#from jared's parents | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

skzophreniic · 1 month ago

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⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content, neighbors to lovers, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), reader first orgasm, soft dom Han Jisung, emotional vulnerability, praise kink, mention of toxic relationship, slight exhibitionism (thin walls), slight degradation of ex-boyfriend, aftercare, fluff, soft angst (parental neglect), mdni

notes: in which han jisung hears you faking your orgasms through the walls of your apartment--and things spiral from there.

The walls in this building are a joke.

Half an inch of drywall. That’s all that separates his shitty one-bedroom from yours. He’s counted.

It’s not like he meant to know so much about you. He’s not trying to eavesdrop on every late-night argument, every hungover FaceTime call, every time you drag your heavy Econ textbook across the floor.

He just lives here.

And unfortunately, so do you.

Jisung never asked for the proximity. He never asked to know the way your voice rises when you're tipsy or how you only sing when you thinks no one can hear. But he does. He knows. He knows you eat too many frozen waffles and tha tyour microwave beeps twice before you remember to take shit out. He knows the name of your boyfriend, the sound of your laugh when you’re trying too hard, and worse—

The exact pitch of your moans when you’re faking it.

Because you fake it. Every damn time.

And he would know. He’s had the misfortune of being hard at 2AM with your paper-thin walls pressed against his back and that sorry excuse for sex filtering through his second-hand studio monitors like a mockery of porn.

It’s always the same: breathy gasps, your boyfriend’s awkward grunting, the bed springs squeaking like hell, and then—

“Oh my god, yeah, just like that...”

Flat. Perfunctory. The kind of moan that sounds practiced. Rehearsed. Completely unconvincing.

Jisung rolls his eyes and turns the volume up on his mix.

Not because it bothers him. Not because he cares.

It’s just distracting.

He’s got better things to do than think about the pretty girl next door faking orgasms like it’s a part-time job.

Like finish this track. Like land an actual gig. Like figure out how the fuck he’s going to keep affording rent in a city that eats people alive and doesn’t even burp after.

He’s not interested.

He’s not.

Except—

Sometimes he wonders what it would sound like if you meant it.

What you’d sound like if someone took their time. If someone made you come for real, dragged it out of your with fingers in your hair and lips on your neck and the kind of steady, brutal rhythm that doesn’t stop until you’re shaking.

What you’d sound like if it were him.

Jisung curses under his breath and drags his headphones off.

His eyes are dry. His dick’s half-hard. His track’s going nowhere.

Cool.

Maybe he just needs to… do something. Anything. Something mundane. Something that reminds him he’s a functioning adult with a trash bin and a spine and better things to focus on than the soft moans of the girl next door and the way they don’t sound quite right.

He grabs the overstuffed trash bag by the door, ties it with too much force, and makes a beeline for the hallway before he can talk himself out of it.

The fluorescent lights hum. The elevator’s broken again. Everything smells vaguely like burnt toast and someone’s fruity shampoo.

This building is hell.

He loves it.

Jisung drops the bag down the chute, lingers a second too long just to feel the rush of cold air against his face, then heads back.

He’s barely two doors away from home when he sees you.

You’re standing outside your apartment, arms crossed over your chest, loose sweatshirt slipping off one shoulder like it’s been a long night. Your boyfriend—Jason? Jared? Justin?—is leaning in too close, his mouth moving fast. Jisung can’t make out the words, but the tone’s familiar. Sharp. Defensive.

The boyfriend tries to kiss you.

You turn your face away.

Jisung doesn’t mean to stop walking. His feet just… do.

“I said I’m tired,” you mutter.

“Oh, you’re tired?” the guy snaps, way too loud for this dingy little hallway. “You weren’t tired twenty minutes ago when you were riding my dick, were you?”

Jesus.

Jisung should keep walking. Should disappear into his apartment and mind his business like he always does.

But instead, he just—

“Hey.”

His voice comes out cracked around the edges, like it hasn’t been used in a while. Which is accurate. He hasn’t really spoken to anyone in three days. Not unless you count the talking he does into the mic when he’s laying down verses at 3AM.

You both turn to look at him.

Jisung tries to smile.

It’s more of a grimace.

“You, uh…” he clears his throat, glancing at you instead of the walking ego next to you. “You okay?”

You hesitate.

The boyfriend doesn’t.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Jisung shoves his hands deeper into his hoodie pocket. “Neighbor.”

The guy blinks, then laughs. “Oh. So you’re the one blasting that emo SoundCloud shit through the wall every night?”

Jisung winces. A breath stutters out of him like he’s been lightly slapped.

Then he notices it—you wince, too. The tiniest flicker of guilt flashing across your face, so fast he almost misses it.

And yeah. Okay.

That stings more than it should.

“I didn’t say it was shit,”you mumble under your breath, clearly meant only for your own conscience.

“Don’t worry,” Jisung says quickly, forcing a light tone as he scratches the back of his neck. “It’s fine. Totally fair. Some of my stuff is… uh. Kinda dogshit.”

The boyfriend grins like he’s just won something.

“Glad we agree. Thought I was gonna have to explain how sound works to a wannabe DJ.”

Jisung opens his mouth—then closes it again.

Not worth it.

Definitely not worth it.

Except you’re still looking at him. Still standing there with your arms folded tight, sweatshirt slipping down further. And your face—

There’s something in it. Not pity. Not sympathy.

More like… regret.

He hates that it softens him.

The boyfriend, oblivious, barrels on. “Anyway, next time you feel like giving a concert at four in the morning, maybe wait until someone asks.”

“Next time you feel like giving headboard percussion lessons at two,” Jisung mutters, “maybe make sure she actually comes.”

The words leave his mouth before his brain catches up.

Instant silence.

You gasp. Cover it with your hand, like you’re trying not to laugh—or scream.

The boyfriend just stares at him.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Jisung shrugs, already stepping toward his apartment door. His hands are shaking a little, but he keeps his voice light.

“I mean, the moaning’s impressive. Real Oscar-worthy shit. But you’d think a guy who talks that much would at least know when he’s not doing it right.”

“You little—”

“Hey, man.” Jisung turns back for half a second, nodding at him with a crooked, tired smile. “If I can tell through the wall that she’s faking it, that’s not on her. That’s on you.”

He shuts the door behind him before the guy can even finish winding up his insult.

Click.

Deadbolt.

Silence.

Except for the thundering in his chest.

Jisung exhales hard, forehead thunking against the door. “What the fuck did I just do?”

He sinks down to the floor like his legs have given up. Which, to be fair, they kind of have.

This isn’t him. This isn’t what he does.

He doesn't talk back. Doesn’t mouth off. Doesn’t insert himself into other people’s messy lives—especially not yours. He barely speaks to delivery guys. Half his social life happens through a pop filter.

And yet.

“You’d think a guy who talks that much would at least know when he’s not doing it right.”

God. It was kind of funny.

But still—Jesus.

Jisung scrubs both hands over his face, embarrassment curling in his gut like a hangover.

Across the wall, he hears footsteps. Muffled shouting. The boyfriend’s voice, sharp with wounded ego. And then—

The unmistakable slam of a door.

Silence.

No more voices. No more fake moans. No more anything.

Jisung doesn’t move.

Eventually, when the silence stays long enough to feel safe, he hauls himself up off the floor. Brushes dust from his sweats. Tries not to replay what he said out loud like a greatest hits compilation of shit he absolutely should not have said out loud.

____________________________________________________________________________

He sleeps like shit.

Of course he does.

And when morning comes, it hits in a wave of cheap sunlight and neighborly noise.

He hears your usual routine unfold with near-perfect familiarity: fridge door opening, kettle clicking on, cabinet slam (twice—you always forget which one holds the instant coffee). Muffled cursing. Zipper. Then keys jingling against the lock.

He listens as you step out, lets the door fall shut behind you, and walks down the hall toward the stairs.

Everything is the same.

And none of it is.

Because this time, when you leave,your footsteps pause right outside his door.

Just for a second. A breath.

Then gone.

He groans and pulls the blanket over his face.

The rest of the day moves in its usual haze. Jisung does what he always does: noodles with a half-finished beat, eats instant ramen over the sink, ignores three texts from Chan asking for an update on the mix. His headphones stay around his neck most of the day, never quite getting used.

By sunset, the hallway is quiet again.

The beat he’s working on is shit. He knows it’s shit. He keeps tweaking it anyway.

It’s not even music anymore. Just sound. A bunch of clunky, disjointed loops that won’t glue together no matter how many times he messes with the tempo.

He’s just about to scrap the whole thing when—

Knock knock.

He freezes.

It’s soft. Measured. Hesitant.

He doesn't move right away—just sits there in his desk chair like someone just rang the doorbell in a horror movie. Then he leans back slightly, just far enough to peek over the edge of his laptop.

Another knock.

His heart does something stupid.

He stands. Pads barefoot to the door. Checks the peephole.

Of course it’s you.

You’re standing there in leggings and an oversized hoodie, arms cradling a plastic container like its armor. Your hair's pulled back, face bare. You look—

Small.

Unsure.

You lift one hand and knock again, even softer this time.

He hesitates a second longer, then opens the door.

Not all the way. Just a crack.

Your head jerks up. You blink. “Hi.”

He blinks back. “Uh. Hey.”

You shift your weight. “Can I—uh, are you busy?”

He opens the door a little wider, eyes flicking down to the container you’re holding. “No. I mean. Just… failing at music.”

That gets the faintest smile out of you.

“Right. Yeah. I, um…” You hold out the container. “These are for you.”

He stares. “Cookies?”

“Apology cookies.”

There’s a beat.

Then:

“I didn’t bake them,” You admit. “But I did walk two blocks to the overpriced organic place to get them. So. Effort was made.”

He blinks down at the container again, like it might disappear if he stares hard enough.

“Effort noted,” he mumbles.

You shift again, hugging your arms tighter. “You don’t have to eat them. I just—felt weird not saying thank you. Or sorry. You didn’t have to do what you did last night.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. Felt weird not saying something. So.”

You stand there in the doorway for a second, both of you clearly unsure of what to do now that the thing you came to say has been said. He should probably invite you in. Or take the cookies. Or smile, or make a joke, or something.

Instead, he clears his throat.

You jump in to fill the silence. “Also, just so we’re clear—I didn’t actually mean the SoundCloud thing. That was… low-hanging fruit.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So you’ve listened?”

That earns him a flush, bright and instant. “Not on purpose.”

“Wow.” He presses a hand to his chest. “What a glowing endorsement.”

“I’m just saying—I wasn’t trying to be a bitch. That wasn’t fair.” Your gaze softens. “Your stuff is good. Better than good, actually. The one with the—uh—strings and that lo-fi beat underneath?”

His eyebrows raise. “Track twelve?”

She nods.

His stomach flips. It’s ridiculous. But that track had been sitting unfinished for weeks, like something he wasn’t sure anyone but him would ever care about. And now she’s standing here—face bare, voice quiet—quoting it back to him like it meant something.

He doesn’t know what to say.

For someone who spends hours arranging syllables and syncopation for fun, it’s laughable how words immediately bail on him when they might actually matter.

“You, uh…” He shifts the container to one hand. “You’ve got a good ear.”

You smile. It’s small. A little sheepish. “I’ve got shit walls.”

That makes him laugh—quiet and surprised.

“I should let you hear more sometime,” he says, before he can talk himself out of it.

You tilt your head. “Yeah?”

“I mean—only if you want to. No pressure. I just thought…”

He trails off, scratching at the seam of his sleeve.

“I’d like that,” You say.

And he doesn’t know what to do with the warmth that blooms in his chest. It’s not huge. It’s not loud. But it’s there—steady and unexpected, curling under his ribs.

“Cool,” he says, voice softer now. “I’ll, uh. Let you know next time I make something new.”

You nod, then shift your weight backward—just enough to start retreating. But not before your eyes flick to his again, briefly, like you want to say something else.

He thinks might.

But all you do is smile—small and real—and take one step back towards your door.

“Goodnight, Han.”

His name on your lips feels like something it shouldn’t. Like a secret.

He nods. “Night.”

And then you turn. Cross the narrow hallway back to your apartment, keys already in hand. you hesitate at the door for half a second—he notices that, because of course he notices that—then slides the key in, disappears inside, and lets the door fall shut behind you with a soft click.

He watches the empty hallway for a beat longer.

He stares at his own door for a moment after he closes it, forehead pressed against the wood like the words you left behind are still floating in the air.

Goodnight, Han.

He hadn’t realized how nice his name could sound until you said it like that.

It echoes in his chest. Warms something that’s been cold for a while.

When he finally moves, it’s slow. He sets the cookies on the kitchen counter, grabs a pen, and flips open the nearest notebook—one he’s barely touched in weeks.

And he writes:

Track idea: starts quiet. Voice sample, maybe hers? Lo-fi beat behind it, soft keys. Let it build. Don’t let it rush. Let it breathe.

He underlines let it breathe three times.

Then he puts his headphones on.

And for the first time in a long time—

The music comes easy.

______________________________________________________________

You never planned on being friends with Han.

The boy next door with the quiet mouth and loud headphones. The recluse who only seemed to exist in studio beats and half-heard melodies through the wall. You knew his name before you knew his face—Han, printed on a mailbox slot too narrow.

Now he nods at you in the hallway. Smiles, even. You’ve learned that they’re rare, his smiles—crooked and shy, like they’re still trying to figure themselves out. You’ve started waiting for them.

Some mornings, you catch him in the elevator, hoodie pulled over messy hair, a takeout coffee in one hand and sleep in his eyes. You say hi. He says hey. He always holds the door for you.

It’s nothing. But it’s not nothing.

And then, one night—it’s something.

It starts with your friend’s voice, high and nervous. “I swear I had your keys. I swear they were just—fuck, okay, check your bag again—”

You’re too drunk to care. Or think. Or stand up straight

Your bag is wide open on the hallway floor, a war zone of receipts, gum wrappers, lip glosses with no caps, and an unopened pack of hot sauce packets you swear you didn’t steal from Taco Bell. Your friend is crouched beside it, frantically digging like she’s searching for buried treasure.

And that’s when the elevator dings.

You don’t even bother turning around. You’re too busy trying to balance one heel on top of a rogue pack of gum like it’s a tightrope.

Your friend, however, freezes. Then straightens sharply, whisper-hissing, “Oh shit—it’s your neighbor.”

You blink. “Which one?”

“The hot one.”

That gets your attention.

You turn—wobble—and there he is: Han. Grocery bag in one hand, hood halfway off, hair a little windblown. His eyes flick from your friend to you, then to the scene at your feet: your life in full chaotic display.

He pauses. Then says, with the softest little blink of disbelief,

“Uh… everything okay?”

You blink right back at him.

Then lean toward your friend—not subtly, not gracefully, and definitely not quietly—and whisper at full volume:

“You’re right, he is hot.”

It echoes.

Down the hall. Into the vents. Probably into the next dimension.

Your friend claps a hand over her mouth.

Han stares at you, frozen mid-step, grocery bag dangling like it no longer belongs to him.

You sway slightly. Flash him a winning, drunken grin. “Hi.”

His ears go pink.

He recovers with a cough and a quiet, “Hey.”

Your friend steps in, trying to salvage the moment. “She, um… lost her keys. And maybe her filter. And maybe also her last three brain cells.”

“I have at least five brain cells,” you argue, eyes still locked on Han like you’ve just spotted the last bottle of tequila on Earth. “Maybe six.”

“Okay,” your friend says sharply, grabbing your arm before you can say anything worse. “She’s drunk. She needs to sleep. You’re right next door. I trust you, I think. Will you—can you—?”

“I’ve got her,” Han says, voice gentle. Too gentle. Like he’s trying not to laugh but also trying not to die of second-hand embaressment.

He steps forward, freeing his hand long enough to steady you when you stumble again. His grip is warm, careful. You immediately lean into it like he’s a weighted blanket.

“Wow,” you murmur. “Strong and polite. A dangerous combo.”

He just smiles—shy and crooked, the way he always does when he doesn’t know where to put his face. “You good to walk?”

“No promises.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘maybe,’” he says, easing your arm over his shoulder.

Your friend sighs, already backing toward the stairs. “If she tries to seduce you, just tell her she cries at Disney movies and once got drunk and tried to fistfight a traffic cone.”

“I won, though,” you shout after her.

Han chuckles.

Your friend throws one last suspicious look over her shoulder, mouthing to Han, text me from her phone if she throws up, before disappearing down the stairwell.

And now it’s just you and Han.

And the heat of your skin pressed to his side.

And the wild, buzzing thought in your brain that you’ve never been this close to him before.

He shifts his weight. Glances down at you.

“You seriously okay?”

You nod. “I feel great.”

“You say that while using me as a crutch.”

“Yeah. But like—a sexy crutch.”

He laughs, head ducking slightly like he’s embarrassed for both of you.

But he doesn’t let go.

And he doesn’t stop smiling.

Han’s arm stays steady around you as he unlocks his door, grocery bag still dangling awkwardly from one wrist. He guides you inside carefully, flicking on the lights with his elbow and nudging the door shut behind you.

You blink, taking it in through a haze: tiny apartment, warm lighting, a bunch of wires and gear by the desk, no couch in sight.

He catches you swaying and steers you toward a plain padded chair by the wall. “Here, sit for a sec.”

You plop down like a ragdoll.

Han crouches in front of you instantly, gently tugging your heels off one at a time like he’s afraid you’ll tip over trying. “You good?” he murmurs, setting your shoes aside neatly. “Anything feel weird? Dizzy?”

You grin at him. “You’re so worried.”

He flushes instantly. “I just—yeah. I mean. You’re really drunk.”

“Yeah, but like, in a fun way.”

“Still,” he mutters, already handing you a bottle of water from the counter. “Drink this. Slowly.”

You take it. “You’re like a… a boyfriend. But like, a really responsible one. Like—tax-paying, call-my-mom-for-me energy.”

Han snorts and gets up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, you’re done talking now.”

“I’m not!” you call after him as he sets the grocery bag down. “I’m very interesting!”

He just shakes his head, trying (and failing) to hide his smile.

When you blink again, he’s in front of you, holding out a hand. “C’mon. Bed’s this way.”

You pause. “You only have one bed.”

His ears go pink. “You can take it.”

You squint. “Where are you gonna sleep?”

He shrugs, awkward. “Floor. I’ve got blankets.”

“That’s tragic.”

“I’ve survived worse.”

You pout but don’t argue as he pulls you gently to your feet again. You’re warm, wobbly, still clutching the water bottle like a security blanket, and when he steers you toward the bed, you barely resist at all.

He helps you sit, then hands you a second pillow and adjusts the blanket like he’s not trying to combust over how soft you look there. He’s halfway to standing up again when you tug the edge of the blanket higher and murmur:

“Thanks, Han.”

He’s still standing near the edge of the bed, half in the dark, blinking at you like you’ve just short-circuited every single brain cell in his head.

His voice is a little uneven when he says, “Y-Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

You smile at him, all cozy and soft, limbs draped across his sheets like you belong there.

He doesn’t even know where to put his hands.

“I, uh—” He scratches at the back of his neck. “I still have a bit of work to do. Just mixing something. I’ll, um. Be over here.”

You blink up at him. “What kinda work?”

“Music stuff.” His voice cracks a little, and he clears his throat immediately. “I won’t bother you. You can—yeah, you can just pass out. All good.”

“You don’t mind me on your bed?”

Han stares at you for a second too long.

Then jerks his gaze away. “No. I—I mean. No, definitely not. Like, at all.”

He fumbles over to his desk, nearly knocking over a pair of headphones, and drops into the chair like his legs have forgotten how to bend properly.

You snuggle deeper into the mattress, dragging the blanket over your legs with a dramatic sigh. “This is comfy. You have good taste in sheets.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, clicking around on his laptop even though the track’s already loaded.

You giggle.

He pretends not to notice.

You don’t see it—but his eyes flick to you constantly. Quick little glances when you shift, or sigh, or tuck your face into the pillow like it’s your new favorite thing. He can’t not look.

You yawn, cheek squished into his pillow. “You smell nice.”

He makes a sound that’s somewhere between a cough and a quiet plea for mercy. “You should, uh. Try to sleep.”

“Mhm.”

You don’t move.

Just keep lying there. All sweet and sleepy and tangled up in his blankets, on his bed, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And even though he should be focusing—he really, really should—

Han can’t stop smiling.

He turns back to his screen and presses play, the familiar beat fills his headphones, looping low and steady.

It’s not done—not even close. The layers are uneven, the bass too soft, the melody still fighting to find its place. But it’s something. And tonight, it’s the only thing keeping his hands busy while his mind refuses to stop thinking about you in his bed.

You’re quiet for a while.

He thinks maybe you’ve finally fallen asleep. You haven’t said anything in minutes, and your breathing’s slow, almost even. He lets himself glance over his shoulder.

You’re still awake.

Eyes open. Watching him.

You shift slightly under the blanket, cheek still pressed into his pillow. Your voice is soft, drowsy. “Can I hear it?”

He blinks. “What?”

“The track you’re working on,” you murmur. “Can I listen?”

Han’s heart does a somersault. Or maybe a backflip. Hard to tell through the static in his chest.

He turns fully in his chair. “Now?”

You nod, slow and lazy. “You promised. You said I could listen next time you made something new.”

Right. He had said that.

But not this one.

Not track twelve.

He fidgets with the headphone wire. “It’s not that one.”

You blink at him, confused.

“The one with the lo-fi strings,” he explains, voice quieter now. “Track twelve. I still haven’t finished it.”

“Oh.”

You don’t sound disappointed. Just curious.

He rubs a hand over his face, then offers a crooked little smile. “But you can hear this one. If you want.”

You nod again, eyes fluttering half-shut like the night is finally catching up to you.

He hesitates.

Then gently unplugs the headphones from the jack, letting the soft sound of the track fill the room.

It’s quiet. Dreamy. Bare bones but beautiful—slow, pulsing synth layered under a simple piano loop. There’s a vocal sample buried under the mix, something wordless and airy, like a breath that never ends.

You close your eyes fully this time, listening.

And Han watches you—watches the way your body relaxes into the sound, how your lips part just slightly, like the music is pulling something from you even in sleep.

He turns back to the screen, fingers hovering over the trackpad.

You speak again, barely above a whisper.

“It’s sad,” you murmur.

He doesn’t answer.

“Not in a bad way,” you add quickly. “Just… it sounds like it’s missing something. Like it’s looking for something.”

Han swallows.

Yeah.

That’s exactly what it is.

He stares at the waveform on his screen and says, very softly, “I think it’s trying to say something I don’t know how to say yet.”

You don’t reply. Not right away.

When you do, your voice is already trailing off into sleep. “You don’t have to say it. It’s already in the music.”

And then you're still.

Breathing even. Eyes shut.

Han doesn’t move for a long time.

Just sits in the soft blue glow of his screen, heartbeat slowing down to match yours, wondering how the hell he’s supposed to finish a song when the thing it’s missing is falling asleep five feet away.

______________________________________________________________

It’s been months since that first night.

Since the couchless sleepover, since the drunken key fiasco, since you fell asleep to the sound of his unfinished song.

And in that time, Han has come out of his shell in the slowest, sweetest way possible.

At first, he was shy. Still the hoodie-wearing recluse with his eyes glued to Ableton and his words tucked somewhere behind clenched teeth.

But then he started showing up more. At your door with takeout. With headphones and half-finished demos. With quiet, tentative smiles that stretched wider the more you smiled back.

You got to know him.

He told you about Malaysia—about sticky summers and midnight noodles and the way his parents still call twice a week even though they’re oceans apart. He told you how he moved to Korea for college, studied for a year, and then dropped out when he realized his brain was wired for sound, not textbooks.

You told him about your life, too—your parents and their ever-shifting conditions for love, the apartment they still pay for, the degree you’re grinding out just to prove something. To who, you’re not even sure.

And Han—turns out he’s kind of a chatterbox. Once he’s comfortable, the boy talks. About anything. About everything. With his hands, with his whole face. About samples and synths and the absolute travesty that is powdered parmesan.

Now, it’s like this: casual, constant, inevitable.

You crash at his place sometimes—not because you're locked out, but just because. Sometimes you bring your laptop and do homework on his floor. Sometimes you nap in his bed while he works. You keep a toothbrush there now. A hoodie of his has quietly migrated to your closet.

You even invited him to your graduation this spring. “It’s not like my parents are coming,” you’d shrugged, and Han had just blinked at you, then said okay, like it wasn’t the biggest fucking deal.

He still blushes when you call him hot. Still won’t take the bed when you stay over. Still treats you like you might disappear if he lets himself want too much.

And today, you’re at your place—your couch this time, legs tangled together on either end, killing time the way only two people who are too comfortable with each other can.

Lazy game of truth or dare. No real stakes. Just soft laughter and shared snacks and the kind of questions that teeter between teasing and tender.

Han’s fingers are brushing against your ankle, casual and unthinking. The popcorn bowl is somewhere on the floor, long forgotten. You’re both half-reclined, cozy and loose, a tangle of limbs and friendship that’s been threatening to become something else for weeks now.

You’ve already dared him to do his worst celebrity impression, and he’d made you sing a jingle from one of your old childhood commercials. The kind of dumb, lazy game that only works when you trust someone enough not to twist the blade when things get close.

Now it’s his turn.

“Truth,” you say, yawning, stretching like a cat in the sun. “I’m feeling vulnerable.”

He gives you a look. One brow raised, fingers tapping thoughtfully against his thigh. “Okay. What was your best orgasm?”

You blink.

Then laugh.

He flushes instantly. “Shit—was that too far? I thought we were in the spicy round.”

“No, no,” you say, waving a hand, trying to keep your smile light. “It’s fair.”

But you don’t answer right away.

You sit there for a second, fiddling with the hem of your oversized sleep shirt. His question settles somewhere low in your stomach—not uncomfortable, just… exposed. Like a truth you’ve learned to laugh off before anyone can look too closely.

You glance at him, then say it—half-teasing, like a joke you’ve told a few times before.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Han blinks. “You wouldn’t—?”

You shrug. “Never had one. Not a good one. Not any, actually.”

There’s a pause. His brows lift, lips parting slightly, but you beat him to it with a raised hand and a crooked grin.

“I know, I know. Tragic. I’m either defective or cursed. It’s a toss-up.”

He doesn’t laugh.

You thought he might—just to lighten the mood. Maybe roll with the joke, keep it casual.

But Han’s expression softens instead. Slowly. Like he’s putting something together.

“That’s not funny,” he says, voice quiet. Barely a wrinkle of sound between you.

You blink. “It’s kind of funny.”

“No, it’s not.” He leans in a little, eyes searching yours. “And it’s definitely not true.”

You hold his gaze for a beat longer than you mean to. “Tell that to every guy I’ve slept with.”

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t flinch. Just says, soft but certain, “They don’t count.”

Something in your chest pulls tight.

You sit back, let out a soft exhale through your nose. Try again, lighter this time. “I mean, at some point, you start to wonder if it’s just you, right? Like maybe I missed a biological memo.”

“You didn’t,” he says, firm now. “You just haven’t been with someone who cared enough to figure you out.”

You snort softly, eyes dropping to his lips before flicking back up. “What, and you do?”

His breath catches, just slightly. But he doesn’t flinch.

“Yeah,” he says. Simple. Sure. “I do.”

You go quiet.

It’s not the answer that surprises you—it’s how steady he is when he says it. Like it’s not even a question in his mind. Like he’s already imagined it, already decided what he’d do if you ever let him.

That steadiness makes your throat go tight.

“Okay,” you say, voice quiet. “Then what would you do?”

Han shifts slightly, eyes locked on yours, his expression unreadable. Focused.

“I’d start slow,” he says, and it doesn’t sound like a line—it sounds like a plan. “Let you get used to being touched in a way that’s not… performative.”

You blink.

He leans in, just a little. Not close enough to touch. Not yet.

“I’d watch your face,” he continues, softer now, “and actually pay attention. I’d figure out what makes you squirm. What makes your breath catch. What makes you ask for more.”

Your pulse thrums at your throat, hot and sharp.

“I’d talk to you,” he murmurs. “Tell you what I’m doing. Tell you how fucking good you look while I’m doing it. Make sure you know every second that it’s about you.”

Your pulse thrums at your throat, hot and sharp.

You don’t say anything. You can’t.

Because Han is looking at you like he already has you spread out in his mind. Like he’s memorizing every microreaction, storing them away like he might need them later. Like he’s already tasting the sound you’ll make when he finally breaks you open.

Your voice comes out low. Barely there.

“That’s a lot of attention for one orgasm.”

Han’s mouth twitches. Not a smile. Not quite yet.

“I’m not aiming for one.”

You feel it in your chest—in your spine—the way his voice sinks into you. Low. Purposeful. Like he’s already in your skin, like the words themselves are a touch.

You can’t breathe.

He’s so close now, and still—still—not touching you. He could. He should. Your body is already leaning into the heat of him, legs still curled beneath you, the hem of your sleep shirt brushing high on your thighs. But he doesn’t move.

“Have you… done this before?”

He blinks. “Made someone come?”

You nod, quick, almost shy.

“Yeah.” His mouth lifts at one corner. “Why?”

You hesitate, eyes flicking over his face. “I… thought you were a virgin.”

Han blinks. Then he laughs—a soft, breathy thing that curls low in his throat.

“Wow,” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks already going red. “That’s, uh… new.”

You’re not teasing anymore. Not really. Not with the way your eyes keep flicking over him—his mouth, his hands, the pink creeping up the slope of his neck. Not with how you’re sitting up straighter, how your thighs squeeze just slightly together without meaning to.

He notices.

And it flusters him, of course it does—he’s Han, after all. All nervous energy and soft-spoken charm. But there’s something else underneath it too. Something steady. Something you didn’t see before.

“You really think I’ve spent this much time listening to you fake it through the walls and didn’t fantasize about doing it better?”

Your breath catches. Hard.

His gaze doesn’t drop. Doesn’t falter.

And suddenly, you’re seeing him for what he is—really seeing him.

The slightly older boy next door. The dropout with big hands and bigger dreams. The quiet music producer who hides behind humor but notices everything. The same Han who always opened his door, always gave you the bed, always walked on the street side of the sidewalk—but now you realize he’s been wanting you the whole time.

And you missed it.

You look at him now—and you feel it.

The shift.

Because he’s still Han. Still hoodie-clad and sweet and overly cautious.

But he’s also a man.

And god, it’s hitting you all at once.

The way his eyes haven’t left your mouth. The way he says things like I’m not aiming for one with such quiet, devastating confidence. The way he can be so careful with you and still make your skin burn like he’s already touched you everywhere.

You swallow hard.

“So,” you murmur, voice dipping low, “you’ve done this before.”

His fingers twitch where they rest against his thigh. “Yeah.”

“How many girls?”

He blushes harder at that. Clears his throat. “I mean, not a lot.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“I’m not—” he fumbles, flustered now, voice high-pitched with embarrassment, “—like, I’m not some sex god, okay?”

You giggle. Can’t help it.

He glares, weakly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You lean in. Let your voice soften. “Like what?”

He shifts under your gaze, eyes flicking down again before returning to yours. “Like you’re surprised.”

“I am,” you whisper.

And you are.

Surprised by the heat in your belly. Surprised by the tension in his jaw, the way he’s not looking away now. Surprised by the fact that the Han you thought you knew—the one who panicked over burnt rice and once apologized to a houseplant—is sitting in front of you, cheeks flushed, voice low, practically thrumming with restraint.

And the restraint is unraveling. You can see it. You can feel it.

His hand is still resting on his thigh. Tense. Useless.

You want it on you.

He must know, must feel the shift in the air, because he breathes out through his nose—shaky, controlled—and finally moves.

Not to kiss you.

Not yet.

Just slides closer, knees brushing yours. Hands braced on either side of your thighs like he’s holding himself back from climbing into your lap. Like if he gets too close, he won’t be able to stop.

His voice is soft when it comes. Careful.

“I don’t wanna mess this up.”

You blink. “What?”

“This,” he says, eyes darting between yours. “You. Us.”

Your heart kicks.

“I’m serious,” he adds. “If you want me to stop, I will. Even if I’ve already started. Even if you change your mind in the middle. I need you to know that.”

You just look at him.

At his flushed cheeks, his trembling fingers gripping the couch cushion, the way his eyes won’t stay still—darting to your mouth, your thighs, your eyes again.

You don’t know how to say what’s clawing up your throat. Don’t know how to explain that you’ve never felt like this. Like you could fall apart and not have to put yourself back together alone.

So instead, you reach for him.

You thread your fingers through his, bring his hand to your thigh—bare skin under the edge of your sleep shirt—and press it there, warm and waiting.

His breath stutters.

“Okay,” you whisper.

His breath stutters.

That’s all it takes.

His fingers flex against your thigh—just a twitch, nothing urgent. But the heat of them sinks in deep. You can feel how careful he’s being, how tightly he’s holding the leash on himself, like he doesn’t trust what’ll happen if he moves too fast.

You tilt your hips slightly. Just enough.

He moves.

Slides his hand higher, beneath the hem of your sleep shirt. Knuckles grazing soft skin, the inside of your thigh, and you’re already trembling. The anticipation is thick—so much thicker than anything that’s come before it. Your body’s aching and he hasn’t even touched you where you need it yet.

Han breathes out slowly. You can hear the effort it takes not to rush.

His fingers reach your panties.

They’re soaked. Clinging to you. And he makes a sound in the back of his throat when he feels it—somewhere between a sigh and a groan, like it’s hurting him, how wet you already are.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers.

“I’m trying not to.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, and leans in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “You can just let me take care of it.”

And you do.

You sink into the cushions and let his hand keep climbing. Let it trail over skin that’s already too hot, too tight, too aware. The hem of your shirt rides up over your hips as he moves, exposing soft skin and damp fabric.

He touches you through your panties first. Just a single stroke—up and down, slow, deliberate.

You jolt.

Your thighs twitch. Your hips tilt into his hand before you even mean to.

His fingers are steady. Gentle. No fumbling, no testing limits just to say he did. He strokes over the soaked cotton with maddening patience, slow enough that your body’s buzzing before he even slides them aside.

He strokes over the soaked cotton with maddening patience, slow enough that your body’s buzzing before he even slides them aside.

When he does, it’s with a breathless little sound—almost like awe.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice low and tight. “You’re so wet already.”

You shiver.

He doesn’t ask permission again. He doesn’t need to. Your legs fall open on instinct, your body already offering itself up like it’s been waiting for this. For him.

He dips his fingers into you with quiet care—just the first two, slow and unhurried, and it’s so much. Not just the stretch, not just the slick slide of it—it’s the way he groans like he can feel how good you feel around him. Like your body is turning him on just by existing.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “How has no one made you cum?”

You whimper.

“Seriously,” he says, fingers curling slightly inside you, rubbing against that spot that makes your toes curl. “You’ve got the prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen. Wet and warm and just—fuck, baby.”

Your hips jolt when he says it—baby—and he notices. His mouth quirks.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, watching your face like it’s giving him instructions. “You like that. Being talked to while I fuck you with my fingers?”

You moan—helpless, high-pitched—and your hand shoots down to grab his wrist.

He stills immediately. “Too much?”

You shake your head. Or maybe you nod. You don’t even know anymore—your brain’s barely holding on, your body dragging you under, soaking up everything he gives like it’s the first drop of water in a drought.

He watches your reaction like it’s gospel. Like every twitch and gasp is holy.

“Thought so,” he says, and starts to move again—slow, controlled pumps of his fingers, careful not to lose that rhythm now that he’s found what works. The way your walls clench when he curls. The way your hips chase him when he retreats. The way your breath hitches when his palm drags across your clit just a little too hard.

And god, he uses it all.

“Fuck,” he mutters, eyes glued to where he’s working you open. “If this pussy was mine, I wouldn’t be able to leave you alone.”

You gasp.

“I’d keep you like this every night,” he says, voice thick now. “Stuffed, dripping, begging for it. Just like this.”

You keen, head falling back against the cushions, thighs straining around his wrist. Another twist of his fingers, another filthy curl, and you’re spiraling again—clenching, grinding, chasing something you’ve never actually caught before.

But it’s still not enough.

Close, so close. You can feel it in your gut, in the burn behind your eyes, in the way your whole body draws tight like a wire about to snap. But then it slips, slithers away like it always does, leaving you aching and wrung out and panting like you’ve been running in circles.

Han doesn’t stop.

He slows, sure. Eases off that pressure like he knows—like he felt the way you were peaking and watched it fall apart all over again.

Your breath stutters. Your hands tremble where they’re gripping the couch cushions. Your whole body shakes with the frustration of it.

Han looks fucking thrilled.

“Shit,” he whispers, eyes glued to the slick mess between your legs. “You’re gonna be a fucking problem, huh?

You whimper—shaky, half-desperate—and try to pull your legs closed, but his free hand slides up your thigh and keeps them open. He’s still panting, still hard in his sweats, and yet somehow entirely focused on you.

Your voice comes out broken. “I can’t—fuck, Han, I was so close—”

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, leaning over you. His fingers finally slip free, soaked and shining, and he brings them to his mouth like it’s nothing. Like tasting you is just a thing he does between breaths. “You’re so fucking pretty can’t believe no one’s ever made you come.”

He sucks one finger between his lips, humming low in his throat, and your entire body jerks.

He grins around his knuckle. Blushy. Sweet. Still Han, somehow—except his eyes are dark now, slow-burning, locked onto you with intent.

And when he speaks, it’s not teasing. It’s reverent.

“I knew you’d taste good,” he murmurs, dragging his hand down your thigh again. “Didn’t think you’d ruin me this fast, though.”

You squirm, still reeling from the touch of his fingers, still aching from how close you came—how it slipped just out of reach. Your panties are somewhere around your knees now, tangled and damp, and your thighs are trembling despite the warmth of the room.

But Han doesn’t give you time to settle.

He drops back down between your legs like it’s instinct.

Like he belongs there.

You brace for it—his mouth, his tongue—but nothing prepares you for how intentional it is.

Because when he licks you, it’s not just lust. It’s devotion.

The first press of his tongue is slow, hot, drawn out like he’s tasting something forbidden. It drags through your folds, slick and maddening, before he pulls back just slightly and exhales a shaky breath against your cunt like it’s worship.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “You’re so fucking sweet. So wet—dripping for me, baby.”

Your hips jerk. A soft moan tears from your throat, helpless and startled.

He hums at the sound. And then his tongue is on you again—lapping, curling, sliding in lazy circles around your clit, not rushed, not rough. Patient.

But it’s overwhelming.

Too much and somehow still not enough.

You gasp, spine arching. Your thighs twitch against his shoulders again and he presses his hands there—holding you open, keeping you still. His grip is firm, grounding. Gentle only in contrast to the way he eats you.

He groans low when your hips roll, when your slick coats his lips and chin. Like it turns him on more than anything else. Like this is the part he needs.

He devours you like he’s starved for it.

Like he’s been thinking about this—you—for longer than he’s willing to admit. Tongue slow but deliberate, savoring every stroke, every gasp you give him. He doesn’t speak now, doesn’t need to. The sounds alone—your moans, the wet suck of his mouth, the way your breath stutters every time he flattens his tongue against your clit—say enough.

But it’s your reactions that do it. The way your body jumps every time he moves just right. The way your hands scramble for the couch cushions, for him, like you don’t know what else to hold onto. The way your thighs clamp around his head when he groans into your cunt.

That’s when he realizes.

You’ve never been eaten out before.

It hits him all at once—in the way you shiver, in the way your body doesn’t quite know how to take the pleasure he’s giving. There’s something raw about it. Uncharted. Holy.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tease. Just lets the knowledge settle deep in his chest like a vow.

So he slows down. Not to drag it out—to care. To guide you through it.

He pulls back just slightly, presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another one, lower, softer. You can feel his breath against your skin, shaky and uneven, like you are unraveling him just by letting him do this.

He kisses down, worshipful, open-mouthed presses of tongue and lips trailing toward where you’re slick and trembling—until he’s back on you, groaning deep in his chest like he needs this to survive.

He laps at your cunt like a man obsessed. Messy, wet, obscene.

His tongue flicks fast over your clit, sloppy and relentless, and when you whimper—high and panicked—his hands tighten on your thighs, dragging them wider, pushing you open like he can’t get enough. His nose presses into the soft swell of you and his mouth won’t stop.

And god—god, the noises.

The slick suck of his mouth, the soft wet licks between your folds, the broken, wanton moans he keeps letting out like your taste is fucking euphoric.

Your thighs are trembling against his cheeks, toes curling against the cushions, hands fisting in the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this plane of existence. Every time you start to come down, he drags you right back up—tongue flicking, then flattening, then sucking.

You’re soaking him. You know it. Can feel the slick mess coating his lips, his chin, now—but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t even flinch. Just dives in deeper, grinds his mouth against you like it’s the only thing that matters.

And maybe it is.

You’ve never made sounds like this before. Never felt anything like this. It’s a full-body unraveling—pleasure so raw and high-pitched it’s almost unbearable. You can’t even find words anymore. You try—gasp out his name, maybe a plea, maybe a warning—but it’s just breath. Just noise.

He hears it anyway.

Groans in response, and the vibration shoots through you—tightens every nerve, every muscle. You feel it everywhere. In your spine, in your belly, in your fucking teeth.

He licks through your folds like he’s trying to commit the shape of you to memory, tongue dragging over your clit in slow, hard laps now—intentional, devastating. One hand lets go of your thigh to slide underneath you, to lift your hips, tilt you toward his mouth like an offering.

Like you’re his altar and he’s ready to worship.

You don’t even realize you're crying until the tears hit your cheeks—silent and sudden, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of it, the depth of it, the relentlessness of him.

Jisung doesn’t notice.

Or maybe he does and just thinks it’s holy.

Because he’s still moaning against your cunt like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Like this is salvation. Like this is his first time, too.

The warmth is unbearable. Sharp and sweet and all-consuming, climbing up your spine in thick, molten waves that won’t stop—won’t let you go. Your muscles are locking up, your breath catching in your throat, your fingers cramping from how tight you're clenching the cushions.

You’re going to break.

You know it.

You want to.

And he just keeps going—tongue pressed flat and firm against your clit now, dragging in slow, filthy circles while his lips suck softly, reverently, like he’s trying to love you apart piece by piece.

You feel it snap somewhere deep inside you.

The heat—the ache—the need—it peaks.

And then it bursts..

Your thighs clamp around his head, your hips jerk off the couch, your moan rips loose from your throat like you’ve been silenced your whole life and this is the only language your body ever needed to speak.

You’re cumming. Hard. Helpless.

Everything pulses—your cunt, your chest, your fingers. Every nerve is alight, every inch of you clenched and shaking, your whole body seized in the grip of something so big you can’t name it.

And Jisung doesn’t stop.

Not when your legs twitch.

Not when your body tries to squirm away.

Not even when you sob his name, high and wrecked, too sensitive to breathe.

He eats it up. Literally.

Groaning low in his throat, nose pressed to your mound, tongue still working your clit like he wants to wring another orgasm out of you before this one’s even ended. You try to stop him, legs trembling, fingers pushing at his hair with barely any strength behind them.

But he just moans again, long and loud and ruined, the vibration shooting straight through your core.

“H-Han—” you gasp, voice cracked and teary.

But he can’t stop. He won’t.

You’ve broken open for him—shattered for him—and it’s like something inside him snapped too. His mouth keeps moving, lapping through your folds like he’s addicted, like he needs the taste of you to live, sucking every drop from your body like he’s trying to memorize it.

You try again to push him off. This time with real effort. A desperate shove, your fingers fisting in his hair and yanking—not hard, not mean, but urgent.

“Han, please—”

He finally pulls back.

Gasps.

His chest is heaving. His mouth is slick and swollen, the lower half of his face soaked in your release, and he blinks up at you like he forgot where he is.

“Shit—fuck, I’m sorry, I—” he pants, voice wrecked, dazed.

Then he looks down.

And groans.

Because you’re still dripping.

Slick pooling out of you, slow and obscene, catching the light as it runs in glistening streaks down the curve of your pussy and the swell of your ass, soaking the couch beneath you.

And he can’t help himself.

His hands slide up your thighs again—possessive, reverent—and before you can stop him, he leans back in.

One long, filthy lick—from your entrance to your clit—slurping up everything you spilled. He moans as it hits his tongue, deep and satisfied, and swirls it around like he’s tasting honey.

He pulls back just far enough to look at you.

Face flushed, lips swollen and slick, chin glossy with your release. His eyes are glassy—fucked-out and starving and soft in a way that shouldn’t match the filth of what he just did to you. But somehow it does.

Somehow, it makes it worse.

He’s panting like he just ran miles. Sweat dampens his curls, his hoodie clings to his chest, and his cock is still straining hard against his sweats—visibly aching. But he doesn’t even look at himself. Doesn’t even care.

He’s still looking at you.

At the mess he made.

At your cunt—pink and soaked and fluttering with aftershocks, spread open on the couch like he carved you out just for him.

And he fucking smiles.

“Jesus,” he breathes, dragging his thumb along your inner thigh, slow and lazy, eyes still locked on the slick between your legs. “You’re unreal.”

You’re still trembling—wrung out, flushed, completely silent now except for the shattered sound of your breath.

But he isn’t done.

Not really.

Because then his thumb moves—trails closer, closer, until it’s swiping through the slick seam of you, collecting it, spreading it.

You flinch, hips twitching, breath hitching on a wrecked little gasp.

He freezes.

“Sorry—shit, sorry,” he murmurs, voice gone soft in the edges. “You’re probably so fucking sensitive right now.”

You nod, dazed. Barely. You’re not even sure you meant to.

But his eyes drop back down—and the sight of your cunt twitching under his touch, the way slick is still dripping out of you, slow and shiny, pooling where your thighs meet—

It short-circuits whatever restraint he had left.

“Can I…” he starts, already leaning in again, lips parted, breath ragged. “Just—one more taste, baby. Please.”

And before you can answer, he’s there again.

Licking into you.

Tongue flat and greedy, slow and deep, sliding through the wreckage he left behind like he needs it to breathe. He moans—loud—when it coats his tongue, when it drips down his chin, when he presses another kiss to your clit like he’s thanking it for everything.

You can’t stop shaking.

From how tender he’s being while still devouring you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. From how overwhelmed your body feels—stretched between too much and not enough, oversensitive but still wanting.

He doesn’t rush now. Doesn’t try to make you cum again.

This is different.

It’s reverent. Like he’s cleaning you up with his mouth, dragging his tongue through every slick drop, pressing soft kisses into the mess like he’s trying to soothe the tremble in your thighs.

You whimper, just once—raw and hoarse.

That’s when he stops for real.

You sigh into his mouth, quiet and trembling, the kind of sound that only comes when everything inside you is raw—peeled back, exposed, open. He swallows it like it’s precious. Like it matters.

His hand at your waist shifts, pulling you gently forward until your chest brushes his. You’re still bare from the waist down—thighs sticky, breath uneven—and he’s still clothed, still hard, still aching beneath his sweats.

But he doesn’t grind against you.

Doesn’t ask for anything.

He just holds you.

Your knees fall around his hips, lazy and loose, and his thumb strokes the hinge of your jaw—slow, absent, like he needs the contact to stay calm.

The kiss deepens. Not with hunger. With heat. With reverence. His lips move against yours like he wants to memorize the shape of your mouth, your breath, the taste of your tongue mixed with your own arousal.

You break first—pulling back just a fraction to breathe, eyes fluttering open.

He’s already looking at you.

And there’s something in his gaze that wasn’t there before. Something stunned. Struck. Soft.

He whispers, “You okay?”

You nod. Maybe too fast. You feel stripped down to something small and shaking, something new—but his hand doesn’t leave you. His thumb still brushes your cheek. His chest still rises and falls like he’s feeling everything with you.

You whisper back, “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

Jisung exhales a laugh—wrecked and wrecking.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, leaning forward again to press a kiss to your cheek, then another to your temple. “Then I guess we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

You don’t even realize you’re smiling until he kisses it. Presses his lips right there, at the corner of your mouth, so gentle it makes your eyes sting all over again.

There’s a beat of silence—thick and golden, warm between the ruined rhythm of your breathing.

Then he asks, quieter this time, “Can I hold you for a while?”

And god. You’ve never wanted anything more.

______________________________________________________________

The crowd pours out of the auditorium like a tide—caps slightly askew, diplomas clutched tight, families gathered in little clusters of congratulations and cameras. Laughter. Shouts. The click of heels and the flutter of gowns. You scan the crowd, heart racing, eyes darting.

And then you see him.

Leaning awkwardly against a tree, holding a slightly crumpled bouquet of grocery store flowers and dressed in the nicest outfit you’ve ever seen him wear. Still a hoodie—because he’s him—but it’s black and clean and zipped halfway up over a plain white tee. His hair’s been pushed back, curls tamed, face soft in the sunlight.

Like he wanted to look good.

For you.

You run.

Full sprint, no hesitation. Laughing, radiant, the hem of your gown flying behind you. And Jisung barely has time to react before you crash into his arms—legs wrapping around his waist, face buried in his neck.

He catches you without thinking. Arms locked tight around your back, holding you like the whole world could fall away and he’d still have you.

“Jesus—hi,” he breathes, stunned, grinning into your shoulder.

“You came,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to look at him, eyes glassy and sunlit.

“Of course I came,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “I wouldn’t miss this.”

You swallow, smile trembling just a little. You’re still holding your cap too tightly. Still searching the crowd behind him, over his shoulder, behind trees and between cars—hoping.

And Jisung sees it.

Sees the flicker in your expression when you realize no one else is coming. No familiar voices calling your name. No parents weaving through the crowd, late and disheveled but here. Nothing.

Just him.

You try to play it off—force a smile, tilt your head.

But Jisung just exhales, jaw tight, eyes warm and sharp.

“Hey,” he says softly, tipping your chin up. “Fuck ‘em.”

Your breath hitches—more from the way he says it than what he says. No apology. No pity. Just truth, blunt and biting and yours.

“Fuck ‘em,” he says again, firmer this time. “They don’t get to take this from you.”

And something in you cracks. Not the kind that breaks—the kind that lets light in.

Your cap slips from your hand to the pavement. You don’t even notice. You just lean forward and let your forehead rest against his, eyes fluttering shut as the noise of the world fades away.

“I thought it wouldn’t matter,” you whisper. “That I didn’t care.”

He nods like he already knew. Lets his hand fall to the small of your back, thumb tracing slow circles through the fabric of your gown.

“But it does,” you admit.

“Of course it does,” he murmurs. “You deserved more than this.”

You pull in a shaky breath. Exhale. Nod against him.

And then you laugh—quiet, almost startled. “God, you look nice.”

He pulls back just enough to give you a crooked smile. “You noticed?”

You sniffle, wiping under your eyes. “You did your hair.”

“I used product and everything,” he says solemnly, and that makes you laugh for real this time. His face lights up at the sound. Then, like he remembers something, his eyes go wide and he fumbles for something in his pocket.

“Wait—here. Got you something.”

You raise a brow as he pulls out a pair of slightly beat-up white AirPods and holds them out like they’re wrapped in silk.

“Your... earwax?” you tease, voice still thick, but lighter now.

Jisung groans, face going red. “Just put them in, smartass.”

You give him a look, lips twitching like you’re holding back another laugh, but you take them. Slip them in with practiced ease, still smirking, still sniffling a little.

And then—

You hear it.

Soft at first. A low, warm hum of synth. That familiar piano progression you’ve heard a hundred times echoing from his bedroom speakers, half-finished and always evolving. A quiet heartbeat of static underneath, the sound of something personal, unfinished—

But not this time.

Now it’s whole.

The bass comes in slow. The melody rises. The rhythm finds its footing like it’s been waiting for you.

Then his voice.

His voice.

Low. Raw. Stripped back and unfiltered, like he recorded it in the middle of the night, barefaced and half asleep. It’s not polished. It’s intimate. Each lyric laid out like a confession, like he’s pressing it directly into your chest.

You freeze.

Your mouth parts, but no words come out. You just stare at him—eyes wide, breath caught, the world suddenly nothing but him and the song in your ears.

Jisung watches you closely, fidgeting, clearly trying to read your face.

“I, uh… I finally finished it,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Track 12. I—kind of stayed up all night working on it. Wanted you to be the first to hear it.”

You swallow hard. “You—wrote this… for me?”

He nods, sheepish. “Well, yeah. Who the fuck else would it be for?”

You blink at him, still stunned, still half-floating somewhere between the melody and his smile.

The music wraps around you like a secret, like sunlight through a window. His voice in your ears. His eyes on your face. His hands fidgeting at his sides, picking at the edge of his hoodie sleeve, suddenly nervous like he didn’t just lay his heart bare in a three-minute track.

And then he says it.

Quiet. Almost like it slips out.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your breath stutters.

He panics a little, eyes going wide, hands gesturing now like he’s trying to physically catch the words and shove them back into his mouth.

“I mean—not in like, a weird, ‘I wrote you a song and now you have to marry me’ way. I just—I’ve been in love with you for a while, and I didn’t know how to say it. And then I kept not saying it, and then you let me eat you out on your couch and I was like, oh cool, guess I’m definitely in love with her—”

You stare at him.

Mouth slightly open. Ears still ringing with his voice from the track. Face flushed from the heat of him and the way he’s unraveling in front of you, hands flailing, words tumbling out too fast, too honest, too him.

“And now I’m saying it,” he rushes on, breath hitching. “And maybe it’s too soon or maybe it’s stupid but—fuck, I don’t care. I love you. And I don’t just mean in the afterglow, post-head, 'wow-she’s-so-pretty-when-she’s-cumming' kind of way—which, like, you are—but I mean in the real way. In the way where I think about you all the time and you’re in my music and my coffee and my fucking laundry detergent because you smell like it now—”

You cut him off with a laugh—soft and stunned, the kind that comes from something blooming too fast in your chest. Your hands reach for him instinctively, palms pressed to his chest like you’re trying to slow his heart down, or maybe match yours to it.

Then lean up and kiss him.

He melts into it—hands landing on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll float off if he doesn’t hold you down. His mouth is soft, a little shaky, like he still can’t believe this is happening. Like he’s kissing you with both hands behind his back, offering up his heart like a truce.

When you pull back, your forehead rests against his.

You’re smiling. He is too, in that breathless, stunned way—like you’ve both finally exhaled.

“I’m in love with you too,” you whisper.

He chokes out a sound. Somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. “No shit?”

You nod. “No shit.”

Jisung blinks, then grins—slow and wide and boyish.

He just stands there, still holding you, like his body hasn’t caught up with what just happened.

Like he's trying to memorize this moment—your smile, your closeness, the soft heat of your hands resting over his heart.

He opens his mouth like he wants to say something else. Closes it again.

Then settles for a quiet, breathless, “...Okay.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Okay?”

He nods, dazed. “Yeah. Just… okay. Everything’s okay now.”

You lean into his chest, let your head fall to his shoulder. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for months. His arms wrap around your waist again, this time more certain. More steady.

And for a moment, neither of you says anything.

The crowd is still bustling in the background. Cameras flashing. Tassels swinging. Parents calling names that don’t belong to you. The sound of it used to sting—but not now. Not with him holding you like this. Not with the song still echoing in your ears, a private chorus written just for you.

You glance up. “So what now?”

He looks down at you, still smiling like he doesn’t know how to stop.

“We go home,” he says. “Order too much food. Fall asleep on the couch. Pretend we’re not both crying during The Office reruns.”

You snort. “That’s your big plan?”

He leans in, nudges your nose with his. “No,” he murmurs, softer now. “My big plan is to love you for a really, really long time.”

Your heart stutters.

And it’s so simple—so quiet, so uncomplicated—but it wraps around you like warmth, settles deep in your bones like something you forgot you were allowed to want.

You tip forward and kiss him again, just once. Just enough.

“Sounds like a good plan,” you whisper.

He grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Eventually, your fingers find his, threading together as the crowd begins to thin. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, grounding and sure.

You glance down at the flowers, still clutched in your other hand—slightly crushed, petals soft and folding in from the heat. But they’re yours. Someone showed up. Someone stayed.

You’re walking away with his hand in yours, the sun dipping low behind you, the final track still playing softly in your head.

It ends the way all good songs do.

Quiet.

Certain.

Yours.

2K notes · View notes

robertreich · 9 months ago

Video

youtube

10 Worst Things About The Trump Presidency

Donald Trump left office with the lowest approval rating of any president ever. But some people now seem to be suffering from amnesia.

Let me jog your memory. Here are 10 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency — in no particular order.

#1. Trump fueled division and sparked a record uptick in hate crimes.

#2. Murder went way up under Trump. He presided over the largest ever single-year increase in homicides in 2020. A number of factors might have contributed to that, but a big one is…

#3. Gun sales broke records under Trump, who has bragged about how he “did nothing” to restrict guns as president in spite of…

#4. Under Trump, America suffered more than 1,700 mass shootings.

#5. Trump said there were "very fine people" among the neo-Nazis in Charlottesville.

I’m halfway to ten. If you think I’m missing something big, leave it in the comments.

#6. Trump allied himself with the Proud Boys, a violent hate group who helped orchestrate the Jan 6 Capitol attack.

#7. Trump’s not wrong when he says…

TRUMP: I got rid of Roe v. Wade.

It is entirely because of Trump’s judicial appointments that 1 in 3 American women of childbearing age now lives in states with abortion bans.

#8. One of Trump’s Supreme Court justices was Brett Kavanaugh, a man accused of sexual assault by multiple women.

#9. Trump’s White House interfered in the FBI’s investigation of Brett Kavanaugh’s alleged sexual assaults.

And now: #10. Trump has been convicted of committing 34 felonies while in office. The criminally false business filings he got convicted for in New York? All of them were committed while he was president.

I’m sorry, did I say the 10 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency? I meant 15.

#11. Trump’s failed pandemic response is estimated to have led to hundreds of thousands of needless deaths. By the time Trump left office, roughly 3,000 Americans were dying of covid every day. That’s a 9/11-scale mass casualty event every single day. How did Trump screw up so badly?

#12. Trump’s White House discarded the pandemic response playbook that had been assembled by the Obama administration.

#13. Trump disbanded the National Security Council’s pandemic response team.

#14. Trump repeatedly lied about the danger of covid, saying it was no worse than the flu or that it would go away on its own.

But behind closed doors, Trump admitted he knew covid was deadly.

#15. Trump promoted fake covid cures like hydroxychloroquine and even injecting people with disinfectants.

After Trump’s “disinfectant” remarks, poison control centers received a spike in emergency calls.

That’s fifteen things. Should I keep going? Ok, I’ll keep going. The 20 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency.

#16. Trump presided over a net loss of 2.9 million American jobs — the worst recorded jobs numbers of any U.S. president in history.

#17. Trump profited off the presidency, making an estimated $160 million from foreign countries while he was president.

#18. Trump also billed the Secret Service over $1 million for the privilege of staying at his golf clubs and other properties while they protected him. That’s your money!

#19. Trump caused the longest government shutdown in U.S. history when he didn’t get funding for his border wall, which he said Mexico was going to pay for.

#20. Under Trump, the national debt increased by about 40% — more than in any other four-year presidential term — largely because of his tax cuts for the rich and big corporations.

You didn’t really think I was stopping at 20, did you? We’re going to 25 —

#21. Trump separated more than 5,000 children from their parents at the border, with no plan to ever reunite them, putting babies in cages.

#22. The Muslim Ban. Yes, Trump really did try to ban Muslims from entering the country.

#23. Trump sparked international outrage by moving the American Embassy in Israel to Jerusalem while closing the U.S. mission to Palestine.

#24. Trump tasked his son-in-law Jared Kushner with drafting a potential Middle East “peace plan” with zero Palestinian input.

#25. And finally, Trump recognized Israel’s occupation of the Goh-lahn Heights, which is considered illegal under international law.

So there you have it, folks: The 25 Worst — Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Did I mention the impeachments? We’ve got to do the impeachments. Let’s go to 30.

#26. Trump broke the law by trying to withhold nearly $400 million of U.S. aid for Ukraine in an effort to extort a personal political favor from Ukraine’s Pres. Zelensky. Trump wanted Zelensky to interfere in the 2020 election by announcing an investigation into the Bidens. Delaying this aid to Ukraine weakened Ukraine and strengthened Russia.

#27. Trump personally attacked and ruined the careers of everyone who stood in the way of his illegal Ukraine scheme, including Ambassador Marie Yovanovitch and Lt. Colonel Alexander Vindman.

#28. To cover up the scheme, Trump ordered the White House and State Department to defy congressional subpoenas.

#29. For these reasons, on December 18, 2019, Trump became the third U.S. president to be impeached. He was charged with Abuse of Power and Obstruction of Congress.

#30. Even while he was being investigated for trying to get Ukraine to interfere in the U.S. election, Trump publicly called for China to interfere in the election.

So those are the 30 Worst Things —

I’ll go to 35.

#31. Long before Election Day, Trump started making false claims that the election would be rigged.

#32. After losing, Trump falsely claimed the election was stolen, even though his own inner circle, including his campaign manager, White House lawyers, and his own Justice Department and attorney general told him it was not.

#33. Trump kept telling his Big Lie even after more than 60 legal challenges to the election were struck down in court, many by Trump-appointed judges.

#34. Trump ordered the Department of Justice to falsely claim that the election “was corrupt.”

#35. Trump and his allies used threats to pressure state leaders in Arizona and Georgia to falsify the election results.

We may go to 40.

#36. When none of the previous schemes worked, Trump and his allies produced fake electoral votes cast by fake electors in multiple swing states. His former White House chief of staff and Rudy Giuliani are among the many members of his inner circle who have been criminally indicted for this scheme.

#37. Trump tried to bully Vice President Pence into obstructing the certification of the election.

#38. Trump invited a mob to the Capitol on Jan 6 with his “be there, will be wild” tweet.

#39. Sworn testimony alleges that when Trump was warned that members of the crowd were carrying deadly weapons, he ordered security metal detectors to be taken down.

#40. Knowing the crowd had deadly weapons, he ordered them to go to the Capitol and…

TRUMP: …fight like hell.

#41 — Yes, yes, I know, bear with me.

Trump betrayed his oath to defend the nation by doing nothing to stop the Jan 6 violence. Instead, according to witness testimony, he sat and watched TV for hours.

#42. On January 13, 2021, Trump became the only president ever to be impeached twice. This time he was charged with incitement of insurrection. It was a bipartisan vote.

#43. The majority of senators — 57 out of 100 — voted to convict Trump, including 7 Republican senators.

So that’s the two impeachments and the Big Lie, but wait, we haven’t dealt with Russia, right? So we’re going to 50.

#44. In a likely obstruction of justice, Trump pressured then FBI Director James Comey to stop the FBI’s investigation into Trump’s National Security Adviser, Michael Flynn. This was documented in the Mueller report.

#45. When Comey didn’t bend to Trump’s will, Trump fired him.

#46. Trump tried to shut down the Mueller investigation by ordering White House Counsel Don McGann to fire Mueller. McGann refused because that would be criminal obstruction of justice.

#47. When news got out that Trump tried to fire Mueller, Trump repeatedly told McGann to lie — to Mueller, to press, to public — and even create a false document to conceal Trump’s attempt to fire Mueller.

#48. Trump ordered his staff not to turn over emails showing Don Jr. had set up a meeting at Trump Tower before the 2016 election with representatives of the Russian government.

#49. Trump convinced Michael Cohen to lie to Congress about Trump’s plans to build a Trump Tower in Moscow, and Cohen served prison time for lying to Congress.

#50. Trump was not charged for criminal obstruction of justice because it’s the Justice Department’s policy not to indict a sitting president, but more than a thousand former federal prosecutors who served under both Republicans and Democrats, signed a letter declaring there was more than enough evidence to prosecute Trump.

So those are the 50 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency. Now I could go on…

And I will! The 75 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency.

#51. Trump said he’d hire only the best people, but…

His campaign chair was convicted of multiple crimes.

So was one of his closest associates.

His deputy campaign chair pleaded guilty to crimes.

So did his personal lawyer

His National Security Adviser

The Chief Financial Officer of his business

A campaign foreign policy adviser

And one of his campaign fundraisers.

They all committed crimes, and Trump pardoned most of them.

#52. Trump said he’d drain the Washington swamp. But he appointed more billionaires, CEOs, and Wall Street moguls to his administration than any administration in history

#53. Trump intervened to get his son-in-law, Jared Kushner top-secret clearance after he was denied over concerns about foreign influence.

#54. Trump hosted a Russian Foreign Minister to the Oval Office, where Trump revealed top-secret intelligence.

Oh, and Trump’s economic policies!

#55 Trump promised that the average American family would see a $4,000 pay raise because of his tax cuts for the wealthy and big corporations. How’d that work out? Did you get a $4,000 raise? Of course not! Nobody did!

#56. Trump vowed to protect American jobs, but offshoring increased and manufacturing fell.

#57. Trump said he would fix America’s infrastructure, but it never happened. He announced so many failed “infrastructure weeks” they became a running joke.

#58. Trump said he would be “the voice” of American workers, but he filled the National Labor Relations Board with anti-union flacks who made it harder for workers to unionize.

#59. Trump’s Labor Department made it easier for bosses to get out of paying workers overtime, which cheated 8 million workers of extra pay.

#60. Trump repeatedly suggested he might serve more than two terms in violation of the Constitution — and continues to do so.

#61. Trump called Haiti and African nations “shithole” countries.

#62. Trump tried to terminate DACA, which protects immigrants brought to the U.S. as children. Luckily this was struck down by the courts.

#63. Trump called climate change a “hoax.”

#64. Trump pulled out of the Paris Climate Agreement.

#65. Trump rolled back more than 100 environmental protections.

#66. Every budget Trump proposed included cuts to Social Security and Medicare.

#67. Trump tried (and failed) to repeal the Affordable Care Act, which would have resulted in 20 million Americans losing insurance. And striking down the ACA’s protections for the roughly 130 million people with pre-existing conditions could have driven up their insurance premiums or led to a loss of coverage.

#68. Trump made it easier for employers to remove birth control coverage from insurance plans.

#69. By the end of Trump’s term, the number of people lacking health insurance had risen by 3 million.

#70. Trump lied. Constantly. He made 30,573 false or misleading claims while president — an average of 21 a day, according to Washington Post fact-checkers.

#71. Trump allegedly took hundreds of classified documents on his way out of the White House, reportedly including nuclear secrets, which he then left unsecured in various parts of Mar-a-Lago, including a bathroom. He was even caught on tape showing them off to people.

#72. Trump seriously discussed the idea of nuking a hurricane.

#73. When Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico, Trump delayed $20 billion of aid and allowed Puerto Rico to be without power for 181 days.

#74. Trump suggested withholding federal aid for California wildfire recovery and said the solution was to “clean” the “floors” of the forest.

#75. Trump pulled out of the Iran deal, placing Iran on a path to developing nuclear weapons.

Honestly, there’s so much more, from exchanging “love letters” with North Korea’s brutal dictator to publicly denigrating a Gold Star military widow and making her cry, to the way he attacked journalists, to late night tweet binges.

Look, I can understand why a lot of people want to block all of this out of their memories. But we cannot afford to forget just how terrible Trump’s time in the White House was for this nation.

And we sure as hell can’t afford to put him back there.

#youtube #Donald Trump #Video #Videos #Election

1K notes · View notes

verus-veritas · 3 months ago

Text

Becoming The Perfect Family

(AI-Generated - Story concept by the incredible @kylecrusoe-captions)

Kyle’s life had always been a gray blur. An only child to parents who barely looked up from their phones, he’d grown up starved for connection, his days bleeding into one another in a haze of neglect. Then the Armstrongs moved in next door, and everything changed. They weren’t any ordinary family—they were a force. Loud, physical, unapologetic, they filled the quiet suburban street with their presence. Kyle couldn’t look away. From his bedroom window, he watched them, his chest tight with longing, his mind spinning fantasies he’d never dare voice. They were untouchable he thought, until he found the tome.

It was a fluke, really. Tucked in the back of the college library, behind a row of moldy textbooks, the ancient book practically pulsed under his fingers. Its leather cover was cracked, its pages yellowed and curling, but the words inside promised power: Shape reality. Claim what’s yours. Kyle didn’t believe it at first, but desperation has a way of eroding skepticism. That night, alone in his room, he lit a candle, traced the runes with trembling fingers, and whispered the spell. He didn’t expect it to work. He fell asleep to the sound of his own heartbeat, disappointed... until he woke up somewhere else.

The bed was too small, the air thick with the musky scent of sweat and testosterone. Kyle blinked, disoriented, and then he felt a warm, heavy leg slung over his own. Clive Armstrong—his new younger brother—lay sprawled beside him, his lean, runner’s body barely contained by a pair of tight briefs. His wavy brown hair was a mess, his thin mustache twitching as he snored softly.

Kyle’s breath caught. He was in the Armstrong house, sharing a queen-sized bed with Clive like it was the most natural thing in the world. The room was cramped, cluttered with gym bags and running shoes, a testament to the family’s athletic obsession—and their lack of funds for separate bedrooms. Clive shifted, his bare chest brushing Kyle’s arm, and Kyle realized he was in his underwear too. No awkwardness, no hesitation—just the casual intimacy of brothers. The spell had worked.

Jared Armstrong: The Stoic Patriarch

The father, Jared Armstrong was a man carved from grit and muscle. At forty-five, he didn’t look a day over forty, his frame lean but powerful, honed from years of coaching college athletes into submission. His dark hair was cropped short, his jaw perpetually shadowed with stubble that gave him a rugged, almost dangerous edge. He was the kind of handsome that hit you like a punch—unpolished, raw, and utterly masculine. As the head coach at the local college, he had a reputation for running brutal gym classes, leaving students hobbling away with sore muscles and whispered curses. Cold and intimidating, he carried himself with a quiet authority that made people shrink in his presence. But with his sons, there was a flicker of something softer—a gruff tenderness he’d never admit to.

Kyle’s first morning as an Armstrong started with Jared. He stood in the kitchen, shirtless in a pair of faded sweatpants, barking orders as he blended a protein shake. His biceps flexed with every move, a sheen of sweat already clinging to his chest from an early workout. “Up and at ‘em, Kyle,” he grunted, barely glancing over. “No slackers in this house.” His voice was a low rumble, but there was no malice—just expectation. Kyle nodded mutely, still dazed, and Jared tossed him a banana with a smirk. “Eat. You’re too damn skinny.” It was the closest thing to affection Kyle had ever gotten from a father, and it lit something warm and dangerous in his chest.

Clive Armstrong: The Wild Spark

Clive was chaos in motion. At nineteen, a college freshman, he was the younger of Jared’s sons, and he wore his rebellion like a badge. Lean and toned, his body was built for speed—powerful legs that carried him through endless runs, a smooth chest that glistened with sweat every summer morning. His wavy brown hair fell into his eyes, and that thin mustache on his upper lip gave him a roguish charm. He was mischievous, quick with a smirk or a jab, but his temper was a live wire—explosive and unpredictable. Rumors swirled about him on campus: a passionate lover who’d leave you breathless, but a selfish one who’d sulk if he didn’t get his way. Kyle had seen it firsthand—Clive jogging shirtless around the neighborhood, ignoring Kyle’s timid waves with an annoyed glare.

Now, as his “little brother,” Kyle got the full Clive experience. That first morning, Clive rolled out of bed with a groan, stretching his jockish frame until his spine popped. “Fuck, I hate mornings,” he muttered, scratching his abs as he stumbled to the bathroom. He didn’t care that Kyle was there, didn’t bother to cover up—just strutted around in his briefs like it was nothing. Later, at breakfast, he shoved Kyle’s shoulder playfully, grinning. “You’re eating like a bird, bro. Gotta bulk up if you’re gonna keep up with me.” His touch lingered, his fingers brushing Kyle’s arm, and Kyle felt a jolt he couldn’t explain. Clive was a tease, a spark—and Kyle wanted to get burned.

Benjamin Armstrong: The Silent Storm

Benjamin, at twenty-one, was the eldest, a college senior with a presence that filled every room. Tall and muscular, he wasn’t bulky like a bodybuilder but lean and defined, his frame a testament to years on the basketball court. His intense eyes—dark and unreadable—could pin you in place, and the slight stubble on his cheeks only sharpened his brooding edge. Ambitious and quiet, he carried himself with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, dismissing anyone he deemed unworthy of his time. But those he cared about? He’d guard them with a ferocity that was almost feral. His athletic fame stretched across state lines—everyone knew Ben Armstrong, the guy who could sink a three-pointer with his eyes closed.

Kyle’s first real encounter with Ben came that afternoon. He was shooting hoops in the driveway, shirtless and focused, his muscles rippling with every move. Kyle hesitated, then stepped outside, and Ben glanced over—those piercing eyes locking onto him. “You just gonna stand there?” he said, voice low and clipped. He tossed Kyle the ball, hard enough to sting. “Shoot.” Kyle fumbled it, and Ben snorted, stepping closer. “Gotta work on that grip, man. You’re an Armstrong—act like it.” There was no warmth, but there was something else—possession. Ben didn’t ignore him anymore. He saw him.

---

For weeks, Kyle soaked it in. The Armstrong house was a whirlwind of testosterone—sweaty gym clothes strewn across the floor, Jared’s gruff lectures about discipline, Clive’s endless energy, Ben’s quiet intensity. Kyle belonged, finally, and it was intoxicating. He’d catch himself staring—Jared curling weights in the garage, his biceps straining; Clive sprinting past the window, abs flexing; Ben toweling off after a shower, water dripping down his chest. They were his family now, but the tome under his mattress whispered a darker desire. He didn’t just want their acceptance. He wanted their love—the kind that crossed every line.

One night, alone in the dim glow of their shared room, Kyle pulled out the tome. Clive was out running, the house quiet. The spell was there, buried in the back: Bind their hearts. Irreversible. The warning loomed large, but Kyle’s hands shook with need. He’d rewritten reality once—what was one more push? He lit the candle, chanted the words, and felt the air hum with power. When he finished, the flame guttered out, and he waited.

The shift was slow, deliciously so. The next morning, Jared’s hand lingered on Kyle’s shoulder as he passed him a plate of eggs. “Looking stronger, kid,” he said, his voice softer, his stubble brushing Kyle’s cheek as he pulled him into a long, sweaty hug. Clive ambushed him later, tackling him onto the couch with a laugh. “Gotcha, bro!” he crowed, pinning Kyle down, his lean body pressing close, his sweaty armpit shoved playfully into Kyle’s face. “Smell that? That’s victory.” His grin was wicked, his touch too firm to be innocent. Ben, meanwhile, waited by the car after class, insisting on driving Kyle home. “Can’t trust you out there alone,” he muttered, his hand grazing Kyle’s thigh as he drove, his eyes flickering with something unspoken.

Day by day, it deepened. Jared took to coaching Kyle in the garage, his hands guiding Kyle’s form, his breath hot against Kyle’s neck. “Good boy,” he’d murmur, and the praise sank into Kyle’s bones. Clive’s roughhousing turned flirty—tickling that lingered on Kyle’s sides, headlocks that pulled their bodies flush. Ben grew obsessive, shadowing Kyle everywhere, hoisting him onto his shoulders after practice with a grip that was too tight, too tender. They were falling for him, their coy glances and casual touches betraying the spell’s work. Kyle had them—father, brothers, all of them—and he wasn’t done yet.

The Morning Fire

The tension between Kyle and Clive had been simmering for days, a slow boil of lingering touches and heated glances. It all came to a head one evening when their usual roughhousing took a turn. Clive had Kyle in a headlock, his lean, sweaty body pressed tight against Kyle’s, his armpit shoved into Kyle’s face as he laughed. “Take it, bro!” he’d teased, but Kyle—caught up in the musk and the heat—flicked his tongue against Clive’s skin, tasting salt and desire. Clive froze, his grip tightening for a split second before he let go, his face flushed, his breath uneven. He didn’t say anything, just smirked and walked away, but the air between them crackled.

The next morning, Kyle woke to a sensation that jolted him from sleep—Clive’s hand, warm and insistent, buried deep in Kyle’s underwear. Fingers curled around him, stroking slow and deliberate, coaxing him awake. Kyle’s eyes fluttered open, groggy, and there was Clive—his wavy brown hair tousled, his thin mustache framing lips inches from Kyle’s own. His face was flushed, his hazel eyes burning with intensity as hot breath fanned across Kyle’s skin. “I want you,” Clive rasped, voice thick with need, before closing the gap. His lips crashed into Kyle’s, hungry and unrestrained, a kiss that was all tongue and heat and perverse promise.

They made out like they were starving for it, hands roaming, bodies tangling in the sheets. Clive rolled Kyle onto his side, pressing up behind him, his jock musk filling the air as he positioned himself. “Gonna take care of you, bro,” he murmured against Kyle’s ear, his voice low and filthy. He entered Kyle slowly, inch by inch, his lean frame molding to Kyle’s back, arms wrapping around him in a possessive hug. The rhythm was sensual, deliberate—Clive’s breaths hitching as he thrust, his lips brushing Kyle’s neck, his cock buried deep. When he finished, he came with a shudder, spilling inside Kyle, kissing his spine as he stayed lodged there, unwilling to pull out. Exhausted and sated, they fell asleep again, entwined in the musky haze of their shared bed.

For the next week, it became their ritual. Every morning, Kyle woke to Clive’s hands or mouth on him, followed by slow, passionate fucking—Clive always the big spoon, always finishing inside, always kissing Kyle’s back as they drifted off again. The bedroom reeked of sweat and sex, an erotic sanctuary for their newfound bond.

The Steamy Afternoon

Benjamin noticed the change almost immediately. His younger brothers were different—closer, more tactile, their mornings stretching longer behind that closed bedroom door. He’d hear the muffled laughter, the creak of the bed, and it gnawed at him. Envy twisted in his gut. Kyle was his brother too, and Ben wasn’t about to be left out. He started claiming Kyle’s time during the day, dragging him to the basketball court five times a week. “Gotta toughen you up,” he’d say, his intense eyes raking over Kyle’s exhausted form. Kyle didn’t mind—Ben’s presence, all towering muscle and quiet intensity, was its own kind of drug.

One afternoon, after a grueling session, they stumbled into the house, drenched in sweat. Ben peeled off his shirt, revealing a torso carved from marble, and nodded toward the bathroom. “Shower time. But, uh, heater’s busted—only enough hot water for one.” It was a lie, and they both knew it, but Kyle didn’t argue. “We’ll share,” Ben said, casual as anything. “No big deal, right? We’re brothers.” The bathroom filled with steam, their wet bodies brushing as they stepped under the spray. Ben scrubbed Kyle’s back, his hands lingering, sliding lower than necessary, and Kyle returned the favor, tracing the lines of Ben’s muscled shoulders. The air thickened, their breaths syncing, until they were both hard, cocks straining against the heat.

Ben turned, water dripping from his stubble, his eyes dark with something raw. “I love you, lil bro,” he said, voice barely audible over the spray. Then, softer: “Need a favor.” Kyle didn’t hesitate. He sank to his knees, the tiles biting into his skin, and took Ben’s engorged cock into his mouth—thick, pulsing, tasting of sweat and salt. Ben groaned, hands fisting in Kyle’s hair, guiding him deeper.

They didn’t stop there. The afternoon bled into hours in Ben’s room, locked in a feverish 69—Kyle’s mouth on Ben, Ben’s on Kyle, sucking and licking until they were both spent, throats raw and bodies trembling.

The Ultimate Weekend

It was a lazy Saturday morning when it all collided. Ben slipped into the younger brothers’ room, intent on dragging Kyle out for an early shootaround, only to freeze in the doorway. There they were—Kyle and Clive, naked and tangled, lips locked in a sloppy, passionate kiss. Clive’s hands roamed Kyle’s body, possessive and greedy, and Kyle moaned into it, arching against him. Ben’s jaw tightened, envy flaring into rage. “What the fuck?” he snapped, storming in. Clive pulled back, smirking, but his eyes were defiant. “He’s mine, Ben. Back off.”

“Yours?” Ben scoffed, stepping closer. “I’ve been fucking him too, asshole.” The room erupted—shouting, shoving, a messy tangle of jealousy and testosterone. Kyle, caught between them, tried to mediate, but they weren’t listening. Finally, Clive growled, “Fine. Let’s settle it—whoever makes him cum hardest wins.” Ben nodded, grim and determined, but they couldn’t agree on turns. “Fuck it,” Ben said, stripping down. “We’ll do it together.”

What followed was a blur of heat and flesh. Kyle found himself sandwiched on the bed—Clive behind him, thrusting into his ass with that slow, possessive rhythm, while Ben knelt in front, feeding Kyle his thick cock, hands gripping his head. Kyle gagged and moaned, lost in the dual assault, their sweaty jock bodies pinning him in place. They were relentless, each trying to outdo the other, forcing him toward climax.

Then the door creaked open. Jared stood there, a tray of pancakes and coffee in hand, his plan to surprise Kyle with breakfast in bed crumbling at the sight. Clive and Ben froze, mid-thrust, panic flashing across their faces. “Dad, we can explain—” Clive started, but Jared cut him off, his voice a low growl.

“You little shits didn’t think to invite me?” He set the tray down, and Kyle noticed the bulge in his pocket—a stack of condom wrappers he’d tried to hide. His intentions had been less innocent than pancakes.

Jared stripped, revealing a body that put every dad in town to shame—hairy, muscular, a coach’s physique built from years of discipline. At school, he was a tyrant, but here, with his sons, he was different—gentle, submissive, eager to please. “I’ve got experience,” he said, voice rough with lust. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

The room descended into chaos—a perverse fuckfest. Clive resumed pounding Kyle’s ass, Ben fucked his throat, and Jared dropped to his knees, devouring Kyle’s cock with a hunger that bordered on worship. His tongue worked expertly, sucking and slurping, while his sons ravaged Kyle from both ends.

Hours passed in a haze of sweat and moans. Kyle came again and again—first from Clive’s relentless thrusts, then Ben’s brutal pace down his throat, and finally Jared’s insatiable mouth, draining him dry. When they finished, well past noon, Kyle collapsed on the musky bed, sore and blissed out. Ben snuggled close, nuzzling his neck, while across the room, Clive bent Jared over the edge of the bed, fucking him with the same passion he’d given Kyle. Jared took it eagerly, groaning his sons’ names.

Kyle lay there, surrounded by their heat, their love, their twisted devotion. Two jock brothers and a coach dad, all his—family and lovers in one. The tome had given him everything, and as he drifted off, drained and overjoyed, he knew he’d found his perfect place in the world.

---

The Final Night

Kyle had everything he’d ever dreamed of—two jock brothers and a coach dad, their bodies and hearts bent to his will by the tome’s magic. But as the days wore on, a gnawing discontent settled in his bones. He’d crafted a perfect family, a perverse paradise of love and lust, but when he caught his reflection in the mirror—scrawny, unremarkable, a shadow next to the Armstrongs’ chiseled glory—it soured everything. He wasn’t one of them, not really. Not in the way he wanted to be. The tome, still hidden under his mattress, hummed with its final offer. Three spells per human, it had warned, before it would vanish forever. He’d used two—reality bending, heart binding. One remained.

Late one night, while Clive slept beside him, Kyle pulled the tome free. Its pages rustled as if alive, guiding him to a spell buried in the back: Soul Possession. The words were stark, immoral, promising to let him claim another’s body, their identity, their life—erasing them to make room for him. His eyes drifted to Clive, sprawled out in the dim moonlight, his toned runner’s body glistening with a sheen of sweat, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. Clive’s jock perfection, his promising future as a track star, his effortless charisma—it was everything Kyle craved. Losing Clive as a lover stung, but taking his place? That was worth it.

He lit the candle, traced the runes, and whispered the incantation, his voice trembling with greed. The air grew heavy, but nothing happened. Disappointed, he crawled back into bed, pressing himself against Clive’s warm frame, and drifted off. It wasn’t until the dead of night that the spell ignited.

Kyle woke—or thought he did—to a sensation of weightlessness. His body shimmered, losing form, dissolving into a pulsing cloud of pure energy. He hovered, disembodied, above the bed, staring down at Clive’s sleeping form. Then, slowly, deliberately, he began to flow. Tendrils of his essence slithered downward, seeking entry. They slipped into Clive’s mouth, curling around his tongue, tasting the musk of his breath. They poured into his nose, filling his lungs, and wormed into his ears, threading through the delicate canals. Lower, they ventured—sliding under the waistband of Clive’s briefs, seeping into his cock, hardening it as they invaded, and creeping into his asshole, stretching and filling him with a perverse intimacy.

The process was slow, sensual, a violation so deep it bordered on ecstasy. Inside Clive, Kyle’s energy spread, weaving through every blood vessel, every nerve, a warm, electric tide. He pushed deeper, seeking Clive’s core, his soul, his essence, and found it; a bright flickering spark. Kyle enveloped it, forcing himself inside, fusing with it until there was no separation. Clive’s knowledge flooded him—every race he’d run, every lover he’d taken, every rebellious outburst. His dreams, his aspirations, his thoughts. They were Kyle’s now, absorbed and owned.

On the bed, Clive’s body rebelled. His lean frame seized, muscles twitching violently, his head thrashing against the pillow. Sweat poured from him, soaking the sheets, his jock musk thickening the air as his limbs flailed. His cock strained against his briefs, leaking, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Then, with a final shudder the new core snapped into place. Kyle’s essence fully merged and Clive’s body stilled, limp and glistening in the moonlight.

Morning broke, and the new Clive woke. He stretched, relishing the taut power of his legs, the flex of his abs, the weight of his cock in his briefs. He slipped out of bed, leaving the damp sheets behind, and padded to the bathroom. The mirror greeted him with Clive’s face, and he stopped, breath catching. This was his now. Every detail, every curve, and he intended to savor it.

He leaned closer, hands trembling as they rose to his head. His fingers tugged at the wavy brown hair, thick and soft, pulling gently to feel the roots stretch against his scalp. It was wild, untamed, a runner’s mane, and he let it fall back into place, a slow smile spreading. His gaze dropped to the thin mustache framing his upper lip. He caressed it with his thumb, tracing its coarse texture, the bristles prickling his skin. It was Clive’s signature—roguish, bold—and he pressed harder, feeling the shape of his mouth beneath it. His tongue darted out, thicker than he remembered, heavy and warm as he ran it along his lips, tasting the faint salt of sweat. He pushed it further, curling it against the mustache, playing with its heft, a perverse thrill building in his gut.

He raised an arm, flexing the lean muscle, and buried his face in the pit. Clive’s jock musk hit him—sharp, earthy, a heady mix of sweat and testosterone that made his head swim. He inhaled deeply, letting it fill his lungs, his cock twitching in his briefs as the scent consumed him. With Clive’s vocal cords, he spoke, voice thick and resonant, a rumble that vibrated through his chest: “I love myself.” The words hung in the air, a declaration of ownership, and he groaned, the sound raw and primal.

Memories flickered—Ben in the shower, water slicking his chiseled frame, their bodies pressed tight, then locked in a 69 on Ben’s bed, sucking each other dry. Jared bursting in with breakfast, only to strip and beg Clive to fuck him, his hairy ass clenching around every thrust. The reality he’d crafted had followed him, woven into this new life. The sight of Clive’s face staring back, the musk, the voice, the memories—it was too much. His hand brushed his briefs, and he came hard, a hot, shuddering release that soaked the fabric, his knees buckling as he gripped the sink. He panted, watching the flush spread across Clive’s cheeks in the mirror. But it wasn’t enough. He needed to know more, to feel more.

He stood there, panting, and let Clive’s memories unspool in his mind, a torrent of sensation and sin. Clive jerking off in the shower for the first time, marveling at the power of his own body, the water slicking his lean frame as he came against the tiles. A summer night, lying shirtless on the roof with a boy from track, his hands on Clive’s abs, his mustache brushing the boy’s neck as he whispered filthy promises he’d never keep. And the dreams—Clive’s aspirations to go pro, to feel the wind on his face as he broke records, to fuck his way through every city he’d race in, leaving a trail of spent lovers behind. Every memory was vivid, visceral, a tapestry of sweat, sex, and defiance, and Kyle drank it all in, his cock throbbing anew as he claimed it as his own.

Clive—once Kyle, stepped out of the bathroom, his briefs still damp from his spontaneous release. The mirror had been a revelation, a slow dance of self-discovery that left him trembling with power and lust, but it wasn’t enough. His new flesh hummed with potential, every nerve alight with Clive’s vitality, and he craved more. He padded back to the bedroom, the air thick with the musk of sweat and sex that clung to the sheets from nights of passion with his former self. The tome was gone, its third spell spent, but its legacy pulsed in his veins. This was his now—every inch, every scent, every shudder—and he intended to claim it fully.

The bed loomed before him, a tangled mess of stained fabric and jock stench, a testament to Clive’s athletic life and their shared mornings of perverse love. He crawled onto it, knees sinking into the mattress, and pressed his face into the pillow where Clive’s head had rested hours before. The smell hit him—sharp, tangy, a heady mix of sweat and testosterone that made his cock twitch anew. He groaned, low and guttural, and dragged his tongue across the fabric, tasting the salt of Clive’s essence, now his own. His hands roamed his new body, tracing the lean muscles of his chest, the taut ridges of his abs, and he marveled at the power beneath his skin—runner’s legs, a sprinter’s core, all his to command.

He flipped onto his back, briefs straining as his arousal grew, and raised an arm high. Burying his nose in his pit, he took a long, drawn-out whiff, savoring the jock musk that rolled off him in waves—raw, earthy, intoxicating. It was Clive’s scent, distilled and potent, and he inhaled again, deeper, letting it flood his lungs until his head spun. “Fuck, I love this body,” he rasped, Clive’s thick voice rumbling through his chest, a sound that vibrated with ownership. His hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against the bed, the friction sending sparks up his spine. He needed more—needed to feel this body break under his will.

He rolled onto his stomach, straddling the mattress, and began to hump it slow and deliberate. The sheets rubbed against his cock through the briefs, rough and teasing, as he thrust his hips, imagining every race Clive had run, every lover he’d fucked, every moment of this body’s life now his to relive. His breaths came in pants, hot and heavy, as he picked up the pace, grinding harder, the bed creaking beneath him. He lifted his ass high, thrusting into the air, muscles flexing—calves tight, thighs quivering, abs clenching—as he chased the edge. One hand gripped his hair, tugging at the wavy strands, while the other slid to his mustache, caressing it, feeling its bristles against his fingertips. His tongue lolled out, thicker and wet, licking at the air as if he could taste his own musk.

The pressure built, a molten coil in his gut, and he raised his arm again, shoving his face into his pit for one last, obscene sniff. The musk overwhelmed him, a primal trigger, and he lost it. With a guttural shout—“Fuck, yes! I’m Clive!”—he came, an explosive climax that tore through him. Jock semen erupted from his cock, thick ropes shooting out, splattering across his chest, the sheets, and—impossibly—arcing high enough to hit the ceiling in wet, dripping streaks. His body convulsed, hips jerking, as he rode the waves, smearing the mess across his abs with every shudder. The room reeked of cum and sweat, a shrine to his new identity, and he collapsed, panting, a grin splitting his face.

The door creaked open. His brother Ben and father Jared stood there, framed in the entrance, their faces frozen in shock and streaked with splatters of Clive’s cum. A dollop clung to Ben’s stubble, another dripped from Jared’s eyebrow. For a moment, silence hung heavy, then Ben swiped a finger through the mess on his cheek, bringing it to his lips. He licked it clean, slow and deliberate, a wicked smile curling his mouth. Jared followed, wiping the cum from his face and sucking it off his thumb, his eyes darkening with hunger. “Fuck, Clive,” Ben growled, voice thick with lust. “You’re a goddamn mess.”

They barged in, shedding clothes as they went—Ben’s basketball shorts hitting the floor, Jared’s sweatpants pooling at his ankles—revealing their muscular, sweat-slicked bodies. Clive, still sprawled on the bed, cock half-hard and glistening, didn’t resist. Ben dove first, pinning Clive’s wrists above his head, his tongue lapping at the cum on Clive’s chest, while Jared knelt between his legs, hairy coach frame looming as he took Clive’s cock into his mouth, sucking with a submissive fervor that belied his brash exterior. “My favorite son,” Jared mumbled around him, voice muffled, and Ben chuckled, nipping at Clive’s neck. “Favorite brother, too.”

Clive groaned, head tipping back, as they ravaged him—Ben’s hands roaming his pits, inhaling deeply, Jared’s throat working him with expert care. Round two stretched into a blur of flesh and moans, their twisted love consuming the room. Clive didn’t mind—couldn’t mind. This was the final ending he’d hoped for all along: The tome was gone, but Clive Armstrong was his, body and soul, and his family’s insatiable devotion sealed the deal. The bed creaked, the air stank of jock musk and cum, and as he came again, spilling into Jared’s eager mouth, he knew he’d never want for anything else.

#reality shift #straight to gay #reprogramming #brother #dad #jock #love #possession #magic #AI-generated

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bambieyedoll · 2 months ago

Text

MY CHOICE .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

summary: paul ran from the pull the moment your eyes met—terrified of needing someone that much. but when you disappeared, every instinct screamed to find you. now, standing face to face in the quiet dark, he has to tell you the truth… and hope you choose him, too.

pairing: paul lahote x fem!reader

word count: 5,4k

warnings/notes: ANGST! paul rejecting the imprint, overthinking, hurt feelings, rejection, with happy ending.

masterlist | check out my other work !

forks was quiet that day. a blanket of fog hung low over the pines, softening the edges of everything it touched. the kind of morning that wrapped itself around you, cool and damp, and made the whole world feel smaller, closer.

you weren’t used to la push yet, not entirely.

you’d only arrived a week ago, a shy visitor from portland sent to spend time with your cousin for the summer. your parents had said it would be good for you—fresh air, family time, a chance to “slow down” and “breathe.”

so far, it had mostly been quiet mornings with tea, long walks by the beach, and awkward hellos from people who seemed to already know your name.

leah had been sweet in her own gruff way—protective, almost, like she knew the quietness in you and didn’t mind filling the silence when you couldn’t find the words. she’d promised things would get better once you met more people. you weren’t so sure.

you definitely hadn’t expected the bonfire.

your cousin had dragged you along. “just a few friends,” leah had said. “low-key. chill.”

she hadn’t mentioned that her “friends” were all ridiculously tall, broad, and built like they belonged in a professional wrestling ring. she hadn’t mentioned that they all looked at you like you were a question they didn’t quite know how to ask. there was tension beneath their smiles—something just under the surface. watchful. careful.

you tried to stay close to leah, quietly sipping the soda she’d handed you, nodding politely when people said hi. embry. jared. quil. they were kind, but there was something strange in the way their eyes lingered on you. not unkind. just… knowing.

but then… he showed up.

you felt it before you even turned your head. a strange pull low in your chest, like your heart recognized something before your brain could catch up. the air around you shifted—heavier, sharper.

you looked up, drawn toward the feeling before you understood it and that’s when you saw him.

he was standing just past the treeline, half shadowed by the trees. his eyes were already on you—dark and intense, burning into you. paul lahote. tall, solid, tense. there was something wild and unsteady in the way he looked at you, making you freeze in confusion.

you didn’t know what to do. you weren’t used to being seen like that. not just looked at, but seen.

he didn’t smile.

his chest rose and fell like he was holding back a hundred words all at once. his eyes—wild and something else, something deeper—flicked over your face like he couldn’t believe you were real.

then his expression cracked.

you saw it in a flicker. his jaw tightened, shoulders coiled like a spring. his gaze faltered—just for a second—and then came back colder, angrier. like he’d built a wall in that single heartbeat.

and just like that, he turned and walked away.

no—stormed away. back into the woods, muscles rigid, hands curled into fists. like just being near you was too much.

gone.

you blinked after him, stunned. confused. he hadn’t said a word.

the fire behind you snapped and hissed, but the energy around the group had shifted. subtle, but noticeable. the easy chatter had gone quiet. eyes flicked toward you and quickly away, and you felt the weight of something unspoken settle over the circle.

you looked to leah.

her face was carefully blank, jaw tight. but when she saw the confusion on your face, she stepped closer and wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“don’t worry about him,” she said too quickly. “paul’s… complicated.”

you frowned. “did i do something?”

“no. no, it’s not you. he’s just—look, don’t take it personally, okay? you didn’t do anything.”

but her eyes told a different story. she looked unsettled. like something had just happened—something important—and no one was going to explain it to you.

when you glanced around, the others weren’t hiding it as well. like something had just gone wrong and everyone was waiting to see how it would end. jared looked away, he couldn’t meet your eyes. embry gave you a tight, pitying smile. even emily, who you’d just met, reached out and gently touched your arm like she felt bad for you.

your stomach twisted. “what’s going on?”

“nothing,” your cousin said, far too fast.

but then sam stood up. his expression was tight, unreadable, but there was urgency in the way he moved. he didn’t say a word to anyone—just nodded slightly to emily and took off into the trees after paul.

you watched him go, heart thudding against your chest.

whatever just happened, it wasn’t nothing.

and somehow… it had everything to do with you.

paul barely made it into the woods before he felt his lungs cave in.

the moment he stepped out of that circle of firelight and fog, the pressure in his chest exploded. his bones ached with the shift he was holding back, the wolf just beneath his skin clawing to get closer to her. his body trembled as he fought it, the wild heat of the imprint screaming to take over—to run back, to be near her, to touch her.

but he couldn’t. he wouldn’t.

no. no. hell no.

he stumbled deeper into the trees, fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked. he could still feel her eyes on him, wide and soft, completely unaware of what she’d just become. what he’d just become.

the world had snapped the second he saw her.

one second, he was just paul lahote—ticking time bomb, loyal pack wolf, constantly on edge. and then she looked up. and it was like something ancient, permanent and inescapable had rooted itself in his chest.

her face. her scent. the way her breath caught when their eyes met. he’d memorized it all in an instant, burned it into his skin. the imprint settled into his bones like a second soul, like a promise etched in blood.

he wanted her. needed her. not in some distant, romantic way. now. urgently. his instincts screamed at him to go back, to find her in that crowd, to stand beside her, to make sure she was warm, safe, happy. it was like his purpose had reformed around her, and it was choking him.

but he wouldn’t let it.

paul growled low in his throat, slamming his fist into the trunk of a cedar tree hard enough to send bark splintering to the ground. he braced his forearm against it, panting, his vision blurry.

you don’t get to have this, he told himself. not you. not someone like you.

he couldn’t imprint. not now. not when he could barely hold himself together on the best of days. not when the people around him flinched when his temper flared. she didn’t know what he was—what he could be. she didn’t know about the blood and the fire and the way he broke things just by breathing too hard.

she didn’t deserve to be chained to that.

“you gonna keep punching trees, or can we talk?”

paul didn’t turn around. he didn’t need to. sam’s voice was quiet, firm. that calm authority that always grounded the rest of them. but paul wasn’t looking to be calmed.

“she’s leah’s cousin,” paul muttered, forehead pressed to the tree bark. “what the hell am i supposed to do with that?”

sam stepped closer, crossing his arms over his chest. “it’s not about what you’re supposed to do. it’s about what already happened.”

“i didn’t ask for this.”

“no one ever does.”

paul turned then, face twisted in a snarl. “you don’t get it. i can’t do this. i’m not… i’m not like you, sam. i don’t get to have some neat little fairytale ending with the girl who smiles at me like i’m her whole world.”

“she doesn’t know what happened, paul. she just saw you look at her like she was something awful. and then you walked away.”

“i had to walk away!” paul snapped. “do you have any idea what would’ve happened if i stayed? i could feel it, sam. the shift was right there under my skin. one wrong look from her and i would’ve—” he broke off, shaking his head, breathing hard.

sam’s expression didn’t change. “you wouldn’t have hurt her.”

“i might have scared her,” paul muttered. “i scare everyone eventually.”

silence stretched between them.

sam stepped forward, his voice low but sharper now. “that girl is standing around the fire right now looking hurt and confused. and leah—leah—is trying to smooth it over. do you know how rare that is?”

paul winced. “she doesn’t know.”

“no,” sam said, “but she knows something’s off. and soon she’ll put it together. everyone else already has.”

paul dragged a hand through his hair. his entire body was trembling with restraint, every muscle tight with the effort of staying put. the pull toward you was unbearable. he could feel the distance like a wound. his wolf was snarling just under the surface, demanding to close the space between them.

he didn’t want to imprint.

he didn’t want to be vulnerable.

but most of all… he didn’t want to need someone like this.

“i can’t do this,” he muttered, looking away. “i don’t want to feel like this.”

“like what?” sam’s voice softened, stepping closer. “connected to someone? grounded?”

“weak,” paul bit out. “i’ve spent my whole damn life trying not to need anyone. now one look and i’m—god—” he scrubbed a hand over his face, trembling. “she’s in my head, sam. i can’t stop thinking about her. even now, all i want to do is turn around, walk back, and—”

his voice cracked.

“—just be near her.”

the confession hung heavy in the silence, raw and aching. it left him exposed in a way he wasn’t used to. his shoulders trembled, hands clenched at his sides, like admitting it out loud had peeled something open inside him.

sam took a slow step forward, his voice steady now, grounded with the kind of weight that came from living through it all.

“you think pushing her away will protect her?” sam asked. “you think rejecting this makes you strong?”

paul’s throat bobbed, a flicker of guilt twisting in his gut.

sam’s voice dropped lower, gentler. “do you know how many of us wish we could find our imprint? how many nights jared spent wondering if it would ever happen? or quil, watching claire grow and hoping that one day she’ll understand what she means to him?”

paul swallowed hard. his heartbeat was thunder in his ears.

sam stepped in front of him now, not forcing confrontation—just offering it.

“you got the one thing that anchors us. that makes the chaos in our heads quiet. and yeah, it’s scary. because suddenly, someone matters more than everything else. more than the anger. more than the wolf. more than the pain.” he paused. “but don’t lie to yourself and call that weakness.”

paul looked away. his hands clenched tighter. “i don’t know if i can do this, sam. i don’t know how to be what she deserves.”

sam’s face shifted—no judgment, no impatience. just understanding.

“then learn,” he said simply. “let her teach you.”

paul’s eyes finally met his. the storm in them hadn’t passed, but it had quieted a little. just a little.

as sam made his way back to the bonfire, paul didn’t move. not yet. but something inside him stirred—less rage now, more ache.

because for the first time in his life… he didn’t want to be alone. even after storming off and swearing he wouldn’t go back, his heart was already turning toward you again. already aching with the need to see your face, to hear you laugh, to make you smile just once—to know you were okay.

the imprint wasn’t just instinct. it wasn’t just biology.

it was devotion. immediate. overwhelming. terrifying.

and as much as paul fought it… he didn’t know how much longer he could stay away.

the bonfire cracked and snapped behind you, but the warmth didn’t reach you. not really.

you sat a little apart from the others, shoulders drawn in, arms wrapped around your knees even though it wasn’t cold. the air still smelled like smoke and cedar and sea spray, but it felt heavier now—like something had settled in the atmosphere after he left. tense. off.

you tried not to look around, but it was impossible not to feel the weight of eyes on you.

they didn’t stare, not outright. no one was cruel about it. it was more like… glances. lingering ones. conversations that dipped into murmurs when you passed. a softness in their voices when they spoke to you, like you were made of glass they didn’t want to tap too hard.

it made your skin crawl.

you’d already asked leah twice what was going on—once in a hushed voice while everyone else was distracted, and again more directly when you caught her alone grabbing another soda from the cooler.

“nothing,” she’d said the first time, her tone too quick. too practiced.

the second time, her eyes had flicked away like she couldn’t bear to hold yours. “just… don’t worry about paul. he’s weird sometimes. it’s nothing personal.”

but it was personal.

you’d seen the way he looked at you. like the ground had opened up under him. like he’d recognized something in you that shook him.

and then… nothing. no, not nothing. recoil. disgust.

one second you were locked in some unspoken thing—tethered to a look that made your chest tight—and the next, he was gone, disappearing into the trees like you were the last person on earth he wanted to be near.

it had cracked something in you.

you glanced toward the fire where emily sat beside sam, her hand tucked into his like it was always meant to be there. she caught your eye and gave you a gentle smile. too gentle. she’d looked at you like that after paul left too.

like she knew something.

you walked up to her a few minutes later, when the laughter had started to pick back up—too loud and too forced to feel real.

“emily,” you said quietly, “can i ask you something?”

she looked up at you, blinking. her smile didn’t fade, but it shifted into something more cautious.

“of course.”

“do you know what happened? with paul. did i do something to him?”

emily’s face softened. too much. like she pitied you.

“no, honey. you didn’t do anything.” she reached out, brushed a bit of windblown hair behind your ear. “he’s just… dealing with something right now. it’s complicated.”

you blinked at her. “but it had to do with me, right?”

silence.

her hand dropped. she looked over your shoulder, maybe at leah, maybe at sam. maybe hoping someone else would step in.

you nodded slowly, the burn rising in your throat before you could stop it. “okay.”

you turned before she could say anything else. you didn’t want another soft look or quiet murmur. you didn’t want to be handled like something fragile.

you just wanted to not be the girl everyone was watching.

the forest path behind the beach was dark and a little uneven, but you didn’t care. you stepped away from the firelight and let the shadows swallow you. the fog clung to your skin, cooling the flush in your cheeks as you walked farther from the noise, from the stares, from the answers no one would give you.

you didn’t know what you were walking towards to—only what you were trying to get away from.

and still… in the back of your mind, you felt it.

that pull.

the strange ache in your chest that had started the moment his eyes met yours.

you didn’t understand it. but it was there.

and no matter how far you walked, it didn’t let go.

paul hadn’t made it past the edge of the tree line before he turned around.

he was still shaking, jaw tight and shoulders hunched with tension, but sam’s words echoed louder than the wind through the branches.

let her teach you.

it had sunk in. not all the way. not enough to make the fear vanish—but enough to make the guilt twist sharper.

he needed to go back. needed to see her again, even if he still didn’t know what the hell he was going to do about it.

but when he stepped out of the trees, the bonfire was different.

she wasn’t there.

he looked once, then again, scanning faces too quickly. everyone else was still there—leah standing stiff near the cooler, emily laughing softly beside sam, embry tossing something into the fire—but you were gone.

his heart dropped into his stomach.

“where is she?” he asked immediately, storming toward the group like a stormcloud with legs.

leah’s head snapped up. she narrowed her eyes. “why do you care?”

“leah.” his voice cracked with urgency. “where did she go?”

leah hesitated just a moment too long.

“she left,” she said finally. “took off maybe ten minutes ago.”

paul’s blood turned ice cold.

“you let her go alone?” he snapped, already moving.

“she wanted to be alone,” leah hissed, stepping in front of him. “she was upset, paul. you embarrassed her in front of everyone and stormed off like she was radioactive. i tried to help, but what the hell was i supposed to say?”

paul’s jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

he didn’t say anything.

he just ran.

the forest swallowed him in seconds.

he didn’t shift. not yet. his skin was buzzing, his bones burning beneath the surface, but he kept to two legs, pushing through the underbrush, scanning everything. the fog was denser in the trees, curling between trunks like smoke. it made it harder to see, harder to breathe.

her scent was faint—carried on the breeze and tangled with cedar and moss—but it was there.

that was all he needed.

his boots pounded against the damp forest floor, heart hammering against his ribs like it was trying to escape. his breath came in sharp bursts.

he didn’t even know what he was going to say when he found her.

only that he had to find her.

because the bond was driving him mad—clawing at his insides, begging for her presence. being away from her was like trying to breathe underwater, like holding his hand too close to a fire and trying not to flinch.

every second she was gone was a second too long.

paul hadn’t realized how unbearable the distance would feel until she was no longer in sight. until the fire crackled behind him and her presence wasn’t there to pull at his bones. he hadn’t realized the ache of it. how loud the absence could be.

and he’d done that.

he’d pushed you away, terrified of needing someone the way he already needed you. terrified of what it meant to be known. what it meant to love someone when everything inside him still felt like a broken fuse, sparking and dangerous. he wasn’t gentle. he didn’t know how to be gentle.

but the thought of you out here now—alone, wandering these woods with questions no one would answer, hurt because he had flinched and fled like a coward—god, it made something primal claw up his throat. it made the wolf in him rise, furious and shaking and desperate to find you.

his muscles burned as he ran, breath sharp in his chest. fog pressed against his skin like damp hands, tree branches slashing at his arms and legs, but he didn’t feel any of it. not really. his whole body was a compass now—every sense honed, every instinct screaming find her, fix this, don’t let her think she was unwanted.

“come on, come on,” he muttered, half a growl, his voice rough with panic. “where are you, where are you—”

he stopped suddenly.

there.

a thread of her scent—warm, familiar, aching like a bruise he couldn’t stop pressing on. it drifted from the north, just beyond the ridge. fresh. close.

he broke into a full sprint.

nothing else mattered. not the sting in his lungs or the way the forest blurred at the edges of his vision. not the memory of what sam had said or the fear still snarling in his ribs. he didn’t care if he was still a mess. he didn’t care if he had no idea how to love someone without breaking everything he touched.

he just needed you to be okay.

snd more than that—he needed to fix it. the look on your face before he ran. that soft, confused hurt that had cut deeper than any of the pain his body had ever known. the way your mouth had parted like you were going to say something, and he hadn’t even waited to hear it.

he couldn’t bear it. not now. not again.

the path had long since disappeared behind you, swallowed by the trees and fog. you weren’t sure how far you’d walked. the sounds of the bonfire were long gone—replaced by the soft rustle of leaves underfoot, the distant creak of branches, and the quiet hush of the ocean just barely audible through the woods.

you weren’t scared. not exactly.

but the silence pressed against your thoughts, and it was getting harder to keep them in check.

you wrapped your arms around yourself tighter, fingers digging into your sleeves like you could hold yourself together if you just clung hard enough. you stared at the ground as you walked, your steps slow and meandering, like you didn’t know whether you were trying to go somewhere or just get away from where you’d been.

the look he gave you kept flashing behind your eyes. that… flinch. the way he looked at you like you were something he hadn’t meant to see, hadn’t wanted to feel. like something cracked open inside him—and he hated it.

and no one would explain it.

not leah. not emily. not a single one of them.

it wasn’t even about paul anymore. not entirely. it was the silence. the pity. like you were the last one to get the joke and they’d already moved on to laughing about something else.

your chest felt too tight, like there wasn’t enough room inside you for the confusion and the humiliation all tangled up together. you sniffed, blinking hard, and kicked at a loose rock on the trail, watching it tumble into the fog-damp underbrush.

you hadn’t meant to cry. it felt stupid. you didn’t even know him—paul lahote, with the sharp jaw and the wildfire stare—but the second he looked at you, something happened. something strange and deep and real that reached into your ribs and curled around your heart like a second pulse.

and he’d run from it like it disgusted him.

like you did.

so you left too.

but the weight came with you anyway—curling in your stomach, dragging down your limbs. it felt like you were walking underwater, like your body didn’t quite believe your legs could carry all this sadness without giving out.

maybe you were being too sensitive. maybe there was something you didn’t understand.

but none of that changed the ache in your chest or the way your throat tightened as you wiped a hand across the corner of your eye, quietly, angrily.

you didn’t even know him but you’d never felt more unwanted.

and it hurt in a place you hadn’t known existed until now.

you didn’t hear him at first—not over the crunch of your own footsteps or the tight rhythm of your breath. the air around you had gone thick and quiet, the kind of silence that made your skin prickle. even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

then—

thump.

a flash of movement through the trees. heavy, fast, too fast to be human.

you stopped walking. your heart stuttered.

another rustle—louder this time, like something big was cutting a path through the underbrush behind you, not bothering to move quietly.

and when it stoped, panic bloomed for a second, sharp and cold in your gut.

silence again—you turned, pulse kicking up as your eyes scanned the trees.

there he was. paul.

he stumbled into view just beyond the tree line, his chest heaving like he’d run the whole forest to get to you. his shirt clung to his frame with sweat, and his hair was a tousled mess, streaked with salt and wind. leaves stuck to his shoulders. there was a scratch blooming red along one forearm, dirt smudged along the side of his neck like he hadn’t even noticed crashing through brush to get here.

but his eyes—

god, his eyes.

wrecked. raw. desperate. they didn’t just look at you; they clung to you. like he couldn’t decide whether to fall apart or throw himself at your feet. desperation carved into every line of his expression.

“hey,” he breathed, voice low and raw.

you didn’t move. didn’t breathe. you couldn’t. your feet felt rooted, arms still wrapped around yourself like armor.

he stepped forward once, carefully, like you were a deer he might spook.

“i- i didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, his voice lower now, steadier but still rough around the edges, like it had been scraped raw by whatever storm he’d been running through to get to you.

you swallowed, eyes narrowing slightly. “what are you doing here?”

paul exhaled, chest still heaving. “i had to find you,” he said, like the words had been sitting in his throat the whole time. “i couldn’t—i never should’ve walked away like that.”

you stared at him, that burning ache still lodged somewhere behind your ribs. “why?” you asked quietly. “you suddenly realize i’m not some kind of curse?”

his face twisted, like the words physically hurt him. “no—god, no. it was never that.”

you crossed your arms tightly, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “sure felt like it.”

paul flinched and stepped forward slowly, cautiously, his hands half-lifted like he was approaching something fragile. “i know,” he said. “i know how it looked. i just… it hit me too fast. too hard. i didn’t know how to process it—”

you blinked, trying to steady the pulse thudding in your ears. “process what?”

he hesitated, glancing away, like he was searching for words that wouldn’t scare you more than the silence already had.

“you felt it, didn’t you?” paul asked, his voice barely more than a breath—hoarse and unsure, like he was afraid to say it too loud in case the words shattered something between you.

you looked at him, heart still pounding in your chest, but you couldn’t say anything right away. you didn’t know what to say. because yes, something had happened. something had shifted. but the moment had been so brief, so strange—shadowed by that look of fury on his face, and then the way he’d vanished without a word. it left too many jagged edges for you to know what the truth was.

“…i don’t know what i felt,” you admitted, your voice quiet, careful.

but paul didn’t look disappointed.

instead, he nodded like he understood that answer better than any other. “but something changed,” he said gently, taking a small step forward, like he didn’t want to spook you. “when i looked at you. it wasn’t just you. it hit me too.”

you swallowed thickly, a strange heat blooming in your chest. “paul…” you said, hesitant, wary, “what is this? what’s going on? everyone at the bonfire was acting like they knew something. like they felt sorry for me. i don’t understand why.”

he let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair, muscles tense under his shirt like he was barely holding himself together. “you’re not crazy for feeling what you felt,” he said softly. “and you’re not wrong for being confused. i should’ve told you earlier, the moment it happened, but i panicked— i barely understand it myself.”

you said nothing—just watched him. waiting.

“there’s something you don’t know about me,” he said, voice low. “about the people you saw at that bonfire. leah. sam. all of us. we’re not exactly… normal.”

you blinked. “what…”

he rubbed at the back of his neck, clearly struggling to find the right words. “it’s gonna sound insane, but i need you to trust me. i swear i’m telling you the truth.”

you nodded slowly. “okay.”

“we’re shape-shifters,” he said finally. “we change—shift—into wolves. it’s in our blood. part of who we are. it starts when we hit a certain point in our lives, usually when there’s danger nearby.”

your breath caught in your throat. you stared at him, not laughing, not scoffing—just listening, because for some reason, deep down, part of you already believed it.

paul glanced away for a moment, then back at you. “and when we shift, sometimes… something happens. it’s rare, but it’s real. it’s called imprinting. and it’s not something we control. it’s like—our entire soul just… chooses. automatically. completely.”

your mouth went dry. “you’re saying that… what happened at the bonfire was…?”

his eyes met yours again, and this time they were stripped bare of all the fire, all the anger, all the hardness. what was left was terrifying in its honesty.

“it was you,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “the second i saw you. it wasn’t just a pull. it was like the whole damn world stopped fighting me. for the first time, i wasn’t angry. i wasn’t lost. everything just… locked into place. like i’d spent my whole life off balance, and one look at you and gravity finally made sense.”

you said nothing for a long moment. you didn’t know what to say. it was too much—and yet something inside you knew it was real.

“and i left because i panicked,” he said, guilt coating every word. “i felt something i’ve never felt before—something huge. and i knew that if i stayed, if i let myself near you, i wouldn’t be able to walk away. and i didn’t want to mess this up. i didn’t want to… ruin you. so i did what I always do when i’m scared.”

he looked at the ground, jaw clenched, and then met your eyes again.

“i ran.”

you stood there, blinking, chest heavy with emotion and confusion and something that felt suspiciously like hope curling at the edges of your ribs.

“why come back?” you asked, voice barely audible.

“because i couldn’t stay away,” paul took another step forward, slow and careful, his voice trembling but firm. “because the second i walked away, i knew i couldn’t live with not trying. not fighting for a chance to get to know you. to be with you.”

your lips parted slightly, but no words came. his voice—low, broken in places—wrapped around your ribs, tugged tight.

his eyes searched for yours in the most intimate way. “but i need you to know.” he continued, gentler now, his voice growing steadier, “i came back—not because i had no choice. i came back because i chose this. i chose you.”

your heart clenched. the wind stirred your hair. everything else was silent.

he exhaled, shoulders heavy with the weight of it all. “this is mine to carry, but it’s yours to accept or not. you don’t owe me anything. i just needed you to hear it—from me.”

you watched the way his throat worked when he swallowed hard, the faint tremor in his hands as he slowly lifted one of them, offering—not reaching. just… waiting.

“i don’t know how to do this perfectly.” he admited. “i don’t even know how to be what you need. but if you let me —if you want me to— i’ll try. i’ll explain everything. i’ll answer whatever you want. just… please, choose me too.”

silence stretched between you for a beat. then two.

your chest rose and fell, the ache still sitting there, but quieter now. the fear hadn’t vanished—but it had softened. because for the first time that night, someone wasn’t treating you like a secret, or a mistake, or a consequence. he was just standing there—open, terrified, trying.

and you had felt it. the pull. the shift. the universe changing its shape the moment your eyes met his.

you took a breath, stepped forward, and slowly—finally—put your hand in his.

paul’s shoulders sagged with quiet relief, and something in his eyes lit up. his fingers closed around yours gently, like he didn’t quite believe you were real yet.

“i don’t know what i’m doing either,” you whispered. “but… i don’t want to walk away from it. i choose this too.”

a flicker of a smile tugged at his mouth—tired, but real. “we will figure it out. together.”

and under the hush of trees and starlight, with your hand in his and the weight of something new settling softly between you, you realized:

whatever this was—whatever it would become—it was already changing you both.

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vhygoxo · 1 month ago

Text

Twilight New Age

After inheriting her grandparents house in the Quileute reservation, La Push, Y/N moves to her home rez. Hoping to start a new life she is soon involved with what she thought were just old legends.

Paul Lahote x Reader

Romance | Fantasy | Drama | Angst | 18+

CHAPTER 4

<<CHP3

Kim stood in front of y/n shivering and shaking. Soaked wet from the rain it couldn’t hide her stream of tears. Grabbing onto Kim's shoulders y/n felt panicked. Kim looked up at her with pleading eyes. She ushered her quickly inside without another word.

“What happened?” She asked as Kim tried to calm herself down. Y/n rushed to grab the nearest towel. A clean dish rag that Kim grabbed from y/n to dry her hair. Her sobs slowly began to fade as she recollected her self.

“I’m sorry for coming here out of the blue. I just—I didn’t know where else to go” she sighed as she continued drying her hair. Y/n couldn’t help but pity her cousin looking at the state of her. “That’s okay I’m just glad you thought of me. Now what happened?” She asked as Kim finally gave in reluctantly.

“…Well I got into a fight—“

“A fight with who? Jared?” Y/n scanned her closely for any signs of violence. Already feeling anger rising within her. Kim shook her head profusely as she pressed her hands into y/n shoulders.

“Not him! No Jared would never. It’s my sister Jaz”

Jasmine was Kim's older sister by two years. She was a beautiful woman with thick hair and lashes. Out of them two she looked like their mom the most. One of the reserves most beautiful women, her only flaws, being her bluntness and attitude.

The two had a sort of sour relationship, growing up everyone compared the two, jaz being known as the ‘pretty one’ out of them two. It always bothered Kim over the years. She had a younger brother as well but he was 6 years younger. Still living with their parents at home.

“She kicked me out” Kim sighed as she continued to try and dry herself. “We got into a big argument about the place” she explained with a deep sigh. The two had been living together since Kim was 18. Jaz was 20 when they decided to get their own place. A few apartments on the rez were available so they took their chance.

It was a modest two bedroom apartment. Life was good for both all until jaz got with her latest boyfriend. Now the two are having a kid which made the tensions about space rise. Kim already didn’t like her brother in law so a child with him didn't sit with her well.

“I got after her man for barely helping. I can't stand him sitting there on the couch like a bum! Especially when he makes a mess and doesn't clean it up. Or else makes my sister clean it which pisses me off the most” Kim got herself riled up in anger thinking back on it.

“Everyday same thing! Ugh I just can’t if Jared treated me like that I’d rather die— not actually but still” y/n couldn’t help but just sit in silence. Knowing she needed to just talk about it all. “What upsets me is when my sister gets after me, she rather get mad at me, than just deal with her man” Kim scoffed as she was rubbing her hair aggressively with the towel.

“Anyways she basically told me to get out. She’s been saying for weeks now I should just move out. Her and the baby need my space, which I get, but I mean I paid for that place also! I worked hard to make that my home. It just doesn’t feel fair for me to get kicked out like this”

A moment of silence washed over as Kim sat in defeat. Y/n wasn’t quite sure what she should say or do. Looking at Kim with a hand on her shoulder she sighed. Doing what she felt best she listened to her woes.

“No it doesn’t seem fair” y/n agreed as Kim reached to hold her hand. Giving a soft reassuring smile to her. As time passed y/n felt an underlying energy coming from her. Looking at Kim with her big pleading eyes it just confirmed it.

“So I really don't want to go back to my mom’s just to admit defeat. You know the whole reason why we moved together was because of my mom. She always doubted me especially out of us two. If I go back now I'll never hear the end of it”

Y/n thought for a moment as she could feel the burning question. “I was just wondering… do you think I can stay with you for a bit? I'll go back eventually I just want jaz to cool down for a minute. We need some space for a moment. I'll help with anything, bills, cooking, cleaning, you name it”

Y/n didn't have to think it over much. She actually felt a sudden rush of relief flood over her hearing the question. After the strange experiences she had been having so far. Another person in the house would do her good. For the both of them actually. She rushed Kim into a tight hug which surprised her.

“Yes of course you know I have more than enough space for you here. Besides even if you didn't ask I would've at this point” y/n teased but Kim could sense the true underlying issue. Which was the fear y/n had being here alone.

“Really? Is it that bad living here alone?”

“No! No not really. It's just… I'm a single woman living in a big house. Legit in the middle of a big forest it can get a bit scary”

Kim giggled amused by y/n's reaction. “Thought you could handle it here?” She teased as y/n just shook her head. “Well don't worry I'll be here to protect you now” Kim assured as y/n couldnt help but smile.

Y/n helped her to a hot shower and a change of clothes in the meantime. While she was in there y/n made up a room for Kim. Luckily there was only one other bed besides y/n's that Kim could claim.

Kim called Jared to help her go get her stuff from her sisters. At least a few things like clothes and essentials. “It’s either now or never, if I don’t go now it’ll all be on Facebook, the Rez buy and sell page tomorrow morning” Kim said . Y/n knew she wasn’t even joking either. Jared pulled up not long after the phone call.

“Alright well wish me luck. I hope she didn't lock me out again” Kim cringed as she left out the door. No way Jasmine was that spiteful, y/n thought, until she remembered how she truly was. Disillusioned by how long she hasn't seen her.

Thinking it'd take a while for them to get back y/n decided to cook. Something simple for when they got back. Opting on a simple soup and oven bannock. It felt good to know she'd have Kim with her for now. And that she could cook without fear of left overs.

After seeing Renesmee the other night in her room, she really didn't feel like being alone in the house, whether she was real or just part of her dream. It was unsettling to say the least for y/n.

Kim would be here to help and distract her. Tap her into reality and get her out of her mindset. Y/n was used to being around others until recently. Y/n considered this one of the most isolating moments in her life.

Gazing out the kitchen window she looked at the treeline. Wondering what was lurking in the vast area. She wasn't used to how dark it could get especially with the trees. They casted shades of black almost darker than night.

Something was watching her in the trees. Every night she could sense it strongly. Pacing back and forth over and over. But she just couldn't put a finger on to what or who it could be. All of it points to the mystery of Renesmee.

Suddenly Jared's truck pulled up fast down the driveway. His loud pipes announcing his arrival as usual. Snapping her attention away she grimaced. Y/n hurridly went to the front door to unlock it for the two.

Kim came back with a few packed laundry baskets and bags. Jared hauling in everything in basically one trip somehow. Kim came with a disgruntled look on her face. “Oh hey you guys were quick—“ y/n greeted before getting cut off by a frustrated Kim.

“At least I know I made the right decision. Jared almost fought him” y/n knew she meant Jasmine's boyfriend. Jared just had a smug look as he nodded his head agreeing. “Totally could've messed him up. Easily. But then jaz threatened to put a no contact order between us and them” Jared said placing the last of her bags down.

“Jesus that bad?” Y/n questioned as Kim sighed deeply. “It's just Jaz being dramatic as usual, even more so, now that she's knocked and full of hormones” she scoffed annoyed.

“Yeah babe I'm not sure if it's the hormones” Jared said as he walked up to hug her. Kim looked upset as she sighed, y/n wondered what would happen between Kim and her sister. Would they continue to argue like this until who knows when?

“Ugh I don't know but I just know I can't be there anymore. It's too much for me to deal with on the daily. I'll take my losses money wise. I'm just glad to be out of there”

“… So I take we’re gonna be roomies for a while?” Y/n smiled happily as Kim returned the same bright smile. Both ran into a hug squealing with sudden excitement. “Hey that’s until she finally agrees to come live with me. Which won’t be long” Jared butt in with a sly smile.

“Shut up you’ll be even lucky if I decide to shack up with you” Kim jabbed back as she held onto y/n still. Y/n could see how jealous Jared was being but it made her laugh. “I win” y/n couldn’t help but push the limit.

Jared grumbled as he grabbed Kim by the waist. Pulling her to her newly set up room “cmon I’ll help you unpack” He huffed. Kim had a wicked smile looking back at y/n. Before the couple left to Kim's new room. Although it was quick and rushed she was glad for Kim's presence.

She'd hope the nightmares and vivid dreams would stop. Now with her cousin here anyways. They bothered y/n too much now she couldn't even ignore them at this point. Maybe with Kim here things would change.

The night slowed down after dinner and sending Jared home. Kim promised Jared wouldn't be here all the time, but at this point, y/n hoped he'd be here more often. At least she'd have a true protector around to keep them safe. Not that she'd admit it to Kim herself.

Looking outside her bedroom window, before closing the curtains, she could see a shadow dip back into the treeline. Confirming her suspicions on something watching her. Could it be the same wolf from before? Maybe there was a den or something close near.

‘A wolf?’ y/n repeated the thought. Why would her first assumption be the gray wolf? She'd only seen it once, it wasn't as if the shadow was the one, it could've been any wild animal.

Wolves immediately made her think of her grandfather. How he left her in the dream as one. For all she knows it's her grandfather watching over her, protecting his family, like he always has.

Feeling exhausted she actually relaxed in bed. It helped knowing someone else was here other than just her. A great comfort actually as y/n curled into bed. No longer afraid of the small noises of the house.

A few days passed by as Kim and y/n figured out their new life together. Y/n was so glad to have Kim by her side, as was Kim, who was enjoying her new found freedom. They made the house feel warm and inviting.

Barely a week and they already had a routine together. Not to mention y/n had hardly dreamt crazily since her arrival. It all felt so peaceful and calm these few days. The two sat in the living room relaxing comfortably.

“So Em was saying she wanted us to come over one of these days. Maybe this Saturday if you’re down?”

“Really? Yeah of course, I haven’t seen her house yet, so you’d have to show me when we go” y/n answered Kim as she smiled. A short pause came between them as Kim's mind stirred.

“I didn’t even get to ask what you thought of the bonfire” Kim had a sly look on her face as y/n braced herself. “I got too caught up with me and my sister’s drama I forgot to even ask. What do you think of the guys? Hope they didn't bother you too much. I couldn’t really tell”

“No they didn't bother me they were actually quite fun. Embry was nice to talk to” y/n blushed slightly thinking back to him. Kim noticed as she still wore the same smirk.

“Oh I'm sure he was super nice” wiggling her eyebrows at y/n making her shake her head. “Y’know I don't mean it that way” she pressed against Kim's teasing. Kim shrugged as she continued on.

“Well let's just say the guys were totally into you. And that one in particular has been asking about you nonstop since” Kim tried to hide her excitement. Y/n glanced over curious on who, but feigning ignorance, she looked away. Secretly she hoped it was Embry who was curious.

“Hm I'm not suprised” y/n shrugged in an effort to hide her interest. Kim rolled her eyes in disbelief. “OK Miss know it all. Just thought it'd make you happy considering this is why you moved back”

Y/n whipped her head back at her in mutual disbelief. “I didn't move back for men or anything like that! You know it” she argued. It was true it wasn’t the sole reason for her return.

“Well you said you wanted to make new friends! You're one of my only single friends at the moment. What harm can come from me introducing you to some good guys? They're all mostly single. I haven’t been a matchmaker in so long!”

“—True but I mean what are you telling these guys? That I'm just willing and down for anything?”

“No! No of course not I didn't say anything like that to them. Not much at all just that I have my cousin I wanted to bring around. I figure you're gonna come across them at some point. Better I have some control instead of leaving it to chance”

Y/n sat in silence for a moment. Kim sat slightly anxious of her reaction. Y/n just didn't want to seem desperate for anything especially a man. Letting the mood pass over Kim changed the subject.

“But I'm assuming you had a lot of fun? Sorry about it being cut short though. Sort of why Emily wants to invite us this weekend. To make up for it somehow”

“Yeah it was fun… But I felt like I couldn't see Jacob that much. Or Renesmee really” as soon as y/n finished her statement Kim's face fell. She stared at her serious which made y/n feel unsettled.

“Renesmee? How do you know her?” Kim sat up and grabbed y/n's hand making her sense desperation. “Wasn't that your first time meeting her the other night? She just moved back how could you even know her” Kim questioned making y/n raise an eyebrow.

“What's up with you? I didn't realize you knew so much about this girl. I thought I told you about her? Remember? When I first came back I met her and Jacob at the diner” Kim sat in utter silence as she looked down into the couch. Deep in thought as her mind stirred.

“Did she say much to you? Anything weird?” All these questions made y/n feel even more on edge about Renesmee. The crazy dreams didn't help much but make y/n feel even more crazy.

“No she didn't— what's the big problem?”

“Oh!… Well —there's no problem—”

“Well from the way you're eyeing me up and down not to mention questioning me pretty hard, I think something is up, so just tell me what's so bad about her” y/n said frustrated. Kim sighed deeply before she put a hand on her head.

“Look it’s… I… I won't say much… but all you need to know is to stay away from that girl. Okay? She's more than just strange. So don’t be poking around where you shouldn't”

Kim's tone and attitude seemed so serious, y/n couldn't help but take her as such, not wanting to pry anymore she left the topic alone. Something in her gut told her to just ignore it all as usual.

“I won't poke around I swear. It's just…” y/n felt the urge right then and there to confess everything, from the crazy dreams to the moment she had with Renesmee, but she hesitated.

“Just what?” Kim questioned leaning in close. Looking into her eyes y/n felt she should just keep her mouth shut. She already had her sister and who knows what else to deal with. It’s not like there’d be much to say besides “you’re crazy”.

She offered a reassuring smile “nothing” y/n answered. Kim just nodded and continued watching TV. But really she could sense something underlying and brewing in her cousin.

The next day Emily wanted the two of them to come over. She was cooking a big dinner mostly since Sam has a day off work. ‘Everyone’ was apparently stopping by so the two were getting ready.

Y/n stood fixing her hair in the bathroom facing the mirror. Kim strolled by but backed up once she saw her. “You almost ready? Jared's coming in like 10 minutes” y/n sighed as she finished her hair.

“Ok— Wait why is he picking us up? No offence but I have my own car Y’know? Why can’t we just drive over together?”

Kim didn't answer quickly enough which raised suspicion. “…it doesn't matter but just saying it's a free ride…” she shrugged walking away. Y/n sighed once more as she decided to just go with them.

Jared sat waiting in the truck as the two girls jumped in. “You girls ready? We’re a bit early some of the guys will be running late. Sam also” Kim just shook her head and laughed slightly.

“I bet Emily isn’t too happy about that”

Jared just laughed and nodded his head agreeing. Pulling the truck into gear as they all headed to Emily’s. Y/n sat staring out the window watching the trees pass.

Arriving y/n was impressed by the house and how it looked. It was a quaint, beautiful home, with so much foliage covering the front. It looked so camouflaged with the surrounding area. She could see bodies moving around inside.

“Hey guys glad you made it! It’s almost done but come on in and relax in the meantime” Emily stood waiting at the front door. Coming inside it was cozy, smaller than she thought, but decorated nicely. Family pictures and art hung on the walls. The aroma of good food filled the air.

“Thanks for inviting me your place is really nice” y/n said as she scanned the place. “Awe thanks that’s sweet of you. But no problem I’m glad you guys came. Really good eats are going down soon here. I just gotta check on it” Emily smiled as she walked towards the oven. Jared sat down at the table along with the girls.

“Hey so where’s uh…” Jared asked nodding towards Emily. Who just rolled her eyes as she pulled out the steaming hot roast chicken. “They’re all on their way. Leah and Seth are in the back” As soon as they were mentioned they came through the back door.

“Oh hey it's y/n! Good to see you finally made it!” Seth said with a cheerful disposition. Leah strolled behind smiling slightly at her. “I didn’t really get a chance to talk to you at the bonfire. Considering how Paul was just hovering—“ Seth was cut off by Jared nudging him.

“Hey how have you been?” Leah asked before y/n could even question the comment about Paul. All of them gathered in the living room while Emily finished with dinner. Y/n picked a spot on the couch to sit down.

“Uh I've been good, you?”

“Same” she answered nonchalantly as she sat down by Seth. “Heard you got yourself a new roommate” Leah said making Kim look over and give a cheeky smile.

“Yeah I have Kim staying with me for a bit or maybe forever” She said garnering a scoff from Jared. Annoyed at y/n’s confidence over the fact. Y/n sat with a smug satisfied look.

“Who knows however long jaz is going to be mad at me” Kim shrugged her shoulders rolling her eyes. “Which could be forever. ‘S why I keep saying you should just move in with me” Jared argued as he wrapped his arms around Kim lovingly.

“Must be fun in an all girl's house” Seth said with a certain shine in his eyes. “Could I come over?” he leaned in towards y/n but was pushed in the chest by Leah. Obviously disgusted by his behaviour.

“Settle down you can't just invite yourself over when you want to Seth. Leave the girls alone” her eyes said it all. Seth just laughed and covered his chest like it was nothing. “You can if you want to” y/n answered innocently surprising everyone. Not thinking much since he was much younger than her. Y/n thought Seth was adorable and kind like a little brother so far.

Kim just nudged her and leaned in “hey what are you doing?” She asked in a hushed tone. Y/n just wanted to be welcoming not seeing what Kim could. For y/n the more the merrier, she wanted friends here, and Seth seemed to be the most interested.

“I don't mean come by whenever whenever. But I just mean if you ever want to come just message. Kim and I are usually home”

“You don't know what door you've just opened!” She whisper yelled at her. Seth's eyes lit up as he just air punched out of excitement. “Really? Yes!” He exclaimed as Kim sighed deeply shaking her head. “I gotta tell Brady and Thomas” he insisted as Jared laughed loudly.

Groaning in agony Kim just leaned into y/n. “just when I thought I'd just found my peace and sanctuary” Seth had a certain look on his face. “Ha! Good luck getting that guy out or away from y/n” Jared teased Kim who only groaned more. Y/n felt her face flush warm from the sudden comment. Making her realize Seth’s poor attempt at flirting.

“Dinners ready guys. Y/n, Kim, Leah you guys sit with me at the table” Emily ordered as she spread the food out buffet style. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, roasted squash, gravy, and even for dessert a strawberry rhubarb pie.

“Jesus Emily I didn’t realize you could cook this well” y/n stood back amazed at her skills. Noticing she even went as far as plating each dish nicely. “It’s Emily’s cooking of course she’s gonna chef it up” Jared insisted as he scooped dollops of mashed potatoes.

Getting their plates for dinner they had just sat down. The women sat at the dinner table the two guys sat in the living room. Y/n's heartbeat began to steadily rise, she could sense something, it felt so familiar. She pressed a hand to her chest as an attempt to soothe the issue.

Kim noticed as she looked over at y/n. Rubbing her chest in small circles as she picked at her plate. From the back door footsteps and voices could be heard. Looking over to see Sam step in first. Immediately heading to where Emily was kissing her on the head. Behind came Embry and Paul who were both laughing loudly.

It stunned y/n to hear both of their laughter, although she already knew them as nice, it broke their tough exterior. Soon as they realized y/n was there they both looked more stunned than her. Paul's face completely fell into a stern look. While Embry smiled at her happily.

“Oh hey y/n what a surpise! Good to see you so soon” Embry said as he made his way to the kitchen. Smirking as he brushed past grazing her chair slightly. Y/n and Paul locked eyes with each other “Hey” he said as she responded in a quieter voice “hey”.

Paul turned into the kitchen as y/n felt her heart beating rapidly. Emily and Sam sat with a satisfied look on their faces. Y/n hoped she would see him. She wondered if he would stay and visit or not.

Once he got his plate, he sat in what seemed to be the farthest seating placement there, hurridly devouring his food. Embry sat near him as everyone continued to eat. Quil wasn’t able to make it since he was with Claire. She had been sick the past week so he was busy with her. She wished he was here his presence eased her nerves.

Sitting there eating y/n couldn't ignore his presence. She could sense the intense energy rolling off not only Paul but the rest of the room. Looking up at everyone else they continued to eat like nothing.

Y/n could feel eyes burning right into her, she couldn't tell if it was either Embry, or Paul. Picking at her plate the thought of being watched affected her appetite. She wouldn’t be so nervous if she knew what this feeling was.

As soon as Paul finished he got up abruptly to put his dish away. Heading outside in a rushed manner. “Sam” he said glancing only once at him. Y/n could see the look in his eyes as the door shut harshly behind him. Making her jump up startled at the sound.

With a deep sigh Sam got up and placed his dish in the sink. “I'll be right back” he said with a reassuring smile. Y/n wondered what was up with Paul. But from everyone else's reaction it seemed no different.

“How about we play a few games? I have cards and dice we can use” Emily suggested making the group excited. “Let's play ten thousand hm?” She said as she pulled the dice out. “Alright I'll be taking bets” Embry rubbed his hands together as he pulled up a chair.

Everyone gathered at the kitchen table eager to play. Y/n's mind kept going back to Paul. What were him and Sam talking about? She'd hope her presence wasn't the issue for him. Why was she so over conscious of him?

The game barely started when Paul and Sam came back. Paul's look softened as he and Sam joined the table for a game. Considering how small and cozy Emily's was everyone was shoulder to shoulder.

Y/n sat between Kim and Leah, Embry sat to the left of Leah, Paul came towards the four of them. Looking down at Embry he just nodded and made space for him in between them. Only Leah separated the distance between y/n and Paul.

“Count me in” Paul said making Sam want to join in as well. Y/n glanced over to him, they looked at one another, briefly before he broke eye contact. Y/n sat back in her seat and just tried to focus on the game.

A few rounds were played before everyone warmed up. Conversations were flowing nicely among them. The guys were starting to get competitive after everyone got on the board. Jared was one of the last to get on the board.

Paul had racked up quite a few points, over three thousand in three rolls, all until Leah stole it from him which pissed him off. Time came for y/n to roll the dice and try to steal it also. Nervous she shook the dice with everyone watching intently.

Landing three hundred she cheered out of joy. Ooh’s and aah’s came out of everyone except Paul and Leah. “Okay Kim you better not lose the streak” Y/n said as she passed the dice. “See if we can make it a big win” Leah urged as Kim gulped nervously.

Shaking the dice everyone leaned in watching the them roll. With no points on any of the dice Kim sighed heavily. “Yes!” Y/n sat up in her seat excited to win, she laughed as she raised her arms in the air, everyone else looked at her in awe. Especially Paul who sat with his mouth agape in surprise.

“Wow y/n you’re at six thousand eight hundred now. Only a few more thousand for you to win” Emily said as she kept track of the points. “Alright if you guys keep it up I’ll win by the next two rounds” y/n teased making everyone else laugh or groan.

From then on it was intense all of them wanted to win. Each time the dice would hit something, like bumping their arms, or fall off the edge, Seth would shout out “interference!” As if it was an actual rule in the game.

Once more Paul won big, fifteen hundred in total, when the dice eventually passed to y/n Paul laughed. “Don’t go trying to steal my win again” he joked making her look at him.

She stayed quiet but had a smile on her face as she shook the dice. Letting them fly she only had two dice to try and win. Both landed and they were both fifty. Paul just threw his head back and groaned slightly.

“Your win?” She smirked as Emily jotted down her points. Paul shook his head in disbelief and amazement, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms. He had such a toothy grin which shocked everyone else.

“Damn Paul you’re usually a sore loser” Embry said as he raised an eyebrow. Paul’s smile instantly fell as he turned to look at him. “It’s just a game” he stated trying to shrug it off. But from everyone's reaction y/n could tell Paul usually reacts different.

“Just a game. Yeah right” Embry mocked Paul which made everyone nervous. Y/n watched Paul's nostrils flare, his shoulders tense up, it seemed everyone held their breath besides her. Letting out a slow inhale through his nose he just smiled slightly.

Y/n stifled a laugh making Paul and Embry turn to her. “It won’t be just a game when I win” she stated. Paul’s face softened once he gazed upon her. The game continuing once the next took his roll.

After a few rolls where almost everyone, except for Jared and Seth, gained little to no points. “It seems we ran out of luck” Leah joked since her roll she had no new points. Kim was getting more frustrated with each roll.

Eventually the game was won by Jared who was bragging immensely. “Teach you to doubt me” he kept repeating to everyone. Going up and beating his chest in front of each of the guys.

“Don't fuck around” he joked as embry just scowled and pushed him away “I need a bathroom break” Seth sighed as he got up from his chair defeated.

“Yeah let's take a short break” Emily suggested as the rest got up from the table. “I need a cigarette” Leah stood up grabbing a pack from her bra unapologetically. Stuffing it back once she pulled out one.

“Same” Jared stood up to join her “gotta celebrate my win somehow” he cheerily teased with a toothy grin. Embry and Seth fought over who could use the bathroom first. The rest just relaxed in their seats awaiting for the next round.

It was an awkward group of people in the moment. Y/n sat with Kim, Emily, Sam, and Paul, as they all looked at one another. Trying to see who would speak up first after everyone extroverted left.

Paul seemed like he was holding his breath, with his shoulders tense, y/n looked up at him. The two smiled slightly after their friendly competition. Paul opened his mouth to speak but was taken over by Emily. “I haven’t played this game in so long. How fun was that?” Y/n and Kim nodded in agreement as Paul sank back into his chair.

“Great game guys” Sam said but it only fuelled the awkward tension in the room. Paul didn’t say a word as he abruptly left to join the others. Everyone else fell quiet as Sam sighed deeply. “Guess we’ll change up the game?” Kim tried to joke as y/n gave a nervous smile.

After a few minutes Leah and Paul both came in but headed for the front door. “Sorry Em I gotta head out.” Paul said by the table. Emily sat up like she was wanting to argue against him.

Sam looked over at her with a soft but serious look in his eyes. Y/n noticed as she watched Emily calmly take a deep breath. A smile taking place of the complacent frown she wore. “Make sure you come back for movie night then” Emily asked as he nodded.

“Me too I gotta go with him. See ya” Leah insisted as she grabbed her leather jacket. Y/n was disappointed to see Paul leave so fast again. She wondered if he was truly busy or if something was bothering him.

Scanning his face she could see the two weren't lying. Paul looked back to see if Leah was following, meeting eyes with y/n briefly, he smiled and headed out the door. Everyone bidding them goodnight.

Emily invited y/n to their movie night on the weekend. This one would be a horror film that's yet to be decided. Jared eventually took the girls home once they were done visiting with everyone.

“Well that was boring” Kim sighed as she sinked into the car door. “I thought it was fun” y/n insisted from the back seat. “I mean I ain’t gonna lie that was pretty boring. Compared to what we usually do. But it’s hard when we’re constantly on call” Jared explained as he drove them home.

Kim said she’d plan for next time since it was a tame night. But y/n was just happy to have seen Paul weirdly enough. Everything else that happened was just extra. Next plan was going to “be a surprise” as Kim explained.

Y/n sat on the couch staring outside watching the rain pour down. It had been a few days since they were at Emily's. Kim was gone for the day with Jared, which was strange for y/n, she hadn't been alone since Kim came to stay. Now she was right back to the feeling of isolation and unease.

She didn't think she could become so codependent on Kim. But it seemed when she was around the dreams stopped. The weird energy around her stopped as well. Like a ball of protection was wrapped around her. Now as she sat here she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched over.

There was nothing in the treeline, she would know, since she had been watching for the past hour now. She felt like a pet waiting for its owner to come back. A pathetic feeling she wished to get rid of. But her eyes were glued to watching any movement and action in the trees.

Breaking out of it to look at the time it was barely one in the afternoon. There was still a whole day to kill by herself until Kim arrived. Quil had been busy with Claire as of late and already she knew he was busy. Emily's house was always over taken by the guys and the thought of seeing Paul made her nervous.

Although it'd wouldn’t be the worst to see them. But there was a curiosity of hers that she wishes was answered. All of the guys including Quil work security. Y/n wasn’t quite sure on what their roles and responsibilities were. All that she was given was vague answers about what they did.

She knew their jobs kept them busy and they hardly had any breaks. From what she saw they all looked like they could handle it all. With no signs of fatigue they were an overly active bunch. Thinking back to when she was at the beach with them. Her question was what they truly did to be so busy.

Deciding to get up and do something she worked on her latest painting. Fixing her focus to something productive instead of spiralling. Putting in a few hours before working up an appetite. She didn't feel like cooking in all honesty. Opting to go into town for a solo date with herself.

Driving down the wet roads as rain came shimmering down. It wasn’t extremely bad out to be travelling. She knew she didn't wanna be cooped up in her house alone. Anything else than being too alone with her thoughts would be a better option.

Wanting to go eat alone she headed to one of Forks few restaurants. Feeling comfortable to be seen alone there than the diner. Sitting alone at the Rez diner would have everyone gossiping faster than wildfire. She sat down, ordered her food, and pulled out her book to pass time.

The bustling atmosphere of people made her at ease. Hoping to run into someone familiar or new. Once her food came life was instantly better. Kim said she'd be home soon so all she had to do was enjoy herself and eat.

Although the food was delicious she had a familiar feeling in her gut. It felt like tv static, a fuzzy almost itchy feeling, it made her hairs on her body rise. Looking at the clock she still had time to kill.

Even though her stomach was feeling off she still debated having dessert. Considering she had no choice but to take her time. Flipping through to the back at the menu. Deciding on what to order she closed the menu only to see a smiling Renesmee. “Hi” her sweet voice spoke out startling y/n half to death.

“Renesmee?” She choked out as the girl laughed. “Caught you by suprise again?” She asked as y/n nodded with a furrowed brow. Renesmee hardly ever made noise, she didn't even sense her presence, despite how close she was. It made y/n feel unsettled immediately and the static feeling over take.

“I seen you across the road as I was walking. Figure I come say hi while you’re here… eating” Renesmee smiled innocently. “Ah how nice of you. Are you uh— hungry? I can order something if you'd like. Take my menu” y/n offered trying to be considerate. It felt she had to somehow appease her each time they met. Renesmee only shook her head slightly disagreeing.

“I have something better waiting for me. Don't worry” she assured but to y/n her sweet demeanour came off as sickly. It felt like the air turned sour the moment she sat down y/n thought. Like a strong scented perfume that stifles the air.

“Where are you headed after this? Home I bet” Renesmee stated as if she knew matter of fact. Y/n hesitated to answer so she lied instead. “No no I have still have a few errands to run. What are you up to?” Y/n realized how nervous she sounded. The slight shake in her own voice seemed to appeal to the girl.

Renesmee sat smiling for a moment as she slowly leaned in. Eyes trailing down her neck to her chest. Making y/n's heart beat quicken steadily with dread. “I'm just out and about seeing if I can find new friends. Then I seen you sitting here. We haven't spoken much since I last seen you”

“Yeah well I've been busy I'm sure you're busy with school and what not”

“Sure. How's that book of yours? Learn something new?” Renesmee looked her dead in the eye. Y/n felt trapped staring into her golden brown eyes. She gulped nervously unintentionally, making the corners of Renesmee's mouth curl up, y/n felt her self go into defense mode.

Thinking back to what she learned in the books, about huge shape shifting wolves, and weird vampires. All the information she read and remembered. “On second thought let me look at the menu. I'm eager for something sweet” Renesmee's hand reached for it.

As their hands brushed against one another flashes of red filled y/n's vision. Visions of blood dripping into water glimmering. Sharp teeth peering out of both red stained lips and snarling animals. Y/n pulled her hand back as Renesmee sat with her lips still curled up. Cold beads of sweat dripping down y/n’s face and neck.

“Good evening girls” a voice boomed from the side of them making them turn their heads. Billy Black was rolling up to the table with a stern but fierce look in his eyes. Y/n didn't realize how long she was holding her breath until he came. Sucking life back into her she sat up. The air no longer stifling and sour.

The expression on Renesmee's face fell flat as she looked at him. Taken by surprise she hung her head low. Y/n could see the serious and stern look in Billy's eyes. “Billy” the girl said as she straightened her posture.

“Good to see you sir” y/n replied as he somewhat smiled and nodded at her. Y/n felt utter relief with him near for some reason. “Y/n, how's your grandma doing?” He politely asked continuing to stare down Renesmee. She slowly curled into herself with what looked like shame.

“She's doing great”

“That's good” After he replied a moment of brief silence fell over them. “Renesmee, what are you doing out so late? You should be at home with Jacob” he said as she lifted her head to look up at him. Y/n sat with her heart beat pounding.

“I'm having dinner with my friend here. I'll come back in—” Renesmee tried to dismiss him until Billy cut her off. “Did you want me to give you a ride home? Or should I call Jacob to come get you” holding his ground Renesmee didn't take long to break.

“A-Alright” she said standing up to go with him. Billy sat with a satisfied look as he waited for her to leave first. Looking back at y/n with a soft reassuring smile. Y/n watched Renesmee leave with what seemed like guilt and regret.

“I gotta get this girl home. I’m sure her parents are looking for her also. You and your grandmother take care now” Billy nodded his hat at y/n. Rolling past he slipped his hand over the table. Leaving behind a fifty dollar bill to cover her order. Before she could even say thank you the two left out the door into the parking lot.

Y/n fell back into her seat feeling breathless. This town seemed so strange from what she remembered of it. The longer she stayed the longer she felt it was weirder here. Instantly grabbing her phone to text Kim and make sure she was back. For some reason she felt the urge to cry but stifled it.

Driving home it was getting to be evening now. The rain was coming down heavier than it was earlier. But nothing she couldn't handle. Using music to calm her down from the situation earlier. Why must she come across Renesmee each time she left the house?

Getting back home y/n was greeted by Kim upon arrival. “Hey! Where were you I texted you a long time ago you didn't answer?” She insisted as y/n realized she hadn't checked her phone since she left. “Sorry I was driving. What's up?” Y/n asked as suddenly Emily strolled down the stairs nonchalantly.

“Emily?” She questioned as Emily smiled wide. “Y/n! What a nice place you have. I didn't mean to barge in but Kim invited me over” Emily said as Kim nodded her head. Coming in for a hug the two embraced tightly. Comforting her exactly how she needed she gripped Emily harder than she meant to. Emily stifled a laugh before y/n let go. “Good to see you” y/n smiled trying to brush it off.

“She wanted to come see the place and I figured you wouldn't mind” She smiled slightly nervous. “Yeah of course I don't mind. Welcome Emily. I uh just wish I checked my phone earlier. I just came from town I could've brought something back” y/n offered. Trying to make Emily feel comfortable in the house.

“I made dinner already me and her ate. Did you eat? I saved you some” Kim asked making y/n flash back to the intense energy named Renesmee. She paused before agreeing, dropping her purse abruptly onto the chair, Emily and Kim jumped back with their eyebrows up.

“Yeah I just came from town. Had a quick bite to uh.. to eat” y/n gripped the chair as she leaned against it. Thinking of Renesmees empty smile. Emily and Kim both looked at one another before continuing. Noticing something was bothering y/n.

“Come sit” Kim guided y/n and Emily to the couches. Hoping to pry out what was the matter with y/n. Y/n sighed deeply as she sunk back into the couch. Seeing the two comfortable Kim sat and awaited for the right time to pry.

“So how have you been? Busy?” Emily asked y/n eagerly with a smile. Y/n shrugged her shoulders as Emily came over with hot cups of tea. “Somewhat now that this girl is here” Y/n teased Kim who sat faintly blushing.

“Well~” Emily trailed on as she sipped on her cup of tea. Awaiting for y/n's curiosity to kick in. “Yes?” She asked as Emily and Kim looked at one another with glee.

“You know how I work down at the school right? The principal is trying to invest in traditional art for the school. She wants a mural out on the basketball court. It's on the highschools side and they're looking for an artist…”

“Oh really? That's great they're investing in art—”

“I ended up giving them your name and now they want your phone number”

“Uh—wait what? Really?”

“I showed them your website and pages also so they're very eager to hire you. My boss wants an answer by this Monday” Emily excitedly finished clasping her hands together under her chin. Kim copied her as the two sat with pleading eyes.

Y/n sat amazed at the thought of Emily doing this. In all honesty y/n was worried about her money. Moving costed her a pretty penny. And she wasn't sure when she'd get a commission again.

“Awe I appreciate it Emily. Really. If you can give me a number I'll get in contact”

Emily squealed with excitement as she clasped her hands together. Kim just looked at her with a smug face. “There your plan finally worked” Kim teased her.

“What plan” Y/n asked as the two just shook their heads. “It's just— Working at the school I don't get to see much of my friends. I got my co-workers, they’re all cool, but it'd be nice to be around someone familiar y'know?” Emily explained glancing over to Kim.

“I appreciate it Em you surprised me. But I'm excited I haven't done a mural in about 2 years. This will be fun” y/n said with full honesty. If she got this job it'd benefit her immensely. Money had been tight with moving and other expenses.

“Ugh I'm so happy! Kim said you'd say yes but I was so nervous to ask” Emily sighed with relief shoulders relaxing. It wasn't surprising to y/n that she was seen as intimidating. It was sweet of Emily to think of her this way.

“Should we carpool?”

“I would but I have my own car. I don’t think you’ll be able to fit all of my supplies anyways, unless you wanna risk it, I might get paint in your car” Y/n explained. “Oh god no! Please no Sam just bought me this car I can't get paint in it at all” Emily desperately sighed.

Kim sat for a moment gazing at y/n which she noticed. “Are you sure you're okay? You seem off” Kim sat with her head tilted slightly. Y/n was stiff until she exhaled what she didn't realize she was holding in.

“I was feeling stressed earlier… Just about the basic struggles y'know? I dunno...” y/n sat leaning against the couch head in her hand. Emily and Kim frowned seeing her distress. Snapping out of it she sat up smiling softly.

“But I'm feeling way better with you guys here” in all honesty she was glad to have company. She wanted to speak about Renesmee, about her dreams, but she hesitated. Moving on to lighter conversation since Emily was visiting.

By the next week y/n was hired, after getting vetted by the school, all went smoothly. Until she was asked to get the opinions from students. Meaning having to go to each class and ask what they want on the walls.

Admittedly she probably wouldn't have taken the job if she knew before hand. Having to go and ask moody teens who don't even want to be bothered. Not exactly what she had in mind but a jobs a job.

Although it was a bit awkward at first towards the end she got familiar with everyone. Considering she'll be here for a good month hopefully less. By the last class she felt ready to start designing.

One girl sat at the back of the class, like most rez kids she dressed in all back, a baggy hoodie and sweatpants. Her hood was over her head. She sat scribbling on her pad while glancing back outside constantly. As if she were waiting or watching out for something.

She took notice but moved on eventually. The girl felt familiar in a sense to y/n. Or at least intriguing maybe she was an artist as well.

As the week passed y/n found herself outside majority of the day. She had access to the cafeteria and teachers lounge thankfully. She never went to school here so it gave her insight on what it was like.

The girl with the hoodie kept coming by her on her breaks. Everytime she'd just come stand a distance away, simply watching y/n worked, everytime y/n called out to her she'd leave. She figured she was shy like the rest of the rez kids.

Y/n stood on a ladder painting when the bell rang signaling the end of the day. The kids flooding out the building in packs to leave. Y/n figured she'd stay until the teachers left before leaving also. As she looked around in the distance she could see the familiar girl.

At this point even when she wore a hood she could spot her. She stood by the far treeline obviously nervous. Stopping to watch y/n felt her body go into a cold sweat. Despite the cold air nipping at her in the breeze.

The hairs on her neck stood and she recognized the familiar feeling almost instantly. Sure enough out from the trees like a vision Renesmee strolled out. Approaching the young girl in the hood, she wrapped an arm around her, before the two walked deep into the trees.

Y/n was practically shaking with what seemed like worry. Since when did Renesmee befriend rez girls? Why would she even be here especially at this hour. Y/n leaned forward trying to see where they went when she felt her ladder shift.

“What are you doing?!”

Someone grabbed the end of her ladder as a voice boomed out. She jumped startled quickly gripping the sides of the ladder. Looking down to see a bewildered Paul holding her ladder steady.

“Jesus you scared me!” Y/n clutched her chest as she caught her breath. Feeling relieved to see it was just him. He shook his head as he looked upset at her. “You mean you scared me. Seriously what the hell are you doing way up there? You could've fell over just now” he scolded sternly as she climbed down.

“Well sorry but I'm just doing my job” y/n pointed up to the wall which only had sketches of the design so far. Only a few spots were painted as Paul gazed upon it. “What job?” He asked curious as he continued to stare at the design.

“Oh! Um well I've been paid to paint murals on the walls here. Apparently the school needs more art so here I am” she said a bit nervous realizing she was with Paul. He stood with his arms crossed showing off his muscles. She couldn't help but notice his veins popping out also.

“Wait what are you doing here? Just got out of class?” She teased him actually making him smile. He shook his head “Nah I just came to pick up my idiot brothers” he nodded his head behind him towards his truck. Two heads sat low in the back of the seat before peering out at her.

“Guess they can't ride the bus until they smarten up. Then I seen you here teetering off your ladder” he teased making her flush pink. “You could've really hurt yourself y’know?” She could sense the concern in his voice which surprised her.

“I know I’ll be careful in the future. Thanks for the help—”

“Y/n?”

Leah chimed in suddenly coming out the doors. Paul groaned and mumbled low under his breath “Great she's here”. Emily followed behind her coming to greet them also. Which Paul met with another groan before clasping his hand on his face.

“Oh hey guys!” y/n piped up as Emily smiled and Leah rolled her eyes at Paul. “Hey so I wanted to show Leah what you were working on” Y/n happily pointed with her arms to the wall. “Yeah that and my stupid brothers got into a fight again” Leah looked over y/n’s shoulders to the truck. Turning around to see Seth and another boy waving from the back seat.

“But it looks nice so far” Leah offered up as the three of them stared up confused. “Its not even close to done yet, I’m busy just mapping out everything, I’ll be here for a good month anyways with how long it’ll take” y/n laughed as they all relaxed.

“Yep so I’ll have y/n close by me for now” Emily reached her arms around y/n who hugged back. Emily looked up at Paul who just silently nodded. Y/n noticed as Paul looked back at her. Two loud truck honks broke the moment as Leah and Paul both sighed. “Fucken guys” Paul grunted as he shook his head.

“Great work but we gotta go before these shit asses take off on us” Leah said. “Yeah but I’m sure it’ll turn out amazing” Paul said as Leah patted y/n’s back. The two bidding their leave as they headed to the truck.

Emily turned towards y/n “So are you free tomorrow? It’s Friday after all so we’re planning to hang at my place. Wanna come?” She invited y/n who was more than happy at the offer. “Sure just let me know if I should bring anything” this made Emily scoff and laugh. “Y’know you don’t have to do that by now. Just bring yourself—unless you wanna invite someone the more the merrier” Y/n shook her head with a smile.

Y/n and her headed inside to get the rest of their things to leave. She thought back to seeing Renesmee with the girl in the hood. How Renesmee even turned back at her, it seemed like she knew y/n was watching, it made her wonder why she’d even be here. Shrugging it off she continued on like usual.

The b*tch is back with the long awaited chapter 4 😭 no excuses for how long it’s been omg. But here we are back at it. To explain I’ve rewritten the half of this chapter about 3-4 times. And the plot line changed around that much also once I added a few ideas. I’ve been more focused on world building with this chapter. To get a good sense of the environment and the setting so far. Hope everyone enjoys and tunes in for the next chapters. Lots more to come 🤍🙌

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fangirlmermaid · 1 month ago

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She's My Witch

Summary: visiting Luke at the lake house, and one of his neighbors isn't quite fond of your witchy ways

Pairing: Luke Hughes x witch!fem!reader

Warning: witchcraft, protective Luke, neighbor being an asshole, celebrating Litha, talking about sex (that's it), lightly proofread, grammar and punctuation mistakes.

Note: Somehow, you convinced Luke to wear a flower crown.

Also, this is super long.

Materialist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luke was staring at the driveway through the living room window, waiting for your Uber driver to pull up. Luke wanted to pick you up at the airport, but you said no because you were nervous about his shoulder.

Their neighbor and friend, Jared noticed Luke who looked like a dog waiting for their owner to return. Jared turned his attention back to the video game he was playing with Jack and Quinn.

“What’s he doing?” Jared wondered, and the two brothers rolled their eyes when they glanced at their little brother, “Waiting for his girlfriend,” Jack answered, “He’s been staring at the window since he booked her ticket,” Quinn added.

Luke threw them a fake laugh, “You’re pussy-whipped” Jack chirped. Luke rolled his eyes, fiddling with the lover's tarot card necklace you gave him. The last time you saw Luke was over winter break, and sure, you guys are always FaceTiming each other, but it wasn’t the same.

“So what fun things are you two going to get at?” Jared asked.

Jared's parents' lake house was a few houses down, and they had owned it for a few years. He quickly became friends with the Hughes brothers.

“We’re going to celebrate Litha,” Luke explained with a smile, his eyes still glued to the window. Jared knit his eyebrows “What the fuck is Litha” Jared mumbled to Quinn “It’s a pagan holiday” Quinn explained pausing the game; just in case “Oh…” Jared mumbled, shifting in his spot on the couch.

Quinn and Jack obviously knew you were a witch; again, you’re not hiding it. They don’t care, they only care that you make Luke happy. Over time, Quinn and Jack started to see you as their little sister. You also give them tarot readings when they ask.

Jack and Quinn were glad that Luke was too busy looking for you to hear this bullshit.

“Is that a problem?” Jack asked, his tone becoming dark. “No…” Jared whispered, growing nervous at the older Hughes brothers' deathly glare.

Luke perked up, “She’s here!” He exclaimed, running out the front door. The two brothers gave Jared a warning look before going out the door to greet you.

You grabbed your duffle from the Uber’s trunk when you heard a familiar voice screaming “ANGEL!”, causing a grin to appear on your face. You close the trunk before running towards your boyfriend.

Luke wrapped his good arm around your neck and tucked you into his side. “I’ve missed you so much, pet!” You stated, carefully wrapping your arms around his waist, trying not to touch the sling.

You tug on his shirt, pulling Luke down to your eye level. “My pet!” You squealed, littering his face with kisses. Luke couldn’t help but laugh.

When you finally pulled away, Luke took your bag from you and threw it on his good shoulder. Your eyes widened.

“NO!” you shouted, trying to grab your bag back. “Angel, stop. I got it.” “Did you forget that you’re injured?!” “I’m fine, promise.”

Luke pulled out his puppy eyes and pursed lips, knowing it’s your weakness. “Fine,” you muttered, letting go of the bag. Luke smiled.

You hugged Quinn and Jack when the two of you met them at the door.

When you pulled away, you noticed Jared. You backed into Luke, not liking Jared’s energy. Luke rubbed your back. “Hi,” you gave Jared a small smile, “hi,” Jared muttered.

Luke shot his friend a warning look. Luke guided you into the lake house, telling you the fun activities he had planned for the next two weeks.

Jack and Quinn glared at their friend. “Stop,” Jack warned before heading inside. Jared knit his eyebrows together. “What?” Jared asked, looking at Quinn, who shook his head while heading inside. Jared followed them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Quinn, Jared, and Jack were getting the boat ready.

You sat on the living room floor before the coffee table, doing a tarot reading for yourself. You're not the controlling girlfriend and tell Luke who he can be friends with. Though you couldn’t shake off the energy Jared had when you interacted with him. That’s when you decided to consult the cards. The cards weren’t holding back; she basically told you that he was horrible.

You could live with the fact that Jared doesn’t like you because you are a witch. You’ve gotten used to people not liking you because of your practice. You would’ve put someone like Jared in his place, but he was Luke’s friend, and you wanted a nice visit with your boyfriend.

Luke (who was sitting behind you) was admiring you doing your witchy things. Happy that you were here instead of over the phone.

Jared entered the living room, you still felt the negative energy.

“Whaaaat is happening?” Jared wondered, eyeing the cards in your hand. You set the deck down, “tarot,” you muttered.

Luke noticed the tone in your voice.

“Hocus Pocus?” Jared wondered, eyeing the tarot box, Luke nodded, “Yeah, I got it for her birthday.” Luke smiled, remembering how happy you were when he gave it to you. “How fitting,” Jared grumbled, grabbing the deck and examining them. Luke furrowed his brows. “Dude-” “I can hear the demons,” Jared mocked, holding the deck to his ear.

Luke stood up. “Stop,” Luke warned, snatching the deck out of his hands. “I was kidding,” Jared explained, rolling his eyes. “Is there a reason you're here?” Luke sassed, his eyes throwing daggers at his so-called friend. “Quinn wanted me to tell you that the boat is ready,” Jared explained before heading outside.

Luke handed you back your cards. You quickly cleaned up. “I’m sorry, angel.” “It’s fine, Luke.”

Luke felt anger bubbling in his chest; nothing about that was okay.

Luke helped you up.

“I’m used to this.” “You shouldn’t be. He had no right-” “I love that you care, but I’m fine. It’s just one stupid comment. Just let it go.”

You pulled your best puppy eyes on Luke, “FFFFFine,” Luke grumbled, slumping his shoulder. You smiled, “Thank you, Pet.” You pulled Luke into a lingering kiss.

When you pulled away, Luke placed a delicate kiss on your forehead. As his way of saying that he has your back and he won’t kick Jared’s ass.

Luke took off his Yankees cap and placed it on your head, You smiled happily that he’s letting his curls breathe.

Luke laced your fingers together. “When we get outside, can you put sunscreen on my back?” “Of course, pet.” “Can you put sigils too? I don’t want to get sunburned.” “Of course, pet.” “The last one I had sucked ass” “I know, Pet.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You gripped Luke’s hand tightly as you entered Jared’s lake house. You felt the bad energy all around. Luke leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, “What’s wrong?” Luke wondered. You looked at him, not wanting to start anything “Nothing” you told. Luke didn’t buy it he knew you better than you knew yourself, “Promise,” you added, throwing a bright smile.

Before Luke could press, Jared appeared, “Glad you guys can make it.” He smiled at the brothers, completely ignoring your existence. Jared led you guys to the backyard, where you were greeted by Jared’s family and friends. They were all much friendlier than him which made you wonder why they chose to associate with someone who sucks ass.

You and the brothers made your way to the picnic table that was in the shade. You and Luke sat on one side while Quinn and Jack sat on the other side. You all were chatting about random things, Luke placed his hand on your thigh giving it a little squeeze every now and then.

The laughter died down when Jared squeezed between Quinn and Jack. Luke told his older brothers about what happened the other day, and they thought Jared was in the wrong. So they talked to Jared and he ‘apologized’ to you; It was a shitty one and you knew he didn’t mean it but whatever can get you through the next two weeks.

“I’m grabbing a beer,” Jack announced, getting up. Quinn quickly got up, “me too” he muttered, he looked at you and Luke “beer and a white claw?” Quinn wondered, you both nodded. The two older brothers walked towards the cooler that was sitting next to the table that had a variety of fruits.

You didn’t know which was making you more anxious the awkward tension or the hint of rage in Luke’s eyes. You played with Luke’s fingers that rest on your thigh to settle your nerves. Luke gaze softened when he looked at you, he leaned down “I can tell him to leave” Luke murmured his hot breath making you shiver. You didn’t want to cause a scene so you shook your head, Luke placed a kiss on your temple.

Jared rolled his eyes “Are White Claws alright for you, (Y/N)?” Jared asked, you looked at the guy in front of you trying to ignore how he said your name with disgust “White claws are good, thank you” You smiled, Jared nodded “Good. Next time I’ll make sure to have some childrens souls on tap for you. I know witches like that shit” Jared’s voice lace with venom, his eyes throwing daggers at you.

Before you could even laugh it off, Luke already opened his mouth “Knock that shit off” Luke warned, Jared knit his eyebrows together “It was just a joke, lighten up Hughesy” Jared laughed but you both knew he wasn’t kidding. Luke wasn’t having it “It’s not funny” Luke told, you squeezed Luke’s arm to defuse the situation.

Jared stood up, “Clearly you can’t take a joke, so I’m gonna go,” Jared announced before walking towards another group of people.

Jack and Quinn finally came back “Sorry, one of Jared’s cousins was hitting on Quinn” Jack laughed sitting down. Quinn being attentive as he was noticed Luke being off “What?” Quinn wondered placing both yours and Luke’s drink in front of you. Jared’s comment played on a loop in Luke’s mind. “It’s nothing.” “It’s not nothing, Angel.” “It was just a stupid comment.” “You eating children’s souls, is a stupid comment?” “Yes” Before Jack or Quinn could give their opinion, they were on Luke’s side, and Jared’s dad announced that the food was ready. You sighed not wanting to argue with your boyfriend “Just let it go, okay?” You asked giving him your puppy eyes once again, it took him a minute longer than usual before muttering out “Fine”. You smiled and placed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

You stood up “I’ll grab your food when I get up there” You explained to your boyfriend, Luke noticed Jared was the last one in line causing his heart to sink a little. “No, I’ll come-” “Don’t be silly. You’re injured”

You kissed the top of his head before heading off. Luke felt like he couldn’t breath, he looked at his brothers “Can you-” “Yeah” Quinn nodded.

Jack and Quinn rushed towards you, ready to defend their sister from any more of Jared’s or anyone else’s comments

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked outside and found Quinn and Jack playing basketball with Jared; Luke was sitting on the sideline in a folding Adirondack chair. You noticed the boys who were playing basketball were moving at a sluggish pace after going at it nonstop, so you decided to bring them some sun water to hydrate them and to give them energy.

Luke made Jared apologize again, and it was still unreal, but it’s whatever.

You walked towards the boys, carrying a tray of sun water. The closer you approached them, the bigger your smile grew; you knew Luke and his brothers loved Sun and Moon Water.

“I thought you guys might be thirsty,” you announced. The Hughes brothers cheered and ran towards you. The brothers looked at you with an exciting twinkle in their eyes. “It’s sun water. You guys looked like you needed some energy.” You smiled, presenting the tray to the boys in front of you.

The Hughes brothers were fighting over the glasses as if you didn’t bring out enough for all of them. Luke gave you the toothiest grin. “You’re the best, angel,” Luke mumbled, pecking your cheek. Jack and Quinn mumbled a thank you.

Jared looked at the water with disgust “What the fuck is sun water?” Jared grumbled. You looked at Jared. “Water that has been infused with the sun’s energy. Wanna try some?” You smiled, offering him the last glass. Jared glared at you. “With the sun’s energy,” he mocked, rolling his eyes. You lowered your head, sighing, hoping the guys would let it go, but you forgot that the Hughes brothers are known for their sass and no filter.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Luke spat, glaring at Jared. “She’s just being nice,” Jack sassed. “You could’ve just said no,” Quinn added.

“Guys, you really don't-” but all three guard dogs wouldn’t stop. Luke glared at Jared, the guy he no longer considered his friend. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Just leave her alone!” Luke yelled, his eyes full of rage.

Jared rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man, let’s go back to playing.” Jared sighed, Luke shook his head “No, I don’t hang out with guys who are comeplete dicks to my girlfriend” Luke stated. You stood there feeling like your body was on fire from watching Luke defend you.

Luke faced you. “Come on, angel,” Luke mumbled snapping you out of your trance. Luke sent Jared one more glare before ushering you back inside.

Once inside the kitchen, you glanced up at Luke. “You didn’t need to do that, pet.” You reassured, placing the tray down, Luke shook his head, “Yes, I did, angel.” Luke told you, and you shook your head. 'He’s your friend-” “He’s not my friend. No one who disrespects my girl is my friend,” Luke stated, making your heart flutter.

You couldn’t deny it, you loved sweet and gentle Luke, but something about Angry and protective Luke made your knees grow weak.

You placed a chaste kiss on Luke’s cheek. “Thank you, though. It was hot watching you defend me” You grinned at Luke who was blushing “You know I’ll always defend you, angel” Luke reassures, causing your heart to skip a beat. You pulled in a passionate kiss.

You pulled away, Luke chased your lips. “Seriously, pet. It was hot. If you weren’t injured I would take you right here” You smirked, Luke threw his head back “Don’t remind me!” he whined causing you to laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jared entered the kitchen, grabbing his video game he had left there where he found Luke packing food in a picnic basket. Luke was wearing a baby blue button-down, khakis, and his beat-up Air Force sneakers. What got Jared’s attention was what Luke was wearing on his head. All he saw were roses, daisies, and elderflower wrapped around Luke’s head.

“What the hell is on your head?”

“Flower crown,” Luke sharply answered, ignoring his once-friend’s glare. “Oh, for Litha,” Jared muttered, sipping water.

Luke felt his blood start to boil, remembering all those stupid remarks Jared had been making about you just because you are on a different spiritual path than he was.

“So where is…she?”

Luke’s grip tightened around the apple in his hand, almost crushing it. Luke was disgusted that Jared made it sound like you were just some girl who belonged in the gutter.

But you weren’t just some girl. You were his girl. His heart. His future wife. His Angel.

“Running some errands,” Luke muttered, placing the damaged fruit into the basket.

Luke tried to let it go for you, he really did. Then Jared opened his stupid mouth again.

“She should be burned just like the rest of them.”

Luke wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be an inside thought for Jared, but Luke didn’t care.

All Luke saw was red.

Luke grabbed Jared by his shirt and slammed him into a wall. Jared's eyes widened, completely shocked at the youngest Hughes boy's action.

Honestly, how did Jared think he was going to react?

“Watch your fucking mouth” Luke warned, his grip tightening.

“Luke,” Jared’s voice wavered.

“You can’t come into my home and shit on my girlfriend”

“But she’s a witch,”

“She’s my Witch”

Jared’s voice got caught in his throat. “If I ever catch you saying that shit about her- I don’t care about my shoulder- I will hunt you down” Luke warned, watching Jared grow pale with glee.

Luke wished his shoulder would magically heal so he would have a free hand to beat the shit out of this guy.

Luke shoved Jared in the direction of the front door. “Get out and stay out!” Luke shouted, pointing towards the door.

Quinn and Jack entered the kitchen, the laughing died down when they felt the tension.

Jared slammed the door on his way out.

“Lukey?” Quinn called

Luke faced his brothers. “He’s not welcome here”, Luke gritted through his teeth, passing by his brothers and heading towards his room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You felt the negative energy when you entered the house. Your heart raced at the thought that Luke wasn’t safe.

As if he felt your distress, he came jogging towards you and pulled you into a bear hug. He rocked you side to side. “Hi,” you giggled, rubbing his back. “Hi,” Luke mumbled, pressing a soft kiss into your temple.

“You okay?” you wondered, pulling away to study his face. Luke nodded, he was feeling more at ease since Jared.

“Yeah, just missed you.”

“I’ve only been gone for forty minutes.”

“That was forty minutes too long.”

“Sorry, apparently every store I went to was out of roses.”

Luke gave you a soft smile. “You sure you’re okay?” You wondered, gazing into his heart eyes. “Yeah. I-I just really, really love you, angel.” Luke stated gently, his eyes looking at you head to toe as if his brain bank could forget every feature of you. Luke’s smile widened when you saw you wearing his favorite baby blue sun dress.

When you added the roses to your crown, Luke wrapped his strong arm around you, placed loving small kisses on any part of your skin he could get access to. Inbetween each kiss Luke would mumble I love you like a mantra.

When you finished, you presented your flower crown to Luke giving him a bright smile “beautiful just like you” Luke smiled before turning you around and crashing his lips onto yours pouring all his love and devotion into it.

When he pulled away he took the flower crown out of your hands and placed it on your head, “I love you so much, angel. I promise that no one is going to be rude to you ever. Not while I’m here” Luke proclaimed. You felt your heart swell “Aw, pet.” you smiled.

Then your brain started to put pieces together.

Luke saying that

Negative energy

Your smile fell “Did he say something else?” you wondered, you could see the gears turning in Luke’s head(trying to decide whether or not to tell you). Luke nodded “But don’t worry about him, angel. He’s never coming back” Luke reassured with smile. You felt guilt weigh on your heart “Pet, you didn’t have to do that. He was your friend” You assured, Luke cupped your cheek shushing you. Luke gazed deeply into your eyes, you melt into his touch “Angel, I don’t care if I stop talking to all of my friends. You are the only person that matters to me” Luke stated, you smiled.

Luke placed a kiss on your forehead “Angel, I love your witchy ways. It what makes you-you. And I love you…I love you so fucking much” Luke smiled. Your heart could burst from all your love for Luke “I love you so fucking much pet” you reminded pulling him into a passionate kiss.

There was never a doubt in your mind that Luke was your forever person. He is your soulmate in this life and every life after that. The two of you were bound to each other, like the moon is to the tides.

Luke pulled away. “You ready?” Luke smiled picking up the picnic basked, you picked up the blanket “Yes” You smiled. The two of you headed into the woods, ready to celebrate Litha with the man you were madly in love with.

#nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fic #luke hughes #njd #nj devils #new jersey devils #lh43 #lh43 x reader #nhl players #nhl fanfiction #luke hughes fanfiction #witch!reader

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alienpossession · 30 days ago

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After disposing the real Jared's body into the creek, the alien comfortably drive itself using Jared's ride back to the Fisher's family compound, a couple miles away from the creek.

Even if the body ended up to be found, it will be beyond recognizable as the alien already ensured to absorb all possible identifier out of Jared's system. No more hair, no more nails, no more fingerprint, nothing, just an unidentifiable lump of husk that might not even be considered as human body.

As he hopped out from the side-to-side, Jared's dogs instantly run to his way and surrounded him, solidifying his theory that he really has adopted and absorbed everything he needed to replace Jared Fisher.

Jared's sister, Jessica, waved at him from the front porch of the family's house. She's all alone in there based from Jared's memory as their parents are still in the city, their eldest brother Jackson and James are out doing God-knows-what. Maybe he can team up with the reformed Jess to make things easier to get rid of the whole family so the Fisher's family compound can be their base of operation. All he needed to do is to patiently wait until he can churn out a split piece of its alien form that will then leech on Jess and absorb everything about that 20 years old blonde belle.

#alien takeover #alien shapeshift

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forkshighschooler · 2 months ago

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Chapter 1 — The Pull

Summary:You live in La Push working part-time for your aunt. While closing at a local coffee cart, you meet Paul Lahote—a quiet, intense local who seems to watch you like he knows something you don’t. There’s an instant pull between you, but you fight it. You’re not looking for connection. Paul keeps his distance… until he can’t.

Part 1-Part 2-Part 3-Part 4-Part 5

La Push was quiet in the way that small towns always were—its silence not empty, but full of whispering trees, restless waves, and the hush of stories passed down from generations that had walked these paths long before you. It was the kind of place where everyone knew your name, your parents’ names, and probably how much you owed at the corner store.

You’d grown up here, a quiet part of the earth nestled between forest and sea. It was familiar, grounding. Safe.

Until now.

It started the day the air changed—just enough that you noticed. A storm was supposed to be rolling in, and the clouds hung low like bruises in the sky, but it wasn’t the weather that made your skin prickle. It was something else. Something wrong.

You had been walking home from the beach after closing up the small coffee cart your aunt let you run part-time. The waves were rough, wind chasing them in like wild dogs. You tightened your jacket and tucked your chin down, the sound of your boots crunching gravel the only thing keeping you company.

Then you saw him.

At first, it didn’t register—just someone tall and lean standing at the tree line, half in shadow, like he was a part of the woods itself. His posture was too still, arms crossed over his broad chest, head tilted slightly like he was listening for something. Watching.

Your pace slowed before your brain caught up to your body. You told yourself it was just someone out for a walk, probably one of the guys from the rez. But there was something about him—about the way the air seemed to warp around him, like he pulled gravity with him. You tried not to stare.

He turned his head.

Even at a distance, your eyes locked. And you felt it—something hot, sharp, and uninvited flaring beneath your ribs. Your breath caught, your stomach flipped, and for a split second, it felt like your entire body went still in response to his gaze.

The moment shattered as he stepped forward—just one step.

You bolted.

You didn’t know why. There was no logical reason. He hadn’t moved aggressively. He hadn’t said a word. But every instinct in you screamed run, and your legs obeyed. You didn’t stop until you were back home, the door locked behind you and your back pressed to the cool wood.

Your heart pounded like a warning drum in your chest.

You didn’t tell anyone about him—not your aunt, not your best friend Katie, who would have teased you relentlessly for being so dramatic. It felt… too strange. Too intimate.

Still, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You didn’t even know his name.

⸻

The next day, the feeling lingered.

You kept expecting to see him around town. You looked for him out of the corner of your eye when you passed the general store, when you sat on the back porch with your coffee, even when you walked to the bonfire later that night with Katie.

She was rambling about some drama involving Jared and Kim, but her voice felt like background noise against the roar of your thoughts. You didn’t hear most of what she said until she elbowed you.

“Are you even listening?” she laughed, shaking her head. “You’ve been weird all day.”

“I’m just tired.”

“Sure,” she said, clearly not buying it. Then she perked up. “Oh! Paul’s back.”

“Paul?”

She nodded toward the edge of the firelight. You turned.

There he was.

The guy from the woods.

Standing in the golden flicker of the firelight, his skin glowing warm, his dark eyes scanning the crowd. He looked… intense. Like someone barely holding it together. Your breath caught again, and this time you knew it wasn’t just the heat from the flames.

“That’s Paul Lahote,” Katie whispered. “He’s a total dick, but—uh, yeah. Okay, you’re looking at him like he’s an entire meal, so I’m gonna walk away before I witness something unholy.”

“I’m not,” you snapped too quickly. “I just—he looks familiar.”

Katie raised an eyebrow, gave a knowing smirk, and disappeared into the crowd.

Paul’s eyes found yours.

Your heart stumbled.

There was something wrong with this. You didn’t even know him, but you felt like your body did. Like some part of you recognized him without your permission.

You turned your head, but it was too late—he was already walking toward you.

⸻

“Hey.”

His voice was low, rough like gravel but steady. He stood close enough that you had to tilt your head back slightly to look up at him. You stepped back automatically.

He frowned. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I didn’t say you would.”

“You’re afraid of me.”

You bristled. “I don’t even know you.”

He paused like that answer had hit a nerve. His expression shifted, some wall sliding up behind his eyes.

“You will,” he said, so quiet you almost didn’t hear him.

You stared at him, arms crossed. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“No,” he said. Then added, “It’s a promise.”

Your stomach twisted. Something about this was all wrong. Too much. Too fast. You stepped back again.

“I have to go.”

“You don’t even want to know my name?”

“No.”

He didn’t move to follow you, but you could feel him watching as you walked away, pulse pounding so hard your ears rang.

⸻

That night, you dreamt of eyes the color of storms and something wild running through the trees.

You woke with your heart in your throat.

Disclaimer:

I do not own Twilight or any of its characters. All rights belong to Stephenie Meyer. This is a work of fanfiction written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.

#forkshighschooler #twilight fanfic #twilight wolfpack #twilight x reader #paul lahote x reader #twilight #paul lahote #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote x yn

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lacevenom · 2 months ago

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sam’s baby sister ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆. ꙳

PAIRING : Seth Clearwater x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none just pure fluff and pack teasing

SUMMARY : request

—🦌

It had started so quietly no one had even noticed at first. you and Seth had always gotten along. you were Sam’s baby sister, the one he practically raised after your parents passed, the one he was terrifyingly protective of. Seth had been your friend forever goofy, sweet, a little clumsy and honestly, the only one Sam even halfway trusted around you.

which made it even funnier when you both fell for each other like a pair of idiots.

It started small — holding hands under the dinner table, brushing pinkies when you sat side by side on the porch, stolen glances across pack meetings that made Embry and Quil elbow each other and snicker. today though. you were so not subtle. you were curled up on the couch at Emily and Sam’s house, your head tucked against Seth’s shoulder, Seth’s hand playing absently with your fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

the pack immediately noticed.

“ohhh my gosh,” Embry said loudly, grinning from ear to ear. “look at these lovebirds.”

Quil leaned over to Jared and stage whispered, “bet you twenty bucks Sam explodes in the next five minutes.” Sam, who had just walked into the kitchen with a plate of cookies for you guys, froze mid step. he squinted at you two. eyed Seth suspiciously.

Seth immediately sat up a little straighter but didn’t let go of your hand. you felt his body go rigid beside you, his cheeks flushing bright red.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Sam muttered. “Sam,” Emily said sweetly, stepping in with a tray of tea. “be nice. look at them, they’re adorable.”

Sam scowled.

the rest of the pack tried and failed to smother their laughter. “you do realize she’s my little sister, right clearwater?” Sam grunted.

“y-yes, sir,” Seth said, voice cracking slightly. you squeezed Seth’s hand, giving him a fierce little glare that said, don’t you dare get scared now. he squeezed back, and you saw the tiniest smile flicker across his face. “honestly,” Emily said, brushing some flour off her apron, “I think it’s sweet. they’re good for each other.”

you beamed up at her. Seth finally relaxed enough to lean his head lightly against yours, letting out a breath of relief. the pack being the absolute menaces they were immediately started making kissy noises, fake swooning, and chanting “Seth’s whipped! Seth’s whipped!” until Emily smacked them all with a dishtowel and told them to leave you alone. you and Seth just laughed, huddling closer under the blanket, happy and warm and finally not hiding anymore.

#𐙚 lacevenom #seth clearwater x reader #twilight new moon #twilight saga #seth clearwater #sam uley #twilight headcanon #twilight wolfpack #twilight #embry call #jared cameron #jacob black #paul lahote #coquette #quil ateara

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babygirlbites · 1 year ago

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Their Reaction to the Vampire Dairies

Wolf Pack Headcannons

Can’t explain why this is so important to me, it just is….

Sam

Sam is definitely not the type to sit down and watch vampire dairies off his own accord.

That being said; Sam IS the type to want to spend every waking moment with his imprint.

The compromise being that he must deal with your favourite show being re ran every single time you face even a minor strain in your every day routine.

Sam will sit there silently, respectful enough to not grumble at your choice of viewing material but not particularly taken in by the idea of vampires being sex symbols.

He’s not a fan, but he knows you love it and he loves you, so it’s a bareable consequence.

Although I don’t think he’s particularly watching, he is definitely a team Stefan - this being the only topic he speaks up on, both surprising and assuming you when he does

It’s the Delena kiss scene at the end of season one (Damon and Kathrine, but Sam doesn’t understand the doublegagger plot yet, give him time)

“This is all wrong” he says, between mouth fulls of salty popcorn

You turn to look at him, a questioning look on your face,

“She should stick with the other one” he mutters under his breath, eyes returning to his bowl of snacks

Paul

Unlike Sam, Paul can’t HELP but get involved.

Yer okay, he gives you shit for watching a teen romance about vampires,hybrids and the like, but he literally can’t keep his mouth shut when it’s on.

He’s FAR to involved; it’s got him gasping, laughing, often shouting at the screen.

I believe Paul to be a team Damon, he’s also a klaus fan.

Special mention to his HATRED for Tyler Lockwood; which has you a little confused until you realise it’s just Paul looking in a mirror.

Maybe an emotionally agressive, reactive werewolf is a little too close to home for Paul to enjoy.

When the pack bring it up, seeing the two of you cuddled up in front of another TVD marathon, he tries to deny his enjoyment of it but is also very defensive of the fact that it’s NOT for teens

“It’s pretty spooky actually, I only watch it to keep (you) from getting scared”

It’s a lie, and they all know it.

Jacob

Jacob is similar to Paul but HEAVY on the team Damon.

Thinks he’s a Damon, he’s actually a Matt, not that you’d be the one to tell him.

He’s the kind of guy to say he’s not watching and then ask you questions through the whole thing

“So what’s his deal again?”

“Is he trying to bang her?”

“What happened to her parents”

Ect.

He’s so busy sending you tiktoks about the show he accidentally sends one to the pack group chat and it’s all either of you hear about at every meet up or bonfire for the next 6 months.

He definitely has a big crush on Elena, not as big as his crush on you of course, but a close second

Embry & Jared

Rolling these two into one because they are both unapologetic vampire dairies fans

Jared has actually already seen the whole show, and recapped it twice by now, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t willing to watch it again with you - from start to finish.

He’s also seen the originals and legacies - Jared isn’t messing around guys, he’s a super fan.

I don’t believe Embry has seen anything TVD before you, but you suddenly realise you’ve unlocked something in him that you never expected to see.

Embry lives and BREATHES the show.

Unlike Jacob , he sends the tiktoks to the pack on purpose, hoping to get them into it too so he can talk about it when he’s on patrol.

Jared is team Stefan, Embry is team Damon - they fight (physically) about this often.

Seth and Quil

Simp simp simp

These men are both rocking team t shirts in public

Quil gives team Stefan to me but I feel he eventually will change sides with elena - by the time we get the hotel scene/kiss he’s a full fledged team Damon.

Seth is team whoever, he just loves love. He’s happy to see any of them with anyone as long as they are happy - but he does really like the Stefan redemption arc of season 3.

I feel like both the lads would be caught watching the show without you, which would lead to apologies and promises to never do it again.

Leah

Leah is a reluctant fan; like many of the others she’s not a fan of a vampire centric plot - but you’ll win her over with quality time, in bed cuddles and the Damon/Elena pipeline eventually.

Not so much a fan, but she watches it for you.

She knows you like to talk about it so she watches closely to be able to give you her educated opinion .

I feel she’s more team Damon but I KNOW she’s a Katherine apologist!

Elena tends to remind her of Bella, so she has a bit of a prejudice against the main character. Leah, as a general rule of thumb, has an issue with Mary sue type characters.

Katherine, being the anti Elena, steals Leah’s heart immediately.

There is three people in this relationship now, you will just have to accept that.

Also a fan of Rebekah!

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wolfpackenthusiast · 6 months ago

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Worrywart

Pairing : Paul Lahote x f!reader

Summary: reader didn’t have the best childhood, and is afraid of Paul being taken away from her, too.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, trauma mention, bad childhood, lmk if i missed anything!

A/N: Just a random idea i thought of! First Paul fic, lmk if anything’s ooc.

—————————-

You didn’t have a very good childhood, your parents were alcoholics, not exactly abusive, but they weren’t fit to be parents. You had two younger siblings, your sister was 11 while your brother was 6. You always took care of them whenever your parents were “busy” with other things. Not too long after you turned 15, your parents lost custody of you after someone had called CPS when your parents weren’t being very.. kind.. in public.

Due to that, all three of you got separated, and you never saw them again. It was hard, you loved your siblings with all your heart, and now they’re gone, along with your parents.

Even if your parents weren’t good to you, they were still your parents, you couldn’t hate them, you physically couldn’t.

You got a small job at a souvenir shop near first beach, working with a girl named Tiffany, she was really kind, you appreciated her company.

The job was pretty easy, you worked at the checkout, and sometimes you restocked the shelves when they were starting to get empty.

You also met her son, Embry Call, he’s pretty nice guy, you guys get along, you never saw him as anything more than a best friend, though. He’s a nice guy ‘nd all! But love wasn’t your first priority.

The more time you worked there, you got to know Embry ‘nd some of his friends, you’ve met Quil and Jacob, they’re pretty cool in your opinion, you weren’t sure why Embry and his friends liked to hang near the shop, maybe cause it was near the beach? Or because you’re there? Maybe Embry did have a small, SMALL crush on you, but he knew the feelings weren’t mutual, so he didn’t say anything.

But soon, you’d were about to meet ALL of his friends, 7 guys and one girl, hey, at least there was a girl there! But still, it was going to he complete chaos, and hell for you.

The day they came, you met Seth, Leah, Sam, Jared, and..

Paul.

At first, you thought he’d be the worst one you had to deal with, but when you locked eyes with him, it was like everything else didn’t matter, only him.

You guys broke eye contact when Embry playfully shoved him “bro!” He said with feigned annoyance.

“I didn’t know it was gonna happen!” Paul defended himself, wait, what was gonna happen??

You were confused, but just decided to head back to the cashier table, leaving them be.

But Paul followed you.

You were already behind the counter when he caught your attention. “Oh, did you need something?” You asked politely, trying to ignore the fact you found him attractive, he’s definitely gonna be your new crush, though, it wad likely you weren’t going to get with him, love wasn’t your first priority, after all.

“Just wanted to talk to you, i’m Paul.” He said, seeming a bit awkward, weird, he was all casual before you guys locked eyes.

“I know.. you.. told me..” you said

“Right.”

Then there was some awkward silence, you were able to hear the boys talking outside

“Dude, i’ve never seen him that awkward before!” Jared snickered

“Well it’s not everyday you meet your-“ Jacob started before getting smacked by Quil, giving him a “small” reminder on that you don’t know about their little secret.

You ignored them the best you could, your main focus was Paul.

“Uhh.. could i.. have your number, perchance?” He asked, hope in his tone, pulling his phone to you.

You felt your heart rate speed up, for real?!?!?!

“Uh, sure, but if you’re interested, i’m really not into dating at the moment.” You say, despite him being attractive and all, you didn’t want to take things quickly. You took his phone and saved your contact to his phone, handing it back to him.

“Thanks.” He said before heading back to the rest of his friends.

—————————————-

Around a year later, you and Paul ended up dating! You found out you were his imprint, and that the Quileute legends were true, and the fact your boyfriend and his friends were shifters, despite the fact your life was beyond ordinary, not like it ever was, you were happier then ever.

Despite that. You couldn’t help but have constant worry every time Paul went on patrol, you’ve grown to care for him so much, you didn’t like the fact he could get hurt any time, even killed!

You couldn’t let another loved one slip away from you, especially not Paul.

You just hot back from the conscience store, it was just you and Paul alone at Emily’s place, since her and Sam were on a date.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened, that was certainly the craziest trip to the store i’ve ever taken.” You said, placing your bags on the table as you took everything out.

“Oh yeah? I’m sure it was.” Paul said, doing his own thing.

“Mhm, was anything but ordinary.” You said, ever since you found out wolves ‘nd vampires, nothing was ordinary.

“Nothings be ordinary lately, or I just have a nee perspective on things.” You said as you continued to put your items away.

“Mm, maybe, or you just have an awesome shapeshifter boyfriend around now.” Paul said, with cockiness in his tone, as usual.

“Oh yeah, blame it on yourself, definitely. It makes sense, my life was way more ordinary before you came along.” You said with some sarcasm.

“Well, i’m honored to be the reason you’re not “ordinary” anymore, princess.” He said with more feigned pride in his voice.

“It’s not a compliment!!” You spat back with playful anger.

“Awh, don’t you love dating a shifter? You never complain… usually.” He taunted, a smirk now on his face.

“I do, it’s awesome, jus’ the fact i could lose you any day mow is.. definitely not pleasant.” You let out a sigh, putting the last things away along with the bags, facing Paul now. He knew you didn’t like him going on patrol, but it was part of the shifting gig, there was nothing he could do to not go on patrol.

The fact he was hot headed didn’t soothe her either, she knew he acted before thinking sometimes, and acting like that could definitely get you killed one way or another, she couldn’t help but worry.

Her words made Paul frown, he hated when she worried about him. He grew serious at the topic being brought up. He knew how he was very well, as well as the dangers.

“I’ll always come back to you, okay?” He reassured, getting closer to her and wrapping her in a tight bear hug, his arms around her shoulders/upper arms.

“Yeah you better.” She threatened, though, there was no animosity in her words. She just worried for him so much, she didn’t want to be left alone again, nor did she want him suffering in some type of way.

He was well aware of her past, her trauma, her would never put her through that ever again, he’ll protect her no matter what, mentally and physically, whatever he can do, he’ll do it.

“I will princess, don’t worry about me, i’ll always come back to you, every. Single. Time.” He said firmly, the gentleness in his tone still there, doing the best he can to reassure you.

He pulled away slightly, just so he could look her in the eyes.

“If anything ever does happen, make sure you-“

“Don’t speak like that!” She interrupted him, just the thought of him gone or hurt made her upset, she may seem dramatic to some people, but after what she’s been through, can you blame her?

Her hands went to his shoulders, she shook him lightly, hoping to get her words through his thick skull that way.

He immediately noticed the anxiety and worry in her, immediately feeling guilty for even bringing it up, his hands on her waist now.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, i’m here, ‘m sorry, princess, i shouldn’t have brought it up, i’m not going anywhere where you can’t go either,” he said soothingly, holding her tight now, rubbing her back.

Her face was buried in his shoulder, seeming his comfort. “And it stays that way,” you muttered, you didn’t know what you’d do without him, you’d grown stupidly attached, it was almost pathetic.

“it stays that way.” He confirmed, a smile back on his face, “you’re such a worrywart, y’know that?” He joked

“It’s not my fault.” You defended

“I know, just kidding around.”

—————————————-

Word count: 1.4k

#fanfics #the twilight saga #twilight fanfiction #twilight x reader #fanfiction #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote #jacob black x reader #jacob black #embry call #embry call x reader #fluff #taylor lautner #paul lahote angst

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crazyk-imagine · 1 year ago

Text

Mean

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Fem!reader

Characters: Fem!reader, Paul Lahote, Sam Uley, Emily Young, Jared Cameron, Embray Call, Tiny Tim (made up)

Warnings: Reader knows about the supernatural, implications of dead parent, ex's inspire people, Sam and Emily are adorable, am I making them my favorites bc of the way I write them lol, Paul and Reader are adorable, Paul is a little shit, so is Embry and Jared, no one can act normal around a sassy person

Word Count: 1,231

A/N: Was I listening to Mean by Taylor Swift? You can't prove anything

I've had this ready for a week, but shit kept happening at work man ughhhhhh

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

It was meant to be, or so you thought.

You blink, staring at the ceiling not sure why your ex came to mind.

He was partial to the reason for your move the gloomy town (which you enjoyed more than the sunny state you were in) but not the entire reason.

If only your mom could see you now, working hard and still keeping true to who you are.

You push yourself out of bed, needing to get started on your day.

You finish up and jot down another line, knowing it's slowly turned into a "revenge" song.

You exit your place and hop in your truck, heading down to your favorite person's place.

"Emily, your other honey is home."

Sam lets out a dry laugh. "Funny as always."

"I know, it's one of the perks of being my friend."

"Are going to do..." You snatch a muffin from the tray. "Sam things?"

The couple glance at one another, curious if you know.

"Yeah, we won't be back till later-" He doesn't finish as the boys burst through the door. Almost all ignore you, not aware of your presence.

You mumble, "now I know why you're ready to feed an army."

The boys freeze, all conversations stopping. "Uh-"

"Who's the girl?" Jared asks, snaking a muffin.

You raise a brow, picking at the muffin, breaking it into bite size pieces. "What a question."

"Who's the sassy girl?" The same guy asks.

"How do you deal with idiots?"

Emily snickers, scanning over the pack for their expressions.

"Good thing Paul's not here or else he'd flip a lid," Embry mutters.

You push yourself off the stool and grab your bag. "Later, Em. Bye bye, Sammy."

You wave them off before glancing at the group. "Such an interesting... gang you have here."

You spin around, smirking to yourself, not wanting to let the cat (wolf) out of its bag. "I heard there's going to be a full moon tonight."

Or maybe you don't care if they know you know.

"Does she-"

The door slams shut.

You shake your head, smirking to yourself, proud of your teasing. You bump into a body, not entirely paying attention. "Sorry." You pass by the person and hop in your car, not realizing the electricity he felt in that simple touch.

You look up after putting your keys in the ignition, only to find a dark pair of eyes on yours.

The subtle feeling through your body alerts you.

"Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap." You have to force your gaze away from his. "Please don't be able to read lips. Oh, crap. They can hear." You start pulling out and make it back to your house.

Weeks go by and you screen another one of Emily's calls.

"I'll call her when this passes," you mutter, writing another line. You slam your pencil down, "who am I kidding? It's never going to stop."

You don't want to answer her and send another lie.

Boo Thang #2 <;3

'Sorry, not feeling good. Will text later.' 2:59pm Sent Read

A knock on your door surprises you.

You carefully make your way to the door, scanning through the peephole. Your back's flat against the door. "Why the hell is he here?"

"We need to talk."

"I don't think so."

"You know more than you let on."

"So?"

"We need to talk."

"Can I just call you?"

"No, Emily's been trying for days, and it hasn't worked. Let me in."

You scoff, "not with that attitude."

He growls under his breath, "fine. Please let me in?"

"No."

"You're testing my patience."

"Go test it out with someone else."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"You gotta be more specific bud."

"I don't like that name."

"Bud?"

"Stop it."

You smirk, "bud."

He knocks on your door with more force, trying to get one of your neighbors to come out so they can tell him to stop and make you let him in.

You snarl as the door swings open, "stop it you, idiot." You yank him in, earning a confident smirk from him.

"I don't like this look on you. You think you've won."

"Who says I haven't?"

"Me. I am the one who decides since this is my place."

"Living here alone? Really?"

You shrug, "parents died."

"Oh," he clears his throat, "sorry."

"It's fine. Not your fault."

"So, uh- what do you know?"

"I used to visit when I was a kid and heard the stories because of my cousin."

"You know?"

"That we happen to be united forever essentially, kind of hard not to, not gonna lie."

"Are you upset?"

You furrow your brows, "what do you mean?"

"Your imprints with the hothead. The one with "anger" issues. The list goes on." His brows furrow in annoyance, the pout on his lip making him look... cute.

"Who?"

He shocked you don't know who he is. "Lahote?"

"Paul?" You ask, not entirely sure if you got the right name or not.

"Oh, so you do know."

He sighs, "great."

"Barely, I just remember your guy's names from the elders at the meetings."

"How long has it been since you were in town?"

You shrug, "few years. I haven't been out of the house as much since my life went to crap," you offer a sarcastic smile.

"I feel like I've brought the mood down, do you- do you want to go out? I know this one place with uh- with decent music." He tells you the name and it takes all of you to not smile.

"Let's go, but we take my car."

He lets out a dramatic sigh, "fine."

You two arrive half an hour before you have to go on stage.

You make up an excuse and say you're going to be right back, needing to use the little girl's room.

"Next up, is one of our favorites," the mc, Tiny Tim (your favorite guy there) announces.

You walk across stage, confusing Paul but not Emily and Sam (who told him to take you there if he got far enough). They cheer you on while listening to your song.

All you are is mean And a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life And mean, and mean, and mean, and mean

You make it back to your seat beside your wolf.

"Where'd you learn to do that?"

You shrug, not liking the attention on you.

"That was- that was amazing."

"It was nothing."

"No- no, that was really good." Emily sneaks up behind you. "And that's saying something, Paul doesn't like to use his words to express his emotions."

The man frowns. "We get it. We get it."

You roll your eyes, "stop it, you two."

You two make it back your place. "I should at least drop you off."

He shakes his head, "I'm not that far from you."

"I don't know if I believe that."

"Then believe ne when I say I can run and not get tired."

You narrow your eyes before turning your head to hide your chuckle. "Get out of here, you idiot."

You hear him close the door and stare into the woods, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

The only wolf standing between the path of trees sticks out and you know it's him.

You shake your head, going into your home. "Idiot."

You swear you hear him huff.

#twilight #twilight wolfpack #twilight fanfiction #twilight fanfic #twilight x reader #twilight x you #twilight imagines #twilight imagine #paul lahote #paul lahote imagines #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote fanfiction #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote x you #paul lahote x reader #crazyk-imagine

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lyinginmeadow · 2 months ago

Text

Imprimere sole I Paul Lahote x Swan!OC

Summary: One Swan sister left to live with her mother, while the other stayed behind, making friends of her own on the reservation. Friends who grew up and changed, leaving her confused and hurting. Word count: 3,8k

TW: angst, abandonment, injury, curse words A/N: The story takes place before the events of twilight, but it will caught up to it in no time! I changed a lot (like the ages of Jared and Paul, they are older: 17/18ish), so be aware. It will probably be long, too, haha. I also posted it on wattpad, so if anyone's interested <3 Chapter 1 - indigo ->

I couldn't understand how everything fell apart so quickly. One day, I was laughing with all my friends in the cafeteria, and the next day, they were all gone, avoiding my calls. What hurt the most was that they didn't tell me the reason for their departure. It started innocently. Sam was close to graduating, but before he could, he disappeared. He came back just to finish his final exams, ghosting not only our friend group but also Leah, who was his girlfriend.

She tried to make it look like it didn't bother her, but it did. It especially stung since she dedicated two weeks to finding him when he went missing. She tried her best to reach him, but to no avail, and before she could attempt to save her relationship with him, her family whisked her away to visit her relatives a month before summer officially started. And due to a bad reception, we couldn't talk as much, making her the second friend lost in just under a month.

Sam started to act weird; instead of thinking of college like he always dreamed about, he looked as if he was on steroids. He grew at least a foot taller, cutting his locks and getting a tattoo. A stern, conscious look replaced his easygoing smile.

Jared heard from his mom that Sam decided to stay, forfeiting his dream, which didn't sound like him. He always talked about his plans with such passion. He almost gave all of us a heart attack when neither of us could reach him. He disappeared for two weeks, and after returning, he acted as if he didn't know us. And frankly, we didn't know him; he changed completely.

The next person to leave was Jared, who bad-mouthed Sam for his decisions, making fun of the situation. The jokes subsided, and he became distant. When I visited La Push with Paul, I would see glimpses of Jared with Sam. He stopped coming to school, making both of us worried. Did they become a part of a gang? I tried to reach both of them, but Jared's parents refused to let either of us in, and as far as I knew, Sam was never home anymore, so I didn't even bother coming. I couldn't shake the bad feeling that things were about to get worse.

What once was a friend group of 5 had now transformed into just Paul and me. He reassured me that nothing could come between us, that he loved me, and that he would make sure we got our friends back someday.

It started as a simple fever. Paul and I went out to enjoy the sun. Walking along the beach, the rays were tickling my cheeks, making me smile in contentment. Summer had always been my favorite season because it was the time when we would throw bonfires every weekend, go camping, and be awake till the late hours without a care in the world.

Paul's eyebrows pinched, his gaze shifting to the forest surrounding the beach. As if he were looking for something that wasn't there. Something I couldn't see. I reached out to take hold of his hand, but quickly pulled back. "Paul, you're burning up," I exclaimed, putting my hand on his forehead, worry lacing my voice.

He tried to dismiss my worries, his eyes still searching the trees, "I feel fine."

"Now is not the time to play hero. Come on, I'll drive." I offered, taking hold of his hand. He squeezed it, putting on a small smile. His gaze kept returning to the forest, but I didn't find it in me to care about the reason. I needed to take him home so he could eat some soup and be all better. I didn't want to admit to myself that this was how Sam and Jared left, too. With a simple fever.

I held onto that hope for the first week. I came by every day after school to check up on him, but his father didn't let me see him, even if I begged. He would send me on my way with the same sentence every day, "He doesn't want you to get sick, Lizzie. You know how he is."

But the truth was, I didn't know. Whenever one of us was sick, the other would sneak in and spend the entire time with them. Ever since we became best friends, that's how it was. Sitting in the car dad had repaired for me to use to commute to school, my eyes watered. The ache was magnifying in my chest every second. It didn't help that sleep seemed to evade me. Instead of dreamless nights, I woke up with an image of a wolf branded into my mind.

By the second week, the pain seemed to take over my whole body, and the sorrow melted into anger.

I plastered a fake smile for Charlie, and thankfully, he bought it. With him leaving in the early hours for his shift, he didn't see me waking up with tears staining my cheeks. Food had become less appetizing each day that passed. I never imagined someone leaving without a reason could leave such a hollow pain whenever I woke up. The colors of the world, once bright and golden, seemed dull in comparison.

Every movement felt impossible, but as the anger burned stronger, so did my will to not let any of them win. If they wanted to leave without so much as a goodbye, I would let them with a head held high.

Or at least that is what I wanted to do, what I intended. But the gaze of other students made my anger falter. Their eyes filled with pity, that I had no one in here anymore.

I was a stranger who attended this school because I grew up around La Push rather than in Fork. My childhood was spent with Sue and her children. Now that my friends had disappeared from my life, I had no ties to La Push, just memories.

The only person trying to get to me was Embry, but whenever he sat down to talk to me, within the next minute, Jacob would drag him away.

Jake and I used to play together when we were children, but we grew apart when he found his friend group and I found mine. I was also older and gravitated toward being friends with his sister rather than him. Tormenting him was an added bonus, he didn't like to be reminded of. He also didn't forgive me for dating Paul, whom he found excessively annoying. A fact I understood, since Paul sometimes seemed like an asshole. From what I heard, now more than ever. And Jake assumed that I would join the guys and become the same, so he tried to protect Embry from it. Needless to say, every time Jake visited with Billy was painfully awkward.

One day, I finally got hold of Leah. I cursed the one who decided that she had to go off-grid right when I needed her here. But before I got the chance to say anything, she mumbled the words that Sam had broken up with her. Over the phone.

What a fucking coward.

I spent the whole phone call cursing him out, trying to bring Leah's mood up. Her parents, mostly Sue, insisted that since her behavior had changed so drastically given the breakup, they would probably come back at the end of July, extending their stay. More than a month from now. I tried to sound positive, telling her to find a nice rebound. That Sam was a fool for letting someone as perfect as her go. She guessed something was off with me, but fortunately didn't press.

I cut all contact with Bella, my sister, making up excuses about finals and exams that had me studying. But even she wore the same look as everyone else. Her look of pity haunted me in my dreams. It was mixed with a tinge of worry that was not strong enough for her to call Charlie and demand what was happening. Maybe if she lived here, she would try to help me. But she didn't, she was miles away with our mother in Phoenix. Not intend to move to gloomy old Forks anytime soon.

By the third week, I felt as if I was losing my mind. School was over, and I didn't have anything to keep my mind focused on. Maybe all I craved was a proper closure. Ending the years I spent pouring my love into something. But deep down, I knew that the cut they opened with their departure wouldn't heal by simply getting answers. Still, I couldn't know for sure if I didn't try. I called the Lahote residence again, but was met with a mere voicemail. "Fine," I grumbled. I took out the soup I made for Dad from the fridge, and took off.

The engine of the old red BMW roared as I soared through the forest to the familiar town.

Paul's house was small, the light blue color now faded due to the old age of the building. Parking the car in the driveway, I tried ringing the doorbell, but I was met with no answer. The anger ignited again, putting down the container next to the front door, I decided to look around the premises.

His window was on the other side, overlooking the backyard and forest, but his room was empty, bed undone. The whole room was a mess, clothes lying on the floor, and stuffing of the pillows scattered around. I sighed, looking at the mess, noticing a broken frame in the middle of it.

A photo Leah took of the two of us just two months ago. He looked at me like I hung the moon while I was laughing about something Jared had said. We were celebrating Sam's birthday, and everything was perfect. Maybe not as perfect as I thought. Was he thinking back then about leaving?

Tears welled up in my eyes, stinging. I whipped around, leaving the scene behind me. They were making their way down my cheek as I sped through La Push. Leaving the town behind me, the forest lining the main road became a blur.

Stepping on the brakes, the car came to a screeching halt. I could barely see through the tears. And as much as I was hurting, I was not a reckless driver. Charlie drilled into me how important being a conscious driver was, and how it could save lives. I witnessed firsthand how a car crash could tear a family into pieces.

My friends might have abandoned me, but the places we used to go to were still here. I hiked through the woods, cursing my past self for picking out a summer dress and flats that were not suitable for Washington conditions.

After what felt like an hour of a never-ending tangle of greenery, the rays of sunshine broke through.

A soft smile flashed over my face as I sat down, looking over the scenery. The ocean roared just beneath, the salt was heavy in the air even from this distance. It was summer, but the wind was still cold; the only thing making it tolerable was the sun shining high above.

Closing my eyes, memories came rushing through. Of the time I first met him, and how it changed my perspective. Even back then, I knew there was something special about the scruffy kid from Tacoma.

No one wanted to play with him, Leah even stuck her tongue out, when he came to the playground asking if he could play with us. The boys ran each time, not wanting to bond with an outsider.

Not me.

I came over to him, extending my hand toward him. He didn't seem to trust me at first, his eyes narrowed. "I'm Lizzie, let's play together." I smiled, dimples flashing. He slowly took it, a smile appearing not long after. "I'm Paul." He mumbled, and I squeezed his hand before dragging him toward the others.

"This is Paul, he's my new best friend." I flashed everyone a cheeky smile. Leah was not happy I replaced her, so I had to promise her that he was the boy-best friend and she was more like my sister than anything, which she accepted, but I had to pinky promise. Since then, they entered a competition on who would have more of my attention. But both of them held a special place in my heart for different reasons.

Another one flashed by.

He took me to the place we always hang out together when we wanted to get away from our friends. We thought we were being sneaky, but in truth, they always knew where we were venturing off to. But Leah bullied Sam and Jared into giving us space because she knew how much I wanted to spend time with my childhood crush. It was ridiculous since he didn't seem to return those feelings.

We were sitting there, laughing about some gossip, when suddenly he tensed up. The sun was beginning to set, which meant we would have to head back. He turned to face me, blushing.

"I like you. A lot." He said nervously. I never saw him being nervous about anything, much less girls. He always seemed so natural when talking to them, and normally, I was no exception. Blinking a couple of times to shake the thoughts of Paul being with other people, you smiled.

"I like you, too, silly. Took you long enough." Before he could react, I kissed him. It was a sloppy kiss, but a memorable one nonetheless.

A tear slipped down my cheek. I was so exhausted that sleep didn't seem to find me back home. But here, surrounded by all the memories, laughter echoing, my consciousness slipped away from me.

The cold breeze made me jerk awake. The sun was now long gone, the moonlight resting on my face. "Shit, shit, shit." I hastily stood up. Feeling light-headed, I had to find the nearest tree for support. Charlie's going to kill me was the first thought that popped into my head. If I didn't kill myself first trying to get back on the road.

In the daytime, I had no problem navigating the woods. I grew up around here, and it was as natural as breathing. But nighttime was a different story. My inner compass didn't seem to work properly.

I mindlessly sped through the forest, becoming more and more frustrated. Tears were now freely running down my cheek, obscuring my vision further. How could I have been so stupid to go here alone? Not that I had anyone who would accompany me.

The greenery seemed endless, the stray branches lashing my face and hands as I quickened my pace in sheer panic. I stupidly left my phone in the car, dad was probably freaking out already, wondering why I wasn't safe at home.

Lost in panic, my foot caught on a rock, making me lose balance. My ankle caved, twisting at an unnatural angle, as I took a tumble down a small rocky hill. I began to shake uncontrollably as anxiety mixed with pain from my wounds rocked through me, sitting in a little creek that soaked my clothes.

I tried to stand up, but my ankle didn't let me. Sobbing harder, I sat there for what felt like an hour.

But the inner voice, the one last part trying to keep me sane, urged me to stand up. Get out of the cold water. My scraped palms found slippery rocks, using them to crawl out of the creek one by one.

I was so tired and cold. All I truly wanted was to curl up and just shut my eyes for a little bit, reveling the the sound of his voice. In my nightmares, it usually didn't sound so soft.

"Billy called." Sam's rough voice shattered Paul's train of thought. He barely lifted his gaze to meet his. Being away from Lizzie hurt like nothing he had ever experienced. He didn't understand it. He loved her, but he couldn't have her. Not until he learned to control himself. And even then, the secret was too big for him to risk it. And bringing her in on it was not an option; it would put not only her but the pack in danger. And as much as he hated himself for hurting her, it was the right thing to do. It didn't change the fact that he couldn't bring himself to fully let her go.

He went to the Swan house just to make sure she was okay every chance he got. His heart was breaking more in the process of being there and not being able to touch her or look into her eyes.

See her smile, which made the colors dance and the world around dim.

Jared didn't want to patrol with him anymore, since he was so snappy around everyone. And Sam didn't know how to help him, so he let him visit her house, even when he knew how unhealthy it was. He was dealing with taking care of Emily, who was still in the hospital after he had hurt her. Another reason added to the growing list of why Lizzie was better off without him.

But Paul couldn't help himself, something was pulling him to her. And the pain seemed to subdue by a fraction, just to be replaced by his conscience.

"They can't find Liz. She didn't come home from school."

Time slowed. Before Sam could order him anything, Paul bolted out the door. The one time he doesn't accompany her car from school to home, she decides to disappear. All possibilities run through his head like a thunderstorm. What if scenarios that he wasn't able to stop. She could be lying in the ditch somewhere. A car crash. Or a vampire.

He shifted, discarding his clothes in the process. Running through the wood, he tried to catch her scent, any sign of her. His heart was beating faster with every second he couldn't find her. He could hear Sam shouting orders in his mind, but it was all drowned out by his worry for her. It was she who occupied his every thought, his entire existence.

He couldn't understand how she had such a strong hold on him. She always seemed to be the light that shone, guiding him. It was like that since he met her all those years ago.

Running onto the road, not a care in the world that something could hit him. His gaze found a small red car parked at the side of the road, all abandoned.

Her car.

He sent a message through his mind to Sam, informing him of the new development, and took off running.

He knew this part of the forest, and he knew her. If she needed to clear her head, she came here. She always came to this spot with him. Why didn't he think of it? But before he got to it, he caught her scent. She was so close.

The moon was shining, casting shadows on the path. Paul slowed down, changing the course to her location. He could hear her now, quietly sobbing, muttering an incoherent melody. He peeked through the thick greenery, trying not to make a sound. His wolf form was hard to hide, but her eyes were closed. She was shivering, her drenched clothes hanging onto her form.

He stifled a whine coming out of his throat. "I've got her." Sending another mental message down the shared bond between his brothers, he backed up a couple of steps, losing sight of her once again. He shifted back to his human form.

Thankfully, since he and his brothers came to these parts of the woods often, there was a bag of clothes nearby.

Coming back to her, she didn't change her position, still hugging her shivering form. He stepped closer, kneeling before her, but she didn't notice him. She seemed to be lost in a trance. His warm palm found her freezing hand, making her snap out of it. Lizzie gasped out loud, eyes opening in shock, looking around frenzied, disoriented. "Shh, it's me. I've got you." He cooed.

Her eyes found his, and even in the darkness of the night, he felt it. The world shifted, everything seemed to blur as time slowed for just a second. The bond held him captive.

He was scared, terrified even, to face her after he shifted. Putting her in danger was one of the reasons he distanced himself. But the thought of not having her as an imprint terrified him.

What if they spend years together just for an imprint to ruin it? Sam tried to fight it, but it was useless. What if he wasn't strong enough to fight it? He couldn't stomach the thought of someone coming between the two of them. He felt conflicted since her being his imprint meant she was a part of this dangerous world now. No way out.

She sobbed, snapping him out of the trance, "Paul?"

He blinked in shock, trying to regain composure. He needed to get her out, preferably to a hospital. "Are you hurt?" He searched every inch of her shivering body, which was now reaching towards him in an attempt to warm itself up.

She nodded, looking down at her ankle. She was missing a shoe, her leg was swollen and red. He reached out to touch it to examine how bad the wound was only for her to wince.

"Let's get you out of here, okay?" He whispered, trying to keep calm even when his own heart was racing. He gently picked her up, letting her put her scraped palms on his chest to warm up.

She didn't speak the whole way to the car, where Jared was already waiting. "Sam went to the Swan house to tell Charlie." He nodded, barely acknowledging him as he put Lizzie in the backseat of her car.

She opened her eyes to look up at him, pleading with him not to let go. He gently squeezed her hand, "I need to drive, beautiful." He whispered again before shutting the door. He jumped into the driver's seat, speeding through the woods to the hospital in Forks, leaving Jared behind. It was not ideal by any means. He didn't want her anywhere near Dr. Fang, but he had no choice. She needed medical attention, and they could offer it. The only thing Paul could do was hope, he didn't have tonight's shift.

#meadowwrites #paul lahote #imprimeresole #twilight #paul lahote x oc #paul lahote x reader #twilight wolfpack #the twilight saga

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