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sluttywoozi · 2 years

Text

Buy A Boyfriend || chs x reader

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: Being a professional boyfriend on SVTHub is great - all Vernon has to do is respond to a few texts, send out a couple selfies, do a stream every now and then, and he makes enough to cover tuition. Things get a little tricky when he finds himself wishing he actually was your boyfriend.

Rating: M (18+) | Word Count: 4kish

Content Notes: voice kink, male masturbation, swearing, he is a virtual boyfriend for money, the texts will probs look like ass on mobile, gender neutral reader, reader has cats and I borrowed @sluttywonwoo 's cats bc im their aunt and I love them (sorry if u have your own, please imagine them 😭), they dont have sex (in this part) my bad, reader is a stem major bc I live to project, I think that’s it pls let me know if I missed anything!!

Vernon’s username: bandsboyvern

Reader’s username: allthoughtsheadfull

Vernon sighs as he opens up SVTHub, knowing he has at least three messages that ask, “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

His answer will, of course, be “Yes and I would make you a cute little worm house in a jar and take you with me everywhere,” when he really wants to say, ”No I wouldn’t, because I don't know you at all and worms have a very short life expectancy.”

But this is the life he’s created for himself; getting paid to act like a boyfriend comes with answering cliche boyfriend questions. He’s scrolling through messages, answering good morning and goodnight texts with an appropriate selfie, when one message catches his eye, or actually, wow, 5 messages, all from one person.

Vernon tilts his head, considering how to answer. It’s a bit weird that you sought out a pretend boyfriend to tell these things to but he can’t say the messages aren’t more entertaining than the usual ones. And, honestly, snails are effervescent.

Vernon answers some messages from other users; badbitchesrus is having friend group drama again and he’s dying to tell her, “you’re the problem,” but a boyfriend wouldn’t say that so he just agrees, saying, “you’re so right, Jen did copy ur fit last night but u did it better baby.” He replies to a few selfies with paragraphs of fire and heart eye emojis, and sends out a couple ‘hope ur day gets better babygirl’s.

Clicking out of the app, Vernon tries to force himself to focus on studying. He’s got a music theory quiz this week and a sound design exam next week and he’s not prepared for either. His fingers tap out a rhythm on his knee as he runs over scales in his head, swearing to himself after missing the last sharp in B major for the fourth time. He’s about to pull out his keyboard for manual practice when his phone dings with a message, the tone telling him it's SVTHub. His head hits the back of his chair, hoping beyond hope it’s not another worm message, and he smiles in surprise when he sees it’s from you.

thought 5: legally blonde is peak cinema and has something for everyone so whyyyy is it universally disliked

Vernon tilts his head, realizing that even though he’d never seen Legally Blonde, he did dislike it for some reason. Huh.

His phone goes off again, another thought from you.

thought 6: why did stephanie name it twilight and then have bella meet edward in the daytime

He hasn’t seen Twilight either but, honestly, you bring up a good point. Why name it a certain time of day and then not have them meet at that time?

Happy to be distracted, Vernon settles in to ask you some questions and hopefully get some movie recommendations.

Before Vernon can respond, he gets another message, from bbygrill99 this time. She’s requesting an ab pic, her third this week, and he wonders why she’s so obsessed with his abs when his ass is great too, but complies nonetheless. Lifting his shirt, he tenses his abdominals and tilts his phone to get the perfect angle, his bottom lip just barely in frame and his gray sweats sitting low on his hips. He’s been trying to drink more water because apparently you need it to survive, so his abs aren’t as defined as usual and he hopes she doesn’t say anything. He sends the picture out with a kiss emoji and saves it to his folder of lewds, hoping he’ll be able to reuse it.

He’s very intrigued by the idea of threats to increase productivity, and asks you more questions. This turns out to be counterproductive as it leads to a whole conversation that makes him laugh all the way through, and consequently, he doesn’t get any more work done.

It’s almost time for his weekly goodnight stream, and Vernon’s still thinking about your last conversation. You’d lured him into a debate about living as a pigeon or living with pigeons, and he still wasn’t sure who’d won. You hadn’t sent him any new thoughts today, and even though you’d just become a subscriber last week, he’s missing you for some reason. He really enjoyed the randomness of your brain, and hearing what was going on in there throughout the day. It was a nice break from pretending to be the perfect boyfriend, and he got to respond like he wanted, not like he thought he should.

Starting the stream, he settles into bed and begins telling his patrons about his day, pausing at certain moments to let them respond to him. On their screens, it just looks like a personal facetime, and they get to pretend he’s talking to them and them alone. He tries not to frown when he realizes you haven’t joined, and hopes you will soon; you were the one person he actually wanted to say goodnight to.

You don’t join, and Vernon goes to bed sad and confused. Why were you paying for this if you weren’t going to use your membership to the fullest? His subscribers loved the introduction of goodnight streams, some are even asking for good morning streams too. You also hadn’t asked him for any pictures yet, even though everyone was allowed three per day. Maybe you just hadn’t read the membership benefits when you joined and didn’t know? He should probably ask, right? Just to be sure you’re getting your money’s worth.

Vernon gasps, staring down at his phone in awe.

A cat picture. You've sent him a cat picture. A picture of a cat. Your cat, presumably.

Vernon’s heart stutters, his eyebrows raising.

damn.

He sighs in disbelief before setting his jaw in determination and deciding the perfect combination and sequence of emojis to convey his true feelings.

Vernon puts the phone down for a moment as he remembers what you’d first said about your cats. One likes you too much and one doesn’t like you at all. He wonders which is which, they're both looking at you with such love.

He’s spinning in his desk chair, zoning out a little, when his eyes hit the open sound design program on his desktop.

Fuck, he has an exam tomorrow.

Vernon’s mouth stretches in a smile, his kicking feet sending him on a giddy spin in his chair. Putting his phone on Do Not Disturb, he forces himself to focus.

Vernon is sitting in his Audio Mastering Techniques class when you text him. He was already struggling to focus, fingers drumming on the table and leg bouncing under it, his neighbor sending a glare over every few minutes. He tries his best not to check, but you'd promised him your first thought and he wants to see what it is!

Glancing around surreptitiously, Vernon opens SVTHub with his phone under the table. You'd never sent him an explicit message before but there's a first time for everything (Vernon hopes).

Vernon looks up organic chemistry practice problems but sees ‘Stereospecificity in Addition Reactions’ and ‘Electrophilic Addition Reactions to Conjugated Dienes’ and immediately begins shaking his head, exiting out of the browser and texting you again.

Vernon’s heart starts racing as he reads your text. You want to call him. You want to speak words and you want him to listen and respond and then you’ll respond to his words.

Cool.

Vernon’s sitting at his desk, spinning around as the phone rings and rain pangs against the window.

“Hey! Sorry,” you sound out of breath, “it’s monsooning and i couldn’t text and hold the umbrella and keep my laptop out of the rain at the same time.”

“It’s okay, no worries. How’d the exam go? Did you cry?” He asks, only slightly worried.

“It went well, I think! I did cry but just a little and I didn’t get it on the exam paper this time, thank goodness.”

You tell him more about the exam and he just listens, absorbing your voice and tone and cadence. He wants to record you, wishes he could listen to you all the time, your voice is so entrancing.

“Did you have your midterm yet?” You ask sweetly, sounding concerned.

This startles Vernon out of his trance and he has to ask himself if he has taken his midterm yet today, and sighs in relief when he realizes he has a few hours left to go.

“Nah, it’s not till later so i’m just studying and vibing.”

Vernon chats more with you, trying to imagine what you look like and wishing patrons had a profile picture like he does, before he realizes it’s been an hour and he should get focused. Promising to call you after his exam and wishing he could just take you with him in his pocket, he hangs up.

Vernon does call you after his exam, and he calls you the next day too, and the next. It’s easier than ever for him to respond to messages, romantic words flowing and streams getting more and more popular. He just pretends he’s talking to you and it always works. You haven’t joined one of his streams yet but he’s holding out hope, and secretly wishing that you’d request a private videocall. You still haven’t asked for any selfies but he finds himself sending them anyway, hoping someday you’ll send one back.

He’s getting ready for his bedtime stream when he starts thinking about your last phone call, just a few hours ago. You’d just woken up from a nap, sounding all raspy and sleepy and cute, and he tried to picture your face, cheek lined with pillow creases. He doesn’t remember what you’d talked about because he couldn’t focus on anything but your voice, soft and sweet in his ear. He pictures you, laying in bed next to him, your head on his chest or his on yours, your legs tangled up with his own. He can’t help but imagine your fingers trailing over the ridges of his abdomen, running up and down his chest, and his own fingers start to follow.

Vernon thinks about your fingers moving lower, running along his waistband and dipping beneath. But you’re a tease, and they slip out and over the fabric of his sweats, pressing down where he’s starting to grow hard. He rubs his palm over his dick, squeezing harder the closer he gets to the head, imagining your giggle when his hips buck up. His phone goes off, startling him out of his fantasy and reminding him he has a stream to start.

He hasn’t done one like this in a while but the tips are always insane and he really wants to buy the lego set you told him you did the other day, so he shrugs and presses the red record button on his phone.

“Hey baby, it's so good to see you. How are you?” Vernon pauses to let his viewers answer, thinking about how you’d respond.

“I had a busy day, midterms finished last week but I have a project due soon and I haven’t made a lot of progress on it,” he hears you scold him in his head, telling him to get a move on.

“But I’m really tired, and i just wanna relax. Think you could help me?” Vernon asks, setting his phone down to pull off his shirt, missing the little notification popping up to say you’d joined. He smiles softly into the camera as he picks it back up, sliding on the bed to rest his head on the pillows. He pans the camera down to show his abs, running his fingers down his chest to settle at his waistband, pretending they’re yours. The tips start rolling in and he mutes his phone, the dinging sound beginning to annoy him.

Vernon tries to find that fantasy again, the one where you’re in bed with him and touching him and talking to him, and slips his hand into his sweats, fingers wrapping around his hard cock. He sighs, pulling his dick out and rubbing his palm over the head, his hips jerking at the friction. Leaning over to dig around his bedside table for some lube, Vernon wonders what you’re doing right now. He opens the cap and dribbles some onto his length, smearing it around with his hand. It’s chilly but he just tells himself your hand is cold, and starts squeezing his cock, pulling a little when he gets to the head. A punched out moan leaves his chest, lube warming up and dick getting harder.

It feels better than usual for some reason, but Vernon isn’t willing to think about why at the moment, and keeps jerking his cock. He’s panting a bit now, staring into the camera with half-lidded eyes and lip bitten between his teeth, feeling his abs tense with every pull. Closing his eyes so he can picture your hand moving on him, he tilts his head back into the pillow, wishing he could moan your name.

The heat is starting to rise in his stomach, his hips bucking into the movements of his hand, and he knows he’s getting close. He really is tired so he doesn’t try to draw it out, just squeezes at the head harder and tries not to whine at the pressure. He thinks about your hands on him, god, your mouth on him, and imagines your voice telling him to cum.

Vernon almost drops the phone on his chest with the force of his orgasm, trying to decide if he should turn the camera to show the cum shooting out of his cock and pooling in the ridges of his abs. He leaves it facing him instead, knowing his face is screwed up in pleasure and his moans are echoing throughout the room. Staring at the ceiling, Vernon tries to catch his breath and wonders why he just came so hard. He can feel his eyelids drooping, mind going hazy with sleep and oxytocin, and blows a kiss into the camera, saying goodnight.

You haven’t texted him in a week.

Vernon’s messaged you, selfies and thoughts and questions, but you haven't responded. He even checked your profile, just to make sure you hadn’t canceled your membership. He doesn’t know what to do; you’ve only been a subscriber for a couple months and you’ve only been gone a week, but he misses you. He misses waking up to a random philosophical question from you, or a picture of your latest A, or a video of your cats play(?) fighting.

But Vernon also doesn’t want to bother you, or overwhelm you, so he’s cooled it down a bit. He only texted you once yesterday, and he hasn’t texted you at all today. He just wishes he knew you’re okay, that nothing bad has happened to you, that you’ll come back. He knows now that being a pretend boyfriend is no fun if you don’t have someone whose boyfriend you want to be.

For now, he’ll just keep checking his phone and hoping to see a message from you.

Vernon's knee bounces, jaw clenching as he listens to the phone ring, waiting for you to pick up. He can't wait to hear your voice, it hasn't even been two weeks but that's more than long enough for him. You just soothe him, quiet his brain and still his hands. He's not sure if it's how gently you speak, or how your voice feels like a soft, warm blanket right out of the dryer, or how your words slide over him like silk, but he's missed you and as soon as you pick up and say hello, it's like his entire body relaxes.

He chats with you a bit, catching up on your classes and telling you about the work he's done for his project (little to none), letting you scold him for having done no work on his project and enjoying it.

The conversation draws to a natural conclusion, both of you having exhausted every possible topic in an effort to avoid the reason for the call. Vernon takes a deep breath and tries to steel himself; he's never been good with uncomfortable situations or feelings talk but he's willing to try, for you.

"So, you thought this was like a... pen pal situation? Didn't you have to put in your ID to prove you're over 18?"

"Well, yes, but I thought it was just so we could talk about adult topics, not because it's porn!"

Vernon blanches, he hadn't really thought about the fact that he was basically a porn star and he's not sure how he feels about it. He's not ashamed, sex is normal and human and he needs to make money somehow, but he does wonder how much longer he'll want to keep doing this. It's not easy to act like a boyfriend to so many people at once when he knows there's only one person he wants. And he does know it now, he wants you.

"Does it make you uncomfortable? That I do this?" Vernon worries, knowing he doesn't want to stop but also knowing he doesn't want to lose you.

"No, I mean, a job is a job and you get to make your own schedule and devote all your focus to school. It seems like a great gig, and you're good at it obviously..." You trail off, sounding sad for some reason. He hasn't heard you like this before, your voice a bit thready and foggy, like you're suppressing tears.

"What's wrong?" Vernon asks urgently, becoming more and more concerned with every sniffle that escapes you.

You stay silent for a while, Vernon tries to be patient but he can hear your breath catching, and he's about to start crying too just so you don't cry alone. He breathes out your name, hoping you'll respond.

"Ugh, I just-" you stop yourself, sounding... embarrassed?

"I..." you take what sounds like a very deep breath, and Vernon feels like he's at the edge of a cliff, just waiting to jump.

"I like you! I like when you call me babe and flirt with me and call me and I liked the face you made when you came and I liked how you sounded and then I wanted to make you sound like that! But this is your literal job, acting like a boyfriend, and I didn't know that so I let myself have a crush on you not knowing that it was all fake!"

It takes Vernon a second to process what you said, you'd said it all in one breath and spoken so fast, your voice shaking with the cutest mix of nerves and annoyance.

"Nononononononono!!! It wasn't fake! It was fake with everyone else but never with you," Vernon spits out in a rush, desperate to make you understand. He's pacing in his room now, phone pressed to his ear, arms crossed and fingers taptaptapping at his elbow. He wonders what he can say to make you believe him, to make sure you know that you've always been different, been special, to him.

"I look forward to your thoughts every day. Whenever you text me, I literally kick my feet like a little kid. Every time I streamed - they're not all like that, by the way - I couldn't stop checking to see if you'd joined. Patrons can only ask for three selfies a day, I send you like five, unprompted-" he could go on, but you interrupt him with a call of his name. He's not sure he's heard it on your lips before, but it does something to him. Something that's very inconvenient for him to deal with now, during this very emotional conversation. He's tempted to send you a picture, maybe that will convince you.

"Vernon," you call again, bringing his focus back to your voice and away from what your voice was doing to him.

"So, what are you saying?" you continue, starting to sound a bit less sad and a bit more like yourself.

"I'm saying I want to be your actual boyfriend, and not for money, so you'll have to cancel your membership, sorry."

There's silence for a few beats; Vernon feels himself teetering on the cliff again as he waits for your response.

"I mean- is that... allowed?" You seem unsure, sounding slightly hopeful but a bit apprehensive still. He wishes he could see your face, wishes he knew what you look like at all (knowing would definitely help at nighttime or in the shower or when he wakes up for ... reasons). He shakes his head to bring himself back to the conversation before you notice that his mind had wandered.

"Yea, I mean, my friend does cam shows with his partner and another friend of mine found out his roommate was watching his shows and now they fuck everyday! That could be us!" Vernon tries to reassure you, hoping you're willing to at least try.

"Ummmmm I don't know about that just yet but we could try... dating, I guess? It may be difficult just online but I like you and you say you like me so, why not?"

Vernon thinks that if he jumped out of his window right now, he just might fly. He won't because he's not trying to die now that you're letting him be your boyfriend, but the feeling is there.

"Yes! I do like you, I like you a lot. I like you so much. Please date me." He knows he's practically begging at this point, but he doesn't care. Vernon's willing to beg, on his knees if he needs to, if it means he can be your boyfriend for real.

"Okay! Okay," you giggle, a bit muffled as if you're covering your mouth. "I'll date you if you date me?"

Vernon can't contain his grin, spinning in circles around his room even though he's already dizzy.

"Deal."

Vernon squints, sitting in his 9 am and staring down at the purple pen in his hand, the one he’d found sitting on the desk when he came in.

There’s no way though, right?

Right?

Vernon tries not to freak out as he looks under the desk to find a water bottle. One with your name on it.

Vernon has a choice to make. He could sit here, try to focus on class, while he thinks about you somewhere on campus, struggling through an exam and dehydrated and sad. Or …

Not on my watch, Vernon thinks, shooting up from the desk and grabbing his stuff and yours. He’s jogging across campus before he knows it, dodging frisbees and dogs on the green, weaving through hammocks and hopping over sleeping students. He’s not sure what lecture hall you’re in but he knows the chemistry building, and if he books it, he’s sure he can make it.

He’s speedwalking down the hall, peeking in windows and listening at doors, trying to find your class. His eyes catch a paper taped to a door, warning, “EXAM AT 915. DO NOT DISTURB.”

He could jump in glee but, glancing at his phone and seeing that it’s 9:10, he knows he doesn’t have time.

Vernon’s hoping, praying you’ll listen to him when the door opens a smidge, and the most beautiful face he’s ever seen peeks through. It's like heaven’s light is shining down on him, he thinks he can hear angels, and is that wind? Blowing through his hair?

Staring back at him, your eyes shoot open in disbelief, before landing on your pen and water bottle in his hands. You squeal, bouncing in your shoes and throwing your arms around his neck. He breathes you in, reeling at the weight of your body against his, and you pull back before he can return your embrace. Vernon misses you instantly but he knows you have to go be a genius so, handing you the water and pen, he accepts a kiss on the cheek and watches you leave.

Hiiii!! Would love to know your thoughts, whether they come in a like, reblog, comment, or ask! Please feel free to come talk to me i will cry and smile all day!! Planning a pt 2 for this but i'm hoping to get pt 2 of like a cowboy out first!

Part 2

And check out the rest of SVTHub! A good few fics are out and you’ll still have something to look forward to as more will be posted over the next few weeks ☺️

I am so grateful to @sapphichui for trusting me with this and I’ve had such a great time collaborating with and getting to know other awesome authors on here!

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metalomagnetic · 5 months

Text

Voldemort meets Sirius.

He knows this one will be different as soon as he steps foot in the messy house.

The wards that guard it are borderline dark magic, barely legal. They are well executed, as well. An auspicious beginning, Voldemort thinks, as he patiently dismantles them.

The Black scion isn’t home; Evan dutifully let Voldemort know he’s drunk in some Knockturn pub.

“He often comes to drink in Knockturn, but always alone. Never with his Gryffindor friends. He’s a mean drunk, too, my lord. Perhaps if you wish to have a semblance of a rational conversation- as much as it is possible with any Black- you shouldn’t approach him when he’s wasted.”

The walls are …colourful. The paint was once white, but the young Black heir hung posters of muggle singers everywhere. Perhaps actors, too, Voldemort isn’t familiar with what passes for famous these days in the muggle world.

He only recognises Elvis, mounted over the fireplace.

They all look the same- tall, dark haired, dressed in leather.

Pictures of his friends are up there as well. He recognises Potter in many of them- hard not to, with that trademark Potter hair. The girl draped on his arm, red head, must be his mudblood. Voldemort forgot her name. Something flowery, but it escapes him.

Bella and Evan, occasionally Rabastan often complain about Black’s entourage, but they only name Potter.

“Stupid Potter, his mudblood and the werewolf! He left us for those little worms!”

He thinks the werewolf must be the thin one, an air of misery draped over him in every picture. Greyback complained about him, too. Remus, that’s the one, it comes to Voldemort. Remus Lupin, werewolf.

“With a name like that, I had to bite him,” Greyback smirked, in one of his rare funny moods. “He was destined to be mine, but Black stole him.”

The other boy that appears in almost all the pictures, Voldemort doesn’t even try to place.

He got a report on all of them, marked as Dumbledore’s puppets, but he only remembered the important names on that list.

The girl, he knows. Only one picture with her. Marlene McKinnon. A fighter- a good fighter. She killed three Death Eaters. A Healer, too. Voldemort always looks after powerful witches. They are sorely misrepresented in this war. It upsets Bella, who is trying to recruit more girls, with little success.

She’s in Black’s lap, head thrown back, while Black sucks a bruise on her throat. Voldemort tilts his head, wastes a second more than it is needed on the picture. He’d never seen a picture this vulgar, especially put on display on a wall. The girl is engaged, isn’t she? With one of the Prewett brothers.

He scans the walls for them, but he can’t find them anywhere.

He finds muggle telephone numbers scribbled in lipstick on the walls, instead.

The most amusing- a picture ripped from a newspaper, showing the Dark Mark floating over a house. It has many sharp objects stuck in it-

Darts. Yes, that’s the name of the game.

He smiles. Black has good aim- one of the darts is stuck in the eye of the snake.

Under the bed, beneath a loose floorboard, he finds a box kept safe by no less than five curses. He opens it to find a picture of Orion Black. It is clipped from a newspaper article, cut carefully and precisely around the edges. And a letter. It’s clearly the second page of one- the first is missing.

‘-no need to play dumb, it doesn’t suit you. You know fully well it is not cursing the half-blood that bothers me, but your lack of decorum. You are a civilised young man, you represent our family, and you should act accordingly. I warned you I do not enjoy having to correspond with either McGonagall or Dumbledore, yet you’re forcing me to do so when you blatantly misbehave. Am I to presume you do not care about my displeasure, and this is why you disobey me? Or should I conclude you would like to please your father, yet you lack the self-control to do it? I struggle to pick which option is worse. This is the seventh time in a month I receive letters about your detentions. Do stop assaulting your schoolmates, or if you must, show some cunning and do not get caught. Or else we will have to have a serious conversation when you come home for Yule. I assure you, it is not a conversation you will enjoy.

Furthermore, I hear you intend to take a mudblood to one of those holiday celebrations Slughorn likes to host. Surely, I heard wrong. You would be wise to invite Helena Edgecombe to this function. Her father mentioned just the other day that she finds your company delightful.

Flitwick was accommodating enough to send me your Charms paper, along with your grade. He mentioned it was the best paper he graded in all his years of teaching, and, after reading it, I must agree it was quite extraordinary. I am half tempted to send it to my old mentor back at the Institute. Very well done, Sirius. You certainly can make me proud when it doesn’t inconvenience you.

If only you would show proof of your upbringing in your social life, as well, I would be most content.

With love,

Your father.’

The letter has blotch marks on it, as if someone cried over it. The word ‘father’, especially, is almost erased, and Voldemort imagines Black often moved his finger over it.

Bella mentioned Sirius Black was ‘unnaturally close’ to Orion, and that his father’s death broke him. She credits this event with the boy running away from Grimmauld.

Voldemort carefully arranges these apparently precious possessions back into the box, seals it under the floorboard with the same curses he found on it.

The house is messy, unorganised, clothes thrown around, bottles of alcohol everywhere, full to the brim ashtrays lying around in odd places, and burn marks on the rug.

Yet his collection of muggle records is organised in alphabetical order, neatly. And there, hidden behind the impressive collection, Voldemort finds eight tomes filled with dark magic. All illegal.

His bathroom cabinets are just as messy, and clearly his female guests left behind bottles of lipstick, or similar products. They also left behind some lingerie. A pair of pink knickers is half hidden into a tiny gap underneath the bathtub. He wonders if they belong to the same women who left her bra between the couch cushions in the living room.

Voldemort finds a secret compartment, coming out from the side of the bathroom cabinet. Hang-over potions, peppers up. Polyjuice.

Veritaserum.

Hidden further still, he finds three lethal poisons.

If he didn’t know better, Voldemort might think two different men share the house; a careless, Bohemian womaniser, a blood traitor surrounded by mudbloods and half-bloods and other blood traitors, with muggle musicians on the wall.

And the Black heir, interested in dark magic, poisons, sleeping with his father’s picture under his bed.

This will be easy, he thinks, as he sits in an appalling armchair that doesn’t fit with the rest of the furniture.

Charmed into the armrest, there’s a letter, covered in plastic for preservation. “You fucking dog, how dare you steal my armchair! Give it back, or I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life writing horrible articles about you!”

It amuses Voldemort, as it probably amuses Black, hence why he decided to place it on the armrest, permanently.

When the young man stumbles his way into the house, he contains his surprise to find Voldemort there remarkably fast.

People have been telling Voldemort Black takes after Walburga; he might, it’s too soon to tell, but his first impression is that Sirius favours his father.

Voldemort is yet to meet an unattractive Black- and he’s met them all- but the boy is something else, even for the Blacks.

His tall, broad body is on display in the muggle attire he wears, hair falling around his shoulders with a casual elegance; he is both handsome, with strong, sharp bones and beautiful, with soft lips and long, thick eyelashes, made even darker by the paleness of his eyes.

It has been so long since he felt attraction; it travels up his spine as he takes in the boy.

Who very quickly decides he will die a hero; Voldemort can see that decision forming in his eyes. Not with Legilimency. It’s just made obvious by the way his impressive shoulders straighten with pride, his jaw sets in determination, anger replacing the fear in his eyes.

And there was fear- Voldemort is intimately familiar with fear of death, can easily recognise it when it shines in front of him.

Yet he spent his life fleeing from it.

Sirius Black walks towards it, bold.

It takes only a minute of conversation to charm him; easy, indeed. Sirius’ interest is picked instantly; pride flickers in his eyes that someone like Voldemort would bother coming to kill him; even more pride when Voldemort explains he’s there to recruit him.

He is a Black, down to his last bone. He calls Voldemort a mudblood; he declares himself the purest being in existence. He speaks of his mother; the boy in the pictures is not there, the owner of muggle records, the blood traitor- no; only the Black heir speaks to Voldemort that night.

Powerful, too, like any Black. A diamond in the rough, his magic true and strong and raw as he unleashes it. Dark curses fall with a practiced ease from his wand. Fiendfyre engulfs the room in seconds.

What a treasure. As unhinged and powerful as Bella, this one.

And there it is, his pure blood spilling over the floor, staining the carpet. Voldemort has the impulse to taste it; a momentary madness, but the boy enchants him so.

His clothes are ripped and burned in places, and Voldemort can glimpse tattoos on pale skin. Voldemort wants his mark on that skin; he wants to hold the boy’s strong forearm and brand him as his own. Claim him for himself.

Sirius Black fights readily, bravely. With his wand and with his words.

But Voldemort can smell the mountain of insecurity hidden under the fury, like the boy hides his poisons under harmless perfumes.

Some men- most men- cower when confronted with violence, bend and break under pain, especially pain caused by Voldemort’s wand.

Not this one, Voldemort understands. No, violence will only be met with violence, here.

Voldemort will need a different approach.

#it runs in the blood #sirius/voldemort #sirius black #lord voldemort #deathstar

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fanficimagery · 2 years

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Be Somebody to Someone 2/4

You've lived your entire life in Forks, Washington without anyone paying too close attention to you. Then you befriend the new girl and suddenly you find yourself friends with the unexpected. And maybe even something more if a certain shapeshifter stops denying the Fates.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

Words: 4.8K Author’s Note: Congrats! You guys hit 100+ notes on the first part. If this gets the same treatment, I’ll post part three if that happens :)

With your newfound knowledge of the Quileute shapeshifters, you find yourself invited to a bonfire held by the Elders on the reservation. But when you find out you and Bella are to be the first outsiders ever permitted, you try to worm your way out so as to not break their tradition.

Emily, however, is in your corner and convinces you to attend. So you do and to none of your friends' surprise, you find yourself absolutely enthralled with the Quileute legends and the Third Wife's sacrifice. It also probably didn't help that you had taken an edible and had a bit of a trip while listening.

Then with as much time as you spend visiting La Push, your parents surprise you with a brand-new Jeep- it being an early birthday present so you didn't have to hunt down a ride to your new favorite place down in La Push. So while Bella and Jacob continued their little dance, and the pack introduced Quil into the ranks after he shifted for the first time, you bypassed all that drama by driving yourself to Emily's whenever you had any free time.

Parking in front of Emily's, you grab up the two to-go trays and cardboard drink holder from your passenger seat. You manage to hop out without dropping anything and walk up her porch steps.

"Knock, knock!" You call out since your hands are full. "I'm coming in, so if Sam's shorts are around his ankles he better pull them up before I catch an eye full!"

Emily barks out a laugh as she makes an appearance, meeting you just as you manage to open the screen door with your foot. "Sam and the others are on patrol."

"Good. As much as I joke, I'd probably pee myself if I ever cockblocked the alpha wolf."

She smiles in amusement at you. "Never change, YN. Never change."

"I don't plan on it. Now," you state, setting everything down on the table, "I hope you haven't eaten because one of the guys at the drive-in gave me an extra meal." You open up one of the trays to show her. "I have an extra cheeseburger and some cheese fries."

"Ohh. It's been a while since I've had a good cheeseburger," Emily says. The two of you take a seat at her table and she pulls a tray in front of her. You also pass her one of the sodas and then you dig in. "Why'd they give you an extra meal?" You momentarily freeze at her question, your gaze clashes with hers, and then you take a big bite out of your burger to keep from answering. She slowly grins. "YN, what did you do?"

You sheepishly cover your mouth since you're still chewing. "Nothing."

"Bull."

You continue to chew, washing it all down with some Coke. "Well there might or might not have been some guy that's been angling for a date, and I might or might not have agreed."

Emily's smile falters. "You're going on a date with him?"

"Well, yeah." You shrug and eat a bit more. "He's a fun guy, makes me laugh," you tell her. "But I'm not really looking for anything serious. I think he's hoping to change my mind, but I won't. I'll grant him this one date so he can see I'm not all that interested in anything other than friendship."

The subject drops as you hear the familiar whoops and hollers of the approaching pack, and you grin as they all stumble in behind Sam. He immediately makes a beeline for Emily, bending down to kiss her and then steals a couple of fries from her tray. Embry and Jared attempt to ruffle your hair, and Paul merely nods at you.

Embry and Jared plop into the chairs on either side of you, but it's Embry who boldly reaches for a fry which results in you swatting his hand. He pulls his hand back, frowning. "What was that for?"

"I don't take from your plate, so you don't take from mine."

"Yeah, but Sam and Emily-"

"But Sam and Emily," you mock him, causing Jared and Paul to snicker at their brother. "Sam and Emily are doing the do. He's allowed to steal from her plate and vice versa."

Embry suddenly leers. "Well you and I-" Paul immediately slaps him upside the back of the head and you grin.

"Not happening, Cujo."

"You're so mean when you're not high," Embry mumbles.

"Really? And here I thought I was a delight."

Emily ends up serving Sam some of the lunch that was on the stove while letting the other boys have a go at it after she sits back down. Lunch is a loud affair and for the time being you're absolutely happy.

You get halfway through your cheeseburger- it was a big cheeseburger, after all- and a few fries before you start slowing down. The boys take notice and you roll your eyes while gesturing for them to have at it. Paul snatches the half burger before anyone else and you laugh as the other two grumble while digging into the cheese fries.

"Thank you for lunch, YN," Emily tells you once she's finished. "Even if you had to agree to a date for it."

You don't take notice of it, but Paul freezes and the other three males glance worriedly at him. You, however, laugh as you shake your head at your friend. "You make it sound like I pimped myself out for a free meal."

"Didn't you?" The harshness of the words make you freeze and the look on Paul's face makes you gulp.

"No." You frown. "I was given the food before I even accepted the date." Paul scoffs and suddenly you find yourself getting angry. "What is your problem? Since I've met you you've barely strung together a full sentence to say to me, yet-"

"You are. You're my problem."

"Paul," Sam admonishes.

For barely knowing the guy, his words break your heart. But you school your features and pray nothing shows. "Ever since you and that goddamn leech lover showed up-"

"Paul, outside now!" Sam barks.

Paul's mouth snaps shut as he glares at you and he shoves back from the table in a huff. You flinch when the back door slams shut and immediately Emily is apologizing. "YN, I'm so sorry."

"Don't. Don't apologize for him." You flash her and the others a shaky smile as you stand up, collecting your trash to take to the bin. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna go ahead and head home."

"You don't-"

"I do." You smile sadly at her before addressing Sam. "I'm sorry if I made him uncomfortable with my presence. It wasn't my intention to do so."

"You did nothing wrong," Embry grumbles, but one sharp look from Sam quiets him.

When Sam glances back at you, his whole demeanor softens. "Embry's right. It's not you, it's Paul. He's got some.. issues to work through, but he was in the wrong to take it out on you. I'll talk with him."

"Don't even worry about it." And then desperate to get out of the conversation, you glance back at Emily and say, "I'll call you later. Thanks for having me over."

Then before anyone can stop you, you rush from the house and out to your Jeep.

You end up calling Emily two days later, but make excuses to prevent from going over to her house. Thankfully school keeps you busy, but it was only a matter of time before you were pulled back to La Push.

It's dark out when your phone rings, Emily urging you to get to her house because apparently one of the Cullens came back and whisked Bella off to Italy.

Clad in only a too large sweatshirt that falls off one shoulder, flashing the strap of your sports bra, and a pair of flimsy cotton sleep shorts, you shove your feet into a pair of sneakers before shouting at your parents that you'll be at Emily's and would probably be back super late or the next day.

When you get to Emily's, you hurriedly park and climb out of your Jeep. Jogging up to her house, you enter without knocking and find everyone sitting around as Jacob angrily paces around the room. When he spots you, Jacob rushes towards you and it makes you stumble back into the wall at his fast approach.

Hands grab onto your bicep and you stare up, wide-eyed, at Jacob. A low, warning growl from behind him makes the two of you tense, but Jacob pays it no mind. "Your friends with the leeches. Call them. Find out what the hell is going on."

"Jacob!" Sam barks. "Hands off. Let YN sit so we can figure out what's going on."

Jacob reluctantly backs off and Emily rushes to your side, quietly making sure you're okay. You smile weakly at her to assure her you are, and then nod at each of the boys who are intently watching you.

"What's even happening?" You ask. Emily retrieves you a glass of water and you smile in thanks at her.

"Those goddamn-"

"Bella," Sam says, speaking over your friend, glaring at him to defy some unspoken thought. He quiets down with a huff and lets Sam speak. "Bella went cliff jumping that resulted in Jacob having to retrieve her from the water. After taking her home, he smelled a leech nearby. Bella recognized the vehicle belonging to one of the Cullens."

"They're back?" You frown.

"Just one," Jacob grumbles. When Sam glares at him, he eventually nods to let him continue the story since he was there. "The small one," he clarifies.

"Alice," you realize.

"But then Edward called and asked for Charlie, and I told him he was out planning a funeral. I guess he thought I meant Bella's and apparently he was going to the vampire royalty so they could kill him."

"Jesus," you mumble, rubbing the spot between your eyebrows. "So why did Alice whisk Bella away then?"

"Because she thinks if they get there in time then Bella can stop Edward from killing himself."

"Do you have any idea about what's going on?" Sam asks. "Any little detail can help. Especially with the vampire royalty they're now speaking of."

You shake your head. "I'm sorry, Sam, I don't." Paul scoffs at his side and you frown at him before giving Sam your full attention once more. "I didn't even know what the Cullens were until after the altercation between Paul and Bella."

"Is there any way to get a hold of them to see if they know anything?" Jacob asks.

"I only have three of their numbers, but they were all disconnected when they moved away."

"Try again," Jacob says.

Glancing at Sam, he nods in agreement. So with a quiet sigh, you pull out your phone from the large pocket in the front of your sweatshirt to scroll through the contacts. You click on Alice's name, but it merely rings once before going to voicemail. "That's new," you mumble. You then scroll down to Edward's name, but his automatically goes to voicemail. "Alice and Edward are a no-go. Let's see about Emmett."

Emmett's number rings once and then twice, and you hurriedly put the call on speaker. It rings twice more before it clicks over.

"I knew I was your favorite."

Your lips twitch in amusement. "Hardly, Dracula. I believe your wife and Jasper are my favorites in your little coven."

The line goes quiet and then, "You know."

"Yeah, I know," you muse. "But that's not what I'm calling about. I'm calling about Bella and why the hell Alice thought it was a good idea to take her out of the country."

There's a brief shuffle on the line before someone else takes over. "Hello YN, it's Carlisle."

"Hello Doctor Cullen."

"May I inquire as to how you found out about our true nature?"

"Sure, but after you explain what Alice and Bella are doing. Jacob is freaking out over here."

Carlisle lets out a soft sigh. "It's to my understanding that my son believed Bella to be dead. With our kind, to lose one's mate, it makes us do foolish things."

"Mate?!" Jacob snarls. He starts to shake uncontrollably and Paul grips him by the shoulder.

"Get him out of here. Now!" Sam demands.

You sigh and then apologize. "Sorry, Carlisle. Please continue."

"With Bella believed dead, Edward wished to join her. He went to the Volturi in hopes they would kill him."

A pad of paper gets held in front of your face and you read a question that had been penned. "Who are the Volturi?"

"They're basically kings in our world. We have to abide by their rules."

"Oh. Okay."

"Now if you don't mind answering my question," Carlisle says.

Sam nods at you and you tell him. "Some of the Quileutes have shifted. When Bella confronted one of them and angered him to the point of shifting, we were both brought back to one of their houses. Since they knew Bella knew of the Cold Ones, they figured it was the same for me. It was by accident I learned about you. Sorry."

"Apology is not necessary," Carlisle chuckles softly. "You have been a trusted friend of this family since Edward met Bella. I'm just sorry you have been brought into all of this."

"Well thank you, Carlisle. I should go, but if you hear any updates, can you please let me know?"

"Of course. Goodnight, Miss YLN."

Just as you hang up, a howl pierces the air. Everyone tenses, but it's the pack who rushes for the door. And before he exits, Sam pauses and looks back at you. "Stay here. Don't leave until we get back."

"Yeah. Okay." As the pack rushes off, you yawn and stand from the table. Glancing at Emily, you ask, "Can we move to the sofas? I'm a little tired."

"Yeah. Of course." She follows you into the living room, handing you a blanket after you toe off your shoes and then curl up in the corner of her sofa. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" You snuggle down, smiling contentedly.

"With the way things are looking, the coven of Cold Ones might be coming back to Forks. If they do, you'll be going to school with them while they know that you know their secret."

"It'll be fine," you assure her. "After hearing the Quileute legends, I know you're not fond of the vampires, but they treated me perfectly well before. And that was because they knew I knew something was inhumane about them. I just never cared to figure out what."

"You're a lot braver than I am," Emily muses.

"Not really. I was just too high and too hungry to care about other people's issues."

Emily grins as she watches you slowly drift off. "Get some sleep, YN. I'll wake you when the others get back."

"M'kay."

Emily tidies up while she has the time. The pack is busy with whatever either Jacob or Paul howled about and you're fast asleep on her couch.

Eventually, once everything is as clean as she can get it, Emily curls up on her sofa chair with the television playing on low. She gets through a couple of FRIENDS episodes before she hears the screen door opening and she sits up.

Sam, Paul and Jared enter the house.

"What happened?" Emily asks. She's addressing Sam, but her gaze falls to Paul whose shoulders sag when he sees YN fast asleep.

Sam catches her stare, grinning. "Jacob caught the scent of a leech on the res. We followed it all the way to Forks, but we're needed here more than there. What about here? She hear anything yet?" Sam asks, gesturing to you.

"No." Emily shakes her head. "She fell asleep right after you guys left, but her phone's been quiet."

"Well there's no use in waking her," he says. "Might as well put her in the guest room for the night."

"I got her," Jared says, only to be stopped with Paul's arm across his chest.

"Like hell you do."

Jared slowly grins. "Why not? YN's a friend of the pack. And besides, it's not like you want her. You made that perfectly clear when you imprinted and fled the kitchen in a huff."

Paul growls, body vibrating.

"That's enough," Sam says, voice hard. "Paul, get YN to the room. Jared, knock it off."

Paul smirks then and Jared rolls his eyes as his brother steps closer to the couch you're asleep on. Carefully, Paul then picks YN up into his arms, one arm under your back and the other under your knees. As he shifts you in his arms and your head lolls to rest on his shoulder, he has to bite the inside of his cheek as you mumble, "Stupid raccoon took my potato," in your sleep.

Emily places a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles and Sam shakes his head in amusement.

"Did she just talk in her sleep?" Jared muses. "Oh my god. We need to record her."

"No." Paul marches off then, careful not to bang your head on the walls or door jamb to Emily's spare room.

It takes Paul a few minutes to get you situated under the blanket all the while making sure you didn't wake. Then when he's done, he takes a step back to watch you snuggle into the comfort of the bed.

"It's not so bad, you know." Emily's quiet words startle him. "Having an imprint isn't the end of the world."

Paul sighs and turns his back on the bed. "It is when you didn't want the bond in the first place."

"Trust in the Fates." Emily smiles as she reaches up, cupping Paul's face in her hand. "They give you boys an imprint for a reason. Just give her a chance."

He says nothing in response because he knew there would be no reasoning with Emily who had embraced the imprint after Sam explained it to her, and she walks off. Paul never wanted to find his, hoping that Sam was just a rare occurrence, but then he had to go and imprint in Emily's kitchen after he tried to attack his imprint's friend. At first, he was livid, but the restless nights proved he was going to have to talk to you sooner or later.

He makes his way back to the living room to find only Sam and Emily. He asks if he can sleep on the couch for the night and Emily lets him, and then he lays down on the same couch YN had been on.

Hours later, you're waking in an unfamiliar room. Through the opened curtains, you can see the sky barely turning pink with the impending sunrise. Yawning, you stretch in the bed you find yourself tucked into and then reach into the pocket of your sweatshirt under the blanket. You pull out your phone, finding a missed text message from Alice who told you that everything was fine, and the entire family would be back to Forks soon.

Stretching once more, you sit up in bed and practically hold your breath as you see someone pass by the opened bedroom door. The person backtracks and you heave a sigh of relief when you see it's Emily.

"You're awake!" She smiles. "I'm about to start breakfast. Why don't you wash up and come join me?"

"Yeah. Okay," you mumble.

As you stumble out of bed and into the bathroom down the hall, you head straight for the bathroom closet for the bin that holds the spare hygiene products you kept there. You place the bin on the counter space, pulling out your toothbrush, toothpaste and mouthwash. Then after making sure your mouth is all minty fresh, you quickly brush out the tangles in your hair and then tie it up in a messy bun. You wash your face last before putting the bin of supplies back in the closet, and then make your way to the kitchen.

"Sleep okay?" Emily asks as you take a seat at the table.

Smiling lazily at her, you nod. "Yeah. Sorry about the sleepover. You should have woken me up."

"It's fine. None of us wanted you to drive home so late at night." She places a cup of coffee in front you and you readily pick it up, blowing on the steaming liquid.

"So what happened?"

"There was a vampire on our land. The pack chased her away, but they weren't comfortable waking you and sending you on your way. I hope you don't get in trouble for staying last night."

"It's fine. My parents love you and I told them that it was likely I wouldn't be home until today anyway."

"Oh. Okay. Eggs?"

"Scrambled, please."

You slowly sip your coffee as Emily cooks and then she's setting a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast on the table in front of you. She has a plate for herself and the two of you happily dig in.

Halfway through breakfast, a tan arm comes into your line of sight and steals a piece of bacon from you. You're still too sluggish to do anything about it, but you do manage to look up and glare at the culprit. Your glare falters, however, when you find Paul smirking down at you.

"Dick," you mumble. Emily chokes on her coffee and Paul chuckles as he takes a seat next to you. When he reaches for your plate again, you're prepared and swat at his hand. "Stop it. S'not nice."

Sam appears at the table then, yawning as he takes a seat. Emily quickly gets up to make them their breakfast and then soon enough the only sounds in the kitchen are that of the forks clanking against the plates.

After your second cup of coffee and a text message from your mother asking if you could do the grocery shopping when you get in, you decide to head home. You help Emily gather dishes, drying after she washes, and thank her for breakfast and letting you stay over.

As you're heading for the door, you feel pressure at your elbow and look over your shoulder to see Paul right behind you.

"Come on. I'll walk you."

You frown at him, wondering what the hell is going on through his head to give him a change of heart towards you, and glance at Emily to make sure she's seeing what you are. But Emily, nor Sam, are any help as they hide smiles behind their mugs of coffee and refuse to meet your gaze.

"Okay..?" Paul releases your elbow, following behind you as you head towards your jeep. You try to put his odd behavior out of your mind, but just as you open the door and climb into the driver's seat, he stops you from closing the door. Again, you frown at him. "What?"

Paul steps back, hands going to the pockets of his jean shorts. "It's just- with the Cullens coming back, we can't patrol Forks anymore."

"Because of the treaty, right?" You ask, trying to recall what you remember hearing from the bonfire stories.

"Yeah. And with them back, I can't protect you."

"Why-"

"Just promise me something? Watch your back with the leeches," he says, speaking over you in a rush. "They say they eat animals, but they can easily slip and murder a whole town."

You open your mouth to defend the Cullens, but Paul turns on his heel and marches off back towards the house. Speechless, you watch him disappear inside before pulling yourself together and starting your Jeep.

Paul Lahote was seriously giving you whiplash, and you didn't know what to make of him anymore.

The Cullen and Hale family return as expected, and Edward and Bella continue their relationship as if the last few months hadn't happened. Jacob and the rest of the pack were the only ones who were absolutely against their return, and it was no surprise that Bella was instantly put between Jacob and Edward.

Those two fought over Bella like she was the shiny new toy, and you sat back to watch everything unfold. Once or twice they tried dragging you into their petty argument over who was better for Bella, but you never entertained them and wisely kept your mouth shut.

For some reason, Paul is even more amped up around you, sneering and scowling and muttering how you smell like a leech now that they were back in school. But by now, you're used to his attitude and merely let his words go in one ear and out the other.

Unfortunately, you can only keep your cool for so long.

"Do you have any plans this weekend?" Emily asks. She's whipping up some batter for muffins while you lean against her counters, the pack sitting at the table talking amongst each other.

"I do, actually. Rosalie wants to go shopping, but she knows if she asks Alice then Alice will invite Bella, and Rosalie is not a fan."

"A leech?!"

Emily winces and you roll your eyes with a huff as you turn your attention to the now quiet table. "Yes, Paul, the Cold One."

"I thought I told you to be careful around them and now you're spending the day alone with one of them?" He practically seethes. "What the hell are you thinking!?"

"I'm thinking that I can spend the day doing a little retail therapy, that's what I'm thinking."

"They could kill you!"

"So could you!" You finally snap.

"Oh shit. Now you've done it," Jared muses. "YN never raises her voice."

"Both species are dangerous, but I don't see you warning me off the res," you say. "So what the hell is the real issue here?"

"YN, I don't think-"

"No, Em," you cut her off, lowering your voice and shaking your head at her. "I'm done. I'm tired of the attitude and belittling, and now I think it's time for answers." Turning back towards Paul, you ask, "So what is it? You obviously don't like me much, which is fine, but you are so dead set against me hanging out with my friends. So why?"

Paul's glaring at you, but you refuse to avert your gaze. You want answers and you want them now.

"Just tell her, man," Embry says. "This has been going on long enough."

You have no idea what he's talking about, but apparently Paul does. His glare is briefly directed at Embry before turning back to you, and eventually his shoulders sag. "You're my imprint."

"I have no idea what that means."

"You're basically his soulmate," Jared says. "The Fates decide that there is one person perfect for us. So whatever you need, Paul can become it- friend, brother, or lover." He wiggles his eyebrows at you, but his words earn him a slap upside the head from Sam.

Your eyes subtly widen and you stand a little straighter. "W-What?"

"I didn't want you." You rear back as Paul's words instantly make your chest ache. Something must flash across your face because his own eyes widen. "No, I didn't mean-"

"You did." You cross your arms over your chest, holding yourself together. "And i-it's okay. I get it, I think."

"YN.." Paul stands, but you quickly shake your head at him.

"You wanted the choice to pick, am I right? And the Fates took it out of your hands." Your eyes tear up and you quickly glance to your side so he doesn't see you cry. Emily, however, looks just as heartbroken as you feel. "I, uh, I think I should go."

"Are you sure?" She asks.

"Definitely." You flash her a feeble smile. "I'll text you when I get home." As you make your way towards the door, from the corner of your eye you see Paul reach for you. But before he can even touch you, you pull away from him. "Don't."

You walk out the door, not bothering to look back.

Inside Emily's house, all is quiet. Everyone can hear the sound of YN's Jeep starting and driving off.

"That was cruel, even for you, man." All eyes are on Jacob as he digs his phone out of his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Paul asks.

"Texting Bella to have her check on YN. Thanks to Emily we know our imprints feel a bit of the bond and you flat out just told yours that you didn't want her."

"I didn't mean it like that! She didn't let me explain."

"Why should she?" Finished with his text, he looks up to meet Paul's gaze. "You've treated her like crap since you've met her. You should've spoken to her a long time ago about the imprint, like we told you, so you could avoid this exact mess. You didn't and now you get to lie in the bed you've made."

Jacob stands and Paul tenses when he notices his packmate heading for the back door. "Where are you going?"

"To patrol and then to go check on my friend."

To be continued..

#paul x reader #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #twilight imagine #paul lahote #emily young #jacob black #sam uley #twilight #new moon

2K notes · View notes

ystrike1 · 1 year

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Captain! Where is the Battlefield? - By Limyo (7.5/10)

This time our young duchess is secretly an experienced military commander. She captures a capable and crazy man with her tactical skill. She's inexperienced at love though, so she doesn't notice his madness or the envy around her until it explodes.

Lee Yoon-ah doesn't care about love. She's a scarred, decorated soldier in her thirties. She dies on a mission, because the most skilled general in the world can't punch a bomb away.

She wakes up in a romantic novel that her writer friend never finished. She is the most pathetic Duchess, Rosalie. Rosalie had no spine, and she was too dumb to run her territory. Bella, the previous Duchess, got greedy because of her weakness. Bella bled the Duchy dry, until it had to be saved by Crown Prince Devi...and his love interest Lady Sonia.

Lee Yoon-ah immediately gets to work. She puts on her sigil ring and she starts to train her knight squad. She's weaker, sure, but she's still skilled with a bow. She is a worthy fighter and a scary Duchess. Bella doesn't stand a chance. Bella embarrasses herself like ten times.

She's clearly not the main villain.

Then we meet Sonia, and her Prince Devi. Sonia was kind enough to befriend Rosalie, even though she was an incompetent Duchess. New Rosalie decides to be her friend too. There's no shame in helping those in need, and Sonia technically helped keep the Duchy afloat with her friendship. Rosalie was too nervous, skittish, and depressed to do much...but having Sonia around was always soothing for the poor girl.

Things...fizzle quite quickly. Sonia the heroine is nice, but that's all. New Rosalie has nothing in common with her. Their relationship turns into acquaintances instead of friends in a blink.

She shares many hobbies with the Prince though. Rosalie is confused, but Devi quickly becomes her friend. She gets closer to him instead of Sonia. All Sonia cares about is tea and dresses, but Rosalie wants to learn to ride. Devi happens to be an experienced rider and fighter. Her training moves along faster thanks to his encouragement.

They're a good pair.

Sonia the heroine becomes a third wheel.

Sonia and Devi are not dating by this point. Rosalie is not a ditzy man thief. She puts all of her effort into the Duchy and her soldiers, because it's what she's good at. Devi genuinely admires her, and he starts to see her as a lofty(?) woman that shouldn't be inconvenienced by others. He's always been crazy, and Rosalie isn't the boring worm she used to be.

She deserves everything.

The romance is tainted by war. Cute heronies aren't necessary if there's a more competant option. Rosalie is also prettier. Devi falls deeply in love before he can stop himself, and the plot changes.

Devi and Rosalie do a massacre together, which is cool.

Rosalie gets kidnapped at the grand ball, instead of Sonia. Everyone knows who the prince likes now, including the lowest assassins. We also get a hint. Devi was going to marry Sonia, because she's a good friend. That's all she is. She's the convenient choice for marriage.

He never loved her.

How do we know?

Well, in the original book Devi sent his assassin Nathan to save Sonia.

He didn’t tell Nathan to kill the kidnapper, because it's a noble woman, and her death would cause trouble.

When Rosalie is kidnapped he orders that inconvenient death without hesitation.

Rosalie has to stop him, because killing the highborn kidnapper would indeed cause political chaos.

Devi tells Nathan to guard her permanently too. Sonia is revealed to be the true villain. A woman who pretended to befriend the incompetent Duchess, all in order to look like the best bride for the prince.

Sadly, this one does seem to be getting more boring. More cliche, but the protagonist does actually stab people so that's great. Devi is steadily becoming more maniacal as well.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #otome isekai #Captain! Where is the Battlefield?

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lurveinn · 3 months

Text

Sirius threatens Lucius

Diagon Alley is bustling with peasants and riff-raff in the days leading up to the Hogwarts term; Lucius sneers at the crowds as he makes his way into the higher-end streets of Knockturn, which remain, thankfully, invitation only. He has a meeting with a real estate contact at midday, after which he’ll meet Father for the most intimidating appointment in his social calendar thus far- a full council with the Blacks, to formally ask for Narcissa’s hand in marriage. Of course, it’s merely a formality; he was promised one of the Black sisters years ago, but up until a few months ago, it was to be Andromeda. Now, Andromeda is being paraded around Europe’s marriage market, under Bellatrix’s watchful eye- from what he has gathered, she is tempted by a mudblood boy in England. There are even rumors that he is poor, though he isn’t sure of those- although he hasn’t spoken to her since the end of their courtship, he knows Andromeda, and she loves her finery. She’s as much of a snob as he is.

And Narcissa; Lucius has sampled many women, from all over Europe, pure-blooded and though he won’t admit it, even half-blooded, yet none have taken him quite as she does. She is lovely. He wouldn’t dare express it to Father, who much preferred for him to marry a dark-haired girl (“A Black that looks like a Black, Lucius! The prestige is much greater that way”), but frankly- she is perfect. She already fits the part of a Malfoy- her hair is half white-blonde on her right side and half ink-black on her left, a trait that she clearly inherited from her Rosier side. She wears it in a complex braid that Lucius yearns to untangle, run his fingers through, and then plait back up. The rest of her is completely and utterly Black, from her storm-gray eyes to her high cheekbones; yet, unlike her cousins and sisters whose features are beautiful in a striking manner, Narcissa is angelic. It is said that there are no creatures on Earth as gorgeous as the Blacks, and in three hours, Lucius will officially have acquired the most heavenly of them all.

He thinks of her throughout his meeting, though he focuses when the matter of payment comes up, and as he exits the establishment, he is so lost in thought that he completely misses the figure trailing him. They say that Blacks aren’t made to be discreet, that one can hear their footsteps a mile away, but somehow Sirius has managed to creep up on Lucius. Faster than he can call a greeting, there is a wand at Lucius’ throat and two piercing eyes (just like Narcissa’s, his useless, traitorous brain reminds him) boring into his.

“Malfoy.”, Sirius says, coolly, as if cornering your future brother-in-law two hours before you’re supposed to receive him at your home is a routine occurrence.

Still, Lucius knows how to deal with a Black. He remembers his father’s words: act nonchalant no matter how they insult you, do not respond in any way that could even remotely be interpreted as a threat, and do not, under any circumstances, insult their family.

He responds genially: “Sirius. I knew we’d be meeting today, but I wasn’t expecting you at this moment.”

Sirius brushes it aside. He’s sixteen and fierce, a Slytherin who wormed his way into Gryffindor to prove a point, already betrothed to his cousin, who is identical to him in both spirit and appearance. The crown jewel of the Black family, Orion and Arcturus insist, though Sirius does his best to go against all etiquette ingrained in the rest of the Sacred 28. But then again, Blacks are always a bit crazy; Bella is the same, and Father says Sirius takes after his namesake grandfather greatly. Lucius isn’t scared of Sirius- a Malfoy is just as great as a Black, no matter what they insist-, he’s seen him grow up, seen him in nappies, but in that moment, he understands what Orion sees in him- he is fearless. He almost feels a sense of pride towards the man Sirius is becoming, before the little brat has to ruin it all:

“I’ve come to threaten you.”, Sirius states, matter-of-factly. Blacks are always so dramatic. He hopes Narcissa hasn’t inherited the characteristic.

“Concerning?”, Lucius asks, though he has an inkling as to where this conversation is going. The Blacks are Wizarding Britain’s most tight-knit family and ridiculously protective of each other. He recalls Sirius and Narcissa’s shared time at Hogwarts- Lucius was in his seventh year when she was in her fifth and Sirius was in his second- when the boy spent much of his time in the Slytherin common room. Prim, proper Narcissa would loosen up around her cousin, especially when it was just family around, holding Sirius’ hand, combing her fingers through his hair. Often, Bellatrix would come to visit her sisters and Sirius at school, and they would all retire to one of Slytherin’s abandoned common rooms; nobody went in, of course, unless they had tacit permission from the Blacks, but the sound of laughter would carry through the dungeons on the occasions that the cousins forgot their silencing charms. It was a foreign concept to Lucius, such a large family. Malfoys usually have a maximum of two children, and never more than one son.

In the present moment, Sirius’ eyes cloud over at Lucius’ lack of reaction, but he gets straight to the point:

“I trust you, Lucius, I do. I support you and Cissa. But, and this is coming from me and from Bella- if your father dares to lay a hand on my cousin, hurts her or any child that she ever has with you, then I will hunt him down and slit his throat, Azkaban and consequences be damned. Keep that in mind.”

The wand against Lucius’ throat is dislodged, and Sirius Black turns on his heel and walks away.

#lucius x narcissa #sirius black #lucius malfoy #narcissa black #narcissa malfoy

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puppy-coded · 2 years

Text

cat!{e.m.}

✰ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: light swearing

✰ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

✰ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1350 words

Eddie had come home from work only to hear a faint ‘meow’ from under the trailer. He all but crawled under it to get the cat he knew was under it. He was so excited when he was finally able to get the cat.

He was especially excited to show you, hoping you were a cat person.

He held the cat to his face and kept moving so the cat would face him. “Okay, Cat, be as cute as possible. I’m gonna show you to my girlfriend and we both need a ‘yes’ on this one,” He whispered to it.

The cat very vaguely ‘nodded’ and he went into the trailer.

“Hey babe! Look who I found under the trailer.” He said loudly, causing you to pick your head up from your book.

You stared at him from your spot on the couch before answering. “... Dustin?”

“What? No- Why?” Eddie faltered, trying to figure out what you were trying to connect.

“Kids obsessed,” You shrugged.

“No. I found a cat.” Eddie told you.

You shot up, throwing your book down without a bookmark. “Oh my goodness gracious a cat!” You said happily, going over to your boyfriend to pet it.

Eddie smiled proudly. “Yeah, cute isn’t she?”

“How do you know it’s a she? Did you check?” You asked.

Eddie grimaced at the thought. “No, it’s just the vibe I got. What do you want me to call the cat? It?” He asked with a fake laugh.

“Let’s take it to the vet just to make sure first of all and to see if there’s a missing cat poster.” You suggested, grabbing a jacket and Eddie’s keys.

“Also, vaccinations and worms right?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah. That too.” You said, already out the door. “Can I drive?”

“Fat chance,” Eddie called. “Hold the cat in your seat.”

. . .

You and Eddie were nervously waiting in the waiting room for the cat. You were holding onto his arm and curled into the chair and his leg was bouncing like crazy. It’s always bouncing but not as fast as it was when you were waiting for the cat.

The vet came out with the cat and called you two up. You got up there and the vet smiled at you two.

“Okay, first of all your cat is so cute. She’s-” The vet started.

“Ha! She! I was right,” Eddie celebrated, sticking his tongue out at you.

You laughed at his reaction. “Eddie, let the vet talk.”

He crossed his arms and pointed to the vet. “Right. Sorry, continue.”

The vet nodded and continued. “Well, she’s a very healthy cat and is a very good age to be semi-trained. I’d snatch her up since she’s not on the ‘missing pets’ poster.” She informed you.

Eddie was nodding along the whole time. “What about, like, the medical stuff? Like vaccinations and sh... stuff.” Eddie corrected.

“No, just because she’s still pretty young. I would bring her in once she hits the one year mark.” The vet told him.

“She’s still a kitten?” You asked.

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” You and Eddie let out at the same time.

You got your cat back and took her to Eddie’s van. He got in and was almost squealing when he saw the cat.

He started the van and started to head in the direction of Petland for stuff for your new cat such as food.

“We have a cat!” He said excitedly.

“We have a cat!” You responded. “What do you wanna name her?”

Eddie was silent for a second before responding. “What about... Bella?”

You shrugged. “Meh. How about Charlie?” You suggested.

Eddie made a face when you suggested it. “Doesn’t do anything. What about Wendy?” He asked hopefully.

“Ooo! I like Wendy.” You agreed, kissing the cat on the head. “She seems like a Wendy.”

Eddie smiled at you and Wendy. “Good, because it’s the name of the lead singer of a band I like.”

“Figured.” You sighed dramatically. “What color harness should we get her?” You asked. “I was thinking purple.”

“Definitely purple.” Eddie agreed. “Pink is overdone.”

“Agreed. Matching leash?” You asked, already envisioning how walking around Hawkins with Eddie and Wendy would probably go.

Eddie saying “duh” was all that interrupted your thoughts of a peaceful cold weather walk.

“What type of cat food?” You asked.

“Dry.” Eddie responded quickly. “Wet would probably get everywhere.”

“Also expensive as all heck.” You chimed in, nodding. “Brand?” You asked, scratching Wendy behind the ears when she meowed at you.

“Uh... Let the cat decide?” Eddie suggested.

“Okay, I’m down.” You shrugged, putting Wendy down in front of three separate brands of cat food.

Wendy went straight to one of the bags and immediately started pawing at it. You picked Wendy back up and Eddie threw a bag over his shoulder since it was heavy.

“Is Wendy gonna be an outside cat or inside cat?” You asked.

Eddie gasped dramatically. “Babe, what kind of question is that? Inside.”

You shrugged. “Just asking because I grew up in the middle of nowhere and had an outside cat that disappeared after two years.” You defended. “Remember Fiona?”

“... Makes sense.” He nodded. “But she’s not disappearing on us.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, thinking about what you and Eddie had just done. “Are we qualified to be pet parents?”

“No.” Eddie said flatly. “But we’re doing it anyway because this is probably the closest we’re gonna get to having kids.”

“Oh thank god!” You responded, putting a hand to your heart.

. . .

Eddie had been outside all day and you had no idea what he was up to. Every time you went to check on him he would wave you off.

Eventually he came back in and was really excited. “Babe! Look what I made Wendy!” He held up a small flower crown proudly in one hand.

“Oh my god cute!” You exclaimed. Wendy looked up from her food bowl at the noise and came over to meow at the two of you.

Eddie held up two more flower crowns that could fit the both of you. “The three of us are matching now!”

“Eddie. That is so cute. C’mere Wendy.” He put yours on you and you picked up Wendy.

He situated the crown on her carefully and she meowed again. Wendy pawed at it until it fell off. You put her down and she ignored the flower crown.

“It’s the thought that counts babe.” You assured Eddie with a kiss on the cheek.

. . .

You and Eddie were laying in bed quietly doing things when Wendy came into the room. She crawled through Eddies arms and laid on his chest. Eddie kissed the top of Wendy’s head and put his new song on the nightstand.

You watched the whole thing go down with a smile. “I have never thought I’d be jealous of a cat for cuddling with my boyfriend but here we are,” You sighed. “She’s stealing the love of my life.”

Eddie chuckled and started to pet Wendy. “There’s enough of me to go around ladies. No need to push.”

You covered your face with your book and groaned. “Oh my god, shut up.”

“Quit. You love it.” He said, reaching out to you without disrupting your cat.

“I do but you’re still a weirdo.” You told him, turning over to put your book on he ground next to your side of the bed.

“Yeah. I’m Wendy’s weirdo.” He agreed.

“Eddie,” You giggled.

“Yours too. That was always implied,” He mockingly defended.

You turned to face him, propping yourself up and resting your head on your hand.“We’re gonna be great parents.”

He looked at you slightly taken aback by your statement. “I thought you didn’t want kids?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

You smiled gently. “I changed my mind. You’d be a great dad.” You complimented, tapping his nose.

“Stop, I’m gonna cry.” He said, fanning his eyes.

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm. “I was being serious asshole.”

“I know.” Eddie said, disrupting Wendy so he could kiss your cheek before you went to bed.

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bellysoupset · 11 months

Note

heyy it’s me, could u maybe write another fic like after luke’s surgery and bells taking care of him but like he’s still throwing up because he’s not sure how to properly take care of himself ( my friend told me when she ate fried stuff after she had appendicitis like the surgery she’d throw up ) and him and bell still working through their issues ,,, no pressure tho :))

i love these two sm and ur fics never miss ur so so talented 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Had so much fun navigating the aftermath of a surgery and the aftermath of a breakup all together. Thank you so much for the prompt!

-------

Bella would be lying if she said it didn't feel weird as hell to be back in the apartment.

Luke's apartment. It had taken her a long time to accept having a key and an even longer time to start thinking of that place as "theirs", even though the large majority of everything she owned was there.

It had been a punch in the gut to finally think of that place as home, only for the break up to happen.

"Bells?" Luke called her, concerned when she stopped walking. She shook her head, offering him a smile.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he smiled back, "just like I was fine ten minutes ago when you asked. Or twenty. Or-"

"Don't be snarky, you scared the life out of me," Bella scoffed, slapping his chest. Luke winced when the pain echoed down, but his smile didn't waver.

"Sorry, baby..." he sat down on the couch, putting his feet up and breathing out deeply. It was clear that the short walk from the car to the apartment had already been too much.

"I think you should go to bed, not the couch," Bella told him, avoiding looking around. She wanted to see what had changed in the three months she had been away. Hopefully nothing.

"I know, I know," he grabbed the belt loop of her jeans and tugged at it, causing her to fall sideways across his lap. Bella let out a squeal, while he groaned and leaned his head back, "shit, that was a bad idea."

"What the hell was the idea!?" Bella squealed, scrambling out of his lap, "burst your stitches?"

He pouted, "I just wanted to hug you..."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Luke," Bella chuckled, surprised and then she moved closer on the couch, throwing her arms around him, "better?"

"Not quite," he sighed, but leaned his head against hers, nose brushing her temple, "I missed you so much."

"I missed you t-"

A loud growl interrupted her and Bella glanced down at Lucas' belly, "wow, are you alright?"

He nodded, refusing to pull back, "hungry," Luke kissed her cheek, "what's going through your mind?"

"What do you wanna eat?" She asked instead of acknowledging the question. That was a can of worms Bella did not want to get into.

"Uhm, you-"

"Lucas."

"Fries," he chuckled, "milkshake and fries."

It did sound great and better yet, it sounded like something they could order in. Bella smiled, "as you wish, your royal highness."

"Don't be mean to me, I'm severely woun- Ah fuck," Lucas' well humored voice vanished, "I'm gonna miss the quarter finals!"

Bella rolled her eyes, slumping against him as she scrolled through the restaurant app, "you could use a break, Luke."

"At the quarter finals!?" he whined, "fucking hell, that's what we spent the whole year playing for."

"Well, if we win we move to the semifinals and then you can join", she glanced up, then planted a kiss over his pout, standing up, "it'll work out... Alright, I need to stop by my dorm to pick up the rest of my boxes and then on the way back I'll grab our order, sounds good?"

Lucas frowned, "you're... No, where are you going?" he looked confused, "I thought you said you'd stay here..."

"I'm coming back here after," she planted a kiss over his pout, "I need to finish clearing my room."

"I-"

"I'll be right back," she interrupted again, kissing him once more before grabbing her purse by the door and walking out.

Lucas let out a sour sigh, something was wrong.

He wasn't dumb, not for a second had Luke thought everything would be back to how it always were, but still, a small part of him had hoped.

He mulled over her words, while answering his texts. Vince had sent a bunch of messages, ranging from worried questions, to memes about him and Bella being back together - how the hell did he know that already?? -, to serious messages about the incoming game.

As Lucas typed back, it dawned on him that Bella had mentioned clearing the dorms. By the time she made it back, holding a bag of greasy fast food and already sucking on her milkshake, Lucas' good mood had all but vanished.

"They didn't have strawberry," Bella said, handing him the large plastic cup, "but they had banana."

"Thank you," Lucas scooted up on the couch, accepting the bag and moving so Bells would have enough space to sit next to him. He planted the milkshake on the coffee table, starting to dig through the bag and handing her the chicken option, "Bells?"

"Yes?" she settled comfortably down next to him, unwrapping the sandwich.

Lucas fiddled with the wrapping paper of his burger, deciding against it and then going for the fries. He stuffed a bunch in his mouth while Bella watched him with a small frown on.

"Luke? What is it?"

Lucas took his sweet time chewing. He didn't want to fight, he had just gotten her back and after four days at the hospital, he just wanted to get in bed with his girlfriend and finally fall asleep knowing Bella would be there in the morning. He considered waving it off, say he didn't mean anything and ask about all the other things he wanted to know from the 4 months they had been broken up for...

"Lucas?"

"You said you were clearing the dorms," he said slowly, "but there are no boxes here, so clearly you're not- You're not coming back?"

It tasted sour just to say that. Lucas reached for the milkshake, sucking it in while he watched Bella open her mouth to answer and then snap it shut twice. She lowered her sandwich, untouched.

"Luke..."

"Are we not back together?" he asked, unable to stop himself. Bella's eyes widened.

"Of course! Of course we are!"

The squeeze around his heart undid just a bit. Lucas frowned, "then where-"

"But I'm not coming back here, Luke," she pouted, looking around the apartment, "I can't do this again... This- It's a type of instability that I can't deal with."

"What do you mean? This is our-"

"It's not," she glared at him, but not in an angry way, just stern, "it's not our place, Lucas. I knew this from the start, that's why I took so long to move in, remember? But then... Then I moved in, because we were really serious and steady by then, only for you to break up with me and kick me out."

"I never kicked you out," he said strongly, only to receive an eyeroll.

"Same fucking difference, Lucas. The apartment is yours, I was the one who had to move out. Don't act like I'm being irrational."

She was right. Of course she was right, it hadn't even occurred him to leave because it was his place, after all. However to him this was a small, unimportant detail. Not to Bella.

Lucas nodded, looking away from her, unable to support her serious gaze and continued to polish off the fries, if only so he'd have anything to busy himself with.

Bella let out a heavy sigh, "you're angry."

"I am," he agreed, "not at you, though."

"No?"

"No" he finished off the last five fries and pushed the package away, settling back against the couch cushions, stirring the milkshake with his straw in order to put his thoughts together, "I loved the life we had, Bell. It took a fucking while to get you to move in with me, I remember, and it was worth it. I loved sharing this place, I loved coming home and finding you here. I hated the past few months and the extra bed space and the empty closet and none of your sauces in the fridge."

He met her eyes and Bella's nose looked slightly red, blue eyes overly shiny. Lucas sighed, "I'm just angry I blew all of that."

"I..." her voice broke and Bella breathed out slowly, pulling herself together, "I'm sorry Luke."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he shrugged, stabbing the milkshake again with the straw, "tell me about the new place? Do you have pictures? When did you pick it?"

Her shoulders dropped in visible relief, another huge sign of how immensely he had fucked them up that now his girlfriend felt tense about her choices around him. Lucas mentally kicked himself, but leaned in as Bell fished out her phone to show him, finally starting to eat.

She rested her head on his shoulder, scrolling through her camera roll, "okay so, Wen helped me pick-"

"Wendy?" He raised his eyebrows, sucking in the rest of the milkshake and wincing at the overly sweet taste, "Vin's girl?"

"Yeah," Bella nodded eagerly, "I met her in a bar during- A couple months ago and she's been really amazing. She introduced me to a bunch of her friends and she's helped so fucking much, Luke."

"Oh," he felt his chest burn, "that's great, Bella, I'm happy you two are friends now."

Bella beamed, turning her face to plant a kiss on his chest and then clicking on the first pick, "so it's up the hill, near that house decor store, you know?" she said, showing him the map, "the rent in that area is cheaper, so that's great-"

He listened eagerly as Bell continued to blab on about the new place, which Lucas was feeling more and more jealous of. He knew it was insanity to feel jealous of a place, but he did. Nevertheless he kept the smile on and it wasn't even a fake one. He might hate her moving away from him, but he did love to see Bella so eager about something.

His belly cramped lightly and he shifted on the couch, regretting eating all of that food so fast after four days of a purely liquid diet. Bella moved along with his body, draping herself over him as she continued to gush about her plans to DIY the bedroom floor.

"I could help you build a floating desk here," he said, pointing at a corner in the room, "so you have a work station and don't fuck your back working in bed."

"Yeah!?" Bella smiled, excited, "I was thinking of putting floating shelves here for the viny-" she interrupted herself as Lucas' stomach let out a loud growl. With her pressed so close to him, she had heard it clearly. Her eyebrows jumped up, "Are you still hungry?"

"No," he winced, tugging on the pants, "ate too fast, my belly's a little upset."

"it's probably gas, they warned you about it remember?" Bella noted, leaning in to kiss his cheek, "let's go to bed, we can keep talking there."

Getting up released some of the pressure and Lucas muffled a gross, thick belch against his hand, blowing it out away from her. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of bananas, "gross."

Bella snorted, grabbing the ditched wrappers and plastic cups, "go lie down, I'll be there in a minute."

He nodded, walking slowly towards the bedroom. While sitting down he had completely forgotten about the stitches, but now an overall ache was spreading all over his stomach and they throbbed the most.

As he reached the bathroom to brush his teeth, Lucas noticed his stomach pushing against his hoodie. Bella had brought him clothes to be discharged from the hospital and she had made a point to pick loose fitting clothes, but the hoodie did not feel loose at all anymore. Granted it wasn't hugging his stomach, but the fabric was brushing over his navel and scratching against the bandage.

Lucas let out a groan, tugging it up and throwing it, alongside his sweatpants, on the basket under the sink for laundry. He wasn't sure if he managed to hit the basket, because bending down pushed up yet another sour burp and he groaned, bracing against the cold sink.

"Luke?" Bella's cold hand rested in the middle of his back, startling him. He looked up and caught her eyes in the mirror. She looked worried and tired and he felt awful for the past 4 days and the mess he was once again bringing on her life.

"Sorry," he squeezed the marble of the sink counter, "you can go home if you-"

"Don't be ridiculous," Bella said harshly, glaring at him in the mirror, "I'm not going anywhere when you're sick, are you crazy?" then before he could answer she looked down and grimaced, "your poor belly is so bloated, Luke."

It truly was. He had a squishy belly over hard abs most days and during the breakup he had lost weight, but now he just looked pregnant.

"Yeah, it's fucking hurting too," he sighed, tugging on the elastic of his boxers. Bella's brows met with concern, but she didn't follow him to the bedroom, busying herself with brushing her teeth and getting changed.

Lucas sat down on the bed, then hunched forward. He really wasn't feeling well, the fries and milkshake had been a silly mistake. It felt like his dinner wasn't digesting at all, sitting in belly like a ball of cement, but the cramps continued to wreck through his lower belly like little electric shocks, sending up sour burps that made him feel vaguely queasy, but mostly just hurt. Nothing was moving.

"Would tums help?" Bella asked, walking into the room. He pondered the question, before shaking his head.

"Do we still have pepto?" just as he said it, it occurred to him how dumb of a question that was. Bella hadn't been in his place in nearly fourth months, she definitely didn't know.

Still she didn't correct him, instead went to where he usually kept the bottle and came back to the room, "Almost out. Just drink the rest that's in the bottle."

He swallowed it all, gagging at the end with the overly sweet taste and then leaned back against the headboard, pushing his boxers down.

"It's pressing on your belly?" Bella asked, crawling on the bed to lie next to him.

"It feels itchy as hell," Lucas complained, planting a hand on his stomach and pushing lightly. It pushed up a burp that tasted like fries and made his chest burn. He swallowed again, "feels disgusting, Bells..."

She didn't answer, but he felt her hand touch his stomach, fingers pushing here and there, rubbing in circles over a particularly tender spot and causing a gurgle to go up his throat. Lucas grimaced as a string of burps turned wet at the end.

"So how-" he belched again, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling, "how's work?"

Bella let out a giggle and planted a kiss on his bare chest, "small talk is not your forte even when you're not feeling sick," she peppered a bunch of kisses up and then one over his lips, "just close your eyes, let me take care of you."

"Uhm, sounds boring as fu-" he cut himself off with a burp, deep from his belly and then a string of gurgles followed as the medicine started to take effect. Lucas grimaced, poking his distended belly and causing another loud whine, "oh that's so gross..."

Bella's hand stroked the round part of his upper belly, the slightly pressure pushing another airy burp out, "sounds so upset, Luke... I don't think you should have had junk food so soon after surgery."

"Yeah, that was stupid," he agreed, planting a hand over hers and pressing it on his belly button. The heavy pressure forced up a disgusting wet burp, but that at least carried some relief, "Eew..." he breathed out, sliding on the bed, so his head would hit the pillows and feeling Bell's hand move to rub little circles on his left side. She wouldn't go near the right, with the stitches.

"Are you sleepy?"

"No," he opened his eyes and turned his head lazily to look at her, "just feeling kinda crappy. Are you sleepy?"

Bella shrugged, but he could see very clearly how exhausted she was. Lucas rolled his eyes, pushing her hand away from his stomach and pulling so she could rest her head on his chest, "go to sleep, baby."

"No, you're feeling sick-"

"I'll be fine, it's just indigestion," he said, although it felt a little like a lie. Sure it was indigestion, but his stomach was starting to churn slowly with nausea, "you need to rest, you've been looking after me for almost five days now."

Bella let out a huff, but she didn't argue, moving up so she could tuck her head neatly under his chin.

Her weight didn't help the vaguely unsettled feeling, but Lucas was not about to tell her that. Instead he continued to breathe through the queasiness, letting out some small burps and making sure his neck was turned away from Bella.

Slowly tiredness was starting to take over him, but all it took was Bell groaning and rolling closer, planting her elbow lightly over his belly button to push out the most nauseating burp yet. Lucas rushed sitting up, clamping a hand over his mouth as the burp turned incredibly wet at the end. He gulped down convulsively, a clammy sticky sensation spreading all over him, his mouth watering.

"Luke...?"

He couldn't answer her, because every time he managed to push down the knot in his throat, a new soft gag pushed it up. Bella sat up too, a hand on his shoulder.

"Luke- Oh no," she realized, seeing his hand firmly clamped over his lips. Luke groaned, eyes squeezed shut and tasted the milkshake in the back of his tongue. It was enough to cause a wave of revulsion and he gagged harshly.

The heave, rocking his belly, pulled on his stitches and pain radiated all over his stomach, causing him to whimper. Bella said something, but he couldn't hear her, he just felt so incredibly sick...

He pressed his hand harder, but the next heave was productive and vomit exploded out of his mouth, leaking through his fingers and causing him to choke and cough. Bella thumped his back and Luke coughed harder, the motion causing more puke to cover the blankets, his stomach and the boxers.

The sensation of warm liquid hitting his skin caused Luke to gag again, more vomit coming up. It was all a mushy cream color, the fries and milkshake mixing in a disgusting sludge.

"Shit Lucas, shit-" Bella sounded vaguely frantically and he couldn't understand why she was pushing his back, "baby, I know it's messy but aim at the blankets-"

What?

He frowned, coughing again, "I don't... What...?"

Before she could answer though, his belly contracted again and he puked again, all over his lap. Lucas groaned, head hanging in shame and queasiness, his mouth open as yet another stream of just liquid and some chunks of pale yellow came out.

"I don't feel good..." he moaned, knowing he sounded like a baby but feeling dangerously close to tears. It had been 4 days of pain so far, more of nausea considering he had felt sick even during the graduation. And his girlfriend wasn't coming back home. And his head was hurting like a motherfucker. And he was covered in vomit, but he was so fucking tired-

"Luke, hey..." Bella's voice was incredibly tender as she cupped his face, wiping away one lonely tear, "shh... You're okay, love. You'll feel better soon, your poor belly just needed to get rid of that."

"I don't want you to leave," he groaned, "I don't want- I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm being dumb-"

"Lucas," Bella planted a kiss on the top of his head, "are you done?"

He nodded, feeling pathetic, "think so..." he still felt nauseous as all hell, but all he had eaten in four days was the milkshake and the fries, so there was nothing else to bring up. Bella rubbed his back, nodding.

"Okay, let's get you cleaned up," she said, grabbing his elbow and gently ushering him up. She helped him strip the destroyed boxers and Lucas groaned, feeling horribly exposed, even though he knew for a fact that Bell had seen him naked a million times.

"Fuck, that's gross..." he mumbled, using a clean part of the soiled blanket to wipe his stomach. Only then he understood that Bella had attempted to keep him from vomiting over the bandaged side of his belly, "oh shit, I hope I didn't pull any stitches there."

Bella frowned, circling the bed to hold him, "does it feel like you did?"

"No, just achy and sick," Lucas leaned unto her hold, then braced against the sink, the motion pushing up a deep gutural belch. He panted, while Bella carefully pushed the hair away from his eyes, cupping his forehead. Another flash of hot nausea passed through him and he coughed lightly, then a weak heave brought up a small stream of puke.

He heaved twice more, just as painful as before as the stitches flared up, but nothing came up and he finally turned on the water and washed the sink basin and his mouth.

"I need to shower," Luke groaned.

"Can you stand on your own?" Bella asked and he nodded, attempting to grab the crumbs of his dignity. She rushed back in the room to get rid of the ruined blankets and Lucas slowly walked to the shower.

He had no energy in him, so he just stood under the hot water stream. The heat helped with the ache in his middle and the sticky sensation, but also made him dizzy.

"That's enough, baby," Bella said, closing the register and throwing a towel around him, "c'mon, let me take a look at the stitches."

"You hate this stuff," Lucas mumbled, pushing her hand away from the soaked wet bandages, "I'll look."

"Don't be silly, I can do this," she rolled her eyes, pushing him to sit on the closet toilet and cupping his forehead. He watches as his girlfriend crouched down between his legs, carefully pulling the adhesive that kept the gauze to his skin and revealing the appendectomy wound.

She hissed and made a face, visibly cringing, causing Luke to snort, "are you sure, Bells?"

"It's fine," she glared at him, "it's just... nasty."

"Uhm?" he glanced down and wrinkled his nose. His skin was red around the wound, from the warm water and the black stitches stuck out horribly, "yeah, that's pretty gnarly."

"Nothing looks burst though, so that's good," she fumbled with the first aid kit that he only then noticed sitting on top of the sink, in search of another gauze pad, "how's your belly feeling?"

"Still pretty gross," Lucas admitted, "but empty. No more..." he gagged in his fist, "no more junk food for a while though."

Bella opened a lopsided smile, snickering, "what? No more fries?"

Just the thought of them caused him to gag harshly and bring up a small, disgusting burp, "Bell..."

"Sorry," she huffed, smiling still, "couldn't resist," she gently pressed the gauze to the wound, "Luke."

"Yeah?" he asked, taking in the gentleness of everything she was doing. Bella wasn't a normally delicate girl, so it was very deliberate that he could barely feel her touches.

"I'm not leaving you, you know that, right?" she smiled, cutting a piece of adhesive to keep the little square of gauze in place, "and we're gonna get through this rough patch."

A new, surprising churning sensation filled up his stomach. Butterflies, all over again. Lucas nodded, "I know... It just sucks, but I know we will."

Her cheeks turned a shade of pink and Bella smiled, moving up and kissing him, causing his head to hit the flush and startling them both. Lucas smiled, resting his forehead against hers, "I love you... Can we go to bed now, though? My dick's freezing out here."

#mywriting #sickfic #emetophilia #lucas atwood #indigestion

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jesus-chain-smoking-cigarettes · 1 year

Note

hi hello have a worm. use it wisely 🪱

#me #Bella look #it’s a worm #twilight #ask

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howlonghaveyoubeenseventeen · 1 year

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#twilight #twilight saga #eric yorkie #mike newton #jessica stanley #my polls

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justmaghookit · 4 months

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Business Partners

Raphael/OC

SFW

A/N: A continuation of Contractual Obligations

Raphael’s senses were flooded with Belladonna, his scent, his voice, the taste of him on his tongue. His presence pressed in on him from all directions, smothering him. He wonders how deeply into his psyche Bella had pressed, how thoroughly he’d ingrained himself.

He’d always done his best to spend as little prolonged time in the other devils home as possible. Belladonna was a Fiernic devil, directly descended from the Archduchess herself and he had become nearly as infamous as her in his ability to manipulate other fiends, even when he’d been mortal he had been terribly good at worming his way under a devil's skin.

Bella as a devil himself was far more dangerous, his scent alone could lull someone into a false sense of security. Raphael had never felt more ill-at-ease due to a sense of comfort than he did after spending too many days in the other devil's company and right now he had little choice but to stay in his home while his body recovered from the damage it had suffered.

The humiliation hurts worse than the pain, the indignation that he suffered at the hands of those damned adventurers. His house fallen to disarray, most of his servants dead or scattered to the wind, his most valued treasures plundered. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been sequestered in Belladonna’s house, the Crown was likely long gone by now and that was the most painful part of all.

The second largest problem he currently faced was that he was unable to shed his current form. As fearsome, imperious and noble as his Ascended Form may be, it was somewhat inconvenient for regular business, it was difficult to charm prospective marks when they cowered in fear and a devil who could not exert control over himself was setting himself up for ridicule among his peers.

Belladonna could not hold Avernus’s court off for long, sooner or later one of Zariel’s minions would come looking to assess his worthiness to continue to run his business out of The First. If he was unable to regain complete control of his faculties by that time not only would it bring even more humiliation he would likely lose permission to run his House in Avernus, they would find him incompetent, repossess whatever was left in his house as Tax and then laugh him off the layer. To slink back to Cania after all these centuries was the last thing he desired.

He lounges across Belladonna’s bed, taking up a good third of the surface area of it. Ennui was a dangerous feeling for devils and yet as it stood Raphael saw little reason to fight against the rising listlessness, so many of his carefully laid plans had crumbled in such a short amount of time, he saw no way to salvage them.

“You look as miserable as a mange ridden hellhound Raphael.” Belladonna’s snide comment cuts through his thoughts like a knife and he blinks open a single eye to watch the younger devil saunter back into his room. He was all slim frilly shirts and tight leather pants, satin jacket cut to draw the eye to the dip of his waist. He smelt like honey and spices.

Bella carries a pile of scrolls under each arm and deposits them at his desk on the other side of the room. “Cheer up you old tom, I come bearing gifts outside my well sought after presence.” He hums, plucking several scrolls from the pile he had brought home with him.

“I’m afraid to ask.” Raphael groans. There was a not insubstantial chance a gift from Belladonna would be as useful as a kick to the balls.

“Oh don’t be like that, you’ll like this I’m sure.” Bella chirps, dropping the scrolls onto the bed near Raphael’s face.

The cambion adjusts himself on the bed, reaches out and plucks one of them to examine, he recognizes it instantly.

“These are…”

“Some of your more high profile relatively recent contracts, yes.” The other fiend answers before he can even finish asking.

He opens the scroll with a flick of his wrist and examines the contents, confirming that it was indeed one of his although with a single difference than the last time he looked this one over.

“The soul has been collected? Where is it?” He asks, swallowing down the spark of anxiety trying to twist his stomach at the thought of Bella tampering with his contracts.

“In the dungeons, kept in stasis, waiting for you. There are more to sort through but these five here were the best of the bunch. I organized for.. Let's call it an early collection of these souls.” Bella purrs, tail curling smugly.

“They should have been left to increase in value. These souls had a lot of potential left.” Raphael growls.

“I know that Raphael, but feeding you the energy from fodder off the market is getting you nowhere, and I will not feed you more of myself, even if I wanted to, Fierna would not allow it. You will simply have to pull as much suffering and misery from these souls as you can, and soon. Apparently Mizora is being sent to harass my door next.” Bella says, crossing his arms, giving the cambion a look that said ‘you should be grateful.’

Raphael sighs, dragging a hand over his face. Mizora would not be cowed like some of Zariel’s other minions, Bella would be unable to turn her away at the door without offending the Archduchess of the First. He groans and tries to bury his face into Bella’s bed, though finds it impossible in his current form.

His current form.

Suddenly, he has an idea.

“How are the mansion's Hunting Grounds Bella?” He asks.

“As well kept as they always are.”

“And your hounds? Your other pets?”

“Healthy, loyal and vicious. Why do you ask?”

Ignoring the aches and pains that twinged across his body, as he had experienced far worse, Raphael gets his arms under him and pushes himself up, arching his spine and stretching out his wings and tail. “Invite Mizora over for afternoon tea, I know exactly how to wring those souls dry.”

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #raphael x oc #c; belladonna darke #mags writes #more thing that appeals to only a small group of people

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