#this was the only solution i got. i think next time ill just leave them HUGE and resize a copy of it

[zeezelweazel]

can you do a h/c alexia fic with a fluffy ending? i don't really have a scenario but ill take anything. and i don't mind whether it's r comforting alexia or alexia comforting r

Alexia Putellas| Not like before|

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I loved this idea and honestly I think it's about time I wrote something other than smut lol

I'm not really proud of how this turned out

TW: Alexia's injury, hurt/comfort

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It's been a year and a few months since the day Alexia tore her ACL. She was doing better, both on and off the field, as you helped her through every step of her recovery. Or so you thought.

You can't remember exactly when you started noticing the signs but you know it's not just you. Mapi, Alba and even some of the staff members alongside some of your other teammates have started to notice a shift in the captain's behaviour. She was spacey and unfocused more often than not, even during training which is something the captain would never allow herself to do. She seemed to be especially nervous and fidgety days before matches, especially the important ones.

What got everyone really worried was her absence from training camp and the last few matches of the nation's league. The team wasn't nervous, they knew they could qualify for the Olympics anyway but Alexia leaving the camp a few hours after she arrived made everyone particularly worried.

You thought this was your chance to finally get to the bottom of this.

It seemed simple in your head but now, when you're standing in front of Alexia's bedroom door, your stomach is clenched tightly and uncomfortably. You gulp down your nerves and decide to finally knock on the door. A few seconds of silence go by and just as you're about to knock again you hear Alexia's voice.

"Come in." Alexia's voice was quiet and tired. You softly opened the door. Alexia was laying on the bed, mindlessly scrolling away on her iPad. She barely looked up from the screen to acknowledge you. Not really knowing how to approach her you sat down next to her. You took a peak at the screen to see a tweeter thread. That was really surprising given that the last thing Alexia likes to do on her free time is scroll on social media.

It's only when you read the comments that you finally understand.

'Alexia isn't playing again? It's probably her knee'

'It's sad how she'll never play at 100% again'

'I miss the old Alexia, she looks scared to play now'

'She used to be the greatest before her injury'

'She was in the peak of her career, now it's all over'

Your heart ached as the comments kept flooding the screen. You can't imagine how Alexia must feel as she reads through them. You don't know if she's noticed you or not but her eyes are glued on the screen. You finally decide to take action, Alexia is stunned when you grab the device out of her hands. She looks at you with an unreadable expression. You decide to place your hand on her back, Alexia doesn't move away but you know that the physical contact does very little to help.

"Ale please, you need to stop looking at these posts. You know how the internet is-"

You couldn't even finish your sentence, Alexia was already up from the bed and moving towards the bedroom door.

"Alexia."

You called out for her but the Catalan was already out of your shared room, leaving you alone and confused to ponder over what you said wrong.

You decide to call Mapi and tell her about what happened with Alexia. The blonde seemed to be very concerned for her best friend after you narrated the incident. Both of you tried to find a solution, a way to talk to Alexia. You have to help her, you can't bear seeing her like this. Not when just a year ago she was running on the pitch like an untamed wind, playing her favourite sport for her dream club and winning every possible trophy.

You knew better than everyone how this injury affected her. You naively thought that after the world cup win she'd immediately be back to her old self. Unfortunately that's not how ACL tears work. Your head is a mess, running at a hundred miles per hour as you desperately try to work a way around this mess.

You throw yourself in training the next few days, hoping that by doing so you'll be able to clear your head. If the rest of the girls have caught on on your distress they don't mention it.

After an exhausting three hour training session you move through the stadium, eager to reach the locker room and pack your stuff to go home. You hear faint sniffles just before you enter and you pause outside of the door. If someone is crying, then something serious must've happened. But then again, you don't know if the person crying wants company right now. Against your better judgement you decide to open the door anyway.

"Hey, wha- Alexia..?"

The blonde abruptly looks up and she hastily wipes the tears from her face, as if that would erase the image of her crying just a few seconds ago. Your heart breaks at the embarrassment that's evident in Alexia's face. She shouldn't feel embarrassed to cry, especially not in front of you. You take a careful step forward and when Alexia doesn't move you continue to approach her. You take her face in your hands and make her look up at you. Your heart breaks at the absolutely defeated look in her eyes.

"Ale... what's wrong? You can talk to me."

Alexia pulls back and sits down on one of the benches. You take the invitation and sit down next to her. You're both quiet for a while but you understand that Alexia needs to collect her thoughts.

"It feels like I'll never play again." You look at Alexia when she finally breaks her silence and you let her continue." Every time I step on the training field it feels pointless, because when I look at the team sheet I'm not even on the bench. And when I do play, I either do horribly or my knee starts acting up immediately after. I'm going to be too old to play by the time I'm fully fit."

You wrapped your arms around Alexia after she finished her rant. To be honest, you didn't really know what to tell her, you were scared that you were going to fuck up but you had to try.

"You can't give up Alexia."

Short, plain, simple and incredibly basic. So basic that you're sure she's heard it a million times before. Still Alexia looks at you and her eyes seem just a little bit brighter.

"Plus you're la reina."

You press a quick kiss on her lips and your heart swells when she smiles.

"The best footballer in the world."

Another kiss.

"The biggest idol in women's football."

Another one.

"And of course, the best girlfriend ever."

Alexia is laughing now, full and happy, as she wraps her arms around you in a tight embrace. You feel like you haven't seen her laugh in forever, the sound bringing a warm feeling to your body.

"Thank you, mi amor."

You brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear and lean in to kiss her once more.

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#wlw #female reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

[hey-its-roseaurum]

Guilty until Proven Innocent-Part I

A/N: Hey everyone. Thank you for taking the time to look at this story. This is for a collaboration with @lainiespicewrites. She is an excellent writer and I figured it was my turn to stretch my writing muscles and put something out into the world. This is my first Henry Cavill fic, so please don't be too harsh. Anyways, enjoy!

Synopsis: After recent murders in town, You (Olivia) decide to train with Edith in the art of self-defense. In the middle of training, you got a mysterious knock on the door. Sherlock walks in, looking for assistance with his latest case. He offers you to partake in a partnership to help him in his latest case? Do you take it?

Warnings: mentions of death

“You’re progressing nicely Olivia.”  Edith smiled from above me, her elbow pinning me to the floor mat.  There wasn’t a hint of sweat along her forehead.  She had taken me down in less than a minute. The worst part was I thought I was going to land a hit on her this time.

”I’m beginning to think that you’re just saying that to soothe my pride”. I rasped out.  She had eased her hold on me and stood up, extending a hand.

”Nonsense.  Look how far you’ve come since you first stepped in these doors.  Pretty soon you’ll be able to hold your ground with me.”  She exclaimed as I grabbed her hand and hoisted myself up.  My back had long since started throbbing.

For the past few weeks, I have been meeting Edith at her office to train and learn self-defense.  Ever since the first girl went missing and was later found dead in the street I hadn’t been able to sleep soundly.  There were constant, nagging thoughts that made me question if I was going to be the next victim.  It had only gotten worse when they found the next girl a week later in the middle of an alleyway that I frequently visited.  Her throat had been cut. 

In London, it was ill-advised for a woman, especially of noble birth, to consider something as trivial as self-defense.  Women are supposed to be soft, elegant, and passive. All of the trouble and responsibility in making decisions was for the men. 

 Being passive and soft didn’t save those girls from their cruel end.

And I wasn’t going to let myself become like them.  I refuse to be the next girl that falls victim to this.  So I went to my dear friend Enola at her detective agency and inquired about a solution to my predicament.  She sent me over to Edith and had me start training the next day.  I’ve been training every day since then.

I’m still not really good at it.

”Did you say the same thing when you were teaching Enola?”  I inquired as I dusted myself off.  Edith only shook her head.

”Not exactly.  Her response was more witty, thanks to her mother.”  Eudoria Holmes, the mother, the fire starter as people liked to call her.  I’ve seen her wanted poster splayed all across London.  But I didn’t see her as a criminal.  I saw her as the woman who saved my life six months ago.

That morning had been cold and bitter.  I remember feeling my fingers grow numb while I huddled against a mailbox.  Its red paint had chipped away at its base, leaving rust behind.

Which was ironic and poetic now that I think back on it.  And let me explain why.

It all started when my father had recently passed from a sickness that left my mother and me penniless.  With no man in the house and no money to our name, we were cast out of society.  My mother and I were thrown out and the estate that I called my home.   It was sold to another noble family in the south.

We lived off the street after that.  My mother, using what knowledge she had of needlework, had acquired a job as an assisted seamstress.  I was left to salvage whatever pity people gave me and half-rotten food from dumpsters.

Eventually, we were able to afford a small cottage on the outskirts of town.  It was small, run-down, and often had a damp smell to it.  Mother didn’t like to be there for a long period.  She claimed it was because she was so busy with her duties to the seamstress that she didn’t have time to spend there.  I think it was because she missed her life at the estate and living in this small broken cottage was too much for her to bear.

That morning six months ago I decided to go into town to fill my water bucket and get bread before it got too crowded.  When I got there, I sat down by the mailbox to wait for the bakery to open.  I was particularly annoyed when I saw a lot of people around this early in the morning.

I was watching a man get onto a carriage when something shifted from the corner of my eye.  It had been a man, or what I thought was a man walking towards me with a package in their hand.  When we made eye contact I didn’t think anything of it.  I just watched them and noted how stiff they walked. They placed the package in the slot of the mailbox.  Before I knew it, I was grabbed by the elbow, hoisted upright, and pulled away from the mailbox.  

That mailbox exploded, releasing a whirlwind of fliers into the air.

The two of us had run from the police.  I was forced to since they refused to let go of my hand.  We ran until this stranger knew that they weren't being followed.  

When things settled down, the man revealed that they were a woman in disguise.  She introduced herself as Eudoria Holmes and then proceeded to lecture me about being near explosives as if she were my own mother.  All I had wanted to do was bite back, to lecture her on how she shouldn’t be putting explosives where there were people.

Instead, I broke down, not from her lecturing but because of something I couldn’t quite place. All I knew was that I was waiting for a soggy piece of bread and nearly got blown up.

In the end, I told her everything.  I told her my past, my current situation, and why I was even in town in the first place.  One thing kind of led to another.  The next thing I knew I was sitting in Eudoria’s house with a cup of tea in my hand.

I stayed in that damp cottage less and less as time passed and more at Eudoria’s warm, often chaotic home.  That’s where I became friends with Enola, had briefly met her two brothers Sherlock and Mycroft, and felt somewhat happy.  

I don’t know why she pulled me away from that mailbox.  The one time I asked her she said she saw something in me, some sort of fire in my eye.  She didn’t want it to go out along with the mailbox.

I didn’t believe her, but I couldn’t tell that to her.

“So what you’re trying to say is that I still have a long way to go,” I asked as my brain jumped back to the present.  I stepped away from the mat and made my way into her office.

”What I’m saying is you’re doing better than you think you are.  You just began learning.  Give yourself a little credit.”  Following me, she made her way to the table by the window.  A stack of teacups were messily stacked up to one side.  She grabbed two, placed them on saucers, and poured liquid into both.  

“I know.  I’m just…worried.  It’s been a week since the last victim was found and the police still haven’t found the suspect.”  I let out a sigh and sipped some of my tea.  I needed a moment to choose my words carefully.  “I just want to be…prepared.”

A heavy pause filled the air before either of us spoke.  

”Olivia…there’s more to that, isn’t there?” Edith’s words were soft and gentle.

“I mean I-“. My response was sharply cut short.

A knock pulled our attention away from our conversation and to the door.  A tall man entered from the training room and to Edith’s office.  I couldn’t place if he looked tall because of his size, or because of the giant top hat sitting snugly on top of his head.  Dark wavy strands of hair peaked through from under his hat. 

”Have you any sense what time it is?”  Edith interrogated, crossing her arms.  The man took off his hat, revealing thick brown locks.  His sculpted jawline and nose complimented the hair.  Blue, mesmerizing eyes glanced around, investigating.

But the feature that I recognized right away from him was his shoulders.  I knew those shoulders.

”Hello, Edith” His attention briefly shot to me “Olivia”  I curtly nodded, averting my eyes.

”Good evening Mr. Holmes.”  I responded softly.  “With what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” Holmes.  Sherlock Holmes.  One of Enola’s older brothers. One of the greatest detectives I’ve ever seen.

”There’s no need for formalities Olivia.”  I felt something warm begin to grow on my cheeks at his response.  He’s only being polite Olivia.  We are only acquaintances because of Enola and Eudoria.  He doesn’t like you like that.

Or does he?  

I’m not sure.

Sherlock Holmes is a difficult man to understand.

“What are you here for Sherlock?”  Edith asked again, harsher this time.  Her tone quickly pulled me back to the present and away from my thoughts.  

Sherlock cleared his throat, his blue eyes revealing some sort of inner turmoil within himself.  It was an unusual amount of emotion that I was not used to seeing.  I expected it with Mycroft, he practically wore his emotions on his face at all times.  Sherlock never did.  He’s always been composed, and proper.  Before me now he still was, but a layer of some sort had been chipped away.

”I….need your help.”  He struggled to say the words like it was almost painful to him.  A moment of silence clung in the air.  

”Is it about Enola?   Did she get herself into trouble?”  There was a hint of concern in Edith’s voice when she begged the questions.  The only response he gave was a small shake of his head. I watched as realization flashed on her face. 

”There’s something about this case-“. 

”That deduction cannot solve?”  Edith finished his thought.  He slightly nodded, setting his hat down on her desk.  That was my cue. I softly placed my teacup down and made my way to the table by the window.  I began making some tea for Sherlock while listening to the conversation.

”I may need your…skills to get information from a place I cannot enter.”

“What kind of place?”  He listed off a name that I didn’t recognize.  Edith’s face slightly reddened.

”A showgirl theatre?! You cannot ask me such a thing Sherlock, no matter how close we are.”  My eyebrows raised as I grabbed a cup and saucer and poured some tea into the cup.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t have another option.  A woman’s life is at stake.” His tone was calm, but there was something else there.

”But going into this with the possibility of getting murdered is not something I’m comfortable with.  Woman’s freedom and rights is one thing, going after a serial killer is a whole other matter entirely”

”Edith, I-“. I cut them off.

”I’ll do it.  I’ll go instead of you.”  In their arguing, I had made my way back to the two of them, Sherlock's tea in hand.  I had left mine behind.

”Olivia, do you know what kind of place that is, what situations you can get into.  You’re nowhere near ready to hold your ground”. What she said was like a punch to the gut.  

I knew I wasn’t ready, we had that same conversation not thirty minutes ago.  But I knew that if Edith went and something bad had happened to her Enola and Eudoria would be devastated.  I was different.  If I went and something happened to me, Edith would still be here training more girls like me.

”Who else is going to do it?  Enola?  She’s not expendable. I am.  And Edith, what about the other girls you train?” I took a breath, the stubbornness in me growing. “Besides, I know these streets better than anyone.  I’ve lived in them.  I know where to go in case I’m being followed.   And because of the way I look,”. I paused briefly looking down at myself, at my curvy, plump figure.  “No one would suspect me.  They would just see me as a showgirl trying to make ends meet.  I can blend in, go undercover, and get the information that he needs in order to catch this murderer.”

A heavy pause hung between the three of us.

I let what I said sink into the two of them.  I know that Edith is fighting with herself on whether she can let me go.  She believes that I am her responsibility, and I kind of was while Eudoria was undercover.  But since starting to learn to defend myself I told myself that I couldn’t sit and wait.  Sitting and worrying about who the next victim is going to drive me crazy.  If I can help and make a difference, then maybe the suspect will be caught before there’s more tragedy.  

”I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to her.”  Sherlock’s voice broke the silence and my inner thoughts.  “You have my word.”  His eyes met mine at his.  I felt something else there besides the promise.   Edith sighed,  rubbing her temples with both her index fingers.

“Okay, Sherlock.  Just…make sure she comes back in one piece.”   Edith finally concurred.  “You’re going to have to speak to your mother if you don’t.”

A smile tugged at my lips at the agreement.  I finally raised the cup of tea, offering it to him.    

”When do we start?”

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading. If you want to read @lainiespicewrites story about Paul Atreides from the Dune Sage, here is her link: https://www.tumblr.com/lainiespicewrites/747032352877903872/the-atreides-era?source=share

#writers on tumblr #female writers #enola 2 #sherlock fandom #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #Sherlock holmes x oc #henry sherlock #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x female reader #sherlock holmes imagine #first story #sherlock fanfic #fandom #fandom community #fanfic #smut #writers and poets #my writing #part 1 #henry cavill shoulders #henry shoulders #enola holmes imagine

[olivyh]

More format-less hc

So I tested positive for covid shortly after senior prom (which my school said was like the super spreader), and have been feeling like garbage since monday, so have an angsty hc/thought

TW: Mentions of illness, death if you squint and uhh tuna ig bc things go better in threes

Since Yuu is from another world with different diseases, they’re no equipped for the different viruses that can go around twst. This means that a common cold for yuu, since their body isnt used to it, could hurt them much, much more than it would hurt a person native to twisted wonderland. They dont have the natural immunity that everyone else has.

Imagine Adeuce making fun of yuu for falling sick over something that everyone gets as a kid, brushing it off and going about their day. they start to get worried when yuu doesnt show up to class the next few days, which turns into a week. crewel (since we all know crowley isnt doing much) takes them to the infirmary and, without any barriers to magic, magical solutions do nothing for them. that week turns into a month, and that month turns into two. The students don’t know what to do, the dorm heads are scrambling to find a solution because without yuu’s help, nrc has fallen into the disarray that it was before they got there.

the first years don’t care, they snap at their seniors and spend every available moment by yuu’s side. they still host their study sessions, just in the infirmary rather than the library. they still talk to their friend, even if their friend hasnt woken up since that first week. ace wishes he hadnt made that joke, he thinks its his fault that yuu fell so ill. he cursed them, he thinks. deuce tries every single of his mothers remedies, and laments every time they dont work. jack leaves the finished notes and schoolwork by their bed, and he feels a part of him sink whenever he sees how large the pile had gotten- so large that he had to move part of it to the floor. epel talks to yuu as if they can listen, pacing back and forth and ranting who knows what, mostly vils still-strict skincare regime (although he uses those same techniques on yuu, when he notices that they look particularly….gaunt, and pale. he doesnt want them to look like a ghost anymore). sebek can only stand and stare at what used to be his first friend besides silver. he’d known that full humans can get terribly ill, and that fae recover much faster than most species, but seeing it in person sends a chill down his spine. he returns to diasomnia in silence for the first time. grim is inconsolable, refusing to leave his dormleaders side even when offered the most expensive tuna there is, even when bribed and pulled at. he only ever leaves to take care of the dorm, which shocks the rest of the student body. the tanuki claims that he absolutely has ti keep the dorm clean or yuu will be upset with him. in reality, he cant stand to look at their sickened face anymore.

or malleus, spending every moment yuus other friends arent there by their side, quietly telling them stories from his homeland or trying his best to help them magically, but even he knows theres not much he can do without hurting them more. visitors soon notice little things among the gifts, small flowers, intricate jewelry (that is, jewelry that is much different than the gifts from the dormleader al-asim), small statues and books, and… who left a used “gao-gao dragon-kun” toy?

if they do wake up, the rest of campus will never take their presence for granted again, nor will they ever be alone ever again.

if they dont, i mean hey, ghosts exist in twisted wonderland! (really trying to bring the mood up here guys)

this turned out a ton more sad than i wanted it to, and i made myself sad, so im gonna go get myself a popsicle and skip

more of my online classes

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland headcannons #twst angst #twisted wonderland angst #twst yuu #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #malleus draconia #grim twst

[faeiapalette]

LEAVE AYATO ALONE.

Y’all only focus on what’s bad about him, yeah yeah it was his fault but you are neglecting his struggles too. If you don’t like his stans or character, then stop seeking for attention posting those stupid opinions online that do no good.

Ayato deserves to be the main guy of DL and if you don’t like it then go cry in a corner. Everyone did bad stuff but be fucking for real Ayato is the Sakamaki who was always the most helpful and never gave up on anyone and he redeemed himself the fastest out of everyone else.

The fact so many people are defending him doesn’t make those people toxic and maybe not even all of them are Ayato stans, have you thought of it? He’s a good boy who tries his best to protect everyone close to him and has such a heart of gold that forgives all his enemies but suuuuure let’s quickly forget about those details. Not to mention he’s the only one out of his bros who actually got balls lul

You’re a fucking Laito stan and dare to talk ill about AYATO? He was Laito’s saviour in Lost Eden, have you forgot it?

Nah girl, if you really want to be different, then start with keeping your mouth shout because spreading so much hate about a character that is loved for good reasons will make you toxic too.

I never said i don’t value his struggle. 🤨 Again (sighhhhh. I don’t know how many time i have to tell yall that I. Just. Shared. A. Different. Perspective. From. Yall. ‘S. And that EVERYONE ELSE is at fault, but he’s at fault too. Saying that doesn’t mean i hate him? 😅 Yall are putting words in my mouth again. His struggles are value? Yes. Absolutely. But how about all the other people struggling everyday, tiptoeing around him because their lifes are being threatened, and the whole clan’s future being threatened? Dude literally blew up the whole place bc of a brother quarrel. Not the brother quarrel that wounded his sibblings, it’s the ones before that. So his brothers aren’t worth one cent? The clan doesn’t matter?

Second of all. I don’t seek attention 🤨? I just posted my opinion then yall jump in? It’s yall who think i “seek attention”, not me.

Third. “He deserves” doesn’t mean “he is”. I gave yall a solution that doesn’t make the 12 other boy’s routes extras or not as important as Ayato and yall be mad at me? 🤨 Another fair declaration being assumed into “discrediting Ayato” huh.

Next. By that logic, back then if a lot of people saying that the earth is the center of the universe, they aren’t wrong. So why are we believing in Galilleo’s solar system rn? And about what makes them “toxic”, haven’t some of the ask mentioned that? That they couldn’t say anything bc yall will assume things about them and attack them?

Oh and. His thoughts and wills, indeed, indicate that he wants to protect people. Though some of his actions said otherwise. He pushed people away? Insulted them? If you’re using his mindset as a scale for “golden heart”, please include all-of-his-actions too. Oh and did we have a talk about toxic forgiveness?

“Savior”. That’s a big word. Again, he was having intention of “saveing Laito”, but did he, successfully, save him? No? Then don’t call him Laito’s savior then. Use “He has good intentions” instead.

Finally! Am i the toxic one for saying the truth, or is it this community the toxic one, for assuming, attacking, entitling, force-feeding people and make them sit in a mold? By that logic, again, if being different means that i have to keep my mouth shut, then all of us queers should have shut our mouth and let people walk on us for eternity, don’t you mean?

#Diabolik lovers #Anon ask

[smileygoth]

23. Can Vampires Feel Love? (Vamptober 2022)

Find the full list of chapters here.

Back in the pack's haven, Jazz has a heart-to-heart with herself.

CW: Mental illness themes, brief mention of sex and mutilation. Not much this time.

Word count: 1,025 words.

Image by Megan Andrews on Unsplash.

Back in the shelter of the warehouse, Jazz curled up on the dirty mattress that was their bed and tried not to think. This proved difficult, however, since her thoughts were no longer entirely her own.

Don't you go disassociating on me, you little coward. You signed up for this, remember?

"How could I forget when you keep reminding me," she muttered under her breath.

It's kind of my job to keep you aware, you know. You don't really have the luxury of being able to disappear into your own brain any more. I mean, look where it's got you. Stuck in some crazy vampire devil cult where they turn people into clothes and slaughter buildings full of people for fun. How the hell they get away with it I have no idea, but for now be grateful they do, since you're one of them.

"I'm not one of them," Jazz argued.

No? Excuse me, but I'm pretty fucking sure that's exactly what that little blood ritual in the bar was about. You agreeing to be one of them.

"But I didn't know."

Well, you do now. Bit late now, though, isn't it? What exactly did that ritual do? Do you even know that?

Jazz had a fair idea. Since she had drunk the combined blood of the pack from that goblet, she'd felt a subtle but definite bond to them all. Nothing dramatic - not yet, anyway - but she felt a clear inclination toward staying with them. Otherwise, would she be here on this gross mattress, listening to Donna and Magnus screwing on the other side of the warehouse while Lucas chatted with Carl and Cat like it wasn't happening? She could have found somewhere else. A bed and breakfast bathtub would have been preferable to this. Or the boot of a stolen car. And yet she was here. 

You sure that's the blood? Not just you being too scared to leave Lucas? Or too bonded to him?

She thought about it. It had only been a few nights, so it was hard for her to tell. But she didn't think she'd felt as close to Lucas since the Vaulderie as she had felt before it. He'd gone out without her once - 'hunting' with Carl and Grease - and she hadn't felt the pull, even though they'd been gone for hours. She'd fed from him that night too, since she'd neglected to go out and feed herself, and it hadn't felt as ... intimate. It was still good - really good - but not the same. 

It's fading, isn't it? Your bond to Lucas? Guess you can't be bonded to the pack and him at the same time.

She presumed that if they stayed they'd have to do the Vaulderie again, and her bond to the pack would increase while her bond to Lucas disappeared. She had mixed feelings about that. She didn't want to be bound to the pack - hell, she didn't really even want to be bound to Lucas, or anybody. She still loved him - at least she thought she did - but she was very aware that her love had been forced from her by the blood bond. And the Vaulderie was the first thing that had seemed to have an effect on her bond to Lucas. A bond she'd given up on breaking.

So what's the plan? Get yourself bound to this lot instead? You'll still be stuck with him, only you'll be stuck with them too. It's not a solution - it's the fire, and you're in the frying pan.

"So why don't you suggest something, instead of just being a sarcastic bitch?" Jazz snapped.

There's the Jazz I remember, the Voice said smugly. Fine. I suggest you cut and run now, while both the bonds are weak. You let either of them get any stronger and you'll be trapped just like you were before.

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Voices playing up again?"

Jazz looked up to see Lucas looking down at her, holding the curtain aside in one hand. She sat up slowly. "Was I being loud?"

"No," Lucas replied, sitting down next to her. "I only heard you when I came over. You okay?"

He looked at her with such concern that she felt like crying. Instead she straightened her shoulders and met his gaze head-on. "I want to leave," she said quietly, so no one would overhear.

Lucas frowned. "Jazz, I know it's been a rough night -"

"That is the biggest understatement of the century," Jazz interrupted. "We literally watched one of them turn a man into an outfit and wear him, Lucas."

Lucas swallowed and nodded, dropping his gaze. "I know."

"We cannot stay here."

"... I know."

She paused. "You do?"

"Yeah. But I don't know how to get us out of this either." His voice was weak, ashamed. "I've really fucked up here, Jazz. I'm trying like hell to act like it's all okay, so they don't suspect us, but ..."

She reached out for his hand as he trailed off. "Well, you had me fooled." He looked up, and she gave him a small smile. "Look," she said. "I don't know how we're going to get out of this either. But will you promise me that if either of us see a chance, we'll take it?"

Lucas frowned. "It'll be dangerous," he said. "They'll kill us if they catch us."

"So what's new? Everyone seems to want to kill us."

Lucas chuckled bitterly. "I guess so."

"So if I run, will you come with me?"

Lucas looked at her for a long time. "Yeah," he said eventually. "Of course I will."

What are you doing? the Voice screamed. This is the perfect opportunity to get away from him!

If I leave him here, Jazz replied silently, They'll kill him.

So what? Good fucking riddance! 

I'm not leaving him to die!

Why not? Because you love him? How do you even know if that love is real and not just the blood bond? How do you even know that you're capable of feeling real love any more?

Jazz closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Shut up, she thought. 

The Voice turned sulky. Fine. Do what you want. There was a pause, then it offered one final thought: It's our funeral.

#vamily #vampire the masquerade #vampire #vampirism #dark pack #world of darkness #vtm #vamptober #malkavian #sabbat vtm #sabbat

[sagescully]

01/09/2022

TW: trauma, depression, self-harm, substance abuse, eating disorders and unaliving attempts.

So... in my last (and only) text post on this blog, I mentioned that I was experiencing some depression, but I wasn't unhappy.

Update: I'm unhappy. Desperately so.

Depression is an absolute mindfuck. Tack on all of the comorbidities, all of the extra conditions and troubles and broken bits, and you've got a behemoth of a monster sitting atop your shoulders, encumbering you to the point that your legs crumple beneath you, leaving you to drag yourself and your trauma/depression monster inch by inch with bloodied fingers.

The last time I experienced a mind this dark was around six years ago, before I moved in with my now-fiancée. So... that's frightening.

It's mind-blowing how life can go to such a dark place in so little time. The last time I wrote was in November of last year. Things were rough, but manageable. A month after I wrote that post (to the day, actually), everything started to go to shit. I've had the year from hell and I don't even know how I'm still here... but I am.

I'm tired.

Exhausted, actually, but there's a microscopic spark of... not optimism, but dare I suggest 'hope'? That's not quite right either, but there's something. A tiny spark. It's there, I swear.

Despite everything, I feel like I have a clearer understanding of my own mind at the moment. It's a wild and tangled mess of a forest in there, but I'm figuring it out, forging paths through the thicket: paths to understanding my neurodivergent brain, paths to understanding how to tackle my trauma, paths to treating my physical disabilities... lots of paths. Too many, maybe, but I don't have to follow them all at once. I mean, I can't follow them all at once. I only have two legs and one body.

I've lost the metaphor. That's okay.

Essentially, I'm workshopping this shit. At 31 years old. Better late than never. I always tell myself that there's no timeline on recovering from a lifetime of trauma and mental fuckery, but that doesn't stop my mind from becoming overwrought thinking about how I'm 'running out of time'. There are so many things I want to do in my life, but I spent my first two decades being physically and emotionally abused, undiagnosed and untreated; the next decade was spent in varying states of mental illness. At my worst, I was experiencing severe hallucinations and delusions, self-harming, not eating (or throwing up what I did eat), abusing a number of substances and attempting to unalive myself (hi, hello, I was unsuccessful).

Add an untreated neurodivergent brain and chronic pain onto this and you can see my predicament.

Thankfully, I've not been back at that point for a long time, but I can feel it on the edges of my consciousness. Voices in the middle of the night, an increase in panic attacks, flashes of something threatening out the corner of my eye, the desperate urge to hurt myself, just so that I can experience those moments of all-encompassing and strangely soothing distraction... the thoughts of, 'It would be better for everybody if I just wasn't here.' I hate those thoughts the most, but it's impossible to avoid them at the moment.

I don't want to die, but... some days, I can't see any other solution. Thankfully, my desperate desire to stay alive and to spend the rest of my life with my partner keeps me here.

What frightens me is that I know that the switch can be flipped like that. What switch? You know, the one that flips from 'I don't want to die but I think about it sometimes' to 'fuck, there's nothing I want more than to die'. IYKYK.

So... yeah. I need to get on top of that. Nip that shit in the bud. Seasonal affective disorder is on the horizon, so I need to have as many things in place before that monster climbs on top of my regular depression monster. The stronger I am and the more tools I have at my disposal, the more capable I'll be of carrying myself and those assholes. I'm not aiming to defeat them right now. I just want to make it to spring in one piece, mostly, and I can do that by starving them as much as I can.

Anyway, I've rambled enough. I don't even know if anyone will read this, but I've been terrible at being consistent with journalling lately. Maybe I'll be better at keeping up with a blog.

Also, being back on tumblr really feeds into my nostalgia kick.

If you've read this and you're not me, then *high five*.

#thoughts #depression #trauma #ptsd #cptsd #adhd #adult adhd #neurodivergent #recovery #mental health #healing

[yourturntosimp]

hey hey! can i have yan shin x reader general hcs?

A/N: it's rlly crazy how all my motivation to post and write comes to me in the middle of chem ANYWAYS here's your hacker boy, again, a long post as apology for taking so long to get around to formatting and posting it, actually had more fun than i was expecting writing this one <33 TWs: local hacker man refuses to acknowledge that he’s down bad, e-stalking, kidnapping, toxic behaviours, communication issues, mention of bad self-care, mentions of strangulation

💻 ok so i'm not trying to say he's an unstable yandere

💻 but if he got fed up to a certain extent, he would in fact choke you out and then apologize when you wake up-

💻 this man

💻 touch starved, i tell you

💻 i preach the truth, and this is such

💻 dude if you just give him like

💻 one good hug, i think he would start crying-

💻 like i'm not saying his childhood was like bad or anything, bc in-canon his parents seem great

💻 but like?????? yk?????

💻 what i'm trying to say is that this boy is way too out of touch with genuine emotions and the concepts surrounding them

💻 so you just know this is gonna go well-

💻 at first he's like

💻 "no. ew. get away. shoo, go" bc

💻 you're making him feel all warm and fuzzy and he doesn't like that-

💻 like i think he would. actively try to get you killed????? if this was during the death game????

💻 i mean. easiest way to get rid of your problems is to get them killed in an awful deathtrap, amiright?

💻 [insert cricket sound effect, accompanied by ill-timed bad 80s laughtrack]

💻 so he acts like he absolutely loathes your presence

💻 like he goes to the point of leaving the fucking room if you're in it-

💻 and tbf, he actually does think he hates you for a while-

💻 until one day he's just. ranting to kanna about this exact topic

💻 and she just.

💻 "do you...like them?"

💻 and shin damn near combusts

💻 he just immediately starts rebuking her, to the point where she just starts giving him the "yep, sure, whatever you say man" treatment-

💻 and after that he just

💻 has to completely reframe his psyche

💻 ",,,,,do i like them???"

💻 spoiler: the answer is yes-

💻 so not only does he now have to deal with liking you, he has to deal with knowing that he likes you

💻 yall are rlly a slowburn enemies to lovers 250k word ao3 fic idk what to tell you-

💻 he would rather literally fucking die than outright be like "hey. i like you, go out with me" for

💻 many reasons-

💻 not only does he not understand any of this as well as he’d like to, it's also a matter of pride

💻 and if he admits it first, he loses

💻 and he is not about to lose-

💻 so the logical solution?

💻 well, he starts out with just cyber-stalking you

💻 it's just small things at first, like occasional checks

💻 and then that evolves into him having a constant tab on your social media and interpersonal relationships, full background searches,,,,

💻 but eventually, that's not enough either

💻 so what's the next step?

💻 kidnapping of course!

💻 of course it's kidnapping, it's always kidnapping--

💻 he's not particularly concerned about being careful about it

💻 all he needs are no witnesses, right?

💻 and he'd rather not deal with the hassle of getting and properly dosing chloroform, so...

💻 yeah, crazy how you can just be on a walk in the afternoon and then it turns out there’s some dude waiting around the corner a few feet ahead of you with a heavy rock-

💻 the next time you wake up you're in an unfamiliar apartment

💻 your day's going great so far, right--

💻 so you're trying to look around while you're completely restrained and shin's just-

💻 sitting in the gd corner watching the entire time HBGFDFGH

💻 he'll eventually explain to you that he's kidnapped you to make you go out with him

💻 but also he does not know how feelings work so could you also be his therapist for him ok thanks <3

💻 please do not look forward to the living conditions too much--

💻 he'll give you the couch, he is keeping his bed until both of you are comfy enough to be within 2 feet of eachother without running away or attempted murder-

💻 the food variety,,,,,ehhh,,,

💻 he's described as frail so

💻 i'd imagine his diet isn't the best--

💻 it's a cycle between cup noodles and fast food

💻 and if you count the total number of times he forgoes eating for something more productive,,,

💻 he is willing to cook more often if you bring it up!

💻 his eating habits aren't changing, i'm sorry but if he deems himself as too busy then he's not taking a single bite--

💻 has no clue how a healthy romantic relationship works

💻 so chances are, he's either barely communicating with you, or he's just infodumping all of his problems on the table, sliding them over to you in a neat little pile, and saying "ok fix it pls"-

💻 you can explain it over and over and over again, it's one or the other, no gray area

💻 if you tell him to be more communicative? play therapist for him

💻 if you tell him "uh no bestie ths not communication"? so he's bothering you when you interact and he should limit talking with you, right?

💻 uh,,,,,,,yeah--

💻 it would be best for your own safety if you just

💻 say you love him

💻 it's very possible and definitely 100% likely that if you go "uh,,,,dude idk what you're on, im not interested pls js let me go" at any point in time he'll take this as you outright refusing him as a person

💻 so he'll like

💻 idk, maybe the next day, come back, let you go

💻 come up with some bs excuse of "i'm rlly sorry, alot's happened in my life recently, idk where my head is, i'll try to talk to someone about this professionally" etc etc

💻 so you think you're fine for a while

💻 until everyone you start getting close with mysteriously starts disappearing

💻 and you're back in his apartment a few months later

💻 by all means, confront him about this literally happening a couple months ago

💻 the difference here is that this time, you have nobody else to run back to :DDD

💻 but it's fine, right?

💻 you have free housing, free food, he can even take you out to shop if you want

💻 you don't have to work, don't have to clean

💻 you don't even have to love him

💻 all you have to do is pretend, and he's just fine with that

💻 all you need to do is tell him that you love him too, and nobody has to get hurt <3

#zuzu writes #shin tsukimi #yttd shin #headcanons #yandere yttd #yandere #tw yandere #gn reader #yttd #your turn to die #kimi ga shine #kimi ga shine x reader #your turn to die x reader #kgs #kgs x reader #yttd x reader

[oshicakes]

when your classmates tease you with other guy

pairings. kageyama tobio x reader, suna rintaro x reader, kenma kozume x reader

genre. fluff

an. to anon, this is your request. hope you'll like it hehe. its kinda long, im sorry sksksks have a nice day!

other: shirabu and futakuchi, kunimi and hoshiumi, sakusa and oikawa, miya twins, aone and yamaguchi, konoha and semi

Kageyama Tobio

your relationship with him is still new, like a weeks. so not a lot of people knew about it.

it was a fine day when someone from the other section confessed to you infront of your classmates.

it was embarassing, to the point you don't know what to do. the guy made you accept the letter he gave you and ran away.

leaving you alone with your teasing classmated and the knowing look of some students from other section and year.

you didn't miss the look that kageyama have when your eyes met with his. he knew that guy who confessed to you, it's his classmate.

althroughout the class, he stared intently at the guy's back. if looks can kill, that guy's already dead by now.

in your case, everyone around you is teasing you. you already told them about having a boyfriend, it's kageyama.

"stop lying, y/n. we just went to karaoke last week and you said you're single. besides we didn't hear about him courting you or even confessing, he's only interested in volleyball, so it's impossible."

you're really offended with what they said about him but instead of arguing with them, you just keep your mouth shut.

it's been three days, and you are forced to accept the love letter within those days. at the same time, kageyama's really in the foul mood. his teammates talked to you about this. so you came up to the solution of talking to the guy even if he ran away gain.

"can we talk, please?" you talked to him. he vigorously nodded and followed you until you reach a more peaceful surroundings. you also didn't miss the knowing looks and the teases that were thrown at you by your classmates.

"im sorry, but i can't accept your confession. i already have a boyfriend."

he just stand there with now a blank face. "but you took the letter i made."

"you forced it in my hand then ran away before i could reject you."

"just one date, y/n. then i'll leave you alone." he desperately said.

"im really sorry, i can't do that."

before anything could happen, a ball hit his back. it was not hard and not that soft too, just enough to make him flinch away from him.

you we're about to check on him when someone grab your wrist. it was kageyama. wearing a scary aura around him. "what do you think you're doing with my girlfriend?"

"k-kageyama? he's your boyfriend, y/n?"

"yes, got a problem with that?" he said. "if you don't have anything to say, go home. leave y/n alone or else you'll get to taste another spike on you. but this time its more harder and it'll land on your face."

the guy was about to say something when kageyama glared at him then the guy just walked away. it was weird but it somehow relieved you. "are you okay? are you hurt?"

"im okay, tobio."

"ill walk you home."

"okay. but please refrain from hitting someone with that ball. i know how powerful you are."

"i won't promise you anything, y/n."

"tobio." you said in a warning tone.

"okay, okay." he surrendered. you kiss his cheeks as a thank you for somehow saving you. he blushed profusely. see, he's a cute litol bean.

the next day, the news about you and kageyama spread around your class and his class. all day, kageyama just wear his smirking but scary but still smirking beacuse of happiness face.

Suna Rintarou

your relationship was a secret, to spare you to the chaotic twin. he doesn't want you to be bothered by them. although you told your classmates that you're in a relationship with your mom's friend's son, which is true.

knowing that you're taken, they didn't stop shipping you with your classmate who always talks to you.

ofcourse, you denied and said you have a boyfriend but they keep on teasing the both of you. it lasted like two weeks and each day, you just want to shout to them to stop.

welp, you didn't know that this day would come. he eventually spread that your his lover now.

it you confronted him infront of your classmates. although he whispered to you that he was just messing around and he just see you as a friend. which made you sigh in relief.

you tried to make him stop with what he's doing but he cut you off and laughed. he pulled you next to him. "come on, y/n. just play along with this. look how funny their faces are." he whispered to you. "sorry, my girlfriend is a not in the mood."

"she's your what?" a voice coming from your behind. oh no, you know that voice. you glance behind you and saw your boyfriend standing there. the guy face him and made you too.

"she's my girlfriend." he confidently said, he even put his arms around your shoulder.

his eyes are now menacing, jaw clenched and fist are closed tightly. you gulped because of that. "really? if you're y/n's boyfriend, then did you know that i slept at their house yesterday? y/n cooked me a breakfast, also prepared a bento for me, and we kissed before coming here."

the guy and your classmates we're speechless, like their mouths and eyes are literally wide open. you mentally face palmed, and you could also feel your face heat up.

he grabbed you away from the guy and claim you infront of them by encircling his arms around my waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. he even kissed your cheeks.

"don't claim other's girlfriend, got that? you're lucky we're not in the gym or else a ball will hit you directly on your face."

after that, he held your hands and walked away from your classmates. before the both of you could get away completely, the twins and some of his teammates blocked the way. "oh great."

"damn! you have a cute girlfriend and you didn't even bother to tell us?" osamu said.

in the end, both of you got cornered by his teammates and made you answer their questions and listen to their rants for an hour. while you classmates specially the guy keep on apologizing to you and him. you assure them that it's okay, but don't do it again.

"stop using your phone, y/n. give me your attention."

"okay, okay. what do you want to do?"

"sleep." then he pulled you and made you lay beside him and locked you between his arms.

Kenma Kozume

both of you never intended to make it a secret, it's more like you date privately. you know.

you don't know if your classmates know that you and kenma are a couple. but you mostly hang out whenever it's break and lunch along with the other volleyball players.

it was a usual day where your classmates invited you to play with them in a game called valorant. and your in kenma's house.

the game ended after a few rounds. they keep pairing you up with this boy in your class. they keep teasing you with him like, "you two have a good chemistry in this, why don't you just date", "you'd be a great duo!"

it happens that the issue was brought to your class, now all of your classmates tease the both of you to each other.

you explained that you already have a boyfriend, but they acted like didn't hear you, instead they said that "oh really! he's your boyfriend, y/n?!" now, you don't know if they misheard it or they're just being dumb. it goes on for weeks.

you're in kenma's house once again. both of you are playing when that guy invited you to play. so you accepted, you tag kenma along.

as the game was going, your classmate that was playing too keep on teasing the both of you. they didn't know that your boyfriend can here them. you looked at him and you can't read his face.

however, who ever tease you with that guy, they end up being dead. the game ends, your team wins thanks to kenma but what shook you was, "hey, y/n. would you mind going out with me?"

"im sorry but i have a boyfriend already."

"it's just a date and he wouldn't know about it." he already know! he's beside me looking intently on the screen and his grip on the mouse are tight, you wanted to say to him.

kenma muted his and your mic. "tell him you'd agree but in one condition, he needs to win against you. 1v1. and if he lose tell him to get lost. but ill play it instead of you." then he umute your mic.

his brows we're almost meeting, waiting for you to say it. you cleared your throat. "ill agree of you win against me in a 1v1 game."

"sure!" that made them shout and cheer. kenma pushed your chair and move his infront of your pc.

the game ended with kenma winning the game. "one more time, y/n. ill be serious this time." the guy said. you looked at kenma and he just nodded. "okay."

and again, kenma won. "hey, uhm.. are you serious about it, y/n? you know we can still go out if you want."

this time kenma answered him. "you lose, so get lost! don't bother my girlfriend anymore." after that he disconnected.

"kozume." you caressed his arms when you saw how he grip his mouse tightly. "calm down, please. even if you lose or win, i wouldn't dare to date him. i love you, okay?"

he faced you and buried his face on your chest. "im sorry, i lost my cool. he just got into my nerves." you're now caressing his soft hair. "its okay. let's eat dinner at my house, mom made something for us."

the next day he walked you to your class which is new to you but you have a hint on what's going on with his mind. it's a great timing that the guy opened the door so he saw you kissing kenma's cheeks. you instantly pulled away.

"you're the one i defeated yesterday, right?" he looked at the boy. "before you date and steal y/n away from me, make sure you're strong enough to win against me, got that?"

everyone went silent, including your classmates. he looked inside your classroom. "enablers." then looked at you. "wait for me later, okay? mom's home so she wants to see you. see you later."

after that he walked to his class which is just next to yours. he glared one more time at the guy before going in.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama x reader #kageyama headcanons #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #suna headcanons #kenma kozume x reader #kenma x reader #kenma headcanons

[sarcasmandships]

yellow | paul lahote

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

word count: 3.8k

angst, hurt + minimal comfort

trigger warnings: eating disorder, death, hospital/medical scene, vomit

paul imprinted on y/n nearly a year ago, it wasn’t something he ever wanted. in fact, he tried so hard to fight the imprint at first that he made himself ill.

paul was only just beginning to learn that he couldn’t fight off every problem he encountered. imprinting on y/n had been a harsh awakening for him, and he knew now that he couldn’t punch and kick his way through life.

that didn’t stop him trying though, he stared at the hole he’d just created in the dry wall of his bedroom. he was going to have to buy another poster.

“paul, are you still there?” y/n’s voice was muffled through the phone which lay face down on his bed, “i heard a bang.”

and paul could hear her concern so he snatched the phone and held it up to his ear, “yeah i’m still here don’t worry,” he sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“okay...” she said uncertainly, “are you alright?”

he was clenching his fists, his jaw, and every other muscle in his body, “yeah, yeah i’m fine,” he said, trying to maintain a light and airy tone as much as possible but the words just came out flat, “i should be asking if you’re okay.”

y/n took several minutes to answer, “you don’t need to worry about me paul.”

if only she knew that his entire life now revolved around worrying about her. about wanting to protect her, from the leeches, from every creep and asshole in this town, from every bout of stress or sadness.

“i never do anything else,” he tried to say jokingly, but his voice broke mid-way through the sentence and he punched his mattress.

“look paul...” he could hear her frowning through the phone as she sighed, “i gotta go to my appointment now but I’ll see you later for the bonfire, yeah?”

tears were burning in paul’s eyes as he croaked out a response, “yeah, do you need me to pick you up?”

“it’s all good, i’m going to emily’s first to give her a hand with the food so i’ll go down with her.”

“yeah, sounds great,” he said flatly, “i’ll see you there then.”

“bye paul,” she whispered and hung up the phone.

he launched the phone at the wall, and it shattered into chunks of useless plastic. he held his head in his hands and before he knew it, his whole body was racked with dry sobs.

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

he grabbed a pair of beat-up trainers from under his bed and pulled them on. he thundered downstairs and out the front door, ignoring the protests of his drunken father.

paul ran.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul,’ y/n would tease him.

maybe not, but he couldn’t do anything else because she wouldn’t fucking let him. y/n had always been stubborn but in the last few months she’d become increasingly closed off and defensive. if paul made the slightest attempt to ‘stick his nose where it didn’t belong’ then she’d shut him out for weeks on end.

being apart from her was agonising.

he used to think sam and jared were exaggerating when they talked about the pain of not seeing their imprints. but now he knew it was all too real and he couldn’t stand it, so paul had learned to bite his tongue so she wouldn’t give him the silent treatment.

that was something that did not come easy to him, but it was easier than not seeing her, not talking to her, not being close to her.

paul knew on some level it was selfish to let y/n play out her fantasises and pretend that everything was fine, he knew it was wrong for indulging her. but whenever he tried to confront her, to help her, then she would shut him out again and he couldn’t bare that.

it was raining heavily now, the hail stones battered off his exposed skin as he dove out of sight behind the tree line.

staying calm was not something paul was good at, he had to spend so much of his energy focusing on blocking out his anger and sadness and pain and anguish just to make sure he didn’t shift at an inappropriate moment.

but right now, he could smash through that blockade and let every emotion flood through his body as his flesh ripped and his bones snapped, and he shed his human form to leave a large, grey wolf in his place.

paul relished in the release, it felt good to finally let go of every negative emotion he was holding onto and embrace the wolf inside of him. he ran through the trees, taking in the smell of the wet earth and the salty sea air.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

y/n told him that once after a particularly explosive fight he’d had with his father. they sat on the beach, and she stroked his hair as he laid with his head on her lap. he told her he was going to leave home, she pointed out he had no money, he told her that he’d live in the streets if he had to.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’ she had said, her fingers entangled in his hair.

but y/n didn’t seem to adopt that mentality when it came to her own problems, and paul’s desire to protect her made her problems, his problems. and now he had an overwhelming number of problems that everyone kept telling him he couldn’t run away from, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

he kicked up soil and dead leaves behind him as he ran through the woods, the hailstones has subsided to a light drizzle which still managed to soak his fur. he paused to shake the water off him when he hear someone else’s voice in his head, someone else had shifted.

“hey paul.”

“hey jake.”

paul tried to shut off his inner monologue so that jacob couldn’t hear what he was thinking, he thought he was doing an alright job until-

“rough day, huh?”

paul growled.

“yeah i guess, y/n’s seeing her therapist right now....”

“is she getting better?”

paul could sense the concern in jacob’s thoughts but this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have right now.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

well, what the fuck else was he supposed to do? everyone kept telling him that he couldn’t run away but no one was offering any alternative solutions.

it was always ‘calm down, paul.’

‘you can’t fight your way out of everything, paul.’

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

well why the fuck not?

no one seemed to understand that he wasn’t running for his own sake but for everyone else’s. and most importantly, for y/n’s. it was excruciatingly difficult to keep those thoughts to himself and out of jacob’s mind, so he began running through the trees again to provide some kind of distraction.

“yeah, she’s going over to emily’s first to help out so i’m meeting her there.”

“do you think you might finally tell her tonight? it’s been nearly a year and she still has no idea....”

“she can’t handle it; she’s got enough going o,n i can’t burden her with all of this too.”

that was only part of it. paul was worried about how y/n would take the news that he, and all his friends were shapeshifting wolves that existed to protect the town from vampires. and even more concerning, how would she take the news that he had imprinted on her? y/n was too fragile right now, he had to protect her even if that meant keeping the truth from her.

but beyond that, he was worried that she wouldn’t accept him. paul had a crippling fear of rejection at the best of times, but the prospect of his own imprint rejecting him was unimaginable.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

maybe not forever, but for right now he was going to sprint as fast as he could.

***

the blazing bonfire crackled just meters in front of them and yet y/n was still shivering; paul wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close into his chest. she nuzzled into him and paul was filled with a burst of euphoria at their closeness. her eyes were barely open as she leaned into him, he tightened his grip on her frozen frame.

“are you okay?” he mumbled into her hair, it smelled like lavender.

she nodded slowly, “yeah, i’m just tired, today was pretty rough.”

paul frowned. he wished that they weren’t surrounded by so many people, they were sat a little away from the rest of the group, but they didn’t have the privacy he would’ve liked.

“do you want to talk about it?”

y/n sniffled, when paul looked down at her he saw tears slowly running down her cheeks and his heart shattered.

he pulled her in closer and wiped away the tears, “hey, hey what’s wrong?”

y/n just shook her head, “i don’t want to talk about it.”

‘you can’t run away from your problems, y/n’ he wanted to say.

“are you sure?” he asked hesitantly, desperately wanting to help but also not wanting her to clam up again.

she looked away from him; the glare from the roaring bonfire reflected in her glassy eyes. paul enveloped one of her cold, bony hand in his and squeezed it gently but her frown persisted. there was a hollowness in his chest as he stared at her miserable expression; paul knew he couldn’t punch away anyone’s problems but as it turns out, holding hands is just as ineffective.

“dr charles wants me to go to inpatient treatment,” she said bluntly, “he says my physical health is deteriorating too much.”

something twisted in his gut.

“but i thought you were…getting better?” he said cautiously.

paul knew that was a lie.

y/n knew that was a lie, but she was so good at pretending otherwise she had everyone convinced that she was getting better. everyone but him, and he didn’t want her to know that she wasn’t fooling him with the ‘i’m eating again, i’m doing great’ routine she had become so well-versed in.

“well, i’m not better,” she snapped, pushing paul off her as she leapt to her feet.

superhuman hearing or otherwise, everyone else around the bonfire heard y/n’s exclamation, and their heads snapped over to stare between her and paul. emily began to stand up but paul waved her off and she sat back down next to sam. he approached y/n slowly, tears continued to stream down her face but when he moved to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she pushed him away.

he held up his hands, “okay, okay – i won’t touch you, why don’t we go somewhere quiet to talk-”

“no,” she snapped, “i don’t want to talk paul, all i ever do is fucking talk about my feelings and as long as i say the right things then everyone thinks i’m better, but i’m not fucking better, okay?”

“i know,” he roared back, “i know you’re not better, in fact you’re getting worse. i watch you get sicker every single day, i watch you withering away, i watch you dying and there is nothing that i can do because you won’t let me.”

y/n bit her lip and looked away from him.

tears were burning in paul’s eyes, “i can’t make you better, i can’t make you eat, i can’t look after you and it’s killing me.”

“i never asked you to look after me,” she screamed back, tears flowing freely down her face now, “i don’t know why you think it’s your job to keep me alive but it isn’t-”

“yes, it is!”

paul was shaking now, he was trying to hold onto his humanity with every fibre of his being, but the pain and anger was overwhelming. he was reaching his breaking point. he tried to focus on y/n; she was his anchor and usually the thought of her, focusing on the sound of her heartbeat was enough to calm him down. but usually, she wasn’t the focus is his anger, and now when he looked at her all he saw was how frail and weak she looked.

she was dying and she wouldn’t let him help her.

everyone was staring now; paul didn’t want to be on this beach anymore, he couldn’t deal with this right now. it was all too much; his head was spinning and his limbs were trembling.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam leapt to his feet, ready to jump in and tackle paul to the ground as he lurched towards y/n. but instead of shifting and attacking her, he grabbed her hand and led her away from the bonfire and the rest of the pack.

“paul what are you doing?” y/n asked through chattering teeth.

she didn’t try to fight him off but paul knew this was more likely a sign of her lack of energy, and not her willingness to go with him. they were at the edge of the beach now, where the sand bordered with the rough concrete path that led back towards the heart of la push. paul stopped in his tracks and turned to face y/n as he heard her breathing become increasingly shallow.

he studied her intently, emaciated body, pale lips, hollow cheeks. he could hear her heart beating slowly and irregularly inside her chest, he could see her struggling to catch a breath. despite her weakened body she stared back at him, with a clenched jaw and arms crossed across her chest.

“you can’t run away from your problems, y/n,” he finally said.

she snorted, “i’m not you, paul.”

“no, but you’re my impr-” he stopped himself before he revealed too much and ran a hand through his hair, “you’re my best friend y/n i-”

“no, jared is your best friend,” she said pointedly.

“for god’s sake can you stop being difficult for two damn seconds?” he snapped.

she let out a shrill laugh, “right sorry, i forget i’m just an inconvenience to everyone around here, i should just go.”

paul grabbed her hand before she could turn away from him. he towered over her, but when their eyes met it was like nothing else mattered. in every second of his existence, paul was acutely aware that gravity and the laws of nature didn’t bind him to the earth; she did. and when she looked into his eyes like that it only reminded him that she was his everything, before paul knew it, his anger was melting away and there was nothing but pure euphoria flowing through his body.

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself. but in that moment, nothing else mattered except for the fact that y/n was standing chest to chest with him, and she was staring into his eyes. nothing else mattered; not her anger towards him, her disease, his feelings of helplessness, his fear of rejection.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“do you believe in soulmates, y/n?” he asked breathily.

“what?” she asked; her breath billowed out of her chapped lips and hung visibly in the cool september air, thick, like cigarette smoke.

he took a deep breath; it was now or never.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“y/n, there’s something i have to tell you-”

she was the first to break eye contact with him, her pupils dilated suddenly, and her eyes fluttered shut. she managed to grip onto his bicep lightly as she collapsed, but her hand turned limp and rolled gently onto the sand as she lay unconscious in his arms.

***

“clear!” carlisle hollered.

paul reluctantly dropped y/n’s hand as carlisle pressed the paddles to her chest and sent two hundred volts of electricity searing through her lifeless body.

he frowned at the consistent flatline on the monitor, “push ten of epi and charge again,” he ordered the nurse, resuming chest compressions as he waited for the next round of medication to be administered.

paul grabbed her hand again while he had the chance, she was already turning cold. the blood had drained from her face, and paul couldn’t focus on her heartbeat to calm him because she no longer had one.

“clear!”

they repeated the routine they had been performing for the last several minutes; paul let go of her hand, carlisle shocked her, the flatline remained.

the nurse shook her head, “asystole,” she said flatly.

“what does that mean?” paul asked frantically, he looked between carlisle and y/n, “why aren’t you helping her?”

carlisle retrieved a neuro torch from the pocket of his lab coat, peeling back y/n’s eyelids he shone the light over each of her eyes, “pupil’s are fixed and dilated,” he said to the nurse.

“why are you stopping? fix her!” paul wailed.

“i’m sorry paul, there’s nothing else we can do for her,” he said softly, “time of death, 19.08.”

the nurse nodded and made a note on y/n’s chart before exiting the trauma room, leaving just paul, sam, and carlisle in the room with y/n’s lifeless body.

paul didn’t cry, or scream, or phase into a giant wolf. he stood by y/n’s bedside, clutching her hand in his and staring straight ahead at the monitor she was attached to. it continued to let out a continuous, monotone beep. sam, who was just waiting for paul to explode, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder; paul didn’t have the energy to push him away.

“bring her back,” he croaked.

carlisle looked between paul and sam, “i am very sorry for your loss, paul, but there is nothing else i can do, she’s gone-”

“well bring her back!” he roared, falling to his knees as he continued to clutch y/n’s hand, “you fix her, you bring her back, you change her i don’t care-”

“you know i can’t do that-”

“yes, you can. you’ve done it before, change her i don’t care if she’s a vampire just bring her back,” he sobbed.

“paul, we can’t violate the treaty,” sam barked.

“i don’t give a fuck about the treaty,” he turned his head to snarl at sam, “bring her back right now doc or i swear to god i will-”

“i am very sorry paul, but even if i wanted to change her i couldn’t, it’s too late. there are some things even venom can’t fix, even if i tried the venom wouldn’t be able to circulate her body without a heartbeat.”

paul rose from his knees and dropped y/n’s hand. he was robotic as he began chest compressions, despite protests from carlisle. sam tried to pull paul’s arms away from y/n, but he shoved him off roughly and continued to rhythmically administer cpr.

“paul, you need to stop,” carlisle said, “she’s gone – that isn’t going to help her.”

he ignored him.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’.

he wasn’t running anymore.

for once in his life paul was facing his problem head on.

he wasn’t running anymore.

he was doing what everyone always wanted, and yet sam and carlisle were trying to stop him.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam and carlisle winced as there was an audible crack.

“you’re breaking her ribs, paul,” carlisle said, attempting to remove paul’s hands from y/n’s body but he flinched away from the vampire’s icy touch.

carlisle looked at sam pleadingly; sam nodded briefly at him before reaching forward and attempting to drag paul away from y/n’s body. he resisted, struggling against sam’s grip as he maintained the rhythmic compressions. his vision blurred in front of him, refusing to take on the scene before him.

he never got a chance to tell her about the imprint.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

she never regained consciousness after she collapsed.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

he never got to say goodbye.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

he never got to tell her he loved her.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam was dragging him backwards, away from y/n; his rigid grip kept paul’s arms pinned to his sides and stopped him from reaching out to cling to y/n.

paul couldn’t breathe.

everything was spinning.

the harsh, fluorescent hospital lights burned his watery eyes; he wanted nothing more than to sink down into darkness till he could awake from this nightmare.

y/n couldn’t be dead.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“someone will need to contact her family, they will need to make arrangements,” carlisle commented quietly, “ i will call them myself if you give me the number.”

“this is my fault,” paul choked out.

“what?”

“it’s my fault,” his voice caught in his throat, “i let her slowly kill herself because i didn’t want her shut me out.”

“y/n was sick for a long time paul-” carlisle began.

“and i could’ve fixed her, but i was too selfish to let her go and now she’s gone forever.”

his knuckles turned white as he gripped the metal pole that ran along the side of y/n’s bed, he couldn’t bring himself to look at her body.

sam placed a hand on his shoulder, “there’s nothing you could’ve done paul, you already did everything you could for her - you can’t love someone back together.”

“what if it was emily?” paul snarled, “would you be so calm and condescending if it was your imprint lying dead in front of you?”

paul’s heart pounded in his chest, he was still unable to look at her. he wanted to remember her alive and breathing, not like this.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“if you’ll excuse me, i should get started on some paperwork,” carlisle said quietly.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

“c’mon paul, you should get out of here.”

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

his eyes flickered up, and the sight of y/n’s corpse sent acidic vomit bubbling up his throat and into his mouth. he turned sharply on his heel and choked out his stomach contents into a bin in the corner.

after he composed himself paul did what he did best.

he ran.

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #twilight #twilight imagine #twilight wolf pack #sam uley #emily young #paul lahote imagine #angst #hurt and comfort

[jmagnabo92]

Sirius and Harry Saturday: Spider Friends

Harry faked being ill so that he could avoid going to St. Mungos with the rest of the Weasley clan and Hermione.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go – it was that he missed Sirius and he knew that while the others were around he never would get any time with him.  (He wasn’t stupid, he knew that everyone was conspiring against Sirius to keep him away from Harry).  

So once everyone’s gone – even Lupin had gone with them leaving Sirius all alone on Christmas if Harry hadn’t faked ill – he makes his way up to the room holding Buckbeak (and no doubt, Sirius).  The door’s slightly open and Sirius is speaking (to who Harry can’t see): “He deserves better than me, Gary.  Everyone thinks so, I can’t even write to him anymore, I can’t protect him from everyone, I can’t do anything stuck in this house where everyone hates me…”

“Not everyone,” Harry offers entering the room, spotting Sirius on the floor, his back against the wall and legs out straight.  He looks around, “Where and who is Gary?”

Sirius flushes and glances down at his hands which are cupped, a spider in them.  “I – um…”

Harry smiles as he realizes he’s not the only one that spoke to spiders and named them, “I thought I was the only one.”

“Only one?” Sirius questions.

“That spoke to spiders,” Harry answers sitting beside him.  “I used to talk to the spiders in my cupboard - told them all about how I thought Dudley looked like a pig in a wig and dreams about flying on a motorbike and –”

“Wait, I’m sorry, did you just say cupboard?” Sirius asks, clearly angry.

Harry’s uncomfortable, he hadn’t meant to let that slip – he’d managed to keep it a secret from everyone else – but this is Sirius, so he sighs, and explains, “My first Hogwarts letter was addressed to the ‘cupboard under the stairs’ because until that day, that’s where I slept.  They gave me Dudley’s second bedroom after that.”  Sirius looks furious, and Harry rushes to quiet him, “It’s fine, Sirius. It happened and it’s over, ever since you came into my life they’ve been too afraid of you to lock me or my stuff up, and – and…I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sirius takes several deep breaths to calm himself before saying, “It’s not fine, Harry, and we can talk about it later, but I want you to know that – that it’s not okay.”

“I do,” Harry states. “I knew something was wrong with it, but well, at least I had spider friends…”

He’s hoping that Sirius takes the change of subject well.  Sirius gives him a look, but lifts the spider up a little.  “This is Gary.”

Harry smiles, “I never named any of them Gary, but I did have a Stan and Burt.”

Sirius laughs, “That one over there is Gerald.”

“Oh, and why’s Gerald over there?” Harry questions.

“Because he only likes to listen to me bitch about the Order, particularly Snape.”

“And Gary likes to listen to you talk about me?” Harry asks, smiling slightly.  

Sirius nods, “He does. He’s a great listener.  Gerald not so much.”  Then he smiles at him, “So tell me about Stan and Burt.”

“Stan liked to listen to complaints about the Dursleys, Burt liked to listen my crazy theories about my magical outbursts that I didn’t realize were magical outbursts.”

“Crazy theories?” Sirius questions.  “Like what?”

“Like thinking the wind caught me mid jump and that’s how I got on the roof on the kitchens,” Harry laughs.

Sirius laughs, “That is the most absurd thing I have ever heard.”

“I was looking for a logical solution.”

“And the wind was it?” Sirius teases.

“Why yes it was,” Harry offers.  Then he smiles, “Wanna hear more?”

“I’d love to hear all of your stories,” Sirius answers.  “Maybe I’ll even share some of mine and your parents.”

“Brilliant.”

They spent the next several hours talking about their magical outbursts (and James and Lily’s) and enjoying each other’s company, brightening their otherwise dreary holiday.

#Sirius and Harry #Sirius Black #Harry Potter #Harry James Potter #harry james potter deserves better #sirius black deserved better #spider friends #fifth year #good godfather sirius black

[theodora3022]

"Friend"(Yandere! Kazuha)

Genre: Dark fic

Summary: You trusted him, thought of him as a reliable friend. But it is too late to relise your mistake. Jealousy is a deadly poison indeed.

A/N: Wohoo it is finally here! I just got out of my writer’s block. To celebrate him coming home I am writing some short drabbles. There is more to come in the future, so stayed tuned if that interests you!

Content warning: Possessive and obsessive behaviours, drugging mention, implied female reader(no pronouns) General Yandere content, not proof-read or edited

Word count: roughly 1k

“This hurts me way more than it hurts you.”

The silver moonlight that flows from a narrow window compliments his light-coloured hair nicely, but you could not care less about his looks at this moment. Letting out a quiet sigh, the foreigner started to toy with a chain of keys.

The keys that could unlock the cuffs on your wrists.

“Ironic for you to say that when I’m the one being restrained.” Refusing to meet his eyes, you turned to the wall. Your parents were right, you are indeed too foolish, too naïve to take over the family business.

Kazuha knows you are upset, and you have every right to be. Anyone would feel horrible after someone abuses their trust.

Not to mention said person even locked you up in chains. He knows this is wrong, he does feel remorseful. But he simply cannot just let things carry on the way it was. The samurai has to do something, even if that means being questioned by his morals in his dreams.

The young man still remembered the day he first saw you; it feels as new as yesterday.

The Crux is currently restocking their pantry while Beidou is on business in Liyue, and you are here to discuss the prices of a couple of essentials.

Fair prices, polite tone, even greeted him with a smile when you noticed his curious gaze.

Which is something merchants seldom do.

So when the first mate assigned him with the task of managing the transportation from your shop, Kazuha was looking forward to carrying out his duties.

Even his once-noble family has fallen into obscurity, Kaedehara Kazuha got some aristocratic pride left in him. He knows an affable appearance must be kept up if he wishes to get along with the rest of the crew but to say, friends... Kazuha never considered any of them as potential options.

A well-educated induvial who seems to be interested in literature such as yourself piques his interest quite a bit.

From what Kazuha can tell (by listening in to your conversation with other crew members), you seem to admire their leader Beidou a great deal. So he took advantage of that without guilt; after all, that is how anyone would make friends right? It worked fantastically well, as you would invite him to stay for tea after the errands are finished, just to listen from a "insider".

The way your eyes light up like lanterns at dusk is mesmerizing. There is always the way you lean in slightly with interest, frowning when he wants to save the ending for the next meeting.

Is it so bad to leave you wanting more?

He has to admit that he enjoys your company. You are well-spoken, willing to indulge his poetry rambles, even completing unfinished ones from time to time.

Not that he has any idea how much until later.

“Kazuha, you are no fun.” Filling his teacup once more, you said with a petty pout. Just why wouldn’t he ever finish telling the whole story? He’s for sure doing this on purpose just to mess with you.

You two are friends, not close ones, but on amicable terms, nevertheless. Your merchant parents understand the importance of relations and connections well, so they never said anything against it.

That is what both of you believe until the Samurai suddenly feels this unreasonable urge to be violent when he sees you laughing with another man. As he was feeling indisposed that particular day, so the first mate sent another sailor to cover for him.

If gazes can do damage, the poor sailor would have been in shambles within seconds, from Kazuha’s stares alone.

He wants you to smile at him, acting all lively and cute with him only. Oh dear, that is a selfish thought. But Kazuha cannot help it, not that he wants to suppress it anyways.

The self-control that he took pride in almost shattered instantly. Luckily, Kazuha could excuse himself from Beidou’s questionable eyes by repeatly stating how unwell this cold makes him feels.

Wandering Samurais likes him would never settle down for anyone when they still got the strength to travel with a blade in hand. It is simply the illness that is getting to him, yes. That must be it.

Until the string of restraint snapped, when he sees you walking into the Liuli Pavilion with a suitor your parents approved for you. Despite you acting somehow overly polite and distanced with the man, Kazuha feels as if he has been threatened.

How joyous would it be, if he were to leave a few marks on someone who dares to tamper with what is his?

Even if he gets rids of this one, there will be more in the future. You had already told him how your parents wish you to use your marriage to booster your influence.

He needs a solution. A permanent, clean one.

It would be too much of a hassle and trouble to target every single person that comes near you. So, the best option is to target you instead.

When Kazuha had Beidou invite you to a dinner occasion on the crux, you did not think much of the situation and came with a few gifts in hand. He hesitated before giving you the beer that contains few extra ingredients, but he knows it would be worth it before long.

“I should have never trusted you.” You spit it out word by word, expressing them in spite as much as you can. You should have known that he is up to no good when he tried to approach you with legendary tales of Lady Beidou. How could he do this?

Now you are stuck in this tiny room in archon knows where after blacking out suddenly, the only clue being you are on a moving ship.

With his current occupation and status, there is little to no chance that he could ever win your parent’s approval. This way, what they think they do not matter.

The fact that you are his spouse would be set in stone by the time you could return to them. It would leave them no choice but to accept him as a son-in-law to save faces.

Kazuha kneels down near you, trying to reach for your cheeks as if he wants to caress them gently with his fingers. The ruby eyes of the young man darken unnoticeably in the darkroom when you decided to distance yourself away from him, as far as possible. But he understands.

You will come around, hopefully. You did like him back then, so why not once more? Even if you never do, he cares too much for you to ever leave you be. Selfish as it sounds, Kazuha would rather sees you unhapplily stuck here with him, than go roaming freely, be happy in someone else's arms.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere imagines #yandere kazuha x reader #yandere kazuha #tw: drugging #tw: dark content #tw: dark themes

[landinoandco]

|Shutter speed|

Chapter two : A New Beginning

{Lando Norris x Reader}

Summary: A photographer. A pair of F1 drivers. Triangles. A sticky situation of morals and fighting fate. What could go wrong?

Warnings: none :) apart from a mention of grief and passing of a loved one

Rating: teen and up

Word count: 2.9 k 

A/n: welcome to the second chapter of 'Shutter speed.'

I'm going to start a taglist so comment on this post or message me if you would like to be added :)

Previous chapters: Chapter one

Chapter two: A new beginning

By the time Georgie had raced home, it had stopped raining and the sun was beginning to fight its way through the mass of clouds that had filled the sky. The journey home had given Georgie plenty of time to think - to mull everything over about the crazy afternoon she had just endured. They had finally booked their first event since lockdown, the insanely attractive stranger she had met in the coffee shop but somehow it all ended back to a person she thought she had finished thinking about - not that you ever could. Her Theo. Her lovely Theo. 

Theodore was her childhood sweetheart. Theo was everything to her, llike Georgie was everything to him. They had their whole future planned out: travelling around the world and experiencing different cultures, photographing their entire experience and showcasing the beginning of their journey through life on an Instagram they had set up. Before settling down and starting a family of their own. Together. It was going to finish like all the fairy tales did...

And everybody lived happily ever after.

In hindsight, they had jinxed themselves before they had even started, not long after they had finished their A - levels and about to start their next chapter at Uni - Theo had fallen ill. Georgie refuses to acknowledge the illness for she believes it shouldn’t be the way he is remembered, instead reminiscing on the short but meaningful life he lived. Theo died not long after he was diagnosed, leaving Georgie behind with a new and tainted meaning to happily ever after because if it wasn’t with him then what did it truly mean? 

As they say hindsight is a wonderful thing.

Even now, 5 years on, 23 years of age, she is still plagued with the memories and the thoughts of everything they could have had but for some reason the universe was against it all. She hated to think of herself as unlucky because she was blessed to have met Theo in the first place. 

Shaking the memories from her head, she unlocked the apartment door and trudged through - hanging her coat and bag on the hooks then making her way over to the breakfast bar. On top was a fluorescent post-it note that read: “Popped into the city to pick up some new lenses for the cameras. Fill you in when I get back. Fancy getting a takeaway tonight to celebrate? Love you lots ~ Maisie.” 

A takeaway was exactly what was needed. She thought. And a nice warm shower. 

The thing Georgie loves about showers is that they give her the ability to find an answer and solution to pretty much everything and anything. She spent a lot of time in the shower after Theo passed, it was the only thing she could justify enjoying. Striping her clothes off and chucking them into a pile on the floor, she reached into the shower to turn it on - the water immediately rushing out and crashing loudly onto the floor. As soon as she was happy with the temperature, she stepped in - letting the warm water droplets wash all of her worries away. It was the only thing that she felt helped her relax; come to terms with everything she was feeling. 

Her first and main worry was what they were going to do after Goodwood. If they didn’t find consistent work soon they were going to run out of money - they were lucky to have made some good investments and savings leading up to this point to have coped through lockdown. 

Georgie grabbed the shampoo and rubbed it thoroughly through her long waves. She had been to Goodwood a few years back -  Theo had taken her. It was the best date she had ever been on - she remembered it as clear as day. They had found an empty bench to sit on next to the hill the cars climbed in the ever popular annual hill climb - it was there and then they had decided they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together and travel the world. 

Stepping back under the water, she let the water take the shampoo away, watching as the bubbles slipped through the drain. Theo had been a massive formula one fan - dragging Georgie into the sport as well. Jenson Button had been his favourite driver and McLaren his favourite team so naturally that was hers as well. As soon as he passed Georgie had nothing to do with the sport - she refused to watch it and stopped keeping up with the teams. 

She reached for the conditioner bottle, pressing her lips together in a tight line. All of this thought about Theo and the racing world she turned her back on - a slight regret forming in the pit of her stomach, was she ready to go back to it? She remembered the atmosphere of Goodwood when she had been, people from all over the world gathered to celebrate the one thing they had in common: their love for cars. She was slightly envious of the people who got to travel the world, following in the car's tyre tracks and capturing the moments you only get to experience once in a lifetime. 

Georgie paused and furrowed her eyebrows, she was struck with an idea. Whether it was absolutely brilliant or outright stupid and unrealistic, she was yet to find out. Hoping out of the shower and grabbing her towel, she made her way to her room. It was worth a look, she supposed, there was no harm in that. Once she was dressed, she sat at her desk and turned on her laptop; begging fate to be on her side today. 

“Honey, I’m home.” Called a voice from the kitchen. 

“Hey sweetie.” Georgie shouted back, “I’ll be with you in just a moment.” 

She pulled up the McLaren careers page, her mouse hovering over the view jobs link. Georgie was ready to travel the world. She was ready to experience life again - after all it was Theo’s dying wish that she completed everything they were setting out to do. Perhaps she was selfish for not coming to this conclusion sooner. 

She clicked. 

Taking one last deep breath, Georgie placed her hands to her forehead and moved her face closer to the screen as she read through the roles. Tyre performance engineer. No. Finance analyst - production. Definitely not. Hope was diminishing rapidly even though it was as she had expected. The chances of finding anything suitable were low. She was coming to the bottom of the list when a role jumped out at her. But not impossible apparently. 

Lead photographer - team. 

And the deadline was Tuesday at 11.59 pm. They had the best part of 6 hours to complete this application. It was going to be tight but possible. 

She jumped up and rubbed her hands over her face in disbelief. Running her hands through her hair, she sat back down - hardly being able to keep still. It was only an application advert - many people were going to be applying. She thought as she exhaled loudly. More experienced people. Skimming through the description and requirements, she almost felt like she was dreaming. It was perfect. The role was to travel with the whole team and capture every moment to later be used on social media and advertising. 

“Everything alright in here?” Maisie poked her head around the door. She was faced with an almost tearful Georige. Her words almost trailed off.

“Do you want to travel the world?” Georgie asked her, her voice wavering slightly.  Maisie seemed taken aback as she moved into the room and sat on Georgie’s bed. “I’m sorry - what? Have you forgotten what’s been going on recently?”

“With a formula one team, Mclaren to be precise.” Georgie corrected and moved aside so Maisie could see the screen. Silence fell between the pair as Maisie read on, Georgie’s leg had started bouncing in anticipation. Minutes later she was met with a frown. “That’s not quite how I had imagined you would react.” Georgia mumbled, sighing. She mirrored her friend's expression, chewing on her bottom lip. 

“Before we start fantasizing, I just want to make sure you’re ok with this.” Maisie said softly, taking one of Georgia’s hand in hers. Georgia nodded slowly, rubbing her thumb over her friend’s hand. “This would be his dream. I know he’s watching us - he really is looking out for us, Maise. I want to do it for him.”  

Maisie’s smile grew, “As long as you’re sure. Come, let’s discuss it over take away and I will explain how this weekend is going to work.” Georgie stood up, grabbing her laptop and a notebook, “One thing is for sure. We are going to need one hell of a portfolio.” 

It was now Sunday - the final day at Goodwood. 

To say the rest of their week leading up to this point went smoothly would be a lie. In the end it all got a bit complicated. They submitted their application at 10:58 pm that Tuesday evening - due to it only being a singular role they applied as their business in hope that the combined experience would set them apart from other candidates. Wednesday they spent the day prepping for Goodwood - trying out the new lenses and practising photographing cars they found around London. They were going to watch the Goodwood livestream on Youtube Thursday and Friday to see what they were going to be faced with that Saturday. Until Maisie received a call. It was Mclaren and they had gotten through to the interviews - all taking place that Thursday afternoon on teams. As it turns out, they wanted to have hired someone for the role by Friday in order to be ready for the British Grand Prix the following weekend. 

“I mean it makes sense,” Maisie said, blowing her coffee to cool it down before taking a long sip. “It is their home grand prix after all.” 

Georgie chuckled, “It’s just, I feel like if we were to explain to anyone they would think we were making this up. It’s all happening so quickly.” 

That Friday, ahead of their debut at Goodwood on the Saturday, they got the call. According to the lady Maisie spoke to, it was very close between them and another candidate but the fact they were working at Goodwood tipped the scales in their favour. 

“And.” Maisie started. “We are going to meet with a man called Zac Brown on Sunday, he is the CEO of McLaren Racing-” Georgie was very lucky to have Maisie as she was the businessman - or women in this case - out of the pair. Her people skills were unmatched, how she did it Georgie would never understand. 

Now on Sunday, Georgie was quite sad to see it coming to an end. The atmosphere was one that she had never quite experienced before - it was one that filled her with pride and adoration; something she hadn’t felt in a long time, not to this extent anyway. The whole weekend, a beaming smile had been plastered onto her face - so much so that her facial muscles were beginning to ache. The whole community of people were ecstatic to be there, watching on in excitement as a sport that had missed the company of their crowds opened its doors once again. It wasn’t long before she had agreed to meet with Maisie ahead of their meeting with Zac Brown that she found herself walking up the infamous hill. The loud buzz of conversation seemed to fade, instead the only sound she could hear was the rumble of engines as they came cruising by. She stopped at a clearing where a bench stood proudly, smiling softly to herself as she slung her camera strap over her shoulder, stuffing her hands into her trouser pockets. It hadn’t aged a day. 

Lando Norris had decided to take a break from the main McLaren marquee - he had just finished his final drive of the day and was looking for some time to reflect on the weekend he had just had after having the honour of driving the three cars that Aryton Senna won McLaren their championship titles. It had been a tough season leading up to this point - after Carlos left to join Ferrari he felt this year all eyes would be on him. Many expected Lando to fall into the shadow of his new teammate Daniel Ricciardo, everybody expected him to fade back into the background. Perhaps that was why he trained so hard during the winter break - he had pushed himself right up to the limit. Lando wanted to prove to himself more than anyone else that he was a good driver and he did have potential to fight those at the top, after the taste of a podium in Austria - he was hungry for more. Even as a young boy during his karting career, Lando put pressure on himself - to strive to be the best on the grid - sometimes it meant he forgot to enjoy himself because he was so worried about what other people thought about him. 

He had reached a clearing past the trees. All weekend he had kept half an eye out for the girl at the coffee shop. Part of him was disappointed not to have seen her, he really wanted that second chance. He came to a stop and checked his watch - it wasn’t long until Zac wanted him back; he mentioned briefly about a pair of photographers joining the team. They would be replacing his friend Jason after he decided that travelling just wasn’t practical anymore, who could blame him, his first child was on the way and he wanted to be there with his wife every step of the way. 

Lando brushed a hand through his curls, casting his gaze around before he would make his way back. When a bench caught his eye or more specifically the girl sitting on the bench. She sat with a content smile dancing on her lips, a reminiscent glaze coated her eyes. He took a step towards her, there was something familiar about her. It was like his feet were frozen in place - his brain was telling him to go back but his gut told him to stay put. He stood for a minute or two before it hit him - square in the face and quite frankly he couldn’t believe his luck. It was the girl from the coffee shop. Right in front of him. It was now or never. Lando took a calming breath before going and sitting next to her. 

Georgie was rudely pulled from her thoughts when a person sat down on the bench next to her. She moved her head slightly to see who the intruder was when her heart stopped. Recognition dawned on her face. Georgie knew instantly he had recognised her as the corners of his mouth twitched into a shy smile. “Hi.” His tone silvery and almost breathy. 

“Hey.” She beamed back, “I’m Georgie.” She said, gazing up at him, admiring the way the sun caught around his halo of curls giving them an almost angelic glow.

“Lando.” He told to her, the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. Neither of them could quite believe that they were sitting with each other. 

“I - uh - It’s a wonderful day for it, isn’t it.” Georgie had panicked. She didn’t know what else to say and her mother used to always say:  ‘if in doubt talk about the weather.’ It was something along those lines anyway.  Silently cursing herself, she cringed at her awkwardness only to hear him chuckle at her comment. 

“It’s much better now the rain has cleared off.” Lando instantly felt relaxed around her, he didn’t know what it was. Perhaps it was that she seemed just as socially inadequate as he was. “So Georgie.” He savoured the way her name rolled off his tongue. “What brings you to Goodwood? I hope you don’t mind me saying this but I heard you talking about it before you rushed off the other day.” 

Georgie inched closer, almost leaning into the comfort and warmth he seemed to provide. “My friend and I are photographers and she somehow got us into working for the Goodwood Festival of Speed brand. I still don’t quite know how she did it, for some reason she didn’t want to talk about it.” She trailed off, a pink tinge creeping onto her cheeks as she had come to a rather astonishing conclusion. The corner of Lando’s mouth lifted at her innocence. “Anyway.” She moved on quickly. “As it turns out I am also here to meet my new boss.” 

“It’s almost like it was meant to be.” Lando quirked. “Who are you working for now?” 

“I’m the new photographer for the McLaren formula one team.” She explained, pride laced in her tone. Lando’s eyes widened, his mouth fell open in disbelief before he caught himself. Composed his expressions and stated very plainly...

“I’m Lando Norris. I drive for the McLaren formula one team. As it turns out you and I are about to attend the same meeting.” 

Taglist: (please message me or leave a comment if you would like to be added :))

@mjuikoli​ @httplayer​ @phatyak​

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #mclaren #formula one one shot #formula one fanfiction #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one #f1 #daniel ricciardo #Carlos Sainz Jr #charles leclerc #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris fanfiction #f1 2021 #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine #mick schumacher #Max Verstappen #max fewtrell #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #fanfic

[themanip]

late nights

SUMMARY — you and bang chan are both equally as stressed out. your solution?  sleep with each other. boom, problem solved.

PAIRING — bang chan  x  reader  WARNINGS — mentions of stress and mental health problems, unprotected sex, soft!dom chan, mentions of kinks, really soft, really cute smut basically, crying (not sexually), sad thoughts, angry and frustrated emotions, angsty GENRE — heavy angst, fwb, coming-of-age kind of, smut, romance, porn with a hint of plot WORD COUNT — 4.9k, i got carried away my bad

“How do you deal with stress?”

Chan’s question wasn’t ill intentioned by any means, and as you both sat in his studio, you pondered on whether or not to actually answer truthfully. “I mean, you’re the leader of two more trainees than I was, and navigating as a girlgroup is much more difficult than boygroups,”

“Do you want the honest answer, or the more appropriate answer?” you crossed your legs, Chan’s couch feeling quite comfortable. He stared down at you for a moment, the height of his chair offering him that leverage.

The room was quiet, the lights were dim, and the entire environment was soothing. “Well, honest, of course. No point in me asking if it’s a fib, no?”

You nodded, blowing a puff of air out of your nose thoughtfully. “Truthfully, I use sex. It allows me to physically and mentally drain myself, and I sleep really well after getting fucked. It allows me to refresh the next morning, and my stress, at least physically, is diminished.”

You didn’t look at him until you finished talking, and his face was blank. Once you two locked eyes, he sputtered out, “Oh, I—”

“This is why I offered two options, Chan,” you laughed, and at the lighten of atmosphere he giggled a bit too. “I didn’t mean to, y’know,” he stopped, and you nodded lightly. “I get it, but as of now I don’t do it much anymore. I usually just let out my anger or stress during dance routines or working out but it doesn’t work the same, and sometimes I deliver moves too harshly while dancing.”

“Why not?”

You were unsure what he was referring to, and you crinkled your eyebrows. “How come you don’t do it anymore if nothing else helps the same way?” he asked softly, his eyes swimming with genuine concern. 

“I’m a lot more conservative with my body, I just have to trust someone. It’s hard to get to know a guy without them immediately wanting to jump into a relationship. You can’t really do that in what we do, and the second I start to trust a guy things go haywire. I just really have to have a good friendship to have sex, I guess.”

The entirety of the conversation, Chan’s cheeks were turning peach. Even in the dark, dim light, you could see it. “I understand, it’s a very tangible thing. Just giving yourself to someone like that without a basic relationship, platonic or not, is important depending on how you view relationships,”

You nodded in response, and a silence fell over you two. There wasn’t much to be said, but for some reason you decided to blurt out. “If you don’t know how to deplete stress, I suggest it. Just the no strings attached part, because otherwise things get messy and stress becomes inevitable. Just try it sometime, Chan. If you don’t like it, then consider it a learning experience,” you shrugged, and Chan pursed his lips.

“I mean it doesn’t sound like a bad idea, per se. I just don’t know how I’ll casually ask someone to have sex. Most women just run off the moment I mention it, and who knows if they’re even into the same things I am? There’s just so many things to be unsure of.” His chin was now laying on his thumb, and his pointer finger was laying above his top lip. He was deep in thought. 

You stood up, which cause Chan to unexpectedly flinch, and he watched you with careful eyes. “Chris, if you ever feel like you need a de-stresser, you know where to find me. Nothing will be weird unless you make it weird. Or we can always just talk, either way, I’m here. I have to go before Sumna comes and drags me out of here, but seriously. Whatever you need, no strings attached. Nothing leaves this room,” you mentioned softly, and his eyes widened at his English name. It’s rather rare you used it, so he pondered the specific use of it in this scenario.

“Thank you,” he muttered simply, and he watched you as you walked out. Was she being serious?

Chan and you had not talked in a few days. Whether it was a crazy schedule, you embarassing yourself, or him not knowing how to approach the situation, you didn’t know. All you did know was that you missed your friend. 

You and your bandmates had a hectic schedule today, and as the leader, you’d had to sit in on a meeting with your manager and JYP’s public relations manager. Apparently, Dispatch had caught one of your members, Lanzi, out doing something with another k-pop idol. Dispatch had only obtained two pictures of it, but it was clearly legible on who they were, and what they were doing.

The cost to get those pictures thrown out was much more than JYP would have liked, so she had to sit and get chewed out. Instead of being angry at Lanzi, she became more angry at herself. She had talked to them about things of this sort, but clearly not well enough. It was her job as leader, and she failed doing so. 

After a three hour long meeting, you were absolutely exhausted, mentally at least. And now, just after that, was choreography practice. You’d just learned the choreo a few days before, so for the most part you had it down. As lead dancer, you also had to make sure everyone else in your group understood that too. 

So, thirty minutes into practice, when none of your members seemed to be latching on, you sighed. Your entire job was to simply lead, and do well. Somehow, you couldn’t manage to do that. Once more, you started the choreography, and told your girls to simply stand back and watch.

You had a slight tone, but you needed them to understand that rhythm is just as important as the real dance moves. Your entire body was covered in sweat, and you were growing more frustrated by the minute. 

The way your body moved was no longer elegant, just harsh, angry strokes of somewhat rhythmic actions. You did your best to do it just as you were shown, but the overwhelming anger and emotion in your body was just more than you could handle. 

Little did you know, next to your bandmates, stood Hyunjin and Chan. They had come to ask something, but instead found you dancing your angered heart out. All stopped and stared, and Chan could only focus on the way your hips contorted, the patterns your hips followed.

As the music stopped, you turned around, and your eyes widened at the visitors. 

“We can leave if you’re busy, Hyunjin-ah just wanted to ask if he could borrow the studio tomorrow, and I wanted a word with you, if that’s okay,” Chan asked, and all of your bandmates went silent, expecting you to take the lead of the conversation.

“Hyunjin-sunbaenim, the studio is yours whenever you need it. Let me know what time, and Chan-oppa, would you like to talk now?”

Hyunjin bowed, and gave a quick thank you before heading out of the room. “Yes, please. If you’re too busy, no worries,” and you looked at your girls and told them to head back to the dorm. You were done for today, no reason to beat a dead horse when clearly today was not a good one to get skills in. 

“Can we talk in my studio?” Chan came closer to you, almost a whisper, and you knew this was going to go one of two ways: he was going to fuck your brains out, or he was going to let you know that he did not think of you in that way, and to please never discuss things like that with him again. You don’t think you could handle either, at least not today. 

“Yeah, let me grab some other clothes,” you said softly, rubbing your forehead in anxiety. Chan quickly started to mention something, and you shut him up quick. “I don’t—”

“Chan, I’m getting new clothes because I am sweaty and tired, nothing else. I will meet you in your studio after I am changed,” you sighed, your hot knees feeling good against the cool floor of the choreography studio. Your duffle bag now wide open, you grabbed an oversized long sleeve shirt and a pair of loose jeans. 

You also reapplied deodorant and some perfume so you didn’t smell like you lived in a sewer, the amount

As your girls were long gone, you felt free to change in the studio. Your clothes quickly fell to the floor, and you were now in more comfortable apparel that is not drenched in sweat. Dreading this conversation with Chan, you swiftly collected your things and moved them to the corner to come collect after you spoke to Chan and was ready to go home. 

Guiding your way to Chan’s studio was a walk in the park. The amount of times you’d go in there to talk to him, or for him to let you hear what he’d been working on, was countless. You two had budded a beautiful friendship, and he had been somewhat of a rock. He had always been so sweet, so loving. And you’ve possibly ruined it because you couldn’t think of anything other than sex when trying to guide him through dealing with stress.

Your eyes almost welled at the thought. You couldn’t cry though, not now. So, as you stood outside of Chan’s recording studio, you held your breath for a moment and looked up, letting the tears vanish.

A soft knock sounded, your knuckles rasping at the door. The hallways were silent, and you couldn’t hear a single thing from inside Chan’s studio. Your own heartbeat pounded in your ears, and you tensed as you heard footsteps leading up to his door.

He opened the door, his face showing no clear emotions. He didn’t seem angry, but he wasn’t too happy to see you, either. His hair was clearly ran through by his hand, blonde tufts falling back towards his ears. His makeup was done to perfection, light brown tones covering his lids. 

He wore a simple outfit, a loose black hoodie and dark blue sweatpants. He’d changed from earlier, his black ripped jeans now nowhere to be seen. “Come in, you can sit anywhere,” his voice was always soft, even though he could be fuming, his tone would never soar. 

“Chan, I just want to say I’m sorry,” you muffled out, plopping down unconventionally on his couch. “I just, I don’t know why I said those things or did that,” at this point, you just didn’t want him to think differently of you. He was the closest thing you had to a mentor, and he was an amazing friend. 

If you lost him, or ruined your relationship, you don’t think you could ever forgive yourself. 

You pulled your knees up to your chest as he took a seat in his chair, staring expectedly at you. Silence followed, so you continued, unsure of what he was expecting to hear. “I just don’t like you being stressed, and the only way I know how to cope with things is kind of like that, so I figured maybe you could too, and then I offered, and I feel like I just fucked things up between us. I.. just I’m so sorry.”

At this point your eyes had clouded up, and your voice had cracked multiple times. The day you’d had just piled up, and your exhaustion was visible. Chan’s eyes immediately softened, and he felt bad. He wasn’t mad, he just didn’t know how to approach the situation. 

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, and he stood up from his chair and joined you on the couch. At this point, you’d started full on crying. “I ruined our friendship, and now I’m sitting here crying so you’re gonna feel too bad to be honest with me about what I did wrong,” you were now sniffling hard, and your chest was dense you were surprised you could breathe. 

“No, love, that’s not it, I promise,” your heart pumped blood a bit harder at his nickname for you, and he placed a warm hand on your back. “I came here to ask if you were okay,” his tone was now nothing but soft and supportive, and he continuously rubbed your back. Warmth spread throughout your entire body. 

“I heard about the meeting, and everyone kept discussing how stressed out you were today,” in the dim light once more, his eyes glowed. They were so soft, so sweet. His entire aura was just warm, loving, and nothing was more assuring. 

“No matter what happens between us, you’re my friend, and I care about you,” he smiled softly, “Nothing would change that, unless you like, stabbed me or something,” he laughed soulfully, and you laughed with him. He pulled you closer to him, your head now leaning on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Chan. I just didn’t know what to do, and today has been really shitty,” you smiled, and let your head fall even closer to his chest. His thumbs ran circles around your back, and he held you close. “It’s okay, I understand. Trust me,” a warm silence encased the entire room, and as Chan now cuddled you warmly, your face was now red at the reality of the situation.

“Do you feel a bit better?”

“Yeah, I just needed someone to remind me of how things are and to keep me grounded,” you sighed, and Chan’s thumb was now no longer rubbing your back. His hand had stilled, and all you could hear was the heartbeat from inside Chan’s chest. He was so broad, and the expanse of his torso provided a very comfortable pillow.

“I wasn’t offended, or taken back or anything when you offered, you know that, right?” Chan spoke out of nowhere, the rumbling of his chest vibrating intensely. “I wouldn’t have known, I tried my best to ignore you in case you never wanted to speak to me again,”

A small laugh came out of Chan, and his chest pushed your head a bit. “No, in fact, I think I’ve thought about it a little too much.”

You pushed your head off of him at this point, and resuming your position before he sat on the couch. You pulled your knees back up to your chest, and looked at him. “Really?”

“You said you wanted to have sex with someone you trust, and I feel the same way. It’s really hard to come by good people with good intentions, and you also happen to be beyond gorgeous. Why would I not want to?”

With cheeks now flushed red, you giggled. School-girl giggled, specifically. You had no idea how to take this compliment, but then the realization hit you. Christopher Bang just said he wants to fuck you.

His face also turned a deep scarlet, and he looked down, waiting for a reaction. “Mr. Bang, the things you say. So scandalous,” you both laughed lightly, and you hummed in response to the silence. “If we decide to ever do something, it’s important we talk about it first,” you mentioned, and now the conversation went from light-hearted to a bit more serious.

 “Of course, but in what way?”

“I don’t know, what kinds of things do you like? I can’t promise I can pertain to everything, but there’s no harm in trying. Especially if it happens more than once,” you clutched your legs, and Chan leaned forward a bit, his elbows on his knees as he stared ahead.

“Uh, well,” he laughed, and covered his hands with his face. This was the Chan you liked, who could make any situation, no matter how dark, seem light and easy-going. “It’s not really,” he started, beginning to look at you, then stopping himself, “I don’t know. I never usually talk about it like this,”

“Well, how about this: I tell you what I like, and you tell me what you’re willing to do. Just because I like it does not mean you have to do it, but if you enjoy it too, its mutual pleasure, yeah?”

Chan simply nodded, now mesmerized by you. His face completely tracked yours, and you sighed. “I have always loved your hands. I really, really like if you’d put them around my neck, if you would ever feel so kind. I really love being praised, I love being called a good girl, things like that. My favorite foreplay is just making out, I’m just a big softie, but I can take rough if that’s what you like. I’m a big pleaser, and I want to make sure you’re taken care of and get some pleasure out of this,”

Chan nodded once more, and his fingers instinctively wrapped themselves around his rings, twisting and turning. “Your turn, Channie,” you smirked, and he leaned back, a smile crowning his face. 

“Well, I really like being soft and intimate, I like any position, bonus points if I see your face,” he smiled, his cheeks burning scarlet. He clearly did not talk about these things often, moreso just played them out in the midst of a high and never spoke of it again. But he and you both knew how important communication was, so he continued.

“I have played around with being called Daddy, but I’m not sure, and if you’re not comfortable with it—”

“If I am that uncomfortable with something, I promise I’ll tell you. Besides, that’s really cute. Rolls right off the tongue, right Daddy?”

He visibily shivered, and you smiled. “I—uh, I like if you’d run your fingers through my hair, not too hard, but like soothingly, kind of? If that makes sense. I also like it if you’d verbalise when you’re, uh—”

You knew where he was going, so you leaned close to his ear and finished his sentence for him. “Gonna cum? Oh, it would be rude not to,” you laughed gently, and you saw the last of Chan’s patience snap like a rubber band. 

His hands grabbed your face sternly, yet somehow gently. “Do you want this?” he asked, the lust obvious on his face. Despite any previous conversation, he needed verbal consent to continue, and it would make him feel most okay with doing this. 

“Yes,”

The room was now silent, anticipation filling your entire body. You’d come in here crying, and you couldn’t help but hope you’d leave the same way; just a different type of crying. 

He pushed you so your back was now flush against the couch, the headrest leaning your upper torso closer to him. “Tell me to stop, and I promise I will, alright? The second you tell me to,” he was now looking you dead in the eyes, above you. Your legs were spread open, and his entire body was in the valley of your abdomen. Both of his arms were on either side of you, perching himself up. 

“Chris, just kiss me already,” you whined, and he laughed wholeheartedly, before dipping in. The first kiss was hesitant, exploring new territory. His lips tasted like vanilla chapstick, and the first few were light pecks. It took only a second before he took the initiative and added his tongue to the mixture. 

You rarely ever used tongue, most of your hookups barely even kissed, which is why none of them compared. Kissing was your weak point, it was a vulnerability. And Chan did not abuse that power once.

“Is this okay?” he mumbled against your mouth, your exchanging saliva now making more than your mouth lubricated. “Fuck, yes,” you moaned out, the amount of times he would kiss you now making you weak.

His hands dragged softly, and held themselves at your jaw, a classic sweetheart. His thumb was against your cheek so softly, the pads gracefully rubbing across the expanse of your cheekbone.

Everything about this was so domestic, so warm. His kisses were so soft, and full of love. There was no rush, no push to go any farther had you or him decided not to. His warm hands on your face made you purr on the inside, and when he pulled away, he had looked more beautiful than ever. 

You had no intention of mentioning the wetness that had gathered between your legs, until Chan was staring at you, and momentarily his eyes widened. “Shit,” he cursed, looking around rapidly. “We don’t have a condom. I’m clean and everything, but we don’t have to continue if you don’t feel comfortable,”

“I have an implant, and I’m clean too. I just want you, if you want me too.”

Chan had no other qualms about it, and he attacked your face in sloppy kisses. “Here, can we switch positions, my arm is hurting?” he asked awkwardly, and you laughed with your entire chest. It was a normal question, but the way he asked so ashamedly, as if it was something terrible. 

“Sit up straight, let me get on your lap,” you said softly, and he did as he was told. It was only then that you saw the bulge in his sweatpants, and you forgot that he actually had a male appendage, and from the looks of it, he was either girthy or long. Or both. 

As long as he knew how to use it, you’d be fine. 

He grabbed you by your hand to help maneuver you, and now your entire weight was on top of Chan. As you finally sat your hips down, he groaned. “Oh god,”

You took his face in your hands, and started kissing him again. At this point, you didn’t want him to be respectful anymore. His hands did not waver from your face, and so you took it into your own hands. Grabbing them both, so soft and calloused, and placed them as discreetly as you could, onto your hips. Moreso your ass, but Chan didn’t know your intentions. 

His hands pushed your hips forward, now rutting against his hard on. His lips and yours were now in a frenzy, drenching each other. It was still pretty slow, nothing fast paced, just more intense.

He broke the kiss, and his hands now edged at the bottom of your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he asked, breathless. His lips were now swollen and puffy, and his pupils were blown wide. 

You nodded softly, no words needed to be said. He quickly hauled the oversize shirt above your head, and groaned harshly when he realized you had no bra on. His first instinct was to latch his mouth onto your nipples, sucking softly. A moan left your mouth, and with nothing to hold onto anymore, your hands found his hair. 

Still rocking back and forth, your panties were probably soaked at that point. So much foreplay had you almost throbbing, and you couldn’t wait much longer to have him inside you. 

“Chan, please,” you moaned out, and he bit down on your nipple gently. “Only since you asked so nicely,” he added, and he told you to stand up. You did so, easily willingly, yet you loved the way he spoke to you.

It was almost a request, a plea. There was no power imbalance here, simply one trying to find another. He was so gentle, in everything he did. You wanted to drown in that feeling. 

He pulled your jeans off without a hitch, and eyed your lace panties hungrily, slightly thankful you’d changed earlier this evening. His fingers grasped the sides, pulling them down your legs. You were now completely bare, and he was fully dressed. This was a problem. 

“Not fair, your turn,” you pouted, and his eyes were fixated on your naked body. It felt odd, having him see you like this, but you couldn’t complain. Your arousal was now tainting your inner thighs, and Chan could probably see it too. 

He rid himself of his hoodie and his shirt at the same time, and you finally got a full view of him shirtless. This man was absolutely ripped, and you had to hold in a gasp. His arms were lined in protruding veins, and his abs were impeccable. You worked out, but not in your wildest dreams would you ever be able to maintain that nice of a physique. 

It wasn’t until he pulled off his pants, and painstakingly after, he patiently pulled his boxers off. God, did he have a pretty cock. A bit longer than average, slightly girthy, and it made your mouth water just thinking about it. 

Your first instinct was to pop down onto your knees, but as you were on your way down, Chan grabbed you by the arm. “Not this time, please, I need you,” he whined out, almost painfully. 

As you were on top of his lap, you were careful not to let him inside you yet. You figured he could decide when to do it, and you squealed when he let one hand slide from your face, down to your throat. His fingers, covered in rings, squeezed gently. He coaxed another moan from you as he let his fingers glide down the valley of your body, and found itself on your clit.

His movements were slow, but intense. His fingers glided over your folds, picking up some of your arousal, and placed all of his attention onto your little nub. Small pinprick moans escaped your mouth, and you began to tilt your hips in an attempt to get more friction. “Fuck, you’re so wet,”

Some noise semblant to a mew tried to leave your mouth, but his fingers tangled themselves around your neck further, leaving the sound trapped in your throat. “Are you ready? Or do we need to get you a bit more warmed up?” he asked softly, his mouth now next to you ear. His voice was dark, and husky.

“God, I just need you inside me,” you whined, and his hand let up on your neck, and he grabbed his cock harshly. He pumped it a few times, and spread your lips, and lined you up.

“Beg,” he said simply, and even if you tried to sink down, he now placed a hand on top of your hips harshly. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. “W—what?” you asked, breathless. 

“Beg, I want to hear you beg for me to fuck you,” he repeated himself, and looked down at you mischeviously. You two were face to face, and his cock was still in his hands, and your lips spread wide open for him to see. “Fuck, please,” you whined, and to no avail, he didn’t budge, “please, daddy, I just wanna feel good,”

As soon as the name sounded from your mouth, he pushed inside of you. The stretch was amazing, it was slightly painful, but it felt like nothing on this earth could amount. His entire cock filled you out nicely, and the lewd sound of him smacking against you was filling the room.

His hands laid at your hips now, piling into you like his life depended on it. His balls were smacking against your ass, and the harsh thrusts stimulated your clit. Everything was so intense, the way he filled you so deeply, you could feel him in places you didn’t know he could reach, and you felt like you’d burst apart the seams. 

Shameless moans spilled from your mouth, and Chan was in your ear, grunting like a man starved. “Such a good girl, fuck, for me,” his groans were so animalistic, and the way his hands would hold you steady.

His fingers traveled down to toy with your clit, and he never stopped fucking you. Your fingers started to tangle within his hair, and his lips attached themselves to your neck, sucking, finding anything to latch onto. 

The second his fingers started rubbing your clit numbly, you knew that you were going to cum soon. Everything he did just felt so good, you were just a hole the second he started fucking you.

“I—I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum,” you breathed out heavily, and your legs started shaking. “Please, can I—please cum?”

“Yes, cum for me,” he breathed out in a husky tone, and it wasn’t long until you felt your thighs start to involuntarily shake, and the feeling inside your abdomen welling up. “I’m so—” you were cut off by your orgasm rushing over you, Chan’s fingers never stopped stimulating your clit.

You moaned out harshly, slumping towards him, unable to control yourself as one of the most harsh orgasms you’ve ever had washed over you. Your entire body started to seize, and you clenched around him harshly. He continued to fuck into you, sucking into your neck, and he starting fucking into you faster. He was definitely close, “Where-”

You cut him off, still under the shock of your orgasm, “inside me, please,” you begged, and he fucked into you once more, even harder. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,”

He lived up to his promise, as less than a few seconds later, his warm cum spurted inside of you, and he still rutted his hips, begging for more friction. He stroked into you a few more times, now drained of energy. He placed a soft kiss onto your neck, and whispered, “Thank you.”

You got up, and put your shirt back on over yourself, and Chan pulled his boxers and sweatpants on once more. A thought rose over you on whether to leave or not, but you knew Chan would be a skinship type of guy. He would probably have a drop, and not be used to just casual hookups like this.

“Do you want me to stay?” you asked softly, and a large part of you hoped he would say yes.

“Please.”

#bang chan #chris bang #christopher bang #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz #stray kids #cb97 #3racha #smut #angst #fluff #skz angst #skz fluff #skz fic #bang chan smut #chris bang smut #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst

[dreamsclock]

can't stop thinking about that dreamon au snippet you wrote about george and sap busting dream out and how hard it's gonna be for them to get him back into any kind of fighting shape. like, they'll probably do their best to patch him up and get him healthy but might end up fucking something up and making it worse (like, not getting how malnutrition recovery works and he ends up with refeeding syndome, shit like that). just like, the possession was bad enough, but with torture on top of it and no medical knowledge? they're gonna have a rough time

this is the first piece of writing i’ve cried over writing!! i need y’all to know i had a much much darker version i was gonna post and changed my mind ,, you’ll be able to find it on twt soon if you want :’) click THIS before if you want to be sadder, click THIS after to cheer you up a bit bc i hate dropping heavy angst and then dipping on y’all absdkasjkd

warnings: sickness, fevers, death / dying, grief, heavy angst emotional distress, illness, extreme illness - please be very careful with reading, there’s pretty intense emotions in this !! <3

Dream gets sick a lot now.

He’d been the one with the strongest immune system before all this, often taking care of George and Sapnap whenever they got sick, but now his body is shot to hell and back, and he’s bedbound with the slightest illness, temperature dangerously high and pulse frighteningly sluggish. Sapnap cries the fourth time it happens. George doesn’t speak for two days. Dream always pulls through, but always looking a little paler, a little weaker.

A little more like he’d like to be back in the dreamon’s clutches, and it makes both of them feel ill.

It’s because of his wounds, they know - Dream’s body is littered in wounds, some of them minor, most of them awful, and they’re only just beginning to close up, three weeks later. They get infected far too easily for George’s liking, considering how shit both he and Sapnap are when it comes to medical things. 

(”If Bad was here, he’d know what to do,” Sapnap murmurs restlessly one night, dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than ever, and George doesn’t look up from stitching one of Dream’s wounds back up but his heart sinks, because Sapnap is right and it hurts, “if he came with us, he would be able to help, no problem.”

“Well, Bad isn’t here.” Releasing a short, pent up breath, George scrubs at his face, tries to keep himself calm. “He’s still all egg-ified. We need to do this ourselves. It’ll be fine.”)

He’d believed it at first: it’ll be fine, he’d said to Sapnap at the start, we’ve exorcised him, he’s safe, he’s out of harm’s way. But after almost a month on the run from people that want Dream dead and the highlight of Dream’s recovery being him waking up in terrified screams and ripping all his stitches leaving himself half dead again, George is beginning to lose hope in his optimism quickly. 

Dream still sleeps most of the day and most of the night. They struggle to keep him awake long enough to eat food he usually throws up and hold a conversation that’s always painfully one-sided before he slips off again, unmoored from consciousness. Sometimes, George wonders if it wouldn’t be kinder to let him die. This is hell - not just for them, but for Dream, who struggles through every setback, who barely makes it out of one horror alive before being plunged into the next.

And then he’s hit with his worst fever yet; an awful, awful thing, that wracks his body with violent shivers and leaves him slurring cries for help from the hallucinations he can’t seem to shake. Sapnap and George almost kill each other fighting about how to break a temperature - do they leave him to get rid of it by wrapping him up warmer? Do they try to cool him down? - while Dream fades away beside them. George, for the first time in his life, is hit with the terrifying thought that he doesn’t know what to do. There’s no easy solution to this problem, no quick-fix - for the first time, George tries to come to terms with the fact his best friend might die in his and Sapnap’s arms, and they would be helpless to stop it.

“It’s okay, Dream,” Sapnap shushes through tears, voice cracking, smoothing Dream’s sweaty hair back from his face, “it’s okay, I promise, I’m here, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. It’s gonna- It’s gonna be okay.”

Dream moans wordlessly, eyelids fluttering. George steps out of the room, because he thinks he’ll start sobbing if he doesn’t, and he can’t afford a breakdown right now, not when he’s the only one sort of holding it together. He can still hear Sapnap’s voice from the other room, can still hear him comforting Dream and promising things will get better, and he presses his hands to his ears, trying to block it out, just for a moment, just a second of oblivion-

“XD,” he whispers, words choked, struggling to force out the name that the god had forbidden him from speaking again, “XD, I need you. Please.”

He’s tried this before: tried begging on his hands and knees for his god to return and help, sobbing at night, breaking down during the day, but he’s never received an answer. He and XD hadn’t ended their friendship well - one too many arguments where George had been scared and XD had felt used and things had gone up in flames (literally, George’s hair is still singed). But he’s desperate. Dream is dying, and there’s nothing he or Sapnap can do about it. 

“XD, Dream- Dream isn’t okay. He isn’t okay. And I’m not okay either, and- and neither is Sapnap- none of us are okay.” George laughs hollowly, burying his head in his hands. “Please help. Please. I- I need you.”

Silence. George holds his breath, desperate for something to happen, desperate for a sign, anything.

...Still silence. 

Nauseous, George heads back into the room, sitting down next to Sapnap and taking Dream’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “Hey,” he whispers, heart breaking, “hey, Dream. Can you hear me?”

“He said he’s sorry,” Sapnap tells George, voice small, “he said- he opened his eyes and looked at me and said he’s sorry for hurting us. He said he’s scared, Georgie.”

It’s hard to breathe past the grief crushing his lungs. George swallows, throat thick. 

“Dream, it’s okay,” he says, uneven, ragged, “if it’s too much, you can- you can go. You can go. It’s okay. You don’t- You don’t need to be scared.”

It’s almost too much to say. Dream’s breathing is slow, shallow: George wonders if he can even hear him, or if he’s already too far gone.

“You’ve done so much,” George continues, running his thumb over Dream’s calloused knuckles, “I know- I know it has to hurt. You don’t need to hold on for us. I promise. I- I know how hard you’re trying.”

Sapnap’s sob beside him is choked, and shakes his whole body. George lets him bury his head in his neck, comforts Sapnap while comforting Dream and tries not to fall apart until his job is over.

“You can let go, Dream. If you have to. You can let go. You don’t have to stay for us.”

Because Dream is so selfless, all the fucking time, and George knows it’s one of the only things keeping Dream fighting. Dream knows it’ll kill both of them to have him die in their arms, so he pushes on, fights through every pain and every illness and every setback because in the end it’s his relief or his friends’, and he always chooses them, every time, without hesitation. 

George brushes his hand through Dream’s hair, a ball of grief sitting heavy in his throat, and knows he won’t move until Dream is gone. They’re with him until the end.

“Look, George,” Sapnap whispers after hours pass, raw, “remember we used to watch that with him?”

George looks up, eyes bloodshot, grief not lessened in the hours they’ve been sitting there, and sees the sun beginning to shine softly through the trees; the start of a new day, as golden and as beautiful as ever. It’s impossible to appreciate, though. It’s impossible to think about when Dream is-

Dream is-

Squeezing his hand back. When Dream is squeezing his hand back, breaths still ragged, exhausted, but determined, a stubborn repetition of his chest rising and falling and rising and George laughs, weakly, thrown by the impossibility of it all, because he’d known Dream had been dying, he’d known he wouldn’t survive the night.

Dream’s hand twitches weakly in his again, and George knows what he’s saying. You’re not losing me like this, he’s telling them, not like this, I won’t go down like this, and when Sapnap, in stunned disbelief, checks his temperature, the fever has broken and his temperature is heading back to normal. “That’s impossible,” Sapnap says, voice shot to hell and back, “that’s- fuck, oh my god, George, he might pull through. He really might pull through this.”

George wants to cry in delight. Instead, he chokes down another laugh, and squeezes Dream’s hand back. 

“He will,” he replies, and for the first time in a long time, he actually means it, “he will pull through. He’s Dream.”

Dream’s hand grips his lightly. I’m Dream, it assures, I’m not going anywhere.

#> my asks !! #> my writing !! #> dreamon au #tw sickness #tw fever #tw death #tw dying #tw grief #tw angst #tw emotional distress #tw illness #tw extreme illness

[fatiguing-thoughts]

“Disagreement” - Paul Lahote x Reader

Request: “Okay this might be stupid but it’s been in my head a really long time & I don’t write so I was wondering if you could do a Paul angst where his imprint is bellas sister & she chooses to stay by her when pregnant while of course they want to kill her? Too much?? 😂” 

A/N: I hope you enjoy what I did with this, I tried to make it a little less intense because I still find the situation so weird in breaking dawn ya know? also i’m off my game now that i’m going through a depressive episode once again so i hope what i gave you is at least a little enjoyable haha

“You have to what?” I blink, staring at Paul with wide eyes. 

“Sam says-” Paul tries but I cut him off. 

“You have to kill my sister, because Sam says?” I yell. 

“(Y/N), you know I have to listen, it’s out of my control.” 

“Paul, that is my sister. You’re talking about my sister and my niece or nephew. You’re talking about killing my family. How do you think I could be okay with this?” I seethe. 

“Baby, I know. But that baby isn’t a baby, it’s a demon.”

“No, we don’t know that. It’s a baby, Paul. I can’t believe you think I’ll be okay with this. As much as I’m not that fond of her, I can’t let you guys kill her.” I hiss. 

“I don’t want to do this, but I don’t have a choice. Alpha’s orders get obeyed whether we want to or not.” His teary eyes bored into mine. 

“Well, then don’t expect me to stay by and watch. I’m leaving, you’re free to come with but I’m not letting you do it.” I push past him, walking to our front door. 

“(Y/N), baby, please... You know I have to stay.” He pleads. 

“Well then I have to leave. And if you kill my sister and unborn niece or nephew or whatever it’ll be, don’t expect me to come back.” I slam the door shut, stomping my way over to my car. I started it, speeding out of there.

I soon found myself at the Cullen’s home, only to be met with an apprehensive Jacob, Leah, and Seth. Edward and Rosalie peered out the window at me. 

“I’m not here to cause any issues. I’m not here for Paul or Sam, I left. We had a disagreement.” I hold my hands up in surrender. 

“So are you and Paul okay?” Seth asks, looking at me with sad eyes.

“No, not if he tries to kill my sister and unborn family.” I huff, holding my tears back. 

“Well, we’re glad to have you around.” Jacob gives me a soft smile. 

I nod and make my way over to Leah, placing my head on her shoulder. 

The last few days without her, one of my best friends, was very difficult. I wasn’t told why they left exactly, but after Paul told me Sam’s plan, I was thankful for their support. 

“Thank you.” I murmur. 

“Couldn’t let Seth go off on his own.” She wraps an arm around my shoulder. 

“I know.” I smirk, knowing she hated Bella more than anyone else. 

Couldn’t necessarily blame her, though. 

“Are you okay?” Seth asks. 

“No. But I’ll be fine.” I smile sadly. “Can I see her?” 

Jacob looks over to the window, looking at Edward. Edward nods his head, causing Jacob’s gaze to fall back onto me. 

“Yeah, come on.” He nods, leading me into the massive house. 

I follow Jake, feeling all eyes on me. I then saw Bella sitting on the couch, a blanket covering her. 

“Hey.” She weakly smiles. 

“Hey, Bella. Long time no see.” I smirk, walking over. 

“I know, just... prepare yourself.” 

“For what?” I raise an eyebrow. 

But then I notice her face, all sunken in and hollow. Dark circles overtook her face, she looked like a walking corpse. 

“Rose.” She looks to see the blonde woman, holding out her hand. 

Rosalie walks over and helped her stand up. Bella’s state was absolutely astonishing. I couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping my lips when I noticed her seemingly malnourished frame stand up. She was skin and bones, except for her protruding belly, it was bigger than the rest of her. 

“Wow.” I exhale, trying to look her in the eye. 

“Yeah.” She smiles awkwardly. “Thank you for coming.” 

“Of course, I can’t sit back and let something happen to you.” I return her gesture. 

The next few days were unbearable. I was watching my sister die in front of my very eyes, adamant on having this child. Her husband torn with the outcomes of this situation, everyone was on edge. Jacob was having such a difficult time watching her die, it was simply a lot.

The tension in the house was unsettling. Everyone was so conflicted with the pregnancy, but ultimately it was Bella’s decision. A decision that none of us would be able to sway. I had a feeling this wouldn’t end well, but I was suffering more and more, as the bond between Paul and I was leaving me in severe pain.

I was ignoring his calls, his texts pleading me to come back to the reservation. My ignoring him didn’t get much done, eventually I just shut my phone off. It was too much, I was in too much pain. 

Emotionally, I was falling apart. Being apart from him was not only damaging me emotionally, it was causing me physical pain. I felt like my chest was on fire. 

I was growing sicker by the day, suffering without Paul. This bond really complicated already complicated situations. 

As I sat on the steps with Leah, Jake, and Seth, they perked up at the sound of rustling in the trees. 

“Why are they here?” Leah asks. 

“I don’t know.” Seth shrugs. 

They all began to stand up, and I followed behind. To my surprise, I saw Jared, Collin, and Brady walking out of the treeline. 

Brady looked at me, noticing my exhausted face. He stared a little too much.

“What are you guys here for?” Jake asks. 

“Sam sent us. We’re here to give you a final opportunity, a final warning.” Jared says with a stern face. 

“We’re not coming back.” Seth says deliberately. 

After some less than pleasant conversation, the trio left hastily. 

“Weird choice of who to send.” Seth tilted his head. 

“I thought it was weird, too. I thought he’d send Paul, Embry, and Quil.” I shrug. 

“No, he doesn’t trust they’d stay loyal to him. He knows they’d join us.” Leah purses her lips. 

“You’re right.” Jacob agrees. 

“Brady was checking in on you, it looked like. Paul might’ve told him to.” Leah says. 

“Yeah, I figured.” 

Sleeping was difficult, once again. I was seemingly falling apart at the seams. It was breaking my heart that Paul was on Sam’s side. It broke my heart to know that the love of my life was betraying me and my wishes. I understand that he can’t disobey Sam and leave his pack, but Jake, Seth, and Leah left to do what was right. 

I was tossing and turning in my bed, but I had heard a bit of rustling outside of my window, followed by voices. 

I got up, looking out the window to see Jake, Seth, Leah, and Edward talking to Embry, Quil, and Paul. 

I felt my stomach drop as I heard Paul yell at Jake. 

“I need to see her! It’s not about Sam anymore.” He hisses. 

I heard the rest of them talking, though it was too quiet for me to hear. I couldn’t tear my eyes off the fuming figure standing in front of Jacob. Almost fighting him to get to me. 

Until our eyes met. I watched as his face softened and a small smile appeared on his place. He looked at me before looking back to Edward, pushing through everyone to get through into the house. 

Everyone watched as he entered the house, looking up at me with a soft smile. 

I turned around as I heard hurried footsteps approach the room I was staying in. The door burst open and I saw an exhausted looking Paul, the bags under his eyes matched mine.  

“I missed you so much, baby.” Paul whispers, hurrying over to hold my face in my hands. 

“Paul... I can’t do this if you’re here to kill my sister.” 

“If I was here to kill your sister, do you think I would’ve been let into the house? I’m here for you. I left Sam’s pack. The three of us did, he doesn’t know yet.” He rushes. 

I grabbed him, pulling him closer to me. I pressed my lips against his, hungrily. I couldn’t bring myself to let go of him. I felt the warmth of his body pressed against my own. 

“He won’t do anything with most of the pack leaving. He can’t do it with all of us gone. I know it.” He whispers, pulling me close. 

“Good.” 

The next few days were easier, though we still worried about an ambush from Sam’s pack. 

Bella was growing increasingly ill, but Jacob’s snarky thought found us a solution. She needed to drink blood. It was absolutely nauseating, but it really seemed to help. 

Paul’s presence made things easier for me, but it was still gruesome. It was difficult and tensions only rose as the days went past. 

Though, Paul was right. Sam’s pack was outnumbered and when they showed up, they realized they weren’t fit to get to Bella and Renesmee. They showed up after Brady’s spying found Bella to have been dead. 

But we had proven that the baby was not a threat, after I clutched her in my arms. 

They couldn’t do anything to the baby without hurting me. I couldn’t be touched. I was sacred, so thanks fate for saving all of us. Even if I hated my niece’s name. 

Thanks fate for Paul. _________________________________ Word Count: 1559

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #sam uley #jared cameron #jacob black #leah clearwater #seth clearwater #embry call #quil ateara #twilight #twilight imagine #twilight x reader

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part III

Part I

Part II

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

After that night, it became increasingly hard for (Y/N) to leave, and for Eren to let her do so.

Something between them had changed. There were moments— when Eren would press feather-light kisses against her forehead, when he would casually leave a cup of her favorite tea where she would find it— where (Y/N) felt as though her heart might burst. It was all the little things that baffled her, all the ways in which he seemed to understand exactly how she felt; it was as though he knew her more than she knew herself. On the mornings that she would wake in his bed, sleepy and sticky and wholly content, (Y/N) wondered what it would be like to have this life forever.

Other days— on days like today— she was reminded exactly why that could never be, and it broke her heart.

Today, they had planned a romantic dinner in the park, an evening under the stars. It was supposed to be something special, a little getaway just for the two of them; they had wanted to leave as soon as (Y/N) was relieved from her patrol, so Eren had moved her things to his place, hoping that they could leave together from there for their evening alone.

In and of itself, that was fine… but when (Y/N) came in, covered head-to-toe in viscous Creature blood, Eren was furious.

“And you call me a monster,” he growled, looking her up and down with hate in his eyes. “I can’t believe you.”

He stood from his seat on the sofa, and (Y/N) began to back away, still wary from the fight she had narrowly escaped from unscathed. Her every instinct told her that she should run, fire a round of silver bullets into his chest, but she steeled herself, doing neither.

“It’s not my fault— they were attacking a civilian,” she told him as he stalked towards her, his face twisted into a horrific scowl. “I tried to stop them— tried to find out what was going on— but then they came at me with their claws, and I was left with no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” he snarled, and it was then that anger filled (Y/N) from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. "They were probably terrified of you— how could you possibly blame them for lashing out?"

(Y/N) grit her teeth.

“This, from the man who thought genocide was his only option to the same problem?”

Eren made a low, warning sound in the back of his throat, but (Y/N) pressed on.

“You would rather me have died?” she demanded, stepping into his space. “Would it have pleased you more for my body to bleed out on the pavement, ripped to shreds by an aggressive werewolf? Would you even care, or would you just find the next blood bag and move on with your life?”

“Maybe so,” he shot back, “Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your insufferable mouth.”

That stung— but if there was one thing (Y/N) knew how to do, it was to strike back twice as hard as she had been struck.

“Fine then,” she said, turning on her heel. “I won’t bother you any longer. I’ll go out and find someone who actually wants my company, someone who’ll fuck me good and proper over the counter at some hole-in-the-wall bar over on Easy Street, someone younger, with a nicer cock and less fucking baggage— ”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence, or even walk a single step further— Eren grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to him, his fist painfully tight against her scalp.

“Wanna say that again, to my face?” he asked, tilting her head back.

“I’ll go find someone else to fuck me,” she spat, struggling in vain against him. “I’ll spread my legs for the next available schmuck in the closest bar I can find, so you can hear me scream his name and not yours.”

It was a low blow, to threaten a vampire’s claim on something they had previously assumed had belonged to them, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She had almost died today, and she’d be damned if she was going to take shit from anyone about what she had to do to survive. If Eren wanted a fight, she would damn sure give him one.

“Like hell you will,” he told her, pulling her head back so that she had to strain to remain standing. “You’re mine. Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood— you are my Companion.”

"I belong to no one!"

Those words ripped from her throat and echoed throughout the empty house, and it was then that Eren stopped, looking at her with calculation in his gaze.

"You're right," he said, releasing her hair. "No mortal can serve two masters, lest they love one and despise the other; an archaic religious concept, but an accurate one nonetheless. You've made it abundantly clear where your loyalty lies. I was a fool for thinking otherwise."

(Y/N) began to tremble. "Eren, what are you saying?"

"I release you from our pact," he replied coldly, his eyes so dull and lifeless that it sent a chill down her spine. "No longer are you bound to be my wine-press— I free you from me."

"Eren—"

"Go," he commanded, and (Y/N) felt terribly, horribly empty.

Once, he would have told her to come freely, go safely, and leave something of the happiness she brought him; now, he gave her a cold dismissal, and it frightened her more than she was willing to admit. Still, she went, feeling hollow and used, and she didn't bother to shut the door behind her as she turned to walk home, weary from the day and sick from fighting.

***

Armin had lived for a very long time, but even so, he had yet to meet anyone so foul of temper as Eren when the Hunger was on him.

"Eren, you have to feed."

The vampire, as ill in health as in temper, glared weakly at him. "I'm not hungry."

"But you are Hungry, and don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. Look, if this is about that girl—"

"I told you not to speak of her!"

Ah, so it was about her. By the looks of him, it had been two weeks since Eren had fed; Armin would bet that he hadn't seen her in the same amount of time.

"If I need to, I'll drag her here to make up with you myself," said Armin testily, "I refuse to watch my best friend starve himself because he refuses to feed on anyone else."

"You will not touch her."

Armin rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything further. He just patted Eren's arm in farewell and set about finding the little lady who was the root cause of his current consternation.

It took longer than Armin had anticipated to find the young woman who had, for all intents and purposes, completely unraveled Eren's composure; her scent, while thick and memorable in Eren's apartment, was hard to track otherwise. Armin spent two hours just wandering the city while trying to catch a breath of it here or there, and when he finally did manage to catch a whiff of her scent and follow it to her, he understood exactly why it had been so hard to track her down.

The girl was a Hunter, of all things.

When Armin found her, she was knee-deep in sewage, her knife embedded to the hilt in the skull of what appeared to be some species of winged reptile. Armin, having been a tad desperate and not actually having been expecting to find anything when he lifted the lid to the man-hole on 32nd and Main, was surprised to say the least— and when (Y/N) ripped her knife free and readjusted her stance into a defensive one directed at him, his surprise turned to intrigue.

“Er, hello there,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t suppose you’ll take my word for it that I just want to chat, will you?”

Curiously, the words gave the woman pause. She relaxed her stance ever-so-slightly, and then her eyes lit up with recognition.

“Armin Arlert?” she queried, craning her neck up to see him. “Is that you?”

This one grows curiouser and curiouser, he thought, but responded affirmatively.

“Can you give me a bit, then?” she asked, kicking the corpse of the Creature she’d just killed. “I’m not exactly fit for company. Perhaps we could meet later for a discussion over tea?”

“I’m afraid it’s urgent,” he said as she knelt to decapitate her prey— likely for proof of victory. “I think you know why I’m here, so you understand that time is of the essence.”

She didn’t look up at him as she replied.

“If this is about Eren, then I don’t have time to talk.”

Her tone was hard, bitter, and matter-of-fact, and it reminded Armin so much of Jean that it hurt… but just like Jean, Armin would bet that she could be won over by appealing to her inherent sense of human decency

“He’s suffering (Y/N),” he said, awkwardly crouching above the manhole so that she could better see the truth written in his eyes. “He won’t feed.”

“That’s hardly my problem.”

And oh, how well Armin knew that state of mind. If there was one thing Eren Jaeger knew how to do, it was push away the people who loved him most. Armin had dealt with that particularly lovely quirk of his for centuries, and it never got easier to deal with no matter how much time passed. If anything, it got more difficult the older they both got.

“When you’re the solution to a problem, you become a part of it whether you like it or not,” Armin replied, patient and understanding. “He cares for you.”

(Y/N) looked up at him then, fury in her eyes.

“He hurt me.”

Armin shrugged. “He hurts everyone he cares about. It’s just who he is. Nothing comes for free— least of all the love and loyalty of someone as old and as powerful as Eren.”

“Your heart may be toughened to his meanness,” she told him, the head of the creature she’d slain in her hands, “But mine is not, and I don’t like him well enough to willfully remain for him to use as an emotional punching bag.”

At that, Armin couldn’t help but let loose a wry grin.

“No,” he said, “I should think not; but I do think you love him well enough to make sure he doesn’t starve himself to death because he can’t have you.”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment, then she crossed her arms.

“I won’t come crawling to him. He’s going to have to come to me.”

Armin grimaced. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

“Is that at all negotiable?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

Well, there was nothing for it.

“And you will let him feed if he comes to you?”

(Y/N) thought, then nodded. “If he proves himself deserving.”

Armin couldn't help himself; he laughed. Eren might have met his match in this one.

"Very well. I'll work my magic, and you work yours."

She nodded and bade him farewell, but before Armin left, he paused.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

With that, he left her, ready to take Eren by the ear and throw him at her if he had to.

***

(Y/N)'s heart was racing as she opened the door, knowing good and well who would be behind it.

After her little talk with Armin— and the near heart attack he had given her in the process— she had called in to Zeke and told him she needed to go home to deal with an emergency. A replacement for her patrols had been sent, and she had come home to wash the grim from her skin, making herself as presentable as possible with the time she had. (Y/N) was worried, so worried, that the filth she had been wading in earlier would have left a lingering stench, or even that it had affected the taste of her; she had scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was raw, hoping to erase every last remnant of her day from her skin…but as it turned out, she needn't have bothered.

Two, three, four hours later, and Eren hadn't shown— it was only now, right at the six hour mark, that he had decided to come to her.

Needless to say, (Y/N) was… less than pleased, but when she opened the door to find Eren pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath his eyes, her heart softened ever-so-slightly. It seemed that Armin was right; he had been suffering.

"You look like shit," she told him quietly, opening her door widely to let him in.

"I assure you, I feel worse," Eren grumbled, but stepped in as she closed the door behind him.

For a long, awkward moment, they just looked at each other, silent and unsure. It was unsettling how unlike himself Eren seemed; he was almost soft when he looked at her, and (Y/N) didn't know how to feel about it. Eventually, though, like two opposite ends of a magnet, they were drawn together, and Eren brushed a piece of hair back from her face.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and rough. (Y/N) caught his hand in hers before it could fall from her hair, and she pressed it against her chest, keeping it trapped there, touching the skin above her beating heart.

"Hey."

They watched each other a moment more before the dam broke between them, and they both spoke at once.

"I'm sorry."

A shared grin, a shy laugh— and then (Y/N) said what they both were thinking.

"You need to feed first, and talk later," she told him, her hand still clasped in his. "You're not off the hook, but I doubt we can have any real conversation with you like this."

Eren nodded gratefully, tugging at her wrist— his usual biting spot— but (Y/N) shook her head, indicating her neck. The thickest, richest blood, she knew, would come from there; and if there was ever a time to be generous with the placement of Eren's bite, she figured that it would be now.

The worst of it was over quickly. There was a brief sting at the intrusion of razor-sharp fangs, and then the vaguely uncomfortable feeling of having something poking down into places that decidedly should not be poked at all, but then (Y/N) quickly eased into the rhythm of the act, focusing wholly on the way Eren's lips felt against her skin. In a few moments, she would become pleasantly light-headed, and then Eren would pull away and look at her like she'd hung the stars. Oh, how she'd missed that look! (Y/N) found herself longing for it even before she quite realized it.

And then, without warning, a vision came, and (Y/N) was swept into another world entirely.

The evening sky rolled endlessly out towards the horizon; it seemed to go on forever, sparkling with more stars than (Y/N) had ever seen before. The full moon was so bright that it cast the whole world in what seemed like silver sunlight, and (Y/N) wondered how anyone could sleep on a night such as this. It was far too beautiful an experience to miss.

Alongside her— alongside Eren, through whose eyes she saw the world— strode Armin and two older-looking cadets who she recognized from previous memories as Reiner and Berthold. Eren was feeling anxious over something, and Reiner and Berthold were… well, they were kind. Reiner especially seemed to be like an older brother, and Eren admired him.

"You'll do just fine tomorrow," said Reiner, placing a large, warm hand on Eren's shoulder. "I'm certain of it."

The memory ended, and (Y/N) came back to herself as Eren's tongue laved over the wounds his fangs had left in her neck, sealing them.

"See anything?" he asked, his breath warm against her skin, and (Y/N) nodded.

"You loved them, too," she said softly, remembering the fondness Eren had felt as though it had been her own. "You loved the Hunters that tried to take everything from you, and— and I think they loved you, too."

Eren pulled away from her, and it was then that she saw the tears shining in his eyes.

"Yes," he replied, his voice broken. "We were children. How could we not love each other as God intended? Hate was never in our nature; it was an inheritance that we couldn't escape."

He paused for a moment, then spoke again.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he told her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I lost my temper. I forget— I forget that you're not them."

And (Y/N) understood. She understood that no matter how many centuries passed, there would be wounds that just wouldn't heal for Eren. He would lash out at things that wouldn't make sense to anyone who hadn't experienced the horrors of war as he had. Suddenly, she felt petty for having lashed out as she had, and guilt threatened to rise up and choke her.

"You're forgiven," she replied, leaning into his touch. "It takes two to tango— I shouldn't have baited you like I did. I knew how badly that would hurt you, and that's exactly why I said it."

At that, Eren cracked a grin.

"I expect nothing less from a Kirschtein. Your grandfather would have punched me square in the jaw— and as big as that bastard got when we were older, he probably would have put me on my ass."

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh, and Eren joined her, their combined joy swelling until there was nothing else in the world but their happiness.

How they started kissing, neither one of them would be able to say afterwards, but in the grand scheme of things, it hardly mattered. Their love was too large to contain, too much to hold back— and it was love, (Y/N) realized, though she hadn't quite put words to it yet. She loved Eren Jaeger, a Creature, a monster, as much as her grandfather before her had and more. She loved him with a desperation that felt like being knocked over by an ocean wave and plunged into depths where her feet no longer touched the sand. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone before.

And, as he placed her gently on her bed that was barely big enough for two, divesting himself of his shirt above her, (Y/N) thought that maybe she didn't mind it so much as long as he loved her in return.

"I missed you," said Eren, dropping kisses by her ear as he unhooked her bra. "I missed this."

"Me too," she gasped as his mouth wandered to her nipple, her hands fisting in his hair. "Oh, God, I missed you too."

The time for words was soon gone, however; Eren's sinful, sinful mouth traveled lower and lower until he was kissing at the insides of her thighs, parting them to access what lay between, and (Y/N) threw her head back as he spread her open with his hands and sucked brazenly at her clit.

How long he spent there, worshipping her sex, (Y/N) had no idea; all she knew was that she came once from his mouth on her and a second time from his fingers inside her, and when he finally, mercifully withdrew, she was broken down to the simplest parts of herself; there was nothing left but an affection so deep that it threatened to overtake her if she didn't let it out, and she did the only thing she knew to do to release the overwhelming pressure that was building in her chest as Eren pushed his big, veiny cock into her.

She told him what she should have said a long time ago.

"Oh, Eren," she gasped as his cockhead shoved deep inside her. "I love you."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Eren went unnaturally still. He looked at her with pupils blown wide inside emerald eyes, and his fangs slightly distended; in any other situation, (Y/N) might have laughed at how surprised he seemed, but it seemed as though she were frozen in time, unable to do anything but stare earnestly up at them, hoping he understood how much she cared for him.

"You… what?"

"I love you," she repeated, her body moving without her permission to roll her hips up into him, moving his cock even further inside her. "Please, Eren, I need—"

He cut her off with a forceful, bruising kiss, and his hips started making slow, deep thrusts inside her, her legs hiked up over his shoulders.

"Again," he said against her lips."Say it again."

"I love you."

Another thrust or two, a hand circling her wounded throat.

"Again."

"I love you, Eren."

"Again."

This time, it was only a whisper.

"I love you," she said, and Eren began fucking her in earnest.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he told her as he thrust hard and deep inside her. "You're every man's dream, a nirvana the damned such as myself were never meant to reach. (Y/N), you are everything, and I—"

He seemed to choke on the words, and (Y/N) kissed him as he tried to regain his composure.

"I don't deserve you," he said, shaking with the force of their passion. "I don't deserve your love."

It's not about deserving, she wanted to say, It never was, but then she was coming again, her climax contracting her walls around her lover, and it was all she could do to remain conscious as Eren fucked her relentlessly through it all, chasing his own high.

It was only later, after a shower and something to eat that they finally spoke again. They were back in bed, and Eren's arm was wrapped around her, as though he were afraid to let her go for even a moment; truthfully, (Y/N) thought he was asleep, but then his breath tickled her ear as he said,

"I love you, angel."

And that, (Y/N) thought, had been worth it all, in the end.

#aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #eren x reader #vampire!eren jaeger #aot smut