probably would have led to Jacob and him both shifting and fighting in the parking lot but through the years Paul almost never got angry enough to cause a shift. Except of course the time Bella slapped him, that made both you and him shift, you almost killed her that day. Paul always claimed his anger control was because of you, adamantly saying that having your love made him less angry, which was always met with intense vomiting sounds from the boys.

“Paul you’re helping me set up, Jacob go entertain Bella, and Y/n please, please, please, keep everyone from eating the food before all the others gets here,” Sam said as he parked. He turned to face everyone, pointing at them all except for you. “I don’t want to hear anything about “I’m hungry” because Emily cooked 3! 3 cartons of eggs this morning plus who knows how many packs of bacon and sausage. Everyone should be able to hold out.”

He held up three fingers to make sure he got his point across. Normally Sam wouldn't care how much the boys ate or when but because it wasn’t just the pack and Bella but also some elders, he cared. They all nodded before racing out the car and off to do what they were told or to find something to do. You grinned as Paul snatched the grocery bags from your hands and took off towards where they were setting up the fire.

“Y/n!”

You sprinted to Billy as he waved you over and he pulled you into a tight hug. Ever since he explained everything to you after your first shift Billy had become something like a father to you and he even confessed he did view you like one of his own kids.

“I still can’t believe you’re 19 now,” he sighed and shook his head. "I could have sworn you were 16 last week."

Both you and Paul were the rip age of 16 when you shifted and activating your werewolf made you grow until you looked like you were already 20. Your mom nearly lost her mind watching her still teen daughter look like a college freshman in less than a week. Billy loved to pretend like he could never remember how old you were.

“Do I need to start carrying my birth certificate around,” you questioned jokingly.

He laughed and shook his head, “No, I guess I’ll believe you this time.”

You were about to respond but was interrupted by someone calling Billy’s name. He smiled and excused himself. You decided to help Paul and Sam bring out the pans of food. They graciously accepted your help and you spent the rest of the time setting up until everyone was ready to eat.

Paul pulled you into his lap, nearly spilling your drink all over the table. You gently smacked his hand as he grinned and bit into his hotdog. Embry gagged next to you. Of course the pack was by now more than used to Paul’s love of PDA but that didn’t stop them from making fun of it. Although neither of you ever minded it and sometimes you’d even join in.

As everyone finished eating Billy began telling the Quileute stories. You loved listening to him tell them but something about being around a campfire with your pack and elders, it was always like hearing them again for the first time.

“Come run with me,” Paul whispered into your ear.

You loved hearing those stories more than anyone but you loved running with Paul even more. Both of you “snuck” off, there’s really no sneaking around a wolf pack, and raced towards the woods, throwing off clothes as you went. Just as you broke through the tree line you shifted and took off, loving the freedom your wolf body gave you. Paul chased after you, nipping at you tail anytime he got close enough. You slipped around a tree, something he obviously wasn’t expecting and he crashed into the tree that he should have seen.

Quickly you shifted and tried to see if he was okay. He shifted too and you glared at him as he began to laugh. You were about to scold him for not paying attention but he cut you off with a kiss. It was incredibly hard to ever be upset with him when he kissed you like you were his only source of oxygen.

“I know this might be cheesy but,” a shy smile broke across his face as he grabbed your hand and pressed it against his chest, over his heart. “I swear I can feel your heart with mine. Feel the way they beat together, I felt you get scared.”

"We were both wolves, I'm sure I though-"

He shook his head, "No it's more than that. You're my imprint but I think my heart always knew."

You smiled and used your free hand to grab his and bring to your chest, copying him, “Paul Lahote, your heart is imprinted on mine.”

[valkierrie]

𝕃𝕒 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖 (𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥)

(Requests are always appreciated.) Smut=*

𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐩𝐨𝐩-

Liam Gallagher: 

Like A Virgin- Y/N, Is finally ready share an intimate moment with her boyfriend. *

Nothing Matters, But Knowing Nothing Matters- Y/N was considered by others to be tied down by her religion. She didn't think she needed anything apart from her bible, but upon meeting Liam Gallagher, he shows her the pleasures of life she was taught was taboo and opens her up to a world of Enlightenment. *

Paint The Window- After moving into their new flat, Liam has an idea of how to make the place feel more like theirs. *

Damon Albarn: 

Picture This- After the purchase of a new polaroid, Damon and Y/N can't get enough of snapping pictures of one another. 

Close To You- After a small outburst, Damon reassures Y/N of her place in their relationship. * 

Take A Break- Damon wasn't making time for himself and Y/N noticed and one evening, she finally got through to him.

It's A Crazy Idea, Right?- Damon and Y/N get away to Iceland on a whim and share a private and intimate moment.

That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore- Y/N'd been a friend of Damon's for a long time, which often led to rumors of a secret relationship, rumors that the two loved to feed. It was a joke, that was all there was to it. Right?

Love At First Photo- Y/N is hired as Blur's photographer for their tour and catches the eye of the lead singer.

My Man- It's Damon's birthday and Y/N makes him feel special.

The Silent Fears- After Y/N falls pregnant, Damon expresses his fear of the next step, but she's ready to reassure him.

Forever Young- While doing some cleaning, Y/N finds an old photo of her and Damon that unlocks an old and pleasant memory she hadn't thought about in a long time.

Noel Gallagher: 

Jealousy, Jealousy- When a childhood friend of Y/N's comes back into her life, a green-eyed monster slowly creeps up on Noel. Things come to a head during a party, where Noel's jealousy is confronted. 

Such A Heavenly Way To Dine- After a long day at work, Y/N is given a very pleasurable stress-reliever by her boyfriend. *

Bitter Sweet Symphonies- Y/N, a violinist, falls for Noel, who's her mate. Their feelings come to a head after one of her auditions.

Meg x Noel :

Sorrow's Native Son- Meg and Noel hide away to an Italian countryside to get away from the press and everyone else.

Graham Coxon:

Way Back When- During school, Graham Coxon and Y/N left without dealing with their unspoken feelings. He realised just how wrong he'd been about how she felt about him when the two reunite at a Blur gig and share an evening neither of them would forget.*

In The Eye Of The Beholder- When Y/N and Graham pair up for an art project, hidden feelings emerge, and they realise how wrong they'd been.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐬- 

Johnny Marr: 

Papa Don’t Preach- Y/N, after an intense argument with her father about her relationship with Johnny, gets kicked out. She seeks solace from Johnny who in turn comforts her. 

Mike Joyce:

coming soon...

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-

Ian Brown:

Cheeky Bastard- Y/N is coerced into going to a Stone Roses gig after unknowingly meeting the lead singer.

Cheeky Bastard(PT.2)- Y/N goes to the Stone Roses' gig and to her surprise, she enjoys it for more than one reason.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬-

Ringo Starr-

coming soon...

Paul McCartney-

coming soon...

[prettypinkporkchop]

Can you do Jared X reader where Jared thought that Kim was his imprint/soulmate but he is absolutely masken because when he mets the new girl he imprints. You can decide on the other details

LITERALLY NOBODY FREAKING ASKS FOR JARED CAMERON! PLEASE SHOW THIS BOY SOME LOVE JTS NO FAIR! HES A SILLY GOOFY!

I love her. I love her so much. Here I am, sitting in Emily's for lunch with my pack before we go train. "Jared, we know what it's like. You can stay with her if you want to, but stop saying you imprinted when you haven't." Paul chuckles, throwing a fry at my face. "I truly believe I did." I reply defensively. "You'd know for sure if you did. It wouldn't be, 'I believe'." Paul replies. "Guys, just let the man feel how he feels." Jacob groans, trying to enjoy his meal. "Yes, it would be nice if we could talk about something else." Sam rolls his eyes before taking a bite of his chicken strip.

My heart hurts. I know I imprinted. I love Kim so much. Maybe my bond is too strong for them to handle. I'll just say that. I know what I feel.

Your pov:

"Watch your feet." You hear your friend beside you. You move your arm up to grab another rock. "I'm trying!" You hyperfocus on your hands and refuse to look down at your feet.

You met your friend a few years ago. She's an adventurer and often brings you along with her. This is your first time mountain climbing. This is also your first time being in Washington state. "Dude! You're going to - !" You slip but quickly catch yourself. "Shit." You gasp.

You decide to move your eyes along the beauty of greenery behind you. You can see some of Forks. You two are closer to La Push bit where you guys are, you can't see the beach.

"Y/f/n, I'm getting tired. We need to take a break." You breathe out. Your heart is tired of thumping. You're starting to get a headache. "Here." She says. She moves closer towards you, attaching the clip of the descenders to both of you.

An hour or so later, you are sitting on a stump in the woods, drinking water. "Ready to go back to camp?" She asks. You guys rented a cabin near the reservation. "Yeah, we can. It's starting to get a bit dark." You check the time on your phone. "Want to grab some dinner?" She smiles while picking up all of the gear. "I'll look up places to eat." You reply.

Jared's pov:

"Baby, what's wrong?" Kim asks, kissing all over my cheeks. "Nothing, sweet girl." I smile.

Oh, I feel awful. What if they are right? I didn't imprint. The fact that I'm questioning it scares the hell out of me. I've done everything for Kim, and she has pushed away all she knows about the world to accommodate for a shifter. She knows too much to not be an imprint. This isn't good. I'm not so sure what to do. What do I do?!

Kim finishes her cup of coffee before placing it down and smiling up at me. "Thank you for the food and coffee. Ready to head back?" She checks her smart watch, texting back who I assume to be Emily. "Yes ma'am." I stand up and pull her chair out for her.

"Oh, no. We aren't from here!" I hear giggling. I turn to see two girls. They are standing at the desk talking to two waitresses. "It's crazy to see new faces here in Forks! Out of all of Washington, you travel here. Welcome! I hope it's everything you hoped for."

"Baby?" Kim jumps me out of my nosey eavesdropping. "Sorry, love. I was listening to them. They traveled here. I'm not so sure what's so special about here." I chuckle. Kim giggles, and we begin to walk to the door.

"Y/n, watch it." One girl says, grabbing the other girl's arm, but she still backs up into my side. "Oh, crap! I'm so sorry!" She turns and looks at me.

...................love, future, baby, adventures, butterflies.................

"Jared." Kim pulls on my arm. I look away at the floor. The guilt is eating me alive. I actually imprinted. I'm about to panic. I'm about to actually have a panic attack. "Once again, I'm so sorry! I hope you two have a good day!" She calls out. Kim waves at her with a smile before we reach outside.

"God, what is wrong with you, Jare?" Kim faces me in the parking lot near the truck. "I... I'm fine. Look, I'll take you home. I have some business to take care of with the pack." I huff and slam the driver door shut. I'm so angry with myself. I can't even think straight.

Your pov:

You can't stop thinking of that guy. He has a girlfriend, a fiance, or a wife. You refuse to be a homewrecker. She was so sweet and pretty. You feel like you're just blegh. "He sure was a cutie!" Your friend giggles while taking a bite of her burger. "Yeah, he was." You smile.

Why do you feel so weird??? You have never... your stomach is flipping. You can't eat right now.

You can't feel this way. You are leaving in two days anyway.

Jared's pov:

"Breathe, Cameron." Embry grabs my shoulder. Sam is trying to think about what to do. I can't think I can't breathe. I'm leaning over the counter, gripping.

Your pov:

8:00 pm

"You've got to be kidding me!" Your friend yells in frustration. The car you guys rented just broke down in the reservation. You can't see any houses where you guys are. The last one you saw was miles down.

"Do you know anything about cars?" She turns to you. "Bitch, do I look?-", you guys jump at the sound of knocking on the window. Y/f/n barely rolls down the window. "You need help?" A man's voice asks. "No, sir." You say out of fear. Your friend pushes your knee. "Yes, yes we do, please." She says. Ugh! You don't want to get killed in Washington. "I'm Sam. Not to sound creepy," he chuckles, "I usually walk down the rez with my friends to make sure everything is okay." He says. You see, four other guys come up. You notice they are all shirtless with a tattoo on their arm. You can't see the details because it's getting dark.

You see the guy from the restaurant. Oh, god. You feel better... "y/f/n." You whisper. She turns to you. "The guy at the restaurant." You whisper. She looks up and then unbuckles. You unbuckle as well. "We'll step out." She says. They back up. You grab your bag and feel for the pepper spray, the rape whistle, and the big ass knife. Okay, great. You open the door and step out. You look across the car to see the guy staring right at you. You look away quickly.

You and your friend get comfy on the grass on the side of the road. The guys are waiting on one of them to come back with tools. "You know, it's the people's we rented from job to take care of this." She giggles. "Eh, well, it's best not to pay for towing. I'd let them know tomorrow, though." One of them says. He's leaning on the side of the car with his arms crossed. "What's your name?" You ask. "Paul. Over there is Quil, Jared, and the guy who left to get tools is Embry." He says. For some reason, he keeps glancing at you.

You decided to do something. You stand up and walk over to Jared. "Hey." You awkwardly say. He looks up. You see the tail light of the car illuminate his face just enough to see his smile. "Hey." You take your hand out. "Y/n." He puts his hand in yours. You felt a shock. So much heat expanded through your body. You felt the connection, and it attacked your body, nearly losing balance. "Jared Cameron." He shakes your hand. You can see Quil standing there smirking at him.

Jared's pov:

Standing this close to my actual imprint feels like I'm floating in soothing waters. Is it bad I don't feel the pain of telling Kim earlier? I just feel peaceful, whole, happy.

"Where are you from?" I ask her. "Uhm, I'm from (your home). I leave in two days." Her words shatter my heart. I can't lose her. She can't go.

Embry pulls up in his truck. He stops behind us and steps out. "Got the tools. You girls need anything?" Embry asks. Her friend stands up, dusting herself off. "Honestly, we have a long ass day ahead of us. We are exhausted. Been up since six a.m." She sighs. "We can take you to wherever you guys are staying." I offer. Y/n looks at her friend. Her friend shrugs. "Yeah! That'd be great! Thank you!" She pipes up, but then she thinks. "I will ride with you guys and come back with you, Jared. I'll bring the car back to our camp." She says.

Your pov:

You are squashed in between Jared and your friend. You can feel his bare arm against yours. His muscles, goddamn. He's focused on the roads. "So, Mora Campground?" He asks to be sure. "Yes!" You answer.

Once you get there, your friend hops out. "Thank you, Jared!" She waves and leaves.

Jared backs up and goes back on the road. "So, who was that pretty girl at the restaurant?" You smile. He takes a deep breath in and exhales. "Uh, she is Kim. Was my girlfriend. I broke up with her today. She's a sweet girl. She didn't do anything wrong, I just, uh, didn't want to lead her on." He says uncomfortably. Now you feel bad for asking. "Well, I love the weather here!" You change the subject terribly. He smiles and glances your way.

A week later:

"Oooohhh, Jared texted you again!" She hands you your phone across the couch. You and her share an apartment. You and her work customer service at home. Her mom owns the company.

Hearing his name makes your heart jump. You open it up.

Jared: Are you able to take off for a week?

You: I can two weeks ahead of scheduling. Why so?

Jared: I may or may not want to buy you a ticket for you to come back.

You drop your phone on the couch face down. You turn to your friend. "Bitch..." You breathe out. She jumps up. "What? What?" You pick up your phone again. "Jared wants to fly me back out there and stay for a week." You gulp. She freaks out, jumping up and down and clapping. "YES YES YES!"

You: I don't want you to spend all of that money on me. I am more than willing to, though! Let me buy a ticket.

Jared: no. Let me. Where do you want to stay? Cabin? Hotel? You are more than welcome to stay with Sam and Emily! They'd love to have you and it'd be free. Lol.

You: let me see, love.

Jared: also, can you bring y/f/n? Ateara won't stop talking about her.

Another time skip 2 weeks:

Jared places your bag down on the bed. "I'm so happy Quil finally has a girl. Poor boy doesn't have luck with that." He chuckles. You look up at Jared, who stands above you. His dark brown eyes are calling you. "She really likes him. Also, thank you for everything." You smile and then wrap your arms around his neck. He's taken aback but then wraps his strong around around you. "I'm happy you're here." He whispers. Something really is between you two, and you don't know what it is.

Soft knocks on the door make you two pull away. There's Quil and your friend. "Hey, Sam said there's a bonfire tonight." Quil says. "Okay, bet."

"Bonfire? Fun!" You say and sit on the bed, unpacking your bag. "We sit around the fire, eat good food, play around, and the biggest part is we have the elders talk about our tribes legend." He says. You stop and look up at him. "But that's... I'm not.. I'm an outsider." You stumble your words feeling like you're intruding. Quil and Jared laugh and look at each other. "Don't worry. It's okay with everyone." Jared crosses his arms.

Bonfire:

"Seth Clearwater!" The young man in front of you shakes your hand. Jared stands next to you, never leaving your side. You have been meeting everyone else you don't know. "You hungry?" Jared asks. You look up at him and grab his arm. "I could eat!" You look over and see your girl and Quil making out. Quil seems nervous and not moving his hands much. You can't help but laugh. Jared sees it too and chuckles. "Damn. That was fast." You giggle.

You sit on the lawn chair in between Jared and Sue Clearwater. "It's crazy you came from (your home)! It's amazing to have you here." She smiles.

Billy Black starts speaking. He sounds very intimidating and smart.

Jared's pov:

I can see her listening. Her eyes never leaving Billy. I can't tell if she's taking any of this in. She seems to be in a trance.

She faces me after the stories, and everyone else stands up and talks. Her eyes are a tad bit wide, and she smiles. I melt. My god, her lips. "That was so cool, Jared!" She gasps. "Wanna know something cooler?" Oh god. Time to tell her. She cocks her head slightly and smiles. "Follow me." I stand and grab her hand.

We walk in silence toward the woods. I stop once I get a little far out. "What are we doing?" She giggles. I let her hand go and face her. "Well, the legends.. are true. I am a shifter. Me and all the guys. Sam is alpha." I lay it out. I'm nervous. "Show me." She says blankly. I back away. I take off my shorts. "I have to take off my underwear too..." I awkwardly say. Her eyes look up at the dark sky. I do that, and I shift.

I growl very lightly and step closer to her. She looks at me, and her face is in shock. She doesn't look scared. "So mesmerizing.." she whispers. She lifts her hand and runs it through my fur. "I have questions." She whispers again. I back up, phase back, and get on my legs. I get dressed and jog back to her. "Why are you telling me this? I'm confused." She says.

How do I say this? "Uh, remember imprinting?" I ask her. She slowly nods and then perks up. "Me????? I'm your soulmate?!" She squeels. I chuckles, nodding my head. "But wait, what about Kim?" She frowns. I sigh and rub the back of my neck. "I didn't know what imprinting felt like. I did love her, and so I thought I imprinted. Everyone who did kept telling me that wasn't the case. When I met you at the restaurant, I did. I had to tell her the truth." I look at her face slowly dropping. "I didn't mean to... do that to her.." she holds her stomach. "I feel so guilty. It's my fault." She whispers. "No, it's not like that at all!" I reach for her hand. She jerks back and runs to Emily's. "Shit." I run after her.

Your pov:

You say to yourself that you 'wrecked a relationship. I can't believe I did that.' You hear him behind you calling your name. You hit Emily's and bust through the door. You hope nobody saw because that'd be awkward. You go into the room and sit on the bed. You're out of breath. You can't believe this.

After a few moments, you hear knocks. "I'm sorry, Jared. I have to think for just a moment." You call out. "Y/n, it's Emily." You breathe out a long breath. "Hey Emily." You say, and she opens the door, sitting next to me. "Jared asked me to speak with you." She smiles.

She told you all about her and Sam and the Leah lore. It made you feel a lot better. Now, you want to give Jared a hug. She steps out, and you stand up going out to find him. He's already standing there in the hall. "Jared, I'm so sorry." You say and wrap your arms around him. "It's okay, my love." He holds you. You lean up and kiss him. He kisses you back instantly. You kiss him harder, pulling his body into yours.

He guides you into the room. You shut the door behind him, you guys not letting go or pulling away. You use as much strength as you can to push him against the door. He grunts but pulls away. "Not here. Not like this." He whispers, pushing hair behind your ears. You blush at how that came over you. Like damn girl. You chuckle and sit on the bed.

"I have a whole week before I leave." You sigh. "I don't want to. I want to stay here." You look up at him, fully trusting the bond. This is serious, and there's no other end but with him. Might as well not wait. Plus, being away from him even before you knew did not feel good.

His eyes widen, and he laughs a bit, "Really?!" He asks in disbelief. "Yes!" You smile. He tackles you on the bed, holding you. "I have my forever." He mumbles in your neck. You feel his warm breath.

"Want to go on a date tomorrow?" He looks up at you.

almost a month later:

"Babes, how'd we get here?" Your friend laughs while touching your knee. "Us knowing each other really did well. It worked in favor." You smile at her. She turns to look out in the yard. You turn too and see Jared and Quil roughhousing. "Babe!" You call out. Jared instantly responds to your call, making his way to you. "Yes, babylove?" He leans down on you, his hands holding the arms of the chair to hold him up. You lean in and kiss his lips quickly. "Ready to go home? I still have to unpack a lot of shit." You groan. "Shit, me too." Your friend says, walking inside Quil's house.

He smiles down at you and plants kisses all over your face. "I love you." He says. You grab his face and kiss him roughly. "I love you, too."

[babybearnation]

think i like you best when you're just with me

⎇f1 drivers x gn!reader - you're trying to quit smoking (reactions) ⎇contains: alex albon, arthur leclerc, charles leclerc, dino beganovic, george russell, zhou guanyu, kimi antonelli, lance stroll, lando norris, liam lawson, logan sargeant, max verstappen, mick schumacher, ollie bearman, oscar piastri, paul aron, pierre gasly, yuki tsunoda ⎇author's note: this is something i struggle with so i appreciate 🔒 anon for requesting this! if you're trying to quit an addiction, i love you, i believe in you, stay strong! (kofi for long fics) ⎇content warnings: smoking/addiction/relapses (all), crying (alex, charles, logan, max), arguing (kimi, max), suggestive (lando, ollie, yuki) ⎇word count: 2.1k

alex albon:

alex is not going to judge you for struggling. he understands that sometimes people turn to shitty things to cope with life. when you confess that you want to quit smoking, alex is immediately looking up all the strategies he can. he'll find your cigarettes and keep them on his person that way he can try and stop you when you go for one, he'll convince you to put out your cigarette if he catches you with one, he'll even let you play with his hands or his hair if it means you won't think about the feeling of a cigarette between your fingers. and if you break down in tears because life sucks and you just want to smoke, he'll hold you and cheer you up until you feel better.

arthur leclerc:

monaco has one of the highest rates of smoking in all of europe so arthur is probably pretty desensitized to seeing people smoke. he'll still be pretty upset if he finds out that you smoke, though. upon discovering that you want to quit, arthur is immediately on board, helping you slowly but surely remove the desire to smoke from your life. if you ever relapse, he might be angry at first, but he soon learns that you really cannot help it. after that he becomes much better at helping you leave the cigarettes behind. any milestones you hit in your smoking cessation journey will be celebrated however you so desire because he truly believes that's what you deserve.

charles leclerc:

he might be a bit baffled as to why you smoke but when you explain to him that it helps you deal with stress, he's gonna be stressed himself. he doesn't want you smoking - he wants you as healthy as possible, thank you - but he gets it. when you tearfully suggest that you want to quit, he's helping you as soon as he can. he'll get you those patches or mints for the first couple months, and he nab and destroy any cigarette he catches you with (with permission, he does not want to upset you further), but eventually, he switches paths and tries to get rid of your stress. he'll do whatever is takes to help you quit, tbh.

dino beganovic:

he's not really happy about the fact that you smoke but he knows he can't control you, so he will just request that you don't smoke in his presence. when you decide that, actually, killing your lungs really isn't worth it, you'll ask him to help you quit. he'll be patient with you as you attempt to quit, always careful not to push you too far, but also knowing exactly when to be more commanding. he doesn't want you to experience any relapses, but he's prepared mentally and physically for when/if you do. he's really sweet about helping you quit, even if his initial reaction to finding out you smoke was one of pure disgust.

george russell:

there's actually a pretty big smoking culture in the uk so i wouldn't be surprised if george has encountered many smokers in his time as a brit, but he's a bit shocked when he discovers you're one as well. he won't be completely disgusted - people cope in a myriad of ways, after all - but he will push you towards trying to quit. when you eventually agree, he's laying out all the options towards cessation that exist, giving you the pros and cons of each one. he's done his research, which means he's really good at helping you fight your cravings and preventing any relapses. if you ever do relapse though? it's okay, he won't judge. he gets it and he will help you get back on your feet so you can try again.

zhou guanyu:

he thinks its a dirty habit and will say as much to you, but in a much nicer way than that seems. when you ask him to help you with fighting your addiction, he's there instantly. you want his help? you'll get it! he's not going to let you suffer alone. he's very patient in the early stages, understanding that relapses are bound to happen. if you get really distraught over these relapses, he will do everything in his power to cheer you up, even if that means he has to ruin his cool guy persona and embarrass himself to make you laugh. he will do literally anything to make sure you go through cessation without too much trouble.

kimi antonelli:

he's young and been embroiled in the world of motorsport for a very long time, under heavy watch from mercedes, so he's probably never even considered smoking before. when you confess to him that you smoke (probably since before you were legally able to), he's gonna be upset and this might trigger an argument between you two but it comes from a place of love and concern for him. the second you suggest quitting and finding other coping mechanisms, he's there. he'll think of every single way he can to prevent you from smoking. if that means you have to travel all around the world with him so he can keep an eye on you, then so be it!

lance stroll:

i would not be surprised if this man has smoked before and hated it. he gets it though - he deals with perpetual stress in his line of work and he has plenty of coping mechanisms. he's gonna be a bit upset that you chose smoking of all things, but he'll happily let you do whatever you want because he gets it. when you say you want to quit, however, he's there. he's paying for all the expensive alternatives and treatments, getting you all the therapies. hell, if he can, he'll even pay away your stress. your job is your stress? okay, well, your new job is as his full time SAP so. enjoy it. anything he can do to make your life easier and to reduce your stress so you'll stop smoking, he'll have it done by the end of the day.

lando norris:

whilst he might find it hot that you smoke, he's also gonna be a little bit concerned because he's fully watched you chain smoke three cigarettes before and that surely cannot be good for your lungs. when you tell him you've started the process of quitting, he'll be so proud of you and he'll offer to help every single step of the way. it's really hard to relapse around him because he'll shoot you with a water gun every time he catches you smoking. despite being a chaotic gremlin most of the time, lando really does understand stress very well and so he'll understand your cravings and relapses. he'll never make you feel upset. if its the feeling of something in your mouth you crave, well... lando's got that covered ;).

liam lawson:

he's not happy about it, but he understands that you smoke because you're stressed. he may accidentally push you too far when insisting that you try and quit, but when you come to him and say that you wanna quit because you yourself has decided to, he feels a little victorious knowing he played some role in that. he can be a bit too aggressive with you at first - demanding to know why you thought relapsing was okay - but he quickly researches more into nicotine addictions and realises you really can't help it. after that, he becomes much more helpful and your path to cessation becomes much easier.

logan sargeant:

if anyone understands stress, it's this man, so when he catches you ripping into a new pack of cigarettes as tears stream down your face, he gets it. he might try and stop you that first time but ultimately, he wants you to make the decision to stop. so when you ask him if he'd help you fight the addiction, he's obviously saying yes. he's there to hold you when you cry and try and stop you when you relapse, but every month you pass without smoking, he'll buy you something nice. a little material motivation/incentive never hurt anyone, right?

max verstappen:

he loves you, he really does, but he isn't entirely sure if he can handle your smoking. it might cause a rift or an argument, but eventually he realises how deep your addiction is and offers to help you get out of it when you end up crying during another argument. he helps you with alternative products (patches/mints/e-cigs), or he'll pay for group therapy or he'll snatch any and every cigarette he sees you smoking out of your hand. whatever it takes for you to quit, he'll do it, because he wants you to be happy and healthy and he doesn't believe any amount of cigarettes is good for either of those things.

mick schumacher:

it breaks his heart to know that you turned to smoking because you were too stressed about life. his heart is well and truly broken. he's very kind and patient with you though, and if you're really struggling, he'll go out and buy you cigarettes, but he hates seeing you smoke. when you tell him you're quitting and that he has to hold you responsible, he does. he takes his job very seriously and will help prevent, or at least soften the blow of, any relapses that may happen. when you get to one year cigarette free, he celebrates in a way that suits you because that's an incredible achievement that deserves to be celebrated!

ollie bearman:

i think ollie would be so torn on this. on the one hand, he hates that you're smoking because you're stressed. he hates that you're hurting. on the other hand? you smoking is fucking hot. when you tell him you want to quit, he might playfully protest but when he realises how serious you actually are, he'll put the jokes away and asks how he can help and support you. every step of the way, every stumble and every success, ollie is there to help you. some people might think its weird how overprotective of you he appears to be, but he refuses to let you get hurt and sink back into that place of smoking ever again.

oscar piastri:

he's soft yet blunt on his thoughts regarding you smoking - he hates it, but it's your life. when you tell him you want to quit because you refuse to let stress and smoking control your life anymore, oscar's on board basically instantly. he's researching the best strategies to fight a nicotine addiction and he's slowly helping you implement them into your life and test the waters to see if they help. he knows there will be bad days and he's always willing to hold you through all of them, but he can't help but be so proud when you hit milestones, no matter how many times you've hit them before.

paul aron:

he seems very strict about taking care of his health and being at peak performance so realising he's dating someone who smokes might jolt him but he's never once gonna be mean to you about it. people have different ways of coping and he won't shame you for yours. is he gonna pounce on the idea of you quitting the second you hint at it? of course he is, but he's not pushy. he's only ever pushing you to stop when you tell him to because you know he can help prevent a relapse or help you deal with something stressful. if you ever slip up, he won't hold it over your head. it happens. he'll pick you up and help you carry on or start again.

pierre gasly:

another one who might be a bit upset at first but quickly learns that you are deep into addiction and aren't able to just up and quit like other people can. he'll be there to guide you through every step of your smoking cessation, always cheering you on when you do well or comforting you when you slip up and relapse. he'll never make you feel like you're wrong or dirty for smoking. he's just so supportive!

yuki tsunoda:

yuki might find it hot at first but those feelings are very quickly washed away by panic and concern. why were you smoking? did you want to quit or was this something you planned to do for the rest of your life? when you tell him you want to quit, yuki will try his best to cheer you on. he offers to cook for you as motivation but like.. he always cooks for you. luckily, he's cute enough that it's fine, but you do have to find a proper source of motivation to keep you going. and seeing the way yuki's eyes get brighter with each milestone you hit, you quickly realise what that source is.

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