#paul can't catch a break

[cowboy-lover69]

Don't Act Like You Don't Know

(Paul Allen x Patrick Bateman)

(Am back!! I was supposed to post this on the first anniversary of my first-ever fic which has now been orphaned, but I got busy. I just wanted to thank all my returning readers for all the support I've been receiving since I first started writing, it's really motivating and I really appreciate it :) I've only improved so much because of you guys!

also, Patrick's parents are out of character in this fic, for plot reasons.)

The small black car rolled down the pothole-filled country road. Sun glimmered into the windows and Paul's head leaned against the glass.

“I had no idea your family lived in such a beautiful place, It's like straight out of a movie.”

Before Patrick could respond they hit a pothole causing Patrick to just grip the wheel tighter. He was almost white-knuckled as he drove. They were going 80 miles per hour, Paul didn't seem to notice.

“Are you nervous Pat?” Paul asked, finally taking his eyes from the window to Patrick, whose eyes were glued firmly on the road.

“Why would I be nervous? It's in and out. I just need to be there for them to read the will.” Patrick said with a sharp edge to this tone. He didn’t want to talk. If he could he would glue Paul's mouth shut so he would never have to hear his fiancé speak for the rest of the trip.

“I just know you don’t have the best relationship with your family”

“I don’t know what you mean Paul, me and my family get along fine.”

Paul sighs and turns his head back to the window.

“Just so you know Paul, you will be waiting in the car”

“Huh?” Paul whipped his head around to look at Patrick.

“My family will be weird about our situation, and frankly having you there might lead to us wasting even more time there than we have to.”

“First of all Patrick, why did you call it our situation, we are engaged for Christ's sake. I thought you were over the whole embarrassment about being gay deal. Second of all I just want to be there for emotional support, I won't say a word.”

Patrick was agitated, why did it matter so much what he called their relationship?

“Don’t kid yourself, Paul. your a fucking social butterfly. Everyone just loves you and you love talking to everyone.” Patrick said, his tone rising a bit.

“You don’t need to be a dick Patrick. I get it your on edge from having to see your family but don’t be a jackass”

“Well, you're staying in the car at the end of the discussion.”

Soon enough they start pulling up on a large house hidden by the trees hardly in view from the road. They pulled into the freakishly long driveway and parked next to the few other cars. Soon enough a glammed-up older woman stepped out of the house. She had stringy hair curled into a suitable hairstyle. Her face and the rest of her body looked like they had been maximized for sex appeal at least maybe to a 16-year-old boy. She was curvy but unhealthy and skinny. She looked like she had one too many plastic surgeries on her face to maintain her youth.

Patrick sighed and stepped out of the car.

“Ah Patrick, it's good to see you. Glad you came.”

Paul followed Patrick out of the car. Patrick heard the car door open and shot a glare at Paul, but it didn't stop him.

The older woman tentatively went up to Patrick. Then she turned her attention to Paul, who was standing a bit behind Patrick.

“Oh Patrick, this is Paul?.... Sean told me about him.” The woman seemed distant like she wasn't all there. She talked slowly and had an indescribable glaze over her eyes. Patrick didn't seem to care, to him she's always been this way.

“Ah, of course, he would,” Patrick muttered through gritted teeth.

“Good to meet you Ms…?”

“Ms. Bateman…”

Paul’s eyes widened and he pulled his arm back before grabbing Patrick’s mother's hand and shaking it nervously. Patrick’s mother seemed a little shocked by the handshake but she didn't pull away from it. Patrick seemed embarrassed from the whole interaction pinching his nose bridge in frustration.

After the Awkward handshake, Patrick’s mother turned her attention back to Patrick.

“Can we talk Patrick?” she asked.

Patrick scowled at his mother but nodded.

“If we must.”

His mother started to walk towards the gated courtyard that ran on the side of the house. Patrick followed. He looked back at Paul with an indiscernible expression, then disappeared behind the large hedge-wall that went around the courtyard. Paul was a bit worried for Patrick, he was worried by coming along he may have made things weird, but nothing he could do now. He turned around to face the front of the mansion once again. He saw that Patrick’s mother had left the door open, so he let himself in.

He stepped into the house, It was eerily empty. It was a wooden interior, mostly dark woods with green accents coming from what few pieces of furniture were about. Paul was about to turn into the living room but he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Paul turned around and saw Sean, Patrick's brother.

“Oh, hey Sean. I was curious when I would see you around.”

“Paul, it's great to see you! Where is Patrick?”

“He went with his mother, they went into the gated courtyard.” Sean's face darkened a bit.

“I hope she didn’t give you much trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“Ah never mind.. I am going to go find Pat. Have a good time Paul don’t get too lost.”

Paul watched Sean turn the corner into the living area, then into the backyard via the glass sliding door. Paul walked into the living area, it was mostly empty, just filled with barebones furniture and some pictures on the mantle above the fireplace.

Paul walked over to the mantle to get a better look at the pictures. The first one was a wedding picture of Patrick's mother and what Paul assumes is Patrick's father. Patrick's mother looks so different, She looked lighter. Patrick’s father on the other hand… looked empty. He had a serious straight face and looked inhumanly stiff.

Paul glanced over to the other photo sitting on the mantle, It was a family photo. This must have been more than 10 years ago, Patrick couldn't have been older than 14 in the photo. He looked cold and distant. I guess some things never change, Paul thought to himself.

Before Paul could make any more observations he heard someone behind him.

“Hey! Who are you?” an older man said in a gruff tone.

Paul turned around to see a fat short older man. He was balding and had a terrible graying mustache under his nose.

“Paul Allen! I am Patrick’s fiancé!”

Paul reaches his hand out to shake the other man's hand, but the man doesn’t shake it.

“I told Cheryl not to invite you two.” The man huffed under his breath as he walked towards the clear sliding doors. Behind the door, the man started arguing with someone out of sight.

‘That was weird’ Paul thought.

It was only a few minutes until Paul felt an arm wrap around his waist.

“We are going leave Paul”

Paul looked up and twisted his neck to see Patrick. He's not looking at Paul, he's giving a dead-eyed stare into the back patio through the glass.

“What’s going on?”

Patrick doesn’t say a word simply tightening his grip around Paul. Patrick starts escorting him outside, Paul almost stumbles over his feet at the sudden movement. Patrick keeps hold of them until they get to the car. Paul awkwardly opens the door and slides in. Patrick silently gets into the driver's seat and starts the car. They quickly make their get away.

“What was that about Pat?”

Patrick doesn't respond at first just gripping the wheel tighter.

“Patri-”

Paul gets cut off promptly.

“Don’t act like you don’t know Paul.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Am so sick and fucking tired of you acting like you don’t know how others think of us.”

“Oh, this is what this is about?”

“Paul, you can pretend in your pretty little world that it doesn't matter what others think of us and how others treat us, but that isn’t true. You consistently embarrass me in front of our co-workers, in front of strangers, and now in front of my family. All you had to do is stay in the fucking car.” Patrick's tone was harsh and sharp. Patrick is cold and Paul knows that but this is real raw anger.

“ Jesus… Why can’t we just be ourselves, you don’t even like your family.”

“Well sometimes Paul you have to sacrifice some happiness to get things done and to have an overall pleasant life, but clearly you're too dense to understand that. Now I am an embarrassment. I will miss opportunities because I couldn't keep a handle on my fiancée who likes to make a show of things”

“A show of things? I have not gone rubbing our relationship in your family's face unless you count me introducing myself as your fiancé a show of things”

“You didn’t need to tell anyone anything. I warned you how my family is and you deliberately went against my request.”

Paul couldn't deny that, it was true. He didn’t realize Patrick would be this upset. Even if he knew in this case he was wrong he was too prideful to apologize, he didn't like the point Patrick was making about their relationship. Like it was some secret affair they had to hide. Patrick never seemed to shake his embarrassment of being queer. Paul is usually sympathetic but he's tired.

The rest of the car ride was silent. Patrick dropped Paul off at his apartment. That's the last Patrick Paul would see for the rest of the day.

[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-darkness]

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.

[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. 

[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."

[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.”

[lixzey]

ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ, ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴍɪɴᴇ !

𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙼𝙴 જ⁀➴

hi, my name's ellie and welcome to my blog!

i just started writing on this platform last september 2023. i've been writing fics since i was twelve (yes, it was cringe) on wattpad. i would love to read your feedback, or be friends! my inbox is always open for anything 🫶🏻

anyway, here's some lil facts about me:

i'm 21 years old • she/her • filo-canadian • enfp • libra baby • mother of a four year old girl • a gryffindor child of aphrodite • has adhd and wears glasses • has photographic memory • loves writing (obvi), music, and reading

- i live in the philippines, so pls bear with me. i try to be awake the whole night so i can post when most of my followers are awake

- as i've mentioned, i am a mother to a four year old. so when i get delays in posting, blame her (lol pls don't blame my kid)

- pls don't be rude to me :( i cry at the simplest things :( so hate will definitely be deleted.

xoxo, el 💘

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐗𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

╰┈➤ CHARLIE BUSHNELL

╰┈➤ LUKE CASTELLAN

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ divider by @saradika-graphics

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

‼️All of my works are purely fictional and are intended for entertainment only. I do have a wattpad account of the same username (lixzey_), but I haven't posted anything that I have written there aside from one. Please do not repost any of my works on any other site. ‼️

TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

The Story of Us - In which you are Timothée Chalamet's high school sweetheart. After a messy break up ten years ago, Timothée is Hollywood's it boy, while you are a rising star. The two of you will star in a new movie, what could possibly go wrong?

Letters - One day Timothée receives a package from someone unknown: a basket of eighteen letters. Letters from a girl named y/n. A mysterious fan who poured her heart out in her letters and is trying to fix herself. As Timothée begins to read, and the letters begin to run out, he finds himself falling for this girl.

Until one day he stopped reading.

Because she stopped writing.

Can't Help Falling In Love - In which two strangers accidentally get married.

Forever Yours

Heart to Heart

My Girl

The Girl With Hair Longer Than Rapunzel

24 Hours

Paradise

Bride for Rent

The Unknown Number

Bad idea, right?

Catching Feelings

Over and Over Again

Angel Eyes

Risk It All

TIMOTHÉE'S CHARACTERS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

Foolish Ones - Theodore Laurence

Crazy Little Thing Called Love - Wonka

Choices - Paul Atreides

Against All Odds - Hal [The King, 2019]

STAND ALONE `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

• Rising Star

• Daddy's Angels

• More Than Words 🔥

THE MARAUDERS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

James Potter

• Almost A Love Story

• Must Be Love

• To All The Boys I've Loved Before

• Once Upon A December

• Me Before You

Regulus Black

• Monster Among Men

• To The Moon and Back

• Protego Maxima

• Forever and Always

Remus Lupin

• Professor, Professor

• Head Over Heels

• Seven Minutes to Forever

• Timeless

Sirius Black

• Golden

• The Name of The Game

• If Only

• Safe and Sound

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

Luke Castellan

• Serendipity

• Sincerely, yours

• Lovelorn

• Late night cravings

HEROES OF OLYMPUS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

• blood runs thicker than water

Leo Valdez

• leo valdez x dionysus!reader headcannons, friends to lovers

[johns-prince]

I Don't Know (Oh Johnny Johnny)

After listening to this "forgotten" song by John and Paul on repeat, with excruciating scrutiny of trying my darndest to make out the lyrics.

This song is approximately recorded around 1960, could have even been 1959, and I've read it was apparently recorded when the group was going by the Silver Beatles. Also, apparently recorded at Paul's house? I'm not sure.

Whether you think it's just them fooling about, simple improvising and nothing at all, I think if they were going to take the effort to record it, it had to mean something.

Even if some or half of it is "improv," it still sounds like a conversation between the two.

It's not unlike them to use music to communicate and express personal thoughts and feelings, wants. There's also nobody else there... it's just them.

Just a couple of the clearer lyrics from Paul at the start:

"Hey now Johnny Johnny, oh Johnny Johnny, oh Johnny Johnny, oh Johnny Johnny, Oh God, Johnny boy, how are we gonna tell them?"

"Oh Johnny boy you wore me out"

It also sounds in one line Paul is singing, "Well you got me!"

Then John starts up.

And I know some people claim the start for John here is him saying "Well little boy" but I have to say that doesn't match up with what I've heard.

Doesn't sound anything like boy, but it does sound like John is saying, "Oh little darling, packing my shoes.. " can't make the following bit before, "cuz I'm losin' you"

"I'm going to see my sister soon. She don't want to see me I don't know really what I'm gonna do what I'm gonna do."

Now you've got Paul again:

"Well Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, when I call you Johnny, well Johnny Johnny oh Johnny, when I'm calling you..."

"Well I don't know what I'm going to tell them..." okay, these lyrics are really difficult to decipher. Maybe it's just my brains attempt at conjuring coherent words from the incoherent sounds, but, what follows this sounds ALMOST sounds as if Paul is telling him what he'll tell the fellas, about thoughts regarding John (I've still got thoughts of you/I'll still have thoughts of you/or, I'll still vouch for you)

Then the closest thing to ever getting to hear what Paul McCartney sounds like when pleading:

"Please Johnny, please Johnny"

John's response is:

"Well I'll tell the fellas I'm traveling with you"

And funnily enough, it's John saying, "I don't know what I'm gonna to do when I tell my mother we're gonna leave town." Of course if this is recorded in 1958/1960, Julia is no longer around...

Paul reiterates this though, confirming it, "Yeah we're gonna leave town."

Paul continues with this dogged line, I can catch a couple of "we gotta leave, we just gotta leave, we gotta leave right now."

Then—

"Take the next bus out of town, then we won't let nobody down!"

It's a conversation about getting out, breaking out, starting over just the two of them... With some interesting mentions of family and friends finding out, about something, with them, between them? And disappointing everyone, causes family to turn them away.

The reason couldn't have just been that they were wanting to become famous musicians together, right? I don't think that alone could be it considering Mimi nor Jim, or Julia or John's sisters, ever turned them away or shunned them because of this dream they were already chasing by this time.

The song progresses to where it sounds as if John has reservations about leaving, he's not as confident about the plan as originally thought.

Paul keeps singing the "we gotta leave, get outta town." I caught a "don't hold me down."

John starts repeating "I don't know" which results in Paul repeatedly calling out, "Oh Johnny Johnny Johnny oh Johnny Johnny Johnny Johnny..." Again, it's almost like pleading, "How could you not know? We have to go, we have to leave town, you can't tell me “I don't know” now. Don't do this now."

Now, I will say this, the full lyrical interpretations of this song, while I commend others for trying too, hold too many issues for me to agree upon their validity. I don't catch any "I love yous" and the such, but I think what I have caught, and how John and Paul are singing to each other and with each other here, alone, as teenage boys chasing their dream, is enough to convince me still that this song is so intimately about them, their relationship, and what they dreamed of doing together.

Running off, getting out and creating music together. Running away together. The song technically foreshadowing this honeymoon-esque trip of John and Paul doing just that when John turned 21, and with 100 quid took Paul on a trip.

Two teenage boys not knowing what to do, lamenting over something, something getting out to their family that would cause them to be turned away and to cause disappointment. I don't necessarily attribute that to them chasing the dream of becoming famous musicians together, but it could be. It could be many different things. Could just be me overanalyzing...

The end of the song is a lot more scrambled, difficult to make out, but it sounds like both John and Paul are back to both agreeing to the fact they need to get out, leave town, together.

Also imagining the fact they probably looked something close to this while thumping around and singing this song in Paul's house, alone together, gives me feelings.

[lovelybunn]

conditioning .ㅤ- feat. soldier

warning(s): smut (under the cut), reader is afab, rough/hardcore, slight(?) degrading

author's note: happy fourth of july to my fellow americans! 🇺🇸🦅

The soldier's words pierce through the silence, echoing throughout the room. “Get your ass up, maggot! I know you can try harder than this!” You can feel his breath on the back of your neck as the timer in his hand continues to tick. You fucked up getting the intel, so now he's punishing you for causing “the whole teams’ loss.” (Everyone was doing poorly that day, you specifically weren't the only one to blame.) Right now the man has got you down in a plank position, making you sit there for 2 minutes straight. Your abs and knees have failed you, so inevitably, you collapsed, which is why the soldier is currently screaming at you at the moment.

"Don't you think this is a bit excessive?" you mutter weakly, your voice strained from the exertion. Every time you give out, he stops his timer. The soldier's response was immediate and unwavering. "Don't you dare question my discipline technique, private! This is nothing compared to what I could make you do.” This was enough to get you back on track since you had no interest in finding out whatever was worse than this in the soldier's book. You grit your teeth, your body trembling with fatigue as you get up to continue to hold the plank.

The soldier doesn't seem to care about your torment, however, and continues to yell at you and humiliate you in front of the rest of the team. “This isn't yoga class, cupcake! Get your ass out the air!” You wonder if this is some sort of power trip or if he just wants you to break down and beg for mercy. Either way, even from the corner of your eye, you can see that shit-eating sadistic smirk on the man's face.

The demoman lets out a loud, audible burp. His words are slurred as he speaks, “Ach, don't be so hard on the lad, they're fresh, Solly!” A loud crash is heard next as he stumbles off the bench, the medic and heavy swiftly catching him and carrying him off to his room. “Heavy thinks you shouldn't be so hard on alcohol, but we all know that won't happen.” All three men let out a hearty laugh as they exit the room, their shoulders slumped from the weight of their drunkard friend.

The scout saunters over next to the soldier in front of you, his sneering face looking down at you as he bends over to tilt your head up with his bat. The scout can't contain his laughter at your suffering, having been dominated at least three times less than you during the game, making it where he doesn't have to go through this. You scowl up at him, your body aching from the intense workout. The scout laughs, "Sucks to be a loser, huh? Wonder why Pauling even got you on this team—" His snarky remark is interrupted by the engineer, who yanks him by the ear and grumbles an agitated warning. "Get your ass on and mind your own business, boy. Come on," The engineer drags the scout out of the room, the younger man whining and yelling out retorts as they leave. The others have already left, leaving you and the soldier alone in the locker room.

Your head falls down to focus on the ground, silently hoping that you're at least halfway done. The soldier's piercing, silver-blue eyes look down at you, silently observing as he slowly circles around you. You can hear the rhythmic echo of his feet against the cool tile floor of the locker room. After a few moments, he finally speaks up, grunting out, "Twenty-five seconds." He comes to a stop and stands right in front of you, his eyes still fixed on your trembling, sweaty body.

You grunt out in relief, "Thank goodness!" You close your eyes and count down the remaining seconds in your head, feeling the burn in your muscles becoming more intense by the second. You force your spine to stay straight, your body begging for the torture to end. The soldier's voice thunders loudly in your ears:

"6...5...4...3...2...Time!”

You grunt out in triumph as you fall flat on the cold tile, its surface a stark contrast to the burning heat of your skin. Yet, the feeling of relief is quickly replaced by shock and discomfort when the soldier kicks you and forces you to get back up.

“Rise and shine, soldier! Stand tall and proud like the true powerful American you are!” he cries out, his voice filled with pride and patriotism. You groan and struggle to your feet, feeling exhausted and mildly irritated. You try to protest when he suddenly grabs you by the waist with a sudden burst of force, his hot lips pressing against yours in a passionate kiss. You gasp and freeze in place, struggling to understand what's happening. With your lips parted, he dominates your mouth with his tongue, tasting you with intense demand. After a few moments, he pulls away from you, grinning at your confused expression. “I like you. You're my favorite out of all these other maggots.” His smile widens into a smirk, sending a chill down your spine. “You've got a great body and strong grit. I like that.” Before you can even muster up a response, he turns you over to where your back is to him. He feels your skin flush pink, and he chuckles, the sound rough and rugged. “I wanna show you how much I like you, in one of the best ways I know how.”

Your body quivered as the soldier's rough hands knead and grope your form, moving and sliding lower with each passing moment until he reaches your aching core. His laugh is dark and seductive as his fingers slide underneath the hem of your underwear. Without warning, the soldier shoves two thick digits into your hot, tight little hole. “You're so fucking wet for me, private. You've always wanted to be my little slut, haven't you?” He growls against your ear. His other hand grabs a fistful of your breast, teasing your hardened nipple between his index finger and thumb.

You let out a startled yelp as the soldier's digits dig deeper inside you. Your walls can't help but to squeeze around him, his fingers curling inside you to pump in and halfway out as his thumb kneads at your clit roughly. You let out little squeaks and sighs of pleasure, unable to really form coherent words. The soldier growls low against your ear, “You're gonna cum already, huh?” His fingers pump harder, his thumb pressing firm against your clit. “Ya gotta toughen up, buttercup.” Your moans grow needier as your hips buck into his hand, begging for release. But, alas, just as quick as he came in, he pulls out, shoving his fingers into your mouth to force you to taste yourself. You whine in annoyance, but complying and reluctantly lapping up your own slick from his fingers. “Ah, just look at you,” He remarks, slowly pulling out his fingers from your mouth, saliva stretchy on them. “You're less of a fuck up when you do what I say.” The soldier smacks your ass, the hard sensation startling you.

“But I'm willing to bet I've already told you that.” You hear the shuffling of his belt coming undone and his pants falling to the floor from behind. The soldier's dick rests erect on your back, and you can tell that he's quite big. You swallow nervously. “You feel that, cupcake? That's what a true patriot feels like.” He coos, positioning himself between your legs.

The soldier bends you over against the lockers, watching as your slick streams down your trembling thighs. He laughs, slapping his hard cock against your backside. The soldier teases you, rubbing circles across your silt with the tip of his cock. “You fucking ready for this great American cock, princess?” He growls, his voice drenched with burning desire. You peer behind him, your eyes clouded with lust. “Yes,” you mew. With that, the soldier yanks a chunk of your hair back, not acknowledging your pained squeal as his cock hammers into your tight little cunt, “Fuck!” He roars.

The sound of your desperate cries mixed with the slap of skin against skin reverberates throughout the room, his hard thrusts leaving your ass red from his balls hitting at it. He abuses your cervix, pounding against your g-spot with ease and precision while his own grunts and curses flow out like a vulgar sea of pleasure.

He grips your torso with his arm, the joint flexing to keep you close to him as his hips snap rhythmically into your aching hole with vigor. You felt like you were on fire, dizzy from the rapture taking over your every sense. All you can do is cry out for more, your release nearing very close.

The soldier prys your jaw open with his free hand, forcing you to let out your shrill cry of pleasure, “Cum for your general, maggot!” Due to his order, shock waves wash over you as you squirt all over his length, your entire body twitching in ecstacy. He lets out one last battle cry as he hauls out his cock with an audible pop, “For The United States of America!” He hollers with all his might, his cum spewing all over your back and asscheeks in heavy loads.

With a bark of laughter, he quickly removes his white tank top, using it to wipe away the cum that drips down your heated skin. The cool fabric brushes against your lower half, and you shutter. Your knees buckle, and your hands scramble to hold onto the lockers for stability. Your entire body quivers with exhaustion, as he lifts you up off the ground, effortlessly carrying you bridal style in his arms. Through his bucket hat, you can see the glint in his eyes, filled with happiness, as his huge, toothy grin stretches across his face.

“You did good, kid. Real good.”

“You need to work on your stamina, though. Let's hit the shower, so we can do another rep of good ol’ fuckin’!” he says as he leads you out of the locker room, both of you almost fully undressed, your bodies red-hot from the ‘exercise.’ He walks with confidence, his head held high, towards his own shower, the smell of sex wafting off both of you.

[curtisberzattos]

paul put his class ring back on to hit darrel???!!! what do u think pauls internal monologue was deciding to do that? and then soda seeing it before darry does??

aye aye aye these boys are MESSYYYYYYY. idk part of me thinks paul is Just doing it to be cruel!! surface level, definitely just cruelty. i think it Stems from some deeper resentment that he's not even consciously aware of. because the timeline of events is like this:

1. paul and darry are best friends (or more)

2. they break up

3. paul and bob become best friends

4. bob dies -> pauls Current bff is killed bc of his Old bffs little brother

paul has, in his mind, lost Both of his best friends Because of darry. so for paul the rumble is a huge chance to say like "fuck you you keep messing up my life I'm Going To Kill You and make it hurt as much as possible".

it's probably also partially pride. it's a moment to show darry that Hey you could've been on our side but You gave that chance up so now You're going to get taught a lesson just like johnny and two-bit and all the other greasers because you're no better than them. and along with that it's paul's way of saying that he gets to decide that they hate each other now. if you (like me) believe that darry was the one to end their friendship, then this is paul getting the last laugh.

and then soda. omfg head in hands. bc he knows darrys Tough but that hard of a hit is gonna catch him off guard, which means he'll be vulnerable, which means he'll be a target. and they're already coming after ponyboy they can't be targeting Both of his brothers!!! what's a poor girl like him to do!

idk paul and darry need to just kiss and get over it!!!

[onmyyan]

Will you ever write an Ashley Hunt scenario that shows his “yan” side? I wanna see this fine gentleman get possessive and violent/murderous. Cause we’ve seen it with the Delmonts many times, but there hasn’t been anything with Ash yet. I guess I and probably a lot of other readers are curious to know what’d happen if like MC tried to escape, or she was being courted by another equally charming out-of-town cowboy. (That’d be so cute to have a rival cowboy scenario to Ash!!!)

A/N: TW: YANDERE, 💀 BY PIG, VIOLENCE (NOT AGAINST READER)

To think all of Ashley's problems started with a help wanted sign at the local general store in his small town.

You, bless your heart, had been working there to help the older man Paul after seeing him struggling to stock his shelves one afternoon, that being said Ashley didn't have an issue with you working, because 1. Paul both adored and trusted him implicitly, meaning Ashley had access to the grainy CCTV footage of you whenever he had to be away, which wasn't often as he brought you lunch everyday and brought you to and from work. And 2. Everyone in town knew Ashley had laid claim to you He made it clear in every way their culture said, from placing his hat on you in public to only ever dancing with you at the town socials.

At least he thought everyone knew.

Tony was a man he'd gone to highschool with, and he wasn't fond of him then, so when you came home complaining about your new coworker every red flag was raised in his eyes, he made a point to stick around the next time he took you to work, not really needing an excuse to be there, Ashley simply made himself look busy and waited. Low and behold your new coworker came in the old door, the bell jingle sent a chill of anger down Ashley's spine. The second he recognized the man's face Ashley felt his blood pressure rise.

He knew the kind of vile, peaked in highschool kind of guy this dude was so it didn't take much to set him off, that same day he takes you home with a grin that falls the second he watches you enter your home, he drives back to the store breaking all the speeding laws in order to catch Tony just as he's leaving, Tony mistakes his greeting for something friendly, grinning his weasely smile, he begins talking about his new job and the next words from his mouth are the ones that seal his fate.

"You should see the pretty little thing I'm working with- boy I tell you what give me five minutes alone with her a-"

Ashley hit him before he could finish his perverted thought, busting his upper lip with the initial hit, Tony stumbles backwards a few steps, his nose disfigured and bloodied, crimson drips all over his boots, the dirt he kicks up in his attempt to get his bearings causing a cloud to cover the scene almost eerily.

The second his body hits the ground, he's trying to get up, but Ashley is on him before he can spit out the blood in his mouth. "Fuckin' pig." He wails on him with one hand, the other fist holding his collar in a vice grip. "Nah, yer lower than a pig- a fuckin' waste of air is what you are." With every word came another devastating blow to the man's face, by the time Ashley pulled himself out of the moment, the man's body was twitching, face bloated and bloody. Broken wheezes leave Tony's lips, "Still breathing Buddy? C'mon." He rises and freezes meeting the eyes of the shop owner, an older man who'd known Ashley since he was a young boy. After a moment of tension Ashley gave him a grin, still standing over the barely alive Tony. "Evening Paul."

Paul returns the grin, leaning on the store's front porch, "Evening Ashley, fine night tonight boy..you be careful getting home." He says without looking at the bloody man in the dirt. The older man puts the help wanted sign back up and Ashley can't help but chuckle to himself, he drags Tony by his cheap boots and hauls him in his truckbed, whistling a song from his childhood as he shuts the door with more force than necessary, still fuming from the bastards comments about you, his sweetpea.

"Tch. Right where you belong, almost a shame." Ashley says to himself , the words feign regret, but the satisfaction in his tone says otherwise, it's almost too easy for Ashley to haul Tony's still unconscious form out of his truck bed and across his shoulder, he tosses the body in the pig pen sitting in the very back of Ashley's farm.

As if it were a bale of hay, Ashley tosses Tony with a satisfying thud, it's occupants didn't swarm immediately, but they would within the hour. Ashley intended to watch. It was the only end befitting the scum before him he thought would atone for his sins against you. Ashley did such a number on him in the parking lot his face was unrecognizable.

He only felt his rage quell when he slipped into your room later that night when all was said and done, blood and mud on his jeans, he smiled down at you tranquility in his gaze, he couldn't be more at peace, knowing he'd made your life better with one simple action.

[user2772636]

Puppy Love

A pissed golden boy

《♡》《♡》《♡》

《♡》《♡》《♡》

When the school's golden boy finds a list about a few girls in his class (which include you), all hell breaks loose. You decide you think he looks adorable mad.

》》》

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: screaming match, boys being boys, swearing, loads amount of fluff

Modern-ish!AU (They're still in highschool tho)

》》》

》》》

A list. That's where it all started. One list. And your name. It started there, too.

You might be wondering what started. Here's how it goes.

The year was 2001. Voltaire High was filled with students roaming around the corridors talking about their day, the exams coming up, summer, and more. You were one of the students. Your friends were, too.

"Ugh, I can't wait for summer to start. I need to get out of this sweat polluted hell hole called school." Simone gags as you all walk past some boys who just got out of gym class. You and Michèle laugh.

"I can't wait for summer to start because-"

"Your boyfriend is finally all yours." You and Simone finish Michèle's sentence in a mocking tone, burting out after a few seconds. You see Michèle roll her eyes with a smile.

"Well, atleast I have a boyfriend for this summer. What do you guys have?" She shrugs, and Simone is quick to butt in.

"Well, I, for one, have your brother." Michèle shoves Simone away, scoffing in surprise.

"Be glad I was calm about it. I was ready to smash your heads together when I found out." They tease and laugh around. They both turn to look at you.

"That leaves you, Y/N." A smile starts forming on their faces again. "Any luck with the golden boy?"

Joseph Descamps. Also known as Voltaire High's "Golden Boy". He was tall, athletic, smart, basically perfect, hence the nickname.

Joseph walks down the stairwell with his friends, laughing like dogs, so loud the whole school could hear. But who cares?

He was on his way to the courtyard when he overhears something. Paper crumpling and getting passed around. Whispers and such. He pays no mind to it, thinking they were just talking about the tests.

It was break time, so they did whatever after.

》》》

You lean against your hand in class, trying not to fall asleep right then and there. It was so boring you couldn't keep your eyes open any longer.

Joseph was glancing towards you, chuckling at how adorable you were dropping your head and catching it in a loop. He licks his lips, trying to bring his focus back on the discussion, but his eyes keep lingering towards you again and again.

Suddenly, a crumpled piece of paper flies in the air. It lands right on his desk, and he immediately gets it in his hands. Some of his classmates roam around him as he unfolds it, revealing ink scribbled down.

On top, it read "VOLTAIR HIGH BEAUTIES RANKED." There were ten rankings. He read through them. In first place was Annick, their classmate who currently wasn't in this class. The next few were some of the girls from other grades. But on ninth is what shocked him.

Your name was written. There was a sidenote that said, "already targeted; stay away or try." What does that even mean? Do you have a boyfriend he doesn't know about?

His thoughts begun to roam, and then the bell rings. Students rush out the door, but he's quicker. He rushes to the stairwell, hanging off before screaming.

"Hey!" The people walking stop, looking up at him. He begins to get nervous, voice shivering, but he tries to toughen up. He notices your eyes on him, and he thinks maybe he can't do this. But he does.

"Why the fuck is there a list of the girls from here? Are they some kind of joke to you? Go look at yourselves before thinking about what other people look like!" He exclaims, throwing both his arms up in frustration.

"And why is Y/N on ninth? Ninth? Are you all serious? She's supposed to be in first, in my opinion!" He doesn't even realise he said that till everyones eyes turned to you. But you kept your eyes on him. Even if he was almost a hundred feet away, the way you looked at him right then made his knees weak and throat as dry as sahara.

Then, when he least expected it, almost everyone in the stairwell said, "We know!"

He freezes up, looking around. They're all just staring at him, dead pan. One of his friends, Dupin, walks up to him.

"Just fucking talk to her already. Go." Dupin pushes Joseph to the actual staircase. Joseph gulps, adjusting his shirt. The whole time, everyone stares. He keeps his eyes on the ground, scared he'll trip and fall and embarass himself. Especially infront of you.

When he makes it to you, he wipes his face. He clears his throat, but before he speaks, he looks around again.

"What are you looking at? Go home!" Everyone statts wlaking again, and he hears you laugh quietly. His cheeks flush.

You nod to Simone and Michèle, indicating them to go and that you'll tell them everything later. You turn back to Joseph.

"Hi." You say, smiling up at him. You fidget with the coat inbetween your arms.

"Hi." He laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You stay quiet for a bit before you cut the silence.

"First place huh? You really think so?" You ask him, tilting your head to meet his eyes.

His head shoots up, looking at you with an even redder face than before.

"Yeah... I mean, who wouldn't think that?" He flashes his teeth, and he's so adorably awkward compared to his façade when he needs to be the golden boy.

"Well, everyone did. Everyone but you." You look down at the floor, trying to keep your smile smaller to avoid showing him how giddy you are.

"Yeah, everyone but me." The awkward silences make you cringe, but you're too happy about this to cast him down.

The next sentence included both of you speaking at the same time. You two laughed it off, and from then, he asked you out. That's when it really started. Earlier was the beginning. But this, now, was the start. There's a difference, okay?

You guess you do have a boy this summer. And he's as bright as the sun. He's the golden boy.

》》》

Guess what? It's 5,30 am here, and i finished this in 30 mins (im losing my mind) ANWWW i hope this is good enough sorry for taking so long w this

[robin374]

TF2 scout jealousy hcs? :) aka does he get jealous easily? If so how would he act? Etc. :)

JEALOUS SCOUT HEADCANONS

Characters: Scout

Notes: Nothing!

He is inscure, but tries to hide it via confidence. As always.

If you've been together for a pretty long time and you already know him well, you can tell whether he's hiding his jealousy or not.

However, in the first days and moths of your relationship he gets jealous easily, beucause he is not sure if you're dating him just to get the affection you need and then break up with him when you find someone better.

You know that feeling when you feel that you're being used just to entretain the other and then they will leave you out just like a puppet when the child grows old? Yeah that.

He, at firsts, is insecure inside. He doesn't really believe that you actually want to be in a long-term relationship with him. He's used to night stands and hook ups. The only romatic thing he's experienced (except for you) was the fail of date with Miss Pauling.

I feel like he would act like a child, trying to catch your attention with anything. For example, you're talking with a random guy and you can see Scout fighting with a random ass dog for a tennis ball. Or trying to take a flower from the field and running away from a horde of bees.

Despite that, he acts in a really protective way. Remember that we are talking about the first months of your relationship, he's in love with you and doesn't want to do anything wrong to lose you. I mean, he can have experience with sex, but not with the other side of relationships: the cuddling, the kisses on the cheek, communicating, dates... We all know that he can't hide secrets for too long, though.

"Who was that guy you were talking to? Was he interested in you? Was it your ex?"

"Jeremy, dear. It was Ermenegildo, my former teacher from high school. He is 60 years old and has a wife and three kids."

"Oh... But that doesn't mean you wanted him to be your sugar daddy."

"Teachers don't get paid enough, so I don't think so. I prefer mercenaries."

You always cheer him up with most simple things. Personally, I get this Golden Retriever vibe from him, it's like you can go for a walk, and you won't have a jealous Scout anymore.

As the time passes by, he trusts you more and doesn't get jealous easily. You've assured him so many times that you love him that he's got the message. He may be dumb, but not that dumb.

That's why when a guy hits on you, you can feel his shit eating grin from behind, and you can hear his giggles. You smile thinkign he can be really cute sometimes if he really wants to.

[lick-me-lennon22]

Beatles X Assistant!Reader headcanons

(requested by a lovely anon :) enjoy, loves 💕)

John

John finds himself increasingly drawn to your quiet efficiency as the band's assistant. He admires your intelligence and wit, and he can't help but feel a flutter in his chest whenever your eyes meet. He'll start finding excuses to linger in your office, hoping for a chance to make you laugh with one of his dry quips.

John will go out of his way to do little things that make your life easier, offering to carry your heavy bags or lend a listening ear when you've had a frustrating day.

He finds himself unable to resist the urge to tease you whenever the opportunity presents itself - purposely misplacing items just so he can watch you furrow your brow in concentration as you search for them, only to reveal their location with a mischievous grin.

Despite his playful demeanor, there's a softness in his gaze whenever he looks at you, a warmth he can't explain or ignore.

Paul

Paul is enchanted by your radiant beauty and warmth. He often finds himself seeking you out just to chat, whether it's about music, life, or anything in between. He loves the way you listen attentively to his ideas and offer thoughtful insights of your own.

His feelings for you are like a symphony playing in his heart, each note building upon the last until it becomes impossible to ignore.

Paul is captivated by your presence, drawn to the way you move with grace and purpose. There's a tenderness to his touch whenever he reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, a silent confession.

And though he may not realize it at first, there's a depth to his feelings for you that goes beyond mere admiration - it's a love that's as timeless and enduring as the music he creates.

George

George is intrigued by your quiet confidence and mysterious aura, and finds himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame. He begins to notice the little quirks and habits that make you unique and starts to seek out opportunities to spend time with you, whether it's sharing a cup of tea during a break or asking for your opinion on a new riff he's been working on.

He's fascinated by the glimpses he catches of your true self beyond your professional exterior, and he can't help but want to know more about you.

George will often linger near your workspace, pretending to be absorbed in his own tasks while secretly stealing glances in your direction.

Though he may not show it outwardly, there's a gentleness in his touch whenever your hands accidentally brush, a silent acknowledgement of the growing connection between you.

Ringo

Ringo is captivated by your infectious energy and zest for life. He loves the way you bring a sense of fun and spontaneity to the band's work and finds himself gravitating toward you whenever he needs a pick-me-up, cherishing the moments you spend laughing together.

Ringo's affection is evident in small gestures he makes, bringing you a fresh cup of tea without being asked or leaving a silly doodle on your desk just to make you smile. He'll suggest you grab a bite to eat together after a long day in the studio, relishing the opportunity to see you in a more relaxed setting.

Despite his easygoing nature, there's a vulnerability in his eyes whenever he looks at you, a longing that he struggles to conceal. He starts to realize that he feels happiest when you're around and he can't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, you feel the same way about him.

[co-sharkie]

Medic! Reader with her boys after an ambush

Grayson Waller, Logan Paul, and Austin Theory x F! Reader

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Grayson and Austin came stumbling into the medical room after their match with New Catch Republic. They were looking more roughed up than you had expected. Grayson holding up Austin who was visibly in pain and holding his chest.

"What happened?" You worried and rushed them both over to a chair. Logan was still lying on the cot, even though he was feeling better after his encounter with Kevin and Randy.

"Judgement Day, that's what happened." Austin managed wheezed out. He flinched as he spoke.

You had to swallow down your anger when hearing the group's name. It seemed like every show someone from the Judgement Day was the reason you had a patient. "Logan, get up. Let Austin lay down."

Logan groaned as he rolled off the cot and sat in the chair Austin was occupying. Austin stumbled into the cot and laid face up.

"Let me guess, Coup de Grace?" Austin nodded. You sighed and felt around his torso. You made sure nothing was broken before moving over to Grayson. "And what happened with you?"

"My fingers just hurt..." he pouted and held up his hand.

"Pete Dunne?" He nodded. You knew Pete wouldn't actually break anyone's fingers, but you figured you'd double check just in case.

While you checked Grayson's hands, he started questioning Logan. "Why are you here?"

"I got a stunner and an RKO. No thanks to you guys." Logan crossed his arms and looked away from Grayson. Logan frowned as he stared at the blank wall.

Grayson looked like he was about to say something to Logan when you cut him off sternly. "Boys, do not start arguing." Austin let out a strangled laugh. Grayson also crossed his arms and turned his back to Logan. Both of their chairs were right next to each other, which made the scene look even more hilarious to you.

"You didn't watch our match?" Austin tried to sit up but you pushed him back down. Your hand had subconsciously rubbed at his shoulder. His pain was evident, and you hated seeing it.

"No, I'm sorry. I was too busy nursing Logan back to health and the t.v. kept cutting out." Austin frowned. "I'll watch the playbacks later tonight."

You ran a hand through Austin's hair. He smiled and leaned into your touch. Thankfully the other boys didn't see, because there would for sure be some jealousy. "You guys should get changed, show ends in ten minutes." You looked over at Logan and Grayson. "Logan, help them get to the locker room?"

Logan grumbled but stood up anyway. "You can't?" Even though he'd do what you said, he was a little upset with the other boys and their lack of success on his planned ambush. Logan and Grayson helped Austin up to his feet.

"No," you grabbed your bag and walked to the door. "I think it's time I had a little chat with Rhea."