stinkii-boii

[stinkii-boii]

Actual footage of me patently waiting for my favorite author to upload😫😫😫

[stinkii-boii]

Can you single reader mom with Sam?

Built for This

Summary: Sam didn’t think imprinting would feel like this—soft, slow, and impossible to fight. But then he met you… and your child.

Pairing: Sam Uley x Single Mom!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of single parenthood, soft comfort, a hint of angst, fluff, imprint themes

You didn’t expect him to stay.

That was always how it went, right? A man saw you with a kid and either tried to play house before he meant it—or ran the other direction the second they realized your time, your energy, your love, had to be split.

But Sam… Sam stayed.

You met him at the small community center just off the edge of La Push. Your daughter had been running wild on a sugar rush from a birthday party you barely had the energy to attend. You were juggling juice boxes, a diaper bag, and a half-broken stroller wheel when the voice came from behind you.

“Need a hand?”

You looked up—and saw him. Tall, calm, strong in that way you didn’t see often. Not the fake strength. Not the kind that flexed for attention. But the kind that stood still, solid, and made you want to lean into it.

Sam had offered to fix the stroller. You tried to say no, not wanting to inconvenience him, but he crouched beside it anyway, eyebrows pinched in focus, large hands working with surprising care.

Your daughter, curious as ever, had sat beside him like they were old friends.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi back,” he murmured with a small smile. “What’s your name?”

She beamed and gave it without hesitation. He nodded like it was sacred.

And somehow… he just kept showing up.

At first, you assumed it was coincidence. Then maybe friendliness. Then maybe that he was just good with kids.

But there were moments—quiet ones—that made you feel like there was something more. The way his eyes followed you across the room like you were magnetic. The way he stood a little closer when your daughter was fussy. The way he made space in conversations like you belonged there.

And then one night, after walking you to your car, he hesitated.

“Can I say something?” he asked, voice lower than usual.

You nodded.

“I didn’t expect this,” he admitted. “You. Her. The way it all just… fits.”

You swallowed. “You’re not… overwhelmed?”

He shook his head instantly. “No. It’s like… I didn’t know what I needed until I saw it.”

You were silent for a long moment. “She’s my whole world, Sam.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Then I guess I better learn how to carry a world.”

Something in your chest cracked open. Gentle. Warm.

From that moment on, he was just there.

He learned the nighttime routine. He memorized which sippy cup was the favorite. He showed up with groceries when you were exhausted and gave piggyback rides that made your daughter laugh like she’d never known a hard day in her life.

And the first time she called him “Sammy”—and then, months later, “Dad?”—you cried. You were scared it would be too much for him.

But Sam didn’t flinch.

He just picked her up, kissed her forehead, and whispered, “I’ve got you.”

And he did.

You. Her. Everything.

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

[stinkii-boii]

chapter two | divas & vertigo

synopsis: you wake up to find not one, but two men in your grandmother’s house and attempt to make sense of what you saw before you fainted.

warnings: paul being a diva, reader gets a nosebleed

word count: 4.2k

[masterlist] [previous] [next - coming soon]

“you panicked, and the best idea you had was to kidnap her?” 

“obviously i didn’t get that far. she’s still here, isn’t she?” 

coming to your senses a bit, you winced, cracking your eyes open in a weak attempt to figure out what was happening. your last memory had been of the man in your backyard turning into a giant wolf after you chewed him out for stripping - none of that made any sense, though.

you took a lot of pride in being known as a patient, rarely ill-tempered individual so you were beyond confused on how and why you were screaming at a stranger for something so random. the whole thing seemed beyond your comprehension, and you let out a low groan as you rolled onto your back.

“hey, hey, don’t move too much-” an unfamiliar voice came as a man stepped over to you, standing over you. from his eyes alone, you were immediately able to discern that he must’ve been sue clearwater’s son, seth. he had those same kind eyes she had, a near identical shade of chocolate brown coloring his orbs, “take a few sips of this for me, okay? it’s just to help get your blood sugar up,” he reassured, guiding what you’d assumed was a bottle of gatorade or something of the sorts to your lips so you could take a few sips. 

“there you go,” he cooed, pulling the bottle from your lips once he’d decided you’d swallowed enough, setting it to the side before he was sitting down next to you on the couch in your living room that they must’ve brought you onto after you fainted, “you’re winona’s granddaughter, right?” he asked after a moment, sighing when you only gave him a small nod before you were pushing yourself up onto your elbows despite the pounding in your head. thankfully, that obnoxious buzzing in the back of your mind had subsided enough, and the ache in your hips wasn’t nearly as horrible as it was before you passed out.

you only needed to scan the room for a few seconds before you zeroed in on the man you swore had definitely turned into a wolf just a few minutes ago… or hours… how long had it been? “are you…” your voice trailed off, a frown quickly covering your features as you tried to figure out how you were going to ask him if he was actually some sort of shapeshifter you’d heard of through the legends your grandmother had passed down to you so many years ago. 

everyone who was anyone on the res knew the legends, and you were no exception to the rule, thanks to your grandmother. maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you. maybe you’d hallucinated the whole thing and were about to make an even bigger fool of yourself than you already were. 

screaming at a random man and then accusing him of being a werewolf? great idea. 

“annoyed? mad? disturbed? upset? bothered?” he responded for you from his place in the armchair across from the couch. even sitting hunched over with his elbows on his knees, he was still larger than life, and the annoyed expression on his face wasn’t exactly making him look any more digestible either. you were surprised you never remembered seeing him around before. he’d have been impossible to miss if you did see him.

“paul-” seth started, an annoyed undertone to his voice that had you thanking any lucky stars you had left that he was on your side. glancing over your shoulder to look at him for just a moment, you found him with a concerned expression on his face. you did feel horrible about screaming at that paul guy, though, and supposed you probably also would be annoyed, mad, disturbed, upset, bothered, and more if some stranger you didn’t know came running outside screaming at you. 

“i’m sorry i yelled at you like that,” your voice came out much softer and quieter than you’d expected, a blush rapidly creeping up on your cheeks as you anxiously waited for his response. 

he rolled his eyes, “attacked is more like it. you-” paul didn’t even get to finish his sentence because seth had gotten up and stepped in between the two of you.

“kitchen. now.” despite his voice still being rather calm (he did have an uncanny way of sounding like a disappointed parent), paul only huffed before getting up and following him into the kitchen, not before shooting you one last disturbed look.

 soon enough, the two of them had stepped down the hall to the kitchen, and you dropped back onto the couch, throwing your arm over your eyes, desperate to ease the ache behind them. you could only make out a few muffled sounds, wishing you could hear more of their conversation as you also tried to figure out what on earth was going on.

paul seemed like he’d be more in charge than seth, but maybe that was just because of how they looked. both men were nearly overbearingly large but paul was built like a tank. not that seth was much smaller, but he carried himself in a lighter way than paul, it seemed like he had his mother’s patience so you’d assumed paul must’ve been pretty freaked out if he was taking orders from seth right now. maybe he was also confused why he turned into a giant wolf in your backyard. 

straining to listen, you sat up again so you could rest your head against the top cushions in an attempt to get a better angle, putting all your energy into understanding what the two men were talking about. you weren’t sure if their voices had gotten louder or if your hearing magically got better, but sure enough, you could hear the two of them. the humming in your mind scaled up again, back to that obnoxious, anxiety-inducing level, but you were determined to hear what they were talking about.

“i don’t think you imprinted on her paul,” seth had started, that same, almost patronizingly calm tone in his voice, “you wouldn’t be so mad if you’d imprinted. or maybe you would i don’t know, you always-” suddenly paul’s voice was cutting over his own just as you felt something trickling down your chin.

“oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me right now,” he was groaning, “a fucking nose bleed? since when have any of us gotten nose bleeds? she’s fucking with my head seth,” you could hear one of the boys fumbling around in the kitchen, presumably grabbing something to stop the bleeding with.

reaching a hand up to your own face, you pulled your hand away only to find it also covered in blood. your hearing returned to normal almost immediately, the boys’ voices returning to the same muffled sound they were before you’d focused on it. 

“hey do you have any…” seth’s voice trailed off when he stepped back into the living room, pausing in his tracks when he saw you staring at him with blood dripping down your chin and on your hand, “okay maybe he’s right,” he mumbled, quickly striding over to you, “is it okay if i touch you?” he asked, sitting down next to you on the couch. 

you nodded, watching him warily as he reached both hands up, one tilting your head back while the other pinched your nose. almost immediately, the humming in your mind subsided and the headache vanished, “oh,” you let out a heavy exhale, eyes fluttering closed as you momentarily lost your composure.

“i’ve got you,” seth reassured, removing his hand from the back of your head to wrap around your side, helping hold you up, “do you feel like you’re gonna faint again?” he asked, and you took in one more breath with the pain almost completely gone before opening your eyes. he looked concerned as ever, brows creased in worry as he looked down at you, still dutifully pinching your nose to help stop the blood.

“no…” you trailed off, “it’s just… my headache…” you stumbled over your words, once again unsure how to explain what was going on around you but decided against bringing up the buzzing, figuring he’d absolutely think you were certifiably crazy if you added that in, “it went away when you touched me,” you concluded, eyes searching his for some kind of an answer but he didn’t seem to have one, worry still coating his features. 

“i’ll keep my hand there then, yea?” he suggested, “my mom always said i had magic hands,” he added, an easy smile taking over when you let out a breathy laugh.

the moment didn’t last long, paul’s borderline obnoxiously loud voice returning when he decided to follow seth into the living room, “how long does it take-” you didn’t see him but you’d assumed he’d dramatically dropped his jaw when he saw you and seth, “oh now she’s got one too? i told you seth she’s a fucking witch and she’s gonna get you next now that you’re being nice to her,” he immediately started rambling, stomping over so he was in front of you two again.

despite staring up at the ceiling thanks to the way seth had your head angled while he waited for the bleeding to stop, you could see that paul was also plugging his nose, the blood not seeming to stop as he sat down in the airchair again with a huff, glaring daggers at you when you rolled your eyes at him.

“witch might be a bit dramatic,” seth soothed, “can you call my mom? i want to get her checked for a concussion and see if she knows what’s going on,” he asked, also doing his best to refrain from rolling his eyes when paul got back up with a rather dramatic grunt.

“not concerned about me? i’m probably bleeding out from the inside thanks to whatever black magic she’s working and we won’t know until i’m dead as a doornail in an hour,” he blathered on, his voice still somehow managing to be quite loud even as his footsteps receded down the hall and into the kitchen to grab his phone. what a drama queen.

seth let out a soft sigh, giving your arm a gentle squeeze before he turned his gaze away from the hallway and back to you. you lifted your hand to gently remove his from your nose, scunching it for a moment as air refilled your nostrils, straightening your head back up with a low groan, neck tender from keeping it back for en extended period of time, “the bleeding stopped pretty quick,” seth commented, “ that’s good,” he added after a moment, his warm hand cupping your jaw, eyebrows creasing again as he got a better look at your head. 

that agitating, grating voice came again from the giant all the way in the kitchen, still loud as ever, “of course her nose stopped! guess who’s still bleeding out in here?” 

“i’ll have my mom check you out first paul!” seth called back, smiling again when you let out a breathy laugh at his reply, “is your head still hurting? paul said you went down pretty hard in the backyard,” he asked, sliding his hand up from your shoulder to gently run his fingers through your hair in what you assumed was an attempt to see if there was any visible damage. 

you hummed, shaking your head, “not anymore,” you murmured, leaving out the fact that all the pain had gone away as soon as he touched you, “i’m pretty sure i was seeing things earlier though,” you added, seth’s fingers pausing, his gaze meeting yours.

“oh?” he asked, keeping his voice soft as he waited for you to carry on.

you shrugged, “i thought i saw big mouth turn into a wolf in the yard right before i fainted,” you admitted, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth when seth’s lips pursed, his head cocking to the side just a smidge as you assumed he tried to figure out a nice way to tell you he was now definitely going to be admitting you to the psych ward.

after a moment, he sucked in a breath, “big mouth as in… paul?” he asked after a moment andyou nodded, both of you letting out quiet laughs over that being the thing he chose to focus on. he hummed and nodded, “does suit him. he’s not normally this bad though, only when he’s worried,” he vouched, voice significantly more quiet in what you could only assume was an attempt to keep paul from hearing and making an even bigger scene than he already was.

“i sure hope he’s not,” you replied with another quiet laugh, “he looks more like the brooding, quiet type. i did not think he was that noisy,” seth’s smile widened, clearly amused by your read of paul.

“but anyways i just got so angry in the yard and i don’t know why but i started yelling at him and then boom he turns into this massive grey wolf and then i fainted,” you explained, dropping your gaze down to your lap as you picked at your fingers, not feeling nearly as confident in confiding in seth as you did a few minutes prior. nothing ever seemed to come out the way you wanted and now that it was out in the air, you definitely sounded like a freak. maybe paul was right about you.

seth hummed again, gently scratching at your scalp, “well unfortunately, you weren’t hallucinating,” he murmured after a moment, sighing when you lifted your eyes to meet his. what the fuck was he on about? maybe there was some kind of gas leak in the house, and it had gotten to all three of you because there was no way in hell people were now turning into werewolves. 

“he is… well actually we are both able to,” he continued, voice soft and steady as he gave you a moment to process everything, “i’m assuming winona told you the legends, right?” he asked and you frowned, leaning away from him as you moved to get up, his hand falling from your body in the process.

before you had a moment to get all the way up, that blinding pain returned, your headache raging on, your hips and back aching and sending you to near tears as the humming returned in a rather violent, clanging now at the forefront of your mind. you immediately collapsed back onto the couch, legs giving out from the combination of all the pain, “paul get in here and help me please!” 

seth caught you, one hand gripping your hip while the other caught your head so he could pull you into his side to better support you. as soon as his hands were on you, the pain vanished just as quickly as it had come, leaving you breathless in his arms, “hey, hey, you’re okay, promise you’re okay,” you had no idea how he always managed to keep his voice so calm even when he was clearly overwhelmed, “not gonna take my hands off you unless you ask,” he reassured, brown eyes filled with concern again as he pulled the sleeve of his shirt over his hand to gently brush away the blood that had begun gushing out of your nose again.

as you struggled to orient yourself, pressing one hand into seth’s thigh to sit yourself up, you looked over to where paul was standing in front of you, wide eyed and looking almost as concerned as seth was, “happy now?” you asked paul and it came out much more humorless than you’d have liked it to thanks to your breathlessness, “fuck - sorry - that was mean,” you added after a moment, turning your attention back to seth who’s frown had deepened. a knock came at the door, and he pinched your nose again, tilting your head back to stop the bleeding.

“this is so fucked up,” you could faintly hear paul grumbling as he walked to get the door, leaving only the sounds of your heavy breathing in his absence.

neither seth nor you said anything to fill the silence, sitting for a few moments with his hand pinching your nose before sue’s voice filled the room, “oh sweetheart,” you couldn’t see her with your gaze currently on the atrocious popcorn ceiling of the living room but you’d heard her footsteps enough to gather that she had come over to the couch, “alright let me take a look. seth, honey, can you go help paul with his nose?” she asked, the couch dipping as she sat down next to you.

you were quick to drop your head back down, anxiously looking over at seth who was quick to reassure you, “i can’t really move right now,” he started, awkwardly trailing off as he tried to figure out how on earth to explain what was going on. sue narrowed her eyes at her son, beckoning him to continue and he did, slowly, “there’s… something weird going on. when i take my hand off of her she’s in a ton of pain. i don’t know,” he explained, both of them looking over to you for a moment before looking back at eachother. 

“okay…” sue let out a heavy sigh, “we can deal with that later. can i see your nose?” she asked, offering you a soft smile when you nodded. seth’s hand slid down to your shoulder while sue grabbed some antiseptic wipes from her bag, her calloused hands gently rubbing off the remaining blood that had dripped down over your lips and chin so she could get a better look at you.

“how is your head feeling? paul said you went down pretty hard,” she murmured as she swapped out the wipes for some gauze, all of her attention currently on making sure you weren’t bleeding anymore. if you weren’t so stressed, you might’ve laughed at how her wording was identical to seth’s just a few minutes prior - like mother like son, you supposed.

you let out a small hum, “it’s only bad when he takes his hands away. right now it’s fine though,” you explained, sighing as she dropped the guazein favor of threading her fingers through your hair to slowly check your scalp for any head wounds, just as seth had done, “and i thought i was seeing things but seth said i wasn’t. that him and paul can actually…” your voice quieted as you struggled to find the right words, also unsure if you should continue because you had no idea if sue even knew about this big wolf thing. 

“she saw paul phase in the yard and thought she was hallucinating. i told her she wasn’t,” seth quickly and concisely clarified, you shifted your gaze between the two awkwardly as they both stared at each other with rather concerned expressions. you imagined this must be about as stressed as the clearwaters got. they seemed to hide it better than most, which, based on the fact that you could definitely feel the stress radiating off of them, you were beginning to get concerned about the gravity of the situation.

shockingly, paul’s obnoxiously loud voice was welcome this time as it split the tension in the room. calling from the kitchen, he griped, “i want it on the record that she made me shift!” 

seth rolled his eyes again, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze and you guessed that was his way of letting you know that he didn’t blame you for paul’s ridiculous outburst earlier, “we got it paul!” seth called back, voice still overtly calm. “paul is convinced her anger magically made him angry too and forced him to shift,” seth added, not that the clarification helped much but sue just hummed, pursing her lips together before she went back to checking your scalp.

once she was satisfied you weren’t secretly bleeding out, she dropped her hands from your head, pulling a small flashlight out of her bag, “look straight ahead for me sweetheart,” sue directed and you nodded, looking at her as she shined the light into your eyes, directly in front and then to each side, “your pupils seem alright,” she decided after a minute, clicking the flashlight off and setting it in her bag.

she let out a heavy exhale, looking over to seth then, “he hasn’t had any problems like that in a long time,” sue responded to his earlier comment, glancing over at her son, who just hummed and nodded.

“i know,” seth agreed, not seeming to have much else to say as he let out a heavy sigh, leaning back into the corner of the couch, his hand still on your shoulder for both of your sakes. 

sue waited a moment, the three of you sitting in a quiet silence. it seemed natural enough for the two of them but you felt awkward, not at all sure what to do, “would it be okay with you if seth tried taking his hand off again for a second so i can see what’s going on? i think that’s the bigger issue here,” sue kept her voice clinically calm, that familiar warmth still managing to seep through just enough for you not to feel horribly anxious about it.

“i think so,” you whispered, glancing over to seth, who gave you a reassuring smile, straightening back up when he saw your apprehension, “promise you’ll put it right back after a second?” 

he squeezed your shoulder again, “promise,” he reassured, “you ready?” he asked, waiting for you to nod before he pulled his hand away from your shoulder just an inch.

the pain didn’t come. only the low humming in the back of your mind returned, though it wasn’t nearly as intense or as debilitating as it was earlier. your shoulders dropped, a breath of relief leaving your lips when you realized you weren’t in fact, going to literally be attached to sue clearwater’s poor son for the rest of both of your days. 

“no pain?” sue questioned after a moment of observing you, both her and seth smiling when you shook your head. all three of you noticeably relaxed with that now solved, even though none of you could figure out what the hell had just happened. you weren’t asking too many questions, though, just happy to know you weren’t teetering on the edge of agony at any second again. 

sue turned her attention to seth who just shrugged, also not knowing what had just transpired, “okay… well that’s good i suppose,” sue let out a breathy laugh, a hint of anxiety behind it but it was easily hidden by her calm demeanor, “has anyone called billy yet?” she asked after a moment, both of you shaking your head and paul calling out a rather loud ‘no’ from wherever he was hiding out in the kitchen, presumably trying to distance himself as much as possible from you.

“alright, paul?” sue called, waiting until she heard a chair in the kitchen scrape against the floor, some footsteps, and eventually for paul’s looming figure to appear as he stepped back into the living room, still dramatically holding his nose though his head wasn’t tilted back so you’d assumed he was just going to suffocate himself before your black magic or whatever he thought you had got to him. 

sue offered him a kind smile, “come sit and let me take a look at your nose and then i’ll give him a call so we can see if he knows anything that can help,” she cooed, also clearly refraining from laughing at paul’s antics as he dramatically dropped down on the couch next to sue, as far as he could from your end of the couch with seth. 

she grabbed some more gauze and antiseptic pads before she got to work helping clear off his nose as well, “looks like the bleeding has stopped,” she murmured, “still really strange that you had a nosebleed though,” she added, and although you’d gathered that was definitely true, you still chose to believe she said that just to coddle paul a bit so he wouldn’t go all psycho on you again.

“almost sounds like something that would happen if a witch were here,” paul jeered, the remaining three of you letting out dramatic sighs at his comment, “i can’t believe you’re taking her side in this whole thing. we don’t even know anything about her!” he protested and sue just rolled her eyes before turning her attention to you and seth.

“why don’t you take her into the kitchen and heat up some of that soup, okay? should help get her feeling back to normal, and i’ll stay in here and help paul. don’t need him getting stressed out either,” sue explained, ignoring paul’s groan as he dropped his head back against the couch, holding one beefy arm up to keep some gauze against his nose even though sue just told all of you that the bleeding had stopped. you decided then that this man was a complete and utter diva.

“alright let’s go get some soup,” seth’s cheery voice pulled you away from staring at paul, the two of you quickly getting up to head into the kitchen while sue dealt with your least favorite diva in the living room. what a day.

[stinkii-boii]

Second Chances - Part Four

Paul Lahote x Reader

Summary: Something is keeping Paul Lahote from giving in completely to the imprinting bond and somehow I’m the last person on the reservation to know why.

Warnings: angstyy as per usual with some curse words

Notes: sorry I’ve been MIA, work is keeping ya girl busy😔 I think one more chapter and it’ll be done👀

Word count: 1750

Masterlist

Previous Part

Paul

It’s not that it’s rare that Sam phases randomly while we’re on patrol, especially when Em is off the reservation and he’s home alone. It is rare that he shifts and immediately raises the howl that lets everyone know something is wrong.

Immediately my hackles are up, Sam?

It’s y/n. His answer has me stopping dead in my tracks, no.

Not again.

W-what- even my thoughts are barely coherent.

Don’t know, she’s with Em at her house. Sam’s answer is quick.

It’s all I need to turn tail and run.

Hospital. They’re on the way to the hospital. Sam amends her location.

I course-correct and run like my fucking life depends on it, because it does.

What’s wrong? Jared’s voice tickles the back of my mind, I can feel the rest of the pack phasing and awaiting an answer.

Watch the res, Paul and I are headed to the hospital.

Jared’s confirmation is lost somewhere in the rushing that’s filled my ears, my brain losing itself to the static of panic.

Not again, I can’t do this again.

You won’t.

I growl at Sam’s false promise and push myself faster.

Reader

“Y/n?” A pair of knuckles rub painfully across my clavicle and it does the trick to bring me back to the land of awareness. “Y/n, can you hear me?”

I groan and try to turn away from the bright lights above me, but the motion is halted by the plastic collar around my neck.

“Best if you don’t move sweetheart,” a female voice above me whispers gently as hands roam my body, checking for broken things. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“She fell down some stairs-” Emily's rambling voice is cut off gently by my nurse.

“I appreciate you, but I need to hear her tell me, hun.”

I crack an eye open, “I hit my head.”

“Pretty hard, by the looks of this CT.” Doctor Cullen hovers over me within my line of sight, “you have a nasty little concussion, sweetheart.”

I groan, “I’ll never live this down.”

Both he and the nurse chuckle, “good to see you’re feeling better, I’ll take this collar off if you promise to stay still.”

I agree to listen and the doctor removes the offending piece of plastic.

“You only suffered a concussion, a nasty lump is on the back of your head, but it’s doesn’t need stitches. I’d like to keep you overnight just to make sure you’re alright, but I don’t see anything life-threatening on your scans. Sound good?”

“Yeah, thanks doc.” I give him a grin that I’m sure looks more like a painful grimace.

“I’ll put in an order for some pain meds and anti-nausea, you just kick back and relax in the mean time.” He reaches up to click off the light above my bed, easing the pressure in my head now that I’m not fighting the brightness of the room.

“Where is she?” A familiar voice shouts down the hallway. Emily pokes her head outside of the open door moments before two large bodies flood into the room.

Sam immediately steps towards the bed while Paul is locked up tight a mere two steps inside the room.

“You’re okay.” The older man releases a sigh between deep breaths, what did they do - run here?

“Concussion, but I’m okay.” I can’t bring myself to look away from Paul, he’s so still that I’m not entirely sure he hasn’t turned to stone right before my eyes. “Paul?”

His eyes snap to mine, pain very obviously evident all over his face, “I-” barely a syllable escapes his mouth before he turns and darts from the room.

I look to Sam confused, “did I do something wrong?”

“No,” sighing, he pulls Emily into his side, “no, he just doesn’t deal well with these types of things.” Squeezing my ankle, he offers a sympathetic smile.

Paul

“Paul?” Jared stops in his tracks as I blow past him in the hallway just outside of the emergency department.

“Paul!” I can’t stop, I need to get outside - I need air, the earth, nature—I need the calm she provides.

Busting through the doors, I’m on a warpath for the forest across the parking lot.

“Paul, stop!” I ignore my best friend, but he’s caught up and yanks my shoulder back.

“What?!” Spinning on him, I let him see the unrest simmering under my skin.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He’s huffing almost as hard as I am, the venom in his voice brings me up short.

“The fuck am I doing, the fuck are you doing?” The heat of the situation is burning through me, causing my defenses to raise, protect.

“I’m trying to figure out why you’re not in that fucking hospital room with your girl.”

I growl, “she’s not my-”

“You can lie to everyone but you can’t lie to me, brother.” He’s unphased by my flash of teeth, used to it all these years. “She’s yours as the day is long and the sky is blue. Why in the hell are you running?”

“She’s fine, alive, awake, breathing. What the fuck am I going to do besides sit in her room and sulk in the corner?” I’m trying hard to hold onto my anger, to let it override the panic, the helplessness of the situation.

“You’re such an ass-”

“Fuck off, you know-” I scoff, ready to be done with this conversation, but he clearly isn’t.

“I do know! I know you’re scared-”

“I’m no-” Jared shoves me, interrupting me again.

“Shut up and don’t lie to me! You’re a fucking idiot if you think keeping her at arms length is going to keep her safe! All it’s doing is hurting you both and you’re wasting time, she won’t turn out like-”

“Don’t.” Everything stills, quiets. It’s like the earth heard the weight of my tone. “No one brings her up, not even you.”

“Choosing to keep this one out of the loop, to keep her out of our pack, isn’t going to keep y/n safe.” He takes a step forward, hands up like he’s afraid to spook me. “Paul, I can’t stand to the side while this eats you away, you know this is inevitable.”

“I can’t.” The hurt bleeds into my voice and I know it’s evident in my eyes, it’s leaking from my soul. “I can’t take that chance again.”

“You have to. She would want you to.”

My eyes close, I know.

Reader

“Dear.” A gentle nudge of my shoulder surprises me awake. “Sorry sweetheart, just a concussion check, I’ll wake you again in a few hours.”

I nod sleepily and my scalp tingles from where the lump still is, I turn away from the light of the door to drift back off when my eye catches something in the corner of my room.

Well, not a something but a someone. Paul. A fully asleep Paul with his arms crossed and slumped over with his chin tucked into his chest. A highly unfavorable position.

My brows furrow in confusion despite the tightening of my chest, he’s here. Not that I want him here or anything, definitely don’t feel any burning in my eyes from the sentiment that he clearly decided to post up in my room overnight like a watchful guardian.

My breath hitches from the emotion that suddenly overwhelms me, my eyes rake down his massive muscular form in what has to be the most uncomfortable plastic chair. I can’t believe he’s here. I wipe at some of the wetness on my cheek, today has been a long fucking day.

Paul stirs slightly, his eyes barely opening as he readjusts his position in the cheap chair. His body stilling when he catches me awake, “hey.” The low rumble of his voice fills my hospital room with a warmth that was missing.

“Hi.” I don’t know what to say as he sits up straighter in his seat. “You stayed.”

“I stayed.” He glances towards the cracked door to the hallway, the faint orange glow of the lights cast a beam straight on him.

He’s kind of gorgeous like this, despite the tiredness radiating from him - his hooded eyes and calm energy have me forgetting why we’re here.

I readjust my propped up position in bed and wince at the tenderness on the back of my head, Paul leans forward like he can’t help the instinct to help.

“You don’t have to stay, I’m fine.” I pick at the fuzz on my blanket.

“Not like I would’ve been able to sleep at home knowing you were here.”

His confession has a small gasp choking it way out of my throat, my eyes snap to his and his jaw clenches.

“And why’s that?” My voice is small, I’m not even sure he could hear my question.

“Blame it on my hero complex.” I can’t see his attempt at nonchalance plain as day.

“Don’t lie to me, you can’t while I’m in here.”

“Says who?”

“Says the injured person.”

“Oh so that’s how you want to play this?”

“It’s not a game, Paul.” My tiredness of this constant back-and-forth with him finally bleeds through, “I’m tired of this being a game.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees and sighs. “I know.” His head hangs low.

“Then stop. Stop and talk to me.” I plead.

“I’m not ready.” He says it to the floor, I can hear the shake of fear in his voice.

“Sometimes things need to happen even if they scare you. The world won’t wait for you to be ready, it turns whether you want it to or not.”

It’s silent for a good long bit. “Go back to sleep.” He meets my eyes as he whispers the command.

I’m disappointed, I’d hoped we’d made a breakthrough.

He must see the disappointment in my eyes, “you need to rest and this is a conversation for later.”

“Promise?”

He hesitates.

“Promise me, Paul Lahote.”

“I-I promise.” His eyes are screaming panic at me, but I’ll take the small win.

I readjust myself in the bed again, trying to get comfortable. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For staying. For promising me.”

I hear his huff and the creak of his chair as he shifts, “don’t mention it.”

“I will,” I yawn, eyes slipping shut, “goodnight, Paul.”

“Goodnight, darlin’.”

I go back to sleep smiling despite knowing I’ll be woken up yet again shortly; Paul Lahote’s heart is defrosting.

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Part 5 - WIP

[stinkii-boii]

Second Chances - Part Three

Paul Lahote x Reader

Summary: Something is keeping Paul Lahote from giving in completely to the imprinting bond and somehow I’m the last person on the reservation to know why.

Warnings: none but angst, my specialty✨

Notes: I’ve been on leave from work and enjoying time with family, so that’s why it’s been a minute😅 it’s another teeny tiny chapter (so so sorry this is just a smidgen), but something to tide you over while I put the finishing touches on the next one👀 this might turn into a longer chaptered thing than I initially anticipated lol

Word Count: 2800

Masterlist

Previous Part

Reader

“Wait!” Paul shouts from behind me.

Great. I keep trudging through the sand towards my car, albeit a little slower.

“Why are you always so mad at me?” He huffs from behind me as I jam my keys into the door to unlock my car.

“I’m not mad-”

“Bullshit.” His left hand comes up to stop me from opening my door and I whirl around on him.

“I’m not. Upset, a little. Frustrated, yeah. But not mad.” I sigh. “Paul, I’m not upset that you don’t want me, that’s absolutely your choice. What I am upset about is how you’ve handled it. You can’t keep me in the dark at arms length and think I’ll be okay with that, especially with how you know I feel. You can’t expect me to just accept that.”

His face does that thing where it looks like it’s set in stone, always turning into a statue when the situation turns complicated.

I close my eyes and lean back against my car, I’ll never get anywhere with this man. “Why do you ask questions you don’t want the answer to?”

“That’s not-” my eyes flash open with barely contained anger. “I just don’t know—I don’t know what to say-”

“Say literally anything!” I shove his chest and he lets me push him out of my personal space, “say what’s going on with you! Say how that makes you feel! Say something besides shutting yourself off the second I lay it all out for you!”

I huff and spin back towards my car, opening the door. “Because if you don’t, if you can’t talk to me, I want out.” I slide into my seat without looking at him, I can’t. Not with the tremble in my voice.

“You-you can’t say that-” it’s his turn to sound like a kicked puppy and it grates on my nerves.

“Can’t say that?” I hurl the words at him, meeting his gaze daringly, “can’t set boundaries to protect myself?”

“You can’t run away from this-” it’s like my words took the fight right out of him and tossed him straight into panic mode, good.

“I’m not the one running.” I dare him to counter the accusation with the raise of my brows. “Yet.”

The last word has him reaching for my car door, but I snap it shut with a shake of my head. Cranking the engine, I back out of the parking spot and head for home.

A house that feels wrong when I call it home, it’s empty. And it’s definitely not the person in my rear-view.

Paul

Fear grips my chest so tight I can hardly breathe.

It’s almost as painful as the first transformation, like I’m being cleaved in half by something outside of my control.

Not just something, feelings.

Feelings I don’t want, can’t want.

Can’t let myself want her, not after-

No. Not again.

I card my fingers through my hair and tug on the strands as her tail lights get smaller, I’ve never felt so at war with my mind.

Protect myself and lose her in the process, or tell her and leave myself open again to the worst pain I’ve ever felt?

How do I tell her that her being my imprint is the result of the worst day of my life?

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Part 4

[stinkii-boii]

Second Chances - Part Two

Paul Lahote x Reader

Summary: Something is keeping Paul Lahote from giving in completely to the imprinting bond and somehow I’m the last person on the reservation to know why.

Warnings: angst and curse words (my favorite)

Notes: the way I’m laying in bed trying to be strategic with this angst

Word Count: 1,220

Masterlist

Part One

Paul

“She’ll be here, don’t worry.” I suppose Jared wouldn’t be my best friend if he couldn’t read my mind outside of our much larger altered forms.

“I wasn’t worried.” Long shot, but I go for the bluff anyways. I busy myself with digging through the beer cooler, not that these do anything besides take the edge off.

“Yeah and those tremors aren’t from your wolf.” My gaze shoots to his at the observation, I snap the lid closed.

Fuck. “Mind your own business.” I roll my eyes and scan everyone near the fire.

“You are my business, brother.” Jared pats me on the shoulder before walking away, his eyes set on his imprint.

Mine? Currently not at our weekly pack bonfire. Hasn’t been for the last two weekends, not since… not since we blew up at each other after one of her failed dates.

Two weeks without seeing her, too goddamn long.

It’s a bigger turn out this weekend, the elders are here along with more extended family; most of which are huddled close to the fire. Meanwhile majority of the boys are gathered off to the side, grumbling about the latest res gossip like we don’t all share the same wolf brain.

“I can hear you thinking from across the bonfire.” Beer in hand, Sam sidles up next to me.

“I’m tired of thinking, I just want to shut it off.” Sighing, I tuck my chin and try to focus on calming the tremble in my hands from where they’re stuffed in my jacket hoodie.

“Just talk to her.” His quiet encouragement immediately raises my hackles, he doesn’t fucking get it.

“Easy for you to say.” I try to keep the attitude from my tone and fail miserably.

“I know what it’s like-”

Ice pours down my spine. “The fuck you do, Sam.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry-” his tired sigh throws a little bit of water on my anger. “I hate seeing you like this.”

Sam isn’t a man of many words, but somehow those words carry a lot of weight. Weight that makes me feel like an asshole. “Sam-”

“She’s here.”

Two words and my head is snapping towards the parking lot situated close to our spot on the beach so fast that I make myself a little dizzy. I frantically search for her familiar figure while my stomach leaps into my throat before I finally spot her standing near Emily.

My girl, she’s here. My blood feels like it’s thundering through my veins, fuck I missed her.

“You need to go say hi.” I ignore Sam’s unsolicited advice, the last thing she wants is to see my ugly mug.

Not even a second later, her eyes snap to mine and just like that, the tremors I’ve been dealing with all week vanish.

Once again my gravity is back, anchoring me, calming my racing pulse.

“Paul-” scolding me like only an older brother could do.

“Sam.” I turn to look at him, “you sat beside me that night, you know why I can’t.”

“It’s also the same exact reason you should, brother.” His stare turns pleading, but the logic tugs painfully at my heart.

I shake my head and his look turns disappointed, “I can’t go there, not again.”

“Again? Paul, that’s not all that’s meant for you-” he steps closer, conviction ringing in his voice.

“The unthinkable happened and then she came along, you think I should just move on and-”

“Yes-”

“Well I fucking can’t.” I can feel my eyes start to burn. Blinking rapidly, I turn back towards the fire. “I can’t forget what happened, I can’t just ignore what the ancestors did to her-to me-”

“I’m not asking you to forget or anything remotely close to that. None of us have forgotten, you know that. We are all right here with you every step of the way, but brother-” his hand lands on my shoulder, “you can’t ignore what you have right in front of you, what you’ve been blessed with.”

I stop breathing.

I know he’s right.

The ancestors, for some reason, have given me another shot. A second chance.

A second chance that I’m completely fucking terrified to take.

Reader

“Where is he?” I ask Emily as I approach. Fuck It, might as well get to the point.

She grins. “He’s with Sam.”

Scanning through the boys, I look for the duo. The past two weeks have been the longest I’ve gone without Paul since the moment we imprinted over six months ago. My nerves feel like they’re shot to hell and my stomach is lodged firmly in my throat, where is he-

Like a magnet drawn to its counterpart, my eyes land on his and everything is right again. The panicky feeling worming its way into my chest evaporates and I feel like I can take a deep breath again, fuck this man for making me feel this way.

“You should go talk to him.” Emily, always the instigator.

Paul’s gaze turns away from me to Sam and my heart sinks a little, “he doesn’t want to see me.”

“Nonsense, he’s been asking about you nonstop.”

I whip my head towards her so fast, “asking about me?”

She smiles to herself as she tidies up the snack table, “mhmmm.”

I groan to myself, realizing I’ve fallen into her trap and that she’s purposefully torturing me. “Em-”

“Heads up,” she nods behind me and I freeze. “Hello, my love.”

“Hi, beautiful.” The way Sam envelopes her in his arms and kisses her cheeks before planting one on her lips tugs at my heart in the most painful way.

Trying to look literally anywhere else, a large hand cups my elbow.

“Hey.” Paul’s voice is low, unsure.

I glance up with what I know is a sad look, “hey.”

His jaw clenches so tight that I can see the feathering in the muscle, but his gentle grip on my arm never changes. The heat of him slowly leaks into me from the small point of contact, fuck I’ve missed him.

“C’mon, let’s find a seat by the fire before Billy starts.”

“You don’t want to sit with your boys?” Why the fuck did I say that?

“No.” The loaded look he stares me down with offers no room for rebuttal, so I head for an empty bench with the heat of him following closely behind.

Kim’s eyes catch mine as I sit close enough to Paul that our thighs barely touch, her brow raising in a question that I pointedly ignore. Jared next to her gives me that same look and I quickly avert my eyes, everyone in this pack is so goddamn nosy.

Billy Black clears his throat as Sam tosses a few more pieces of wood onto the fire, everyone quieting down at the unspoken command.

The flames steal my attention as the low tenor of the elder’s voice begins the retelling of an old tale I should probably be paying attention to.

It’s soothing - Billy’s voice, the heat of the fire, the cool sand between my toes, the community atmosphere of the pack gathered in one place, Paul’s presence at my side.

It feels like I should belong here.

It feels like home.

Too bad the man next to me is everything I want, but I'm nothing he’s looking for.

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Part 3

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[stinkii-boii]

Second Chances - Part One

Paul Lahote x Reader

Summary: Something is keeping Paul Lahote from giving in completely to the imprinting bond and somehow I’m the last person on the reservation to know why.

Warnings: angst and curse words

Notes: Ooo this is just a diabolical angst-driven late night thought. I keep seeing Frank Castle/Karen Page edits on TikTok and this… came from that🫢🫠

Word Count: 1,030 (terribly short to start off, but there will be more parts)

Masterlist

Reader

“So how did your date last night go?”

One thing I’ve learned about Emily Uley is that she’s about as subtle as her husband’s wolf form when it comes to wanting the juicy details about the latest happenings on this reservation.

Can’t say that I blame her either.

“Oh, y’know. It was… fine.” I keep stirring the bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough, refusing to glance at the boys watching tv on the couch.

I miss the way one in particular readjusts his slouched position.

“Fine? Define fine.” Emily’s inquisitive tone is relentless.

“He split the bill-”

“He did NOT.” Her incredulous gasp almost makes me laugh.

“He did, he didn’t even walk me to my car afterwards. He also chewed with his mouth open the entire time-”

“How do you always manage to go out with losers?”

Paul must’ve risen from the couch and gravitated towards the kitchen while I was distracted trying to recount yesterday evening’s events.

His question short circuits my brain and locks my entire body up. It’s not the words or even the way he said it, it’s the fucking double meaning behind it.

I drop the wooden spoon in the bowl and Emily immediately turns around to busy herself with the stove behind me.

“Maybe I don’t have any other options, Lahote.” I can hear the venom in my tone, I just don’t give a shit anymore.

“Look, I didn’t mean-” his hands are up like he’s confronting a hostile animal, afraid to spook it, but it’s too late.

“Doesn’t matter what you fucking meant.” I wipe my hands on a kitchen towel and turn for the front door, I need to breathe.

Just before a door slams shut I hear Em sarcastically compliment him, “Real smooth, Paul.”

Thundering footsteps draw near as I collapse on the porch swing and I blow out a breath, how the fuck does he still get under my skin so fast?

The door swings open and I can tell he has no idea how to fix this by the way his mouth opens and closes, trying to quickly think of something intelligent to say.

“Paul it’s fine, go back inside with the boys.” I turn towards the forest, trying to regain my sanity.

“It’s not fine.” He takes a seat at the other end of the porch swing, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I don’t care.” I’m stubborn, I know this.

“Don’t say that-”

“And why fucking not, Paul? Hmm?” I level him with my eyes as I hurl the question at him, beyond frustrated with this situation, with us.

“Because you do care-”

“You’re right, I do care. Entirely too fucking much-”

“Will you just-” he tries to get a word in but I’m relentless in my anger, I guess that’s what makes us so compatible.

“No, fuck you.” I get up from the swing, ready to bolt from this situation, but a warm hand encircles my wrist.

“Sweetheart-” I can’t stand the tender way he whispers the endearment.

“Don’t you dare, Paul Lahote.” My voice is deadly calm, I can’t even bring myself to meet his eyes.

“Why can’t you just listen to me?” The pleading in his voice rakes over my goddamn nerves and I yank my hand out of his grasp.

“Oh, like I did when you told me I was your imprint, but that unlike all of your brothers’ relationships - this one needed to stay platonic? That you didn’t-couldn’t want more with me? Listen like I did then? When you crushed my soul?” My eyes flick between his stupidly beautiful tortured ones, a fucking act.

“You don’t know the whole picture-”

“Then fucking paint it for me!” I don’t care that I’m yelling loud enough for the entire house to hear me, fuck this and fuck him too.

“I can’t!” His chest is heaving and he’s standing toe to toe with me like he’s ready to fight.

“And why not, Paul?” It’s dead silent and even at a normal volume, I feel like my voice echoes for miles.

Instead of answering, Paul just tightens his lips and shakes his head before stalking off the porch toward the wood line near the house.

“That’s it, just fucking run away like you always do when shit gets hard, Lahote.” I throw the words like daggers at his back and watch as they land, his body shaking violently before giving in to the transformation.

“Can you cut the guy some slack for once?” Jared’s voice cuts through my quiet reflection as I stare at the spot I last saw my grey wolf. Not mine, never mine.

“As soon as he explains what’s so wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you-”

I turn to him with a gasp, “you fucking know, don’t you?”

“Of course I know, he’s my best friend.” His face is stoic and shows no sign of elaborating, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.

“All of you know.” His silence at my whisper is all the confirmation I need. My voice is stronger this time, resigned, “all of you know and no one cares to put me out of my misery-”

“That’s not what-” he tries to grab me by my shoulders, but I back away from his attempt at a comforting touch.

“No, fuck you, Jared. I hate this bullshit about how imprint bonds are sacred and revered, yet here I am - in the dark for months and no one can tell me why.” I back away from him towards my car, my chest feeling like it’s tearing in two.

“It’s not our place to tell you.” The anguish in his face cracks something even deeper in my chest.

He genuinely feels bad for keeping this from me, but not bad enough to end this torment.

“I don’t care anymore.” The dead tone in my voice surprises even me, but I fling open the door to my car and climb inside before I hear yet another excuse.

Jared’s shrinking form in my rear view makes me press the gas a little bit harder.

Fuck this reservation and the people on it.

And more importantly, fuck Paul Lahote.

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Part 2

[stinkii-boii]

I WISH YOU’D STAYED .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

summary: jacob never meant to hurt you, but that didn’t change the fact that he always put bella first. when you finally walk away, he’s forced to face the weight of his mistakes—and the unbearable agony of being separated from his imprint. as the distance between you grows, so does his desperation to make things right. but after everything, will it be enough to fix what he broke?

pairing: jacob black x fem!reader

word count: 4,8k

warnings/notes: ANGST! heavy argument, being second place, bella mentioned, being taken for granted, imprint!reader, yearning, tears, desperate jacob, happy ending

masterlist | check out my other work !

it had been a perfect day—one of those rare, golden moments where the world outside didn’t exist, where nothing mattered except the warmth of jacob’s arms wrapped around you and the quiet, easy rhythm of his laughter.

the rain had started in the afternoon, a soft drizzle tapping against the windows, turning the world outside into a blur of gray. but inside jacob’s small house, there was only warmth. the crackling heat from the fireplace, the feeling of his hand lazily tracing patterns over your skin as you lay curled against his chest on the couch, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

for once, there was no weight of responsibility on his shoulders, no sudden interruptions pulling him away. it was just you and him, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other.

jacob had promised you tonight.

no distractions. no interruptions. just the two of you.

and for a little while, you let yourself believe that promise.

you should have known better.

the sharp chime of his phone cut through the peaceful quiet, and you felt the shift before you even saw the name on the screen. jacob tensed beneath you, his muscles going rigid, the warmth of his touch suddenly absent as he reached for the phone.

“jake,” you murmured, a quiet plea, but it was already too late.

you saw the name before he even answered.

bella.

your stomach twisted, a sick, sinking weight settling in your chest.

jacob sighed, running a hand through his already-messy hair, and you could hear it in the way he said her name—softer, gentler, laced with a concern so automatic it felt like instinct.

“bella?”

you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your hands curled into fists against your lap, the way the warmth of his body against yours suddenly felt so far away.

you tried to block it out. tried to focus on the lingering touch of his hand on your knee, on the way his body still rested against yours. but the moment stretched too long, his attention already slipping, his focus already elsewhere.

“what happened?” his voice was sharper now, all ease gone, his posture straightening. his brows knitted together in concern as he listened, jaw tightening with every second that passed.

then, without hesitation, he stood.

your heart dropped.

“where are you?”

a heavy silence. then a breath, sharp and determined.

“i’ll be right there.”

he was already moving, already reaching for his keys, and something inside you cracked.

“jake?” your voice barely came out, quiet and fragile, but he didn’t hear it.

or didn’t want to hear it.

you forced yourself to stand, your heartbeat ringing in your ears. “jacob.”

this time, he stopped. not fully—his hand was still on the doorknob, his body angled toward the exit—but he turned just enough to glance at you.

“she needs me,” he said simply. like that was all the explanation you needed.

the words settled deep in your chest, cutting deeper than they should have.

you took a breath, trying to steady yourself. “and i don’t?” your eyes were desperately searching for his. “you promised—”

jacob’s expression faltered for just a second, something like guilt flickering across his face, but he shook his head. “y/n, this isn’t about you.”

your lips parted, a sharp, bitter laugh slipping out before you could stop it. “isn’t it?” the hurt in your voice cracked through the air like a whip, and jacob finally looked at you—really looked at you.

but it wasn’t enough.

because you could already see the outcome.

you could see it in the way he was still standing by the door, in the way he hadn’t sat back down, hadn’t reached for you, hadn’t once considered staying.

his choice had already been made.

“i just—she’s upset,” he tried again, running a hand over his face. “she needs someone.”

“she always needs someone,” you shot back, your voice trembling. “and somehow, it’s always you.”

jacob let out a breath, frustration evident in the way his shoulders tensed. “it’s not like that.”

“then what is it like, jacob?” you shook your head, your hands trembling at your sides. “because from where i’m standing, it feels a whole lot like every time she calls, i stop existing to you.”

his lips parted, but no words came.

and that was the worst part—he didn’t deny it.

didn’t try to convince you otherwise.

because maybe, deep down, he knew you were right.

the air between you felt suffocating, heavy with everything unsaid, with months—years—of this same unspoken battle. and maybe, if this had been the first time, you could have let it go.

but it wasn’t.

and you were so, so tired.

you swallowed hard, your voice quiet now. “stay.”

jacob’s brows furrowed, something pained flickering in his dark eyes.

you stepped closer, reaching for him, your fingers grazing the fabric of his shirt. “stay,” you whispered again. “just this once.”

for a split second, he hesitated.

for a moment, you saw the war in his eyes, the battle waging between duty and something else—something softer, something that was supposed to belong to you.

you held your breath, waiting.

but he reached for his keys.

and you exhaled, shattered.

the answer was clear.

it had always been clear.

jacob didn’t say anything as he opened the door, stepping out into the cold night, the rain still falling in a steady, relentless rhythm.

you stood there, frozen, watching as he disappeared into the dark.

and you already knew how this night would end.

the rain lashed against the windows, turning the night outside into a cold, howling blur. the sound should have been soothing, a soft rhythm against the glass, but tonight, it only made the walls feel smaller, the space between you and jacob suffocating. his small house, what once had been a place of warmth and quiet affection, now had become a battlefield.

you stood in the center of the living room, arms crossed tightly over your chest, willing yourself not to shake. not to let him see just how deep the hurt had buried itself. but the storm outside was nothing compared to the one inside you.

jacob stood a few feet away, his damp hair still sticking up in disarray from running a frustrated hand through it. his breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to contain whatever was boiling beneath his skin. the heat of his body, the energy of him, should have been reassuring—but tonight, it burned.

“you’re overreacting,” he said, his voice edged with exhaustion, like you were nothing more than a problem he needed to fix. like he couldn’t understand why this was hurting you so much.

a bitter laugh escaped before you could stop it, sharp and humorless. “overreacting?” you shook your head, blinking hard. “jacob, she calls, and you run. every single time.”

his jaw clenched. “she’s my friend, y/n.”

“she’s your priority,” you snapped, your voice cutting through the air like a blade. “no matter what we’re doing, no matter how many times you promise me that this—” you gestured between the two of you, the bond that was supposed to mean everything, “—comes first, the second she needs you, i stop existing.”

jacob’s hands curled into fists at his sides, the tendons in his arms flexing as if he was holding himself back. his nostrils flared, and he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “that’s not true.”

you let out a hollow laugh, barely able to look at him. “it isn’t?” the words cracked, raw and exposed. “god, jacob, do you even realize how humiliating this is? to be your imprint and still feel like i’ll never be enough?”

his face twisted like you had struck him, but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t.

“i love you,” you whispered, and for the first time, saying it didn’t feel sweet—it felt like an open wound, fresh and gaping. “but i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep watching you put her above me, above us.”

jacob let out a ragged breath, stepping forward like he wanted to close the space between you, but you backed away. his expression crumbled, desperation flickering in his dark eyes.

“y/n,” he rasped, his voice softer now, less sharp—pleading. “please. try to understand. it’s not like that.”

you forced yourself to hold his gaze, even as your vision blurred with tears. “then tell me what it is, jacob,” you whispered. “tell me why she always comes first. why you never think about how this makes me feel. why—” your voice broke, and you swallowed hard. “why i feel like i have to fight for a place in your life when i’m supposed to be your imprint.”

jacob’s face twisted with anguish, his hands gripping his hair as he let out a frustrated groan. “i don’t know how to explain it,” he admitted, voice thick with something you couldn’t quite name. “i never wanted to hurt you—i swear, i didn’t. i love you, y/n. you know that.”

you inhaled sharply at his words, at how they sounded more like an apology than a reassurance. “then show me,” you whispered. “because right now, it doesn’t feel like love, jacob. it feels like i’m waiting for you to actually see me.”

jacob’s breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling too quickly. he looked at you like he was unraveling, like he was on the edge of something that terrified him. “you are everything to me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “you don’t get it—i feel you in every part of me. you’re the first thing i think about when i wake up, and the last thing before i—” his voice broke, and he shook his head, like he was trying to force himself to stay together. “i can’t lose you.”

his words made your heart ache, made something deep inside you want to give in—to believe him. but words weren’t enough. not anymore.

“you don’t have to lose me,” you whispered. “you just have to choose me.”

jacob’s expression shattered, his body physically flinching as if the weight of your words had struck him straight through the chest. his hands trembled at his sides, his whole frame tense like he wanted to reach for you—like he wanted to grab onto you and never let go.

but he said nothing.

and silence had never hurt so much.

you took a trembling breath, the realization settling deep in your bones. “i deserve more than this,” you whispered. “and i think—deep down—you know that too.”

jacob’s entire body went rigid, his breath coming out in shallow, uneven bursts. “y/n, please,” he murmured, stepping forward, but you took another step back.

tears blurred your vision as you shook your head. “i can’t be second anymore, jacob.”

the storm raged on outside, the wind screaming through the trees, but the real storm was in his eyes—in the way he looked at you like he was falling apart, like he wanted to grab hold of you but didn’t know how. he had never looked more desperate, never looked more like he wanted to fight for something—but it was too late.

with one last look at him, at the pain written all over his face, you turned.

you didn’t wait to see if he would follow.

and somehow, knowing that he didn’t hurt the most.

the days blurred together, heavy and cold, despite the summer air hanging thick in forks. you had done everything to put distance between you and jacob—ignoring his calls, avoiding la push, staying home as much as possible. even your parents noticed something was off, the worried glances lingering longer than usual, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain. how could you? how could you tell them that the boy who was supposed to love you, the one who was bound to you in ways deeper than words, had made you feel like you were nothing?

so you buried yourself in the isolation, letting it wrap around you like armor. but no matter how hard you tried, the ache in your chest never eased. the imprint was a cruel thing, tethering you to him, making it impossible to sever the connection completely. you could still feel him—like an invisible thread pulling, tugging, aching.

and jacob?

jacob was drowning.

at first, he told himself he could handle it. that you just needed space, time to cool off. you would come back once you calmed down—once you realized that what you had was stronger than a single fight. that’s what he told himself, over and over again, as the days crawled by.

but the imprint had other plans.

it didn’t let him escape the truth. the bond that had once felt unbreakable, like a safety net woven from something deeper than love, now felt like a wound that refused to heal. an open, raw ache in the center of his chest that never dulled. every second without you felt wrong—like something essential had been ripped from him, leaving only the empty space where you were supposed to be.

then came the pain. not just his own, but yours.

the imprint tethered him to your every emotion, and your heartbreak hit him like a punch to the ribs. it wasn’t sharp or fleeting. it was constant. a lingering sorrow that coated everything, suffocating, inescapable.

he felt it when you curled up in bed at night, staring at the ceiling with the same exhaustion he carried. he felt it when you ignored every call, every text, each one sending another wave of desperation crashing over him. he felt it in the way your heartbeat changed when you saw his name on your phone—and in the way you refused to answer.

sleep became impossible. every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was your face the night you walked away. the way your voice had broken. the way you had trembled, not with anger, but with hurt.

and worst of all? it was his fault.

he had caused this.

he would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling every ounce of your heartbreak as if it were his own. he would reach for his phone, fingers hovering over your name, but he knew. you weren’t ready. you weren’t waiting for him to say sorry—you were waiting to see if he would change.

the pack noticed almost immediately.

at first, they thought he was just sulking—jacob had never been one to handle emotions well, especially when it came to his imprint. but as the days stretched into weeks, it became impossible to ignore.

“you look like shit,” paul said bluntly one night, arms crossed as he watched jacob push his untouched plate of food away.

jacob didn’t even have the energy to snap back.

quil and embry weren’t much better—watching him like he was a bomb about to go off. “you should talk to her,” embry suggested carefully, choosing his words like one wrong move would set jacob off. “fix things.”

jacob let out a bitter laugh. “she won’t even look at me.”

“that’s because you fucked up,” leah cut in, unimpressed with his self-pity. “and you know it.”

her words stung, but they were nothing compared to the guilt already eating away at him.

seth, the only one who seemed remotely sympathetic, shifted uncomfortably. “she’s your imprint, man. that has to mean something to her. if you just—”

“if i just what, seth?” jacob snapped, his voice harsher than intended. “say i’m sorry? tell her it won’t happen again? you should’ve seen her that night… i made her feel like she was nothing. that’s not something you just… fix.”

silence.

the weight of his own words settled in his chest like a stone. and that realization hit him harder than anything else.

for the first time, jacob was forced to sit with what he had done. to look back on every time he had left you mid-conversation to answer bella’s call. every time he had seen the flicker of hurt in your eyes and ignored it. every time he had told himself that you would understand—that you would always understand.

he had taken you for granted. and now, he was paying the price.

it wasn’t enough to say you mattered. he had to show you.

days turned to weeks, and jacob forced himself to change. to put action behind his words. he stopped chasing bella’s shadow. he stopped making excuses. and most importantly, he accepted that losing you—really losing you—was not something he was willing to let happen.

the next time bella called, he let it ring. and ring. and ring. the phone buzzed against the wood of his nightstand, vibrating with insistence, but he didn’t move. didn’t reach for it like he always did. the act felt unnatural—like breaking a habit he hadn’t even realized he had formed. but for the first time, he chose not to run to her.

instead, he sat in the quiet and thought of you.

he thought of your laughter, the way it used to wrap around him like warmth on a cold day. he thought of your stubbornness, the fire in your eyes when you stood your ground. he thought of the way you had always been there, always understanding, always waiting.

he had made you wait long enough.

so, one evening, as the sun dipped below the trees, jacob found himself standing outside your house, his hands trembling at his sides. he hadn’t seen you in what felt like forever, he had no idea if you would even open the door. the imprint was screaming at him to fix it, to hold you, to make it right.

but this time, he knew better.

taking a deep breath, he knocked.

would you open the door? would you listen? he didn’t know.

but for the first time, he wasn’t just desperate to get you back— he was ready to earn you.

the knock echoed through the silent house, sharp and insistent against the quiet.

you heard it instantly, but you didn’t move.

you knew who it was.

for weeks, you had felt jacob just beyond your reach—the imprint a constant, aching presence, tugging at you like a phantom limb. his absence wasn’t truly absence. it was a weight, pressing against your ribs, making it hard to breathe.

and yet, you had stayed away.

because every time you thought about him, all you could hear was the echo of your own voice breaking as you told him you couldn’t do it anymore. that you wouldn’t be second. and begging him to stay. to finally choose you.

another knock—louder this time, more urgent.

you swallowed hard, tightening your grip on the fabric of your sleeves, nails digging into your palms. he wouldn’t leave. you knew that. but opening the door meant facing him, meant seeing him—jacob, and everything he had put you through.

a ragged, shuddering breath came from the other side. then, his voice—low, hoarse, pleading.

“y/n… please.”

the sound of him nearly brought you to your knees.

jacob black never begged. never. he had always been too stubborn, too reckless, too sure of himself. but now, his voice cracked under the weight of something raw, something broken.

you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to steel yourself. but then he spoke again, and this time, his words came out uneven, trembling.

“i know i don’t deserve for you to open this door.” a sharp exhale. “i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness.” his voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “but please… just let me say what i need to say.”

the imprint was relentless, pulling at you, forcing you to feel him. his desperation. his regret. the depth of his pain, tangled with your own. it was unbearable. you hated how deeply you felt him, how much your heart still reached for him even after everything.

because no matter how much he had hurt you, no matter how much you had tried to shut him out…

you had missed him.

more than you wanted to admit.

your body moved before your mind fully decided.

slowly, hesitantly, you pushed yourself to your feet, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin. every step toward the door felt heavier than the last, dread and longing intertwining in your chest.

your hand hovered over the doorknob. you hesitated.

you had spent weeks trying to sever the connection in your mind, convincing yourself that love—real love—wasn’t something you had to beg for. that if jacob had truly wanted you, if you had really meant as much to him as he claimed, then he wouldn’t have spent so long making you feel like you were just a placeholder.

and yet…

you exhaled shakily and pulled the door open.

jacob stood there, looking wrecked.

he wasn’t just tired. he was hollowed out.

his usually warm brown skin was paler than normal, his dark circles so deep they looked bruised. his hair was an unkempt mess, sticking to his forehead from either sweat or rain—maybe both. and his lips were parted, his breath catching at the sight of you like he had just been punched in the gut.

for the longest time, neither of you spoke.

then, jacob exhaled a sharp, shuddering breath. his hands were clenched into fists at his sides, shaking with restraint. “y/n,” he rasped, voice raw, “please.”

you swallowed. the weeks of silence between you had been long and unbearable, but jacob? he looked like he hadn’t survived them at all.

still, your voice was quiet, guarded. “what are you doing here?”

jacob sucked in another breath like he was trying to steady himself. but it didn’t work. his control was crumbling, desperation bleeding into every part of him. “i couldn’t—i can’t—” he broke off, running a shaking hand through his hair before stepping forward just a fraction, catching himself before he got too close.

his restraint made your chest ache.

jacob had never hesitated before.

“i don’t know how to exist without you.” the confession tore from him, desperate and hoarse, like he had been carrying it for weeks. “i thought i could—i thought maybe if i gave you space, if i let you have what you needed—” he let out a ragged, self-loathing laugh. “but it’s killing me, y/n. i feel like i’m dying.”

you clenched your jaw, willing yourself to stay firm.

but then jacob did something he had never done before.

he fell to his knees.

right there, on your porch, in the dim evening light.

and when he looked up at you—god—his eyes were glassy, filled with nothing but agony and pleading. “i fucked up,” he choked out, his voice wrecked beyond repair. “i fucked up so bad.”

the weight of his pain crushed into you through the imprint, drowning you in it. you gripped the edge of the door, suddenly struggling to breathe.

“i didn’t see it,” he whispered, shaking his head. “i swear i didn’t see what i was doing to you. i thought—” he let out another broken laugh, his hands trembling where they rested on his thighs. “i thought you’d always be there. i thought you knew how much i loved you, even when i—” his breath hitched. “even when i made you feel like you weren’t enough.”

you sucked in a sharp breath.

because that was the wound that had festered most.

not that he had put bella first. but that, in doing so, he had made you feel like less.

“but i get it now. i get why you left. i get why you needed space. and i know—” his voice cracked, and he sucked in a trembling breath. “i know i don’t deserve another chance. but i swear to you, y/n… i won’t make the same mistake again.”

you clenched your jaw, your emotions warring inside you.

because damn him. damn him for finally getting it.

jacob had always been passionate—fiery and stubborn and reckless. but this? this was something else entirely.

this was raw.

this was jacob black, broken at your feet, choosing you in the way he should have from the beginning.

and yet… you hesitated.

“why now?” you whispered.

jacob blinked, his brows furrowing.

“why did it take me leaving for you to realize?” your voice wavered, thick with the weight of everything he had put you through. “why did i have to walk away for you to see me?”

pain flickered across his face.

then, he did something that nearly stopped your heart.

he reached for you—hesitant, unsure—fingers barely brushing over the back of your hand before pulling away like he didn’t deserve to touch you.

“because i was a selfish idiot,” he whispered. “because i took you for granted. because i thought—” he inhaled deeply, his gaze locking onto yours with something desperate, pleading. “i thought I had all the time in the world with you. and i was so, so wrong.”

your breath hitched.

jacob clenched his jaw, his hands fisting in his lap. “but i choose you, y/n. i choose you.” his voice was thick, unsteady. “not because of the imprint. not because i need you to fix me.” he sucked in a breath, his eyes locking onto yours with something devastatingly real. “but because i love you.”

your heart stuttered.

jacob had said those words before. but never like this.

never with this much certainty.

never with this much desperation.

your fingers twitched at your side, your eyes looking at him—at his sleepless eyes, at the way his hands shook at his sides— and you realized something.

you had left to protect yourself.

but he had changed to earn you back

slowly, cautiously—you reached for his hand.

jacob inhaled sharply as your fingers brushed against his—his entire body freezing before exhaling a shuddering breath, like he had just been pulled from drowning. when you finally intertwined them, he let out a strangled sound, squeezing yours like he was terrified you’d slip away again.

“don’t make me regret this,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

jacob let out something between a laugh and a sob, his forehead nearly pressing against your knee from where he knelt. “i won’t,” he swore, his voice shaking. “i swear, y/n—i won’t.”

your fingers curled around his, hesitant but firm, and jacob’s breath caught in his throat as you carefully pulled him inside.

and then, to your utter shock—jacob let out a choked sob.

it wasn’t loud. it wasn’t dramatic. it was the kind of broken, helpless sound that came from someone who had been barely holding themselves together, someone who had been standing on the edge of a cliff for weeks, waiting to fall.

his free hand shot up, hovering near your waist—so close, but not touching. he was waiting.

“can i—” his voice was wrecked, thick with emotion. “can i hold you?”

your heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in his voice. your walls cracking just a little more.

jacob black—who had never hesitated to pull you into his arms before, who had always touched before thinking—was asking.

jacob was holding himself back, his body so tense he was practically shaking, like he was afraid one wrong move would scare you away again.

wordlessly, you nodded.

his arms wrapped around you so tightly it almost knocked the air from your lungs, his body folding into yours with a desperation that nearly brought you to your knees. his face buried against your neck, and you felt the wetness of his tears as he let out a shuddering breath.

his arms tightened, his whole body curling around you, as if trying to shield you from anything that could take you away from him again.

“god,” he rasped, his breath hot against your skin. “god, i missed you so much. i—” his voice cracked, and he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands framing your face like he needed to see you, to memorize you. his thumbs brushed over your cheekbones with the softest reverence. his breath was still uneven, his eyes still red-rimmed and wrecked, but there was something else there, too.

hope.

and then—before you could process it—his lips were on yours.

the kiss was desperate.

not soft. not hesitant. it was raw, unrestrained—starved.

jacob kissed you like he was drowning and you were the only thing keeping him afloat, like he was trying to pour every ounce of regret, every moment of suffering, into that one moment. his hands shook where they held you, and his breath came in short, uneven gasps between kisses, like he was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes squeezed shut. his breath was still uneven, still shaky.

“i love you,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “i love you so much.”

you swallowed hard, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, feeling the way his heart pounded against his ribs—too fast, too frantic.

for the first time, you weren’t just hearing his words.

you were feeling them.

and as his arms wrapped around you, holding you as if he’d never let go, the space between you disappeared completely.

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always kind of was, j.b.

pairing: jacob black x f. reader

childhood summers fade, but he never did—and now you’re back, without knowing he’s already yours.

series masterlist

chapter one, second nature

chapter two, poncho punch

chapter three, oil and honey

chapter four, manuals

chapter five, full moon

chapter six, click

chapter seven, promise you

chapter eight, hollow bones

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*sips dr pepper* ahh yes time to do my quarterly reread of this beautiful story

Redamancy Series Masterlist

Jasper Hale x Reader

Redamancy • (noun) The act of loving someone who loves you; a love returned in full.

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Twilight

Preface | Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four

Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten

Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen

New Moon

Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen

Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One

Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four

Eclipse

Twenty-Five | Twenty-Six | Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight | Twenty-Nine

[In-progress • My life is a mess so updates are random]

Add yourself to the taglist!

Twilight Mood Board

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jackson bf material lockscreens! please like or reblog if you save it! 🧸

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NESTFEST DAY 3 – 🍑🫳🏻😳❣️

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Imagine you're the medic assigned to the task force. You're not some dainty little thing. You're snappy and will drag them by the ears if you have to. You're constantly getting into arguments with Price because he won't listen to you when all you're trying to do is help him.

Anyway, the rest of the team has bets on how long its going to take before you two finally fuck. Gaz gives y'all another month. Soap says two weeks. Ghost thinks that you've already done it.

Now, imagine how mad Gaz and Soap are, both giving Ghost 50 quid each when Price casually drops that not only do you have sex on the regular, but you've been married for the last five years.

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Of Bites and Bonds

Part 1 of a mini-fic series with vampire!Ghost x accidentally sired!reader

1.2k words cw: blood, mild gore, death(?) but not really, vampirism- biting and sire bonds, power dynamics, lots of swearing lol

You were meant to die. You weren’t meant to have bitten down on his hand when he covered your screams as he tore into your neck. In the thrill of the the feast, he had not even felt the way your teeth had managed to snag on the tough skin of his palm and draw blood. The frenzy brought on by drinking your blood was enough to block out any pain he would have felt. And when he finally pulled away from your limp body, the life sucked out of you, hardly a liter of blood left in your veins, he didn’t notice the nearly black crimson smudge by your lips, his venom already coursing through you, bringing you new life. He was far too busy admiring the wound on your neck, sparkling in the moonlight like liquid rubies. 

It was all a mistake. You were meant to decompose in that wood, not turn into a creature damned by God and abandoned by humanity. Do forgive him. He’s not even a century old, an amateur really. 

It takes the body a week to turn. A week of excruciating pain, the price to pay for cheating death. Only, you did not ask for this. You’re all too aware for those seven long days, senses painfully heightened beyond human limits. Body still rigid with death, you’re locked in place, forced to endure. The screeches of birds all too loud, the frantic beat of a deer’s hooves against the forest floor as it flees from your unnatural existence. When you’re freed from this delerious state of torment, an icy fever of a turning, it’s pure panic.

A vampire, that’s what you are now. But it should be impossible. They were ousted from your country years ago, policies put in place to send them all out and ensure they stayed out… Clearly, at least one did not get the memo.

Each movement is clumsy, too fast and strong. You’re stumbling on your feet when you finally manage to stand, leaving a dent in the bark of a tree when you reach out to balance against it. Scents and sounds are overwhelming- thousands of little heartbeats pitter-patter from the critters of the woods. There’s not much thought to your actions as you follow a feeling, a tug in your mind, lurching towards it. This strange pull is the only thing that feels right. Your teeth might ache, your body weak and starving, but this inexplicable tug, tug, tug feels like a compass guiding you home.

It only gets stronger when you tear into a clearing. The sounds of the forest seem to fade a little when you lock eyes with him. Him. 

He’s leaving a small cabin, heading down a gravel path towards a rusty pick-up truck, but he stops when he sees you. There’s a black baklava covering most of his face but you could recognize those brown eyes tinted with a slight sheen of red anywhere. They’re the only solid image you could conjure in your mind during your change. 

“You… You did this to me.” The words aren’t filled with as much bitter hatred as you hoped they would be. The memories race back all at once and the feelings along with them. Fear and anger battling with an instinctive knowledge that you need him. Where is this all coming from? 

“For fuck’s sake…” is the first thing he says to you, his accented voice thick and deep. He knows what you are, knows he made a terrible, terrible mistake. It would be the smartest choice to simply kill you. But just as you feel the connection, he feels the same. It would go against everything inside him to hurt you. “Jus’ my bloody luck. Why didn’ ya jus’ die?” His voice is a grumble as if he’s the one that has a right to be irritated by the situation.

“You killed me! You- you bit me and-...” The words are frantic and delerious as they come out of your mouth, the panicked confusion finally catching up to you. Before you can even get that far, though, he’s before you in a second and his large hand is gripping the back of your neck, pushing you towards his pick-up truck.

“Wait! You can’t just- I’m not going anywhere with you!” You try to duck out from his grip but he’s far too quick for you. He makes a fist around the roots of your hair, tight enough to keep you in place but not enough to hurt.

“Come on,” is all he offers as explanation, voice still carrying that annoyed quality. 

Fuck him. You raise your leg and then kick his ankle with as much momentum as you can gather. Given your new strength, his weight gives out and he lets go of your hair. Your eyes widen as you watch him land on his ass. Though it’s more than you intended, you take the opportunity to scramble away. 

“Goddamn, baby vamp… Come ‘ere.” He hisses as he gets up, brushing off his dark jeans with a quick and forceful swipe of his hands. You catch a glimpse of a flash of red in his eyes. His anger settles over you, crawling under your skin in a way that leaves you entirely unnerved. “I said, come ‘ere.” 

The words seem to reverberate through you and before you can even process why they felt like that, you’re walking towards him again. The actions are your own, but that compulsion to do what he says? That is instinctive. 

You shake your shoulders a little, trying to brush off the thick feeling his control. “What did you just do to me?” Your voice is quieter, resistance slipping through your fingers like you’re trying to grasp water. 

He doesn’t answer and it sends a fresh wave of resentment through you but this time, you don’t protest as he nudges you towards the car. Despite the fact that he killed you, seems to lack basic communication skills, and has some sort of sway over your mind, there’s a deep and seemly ancient part of you, beyond your rational mind, that trusts him wholly. And there’s an even deeper and illogical desire inside you to not upset him again, to make him proud. 

There’s no time to make sense of these bizarre feelings now, not as he basically carrols you into the backseat. Huffing, you settle into the seat, watching as he gets into the driver’s seat. You wait a beat for an explanation but when he just starts driving, you know one is not coming. 

Frustration building, you smack the shoulder of his seat, the leather easily tearing under your nails and the stuffing pushing through the torn leather in plush clouds. “You can’t just turn me into a fucking vampire, use some mind magic on me, and then not explain any of it!”

He doesn’t even react to your outburst, merely glancing at you in the rearview mirror before looking back at the road. “Buckle up.”

“Asshole…” you mutter, hesitating a moment but eventually doing as he says because not doing it leaves you antsy and jittery. You glare at his face in the rearview mirror and the scowl on your face causes your new fangs to prick into your lips. “Ow…” Reaching up, you rub the small hurt. 

You swear you can hear him let out a chuckle, the sound muffled by his mask.

Hope you enjoyed this because part 2 is being cooked up rn! Can you tell I love Twilight, The Vampire Diaries, and Interview with a Vampire lmao

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Vampire 141 - Fledgling!Reader

This was hell.

Actually, you truly believed hell must be kinder than whatever the hell was happening to your body these past few days.

Should you call the support line after all?

And to think it was all your boss’s fault. If that jerk hadn’t made you work overtime and close the stupid convenience store without any warning, maybe you could have found a way to get home safely.

But nooooo...

Now thanks to that, you were attacked on your way home after work.

Attacked in the middle of the night, on a week day, too far from any houses for anyone to hear the commotion.

And it had been a vampire.

You didn’t know much about vampires. Their species was way too mysterious and reserved with outsiders. That’s not to say they didn’t interact with humans—because they did, especially with the wealthy—but it was one of those situations where someone like you would never get the chance to speak with one.

They were high society. Big families that controlled entire cities and states. Like the Mafia or some shit, living in the rich part of town that you had never even set foot in before.

Although, you had heard of vampires appearing here and there sometimes, walking around through the city quietly and discreetly when problems needed to be solved.

Problems like feral vampires.

Loners cast aside from their Covens for one reason or another, now crazed and out of control, following their bloodlust blindly. They killed as easily as any vampire did, even if their only focus was to drink their victims' blood.

Dangerous creatures...

They were rare—incredibly so—since it was the responsibility of the high covens to protect the normal folk from ferals. They rarely appeared in other vampires' territory, fearing the powerful presence of their own kind.

But sometimes...

Sometimes, a new one would appear from far away, starved and crazed like most of them were by that point. And usually they managed to kill one victim before the covens hunted them down to kill them for good.

So it was very important to call the right number to report feral vampires in the area.

Should you have done that? Yes, you should have. You really should have. But you were so. freaking. tired.

You were a college student working part-time at a convenience store. After waking up from your near-death experience, you just couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. In fact, for a good while after waking up, you even thought you had hallucinated everything. You went home like it was just another night, your mind drifting, more absent than present.

The moment your head hit the pillow, you were out.

But, when you looked at yourself in the mirror the next morning...

You were supposed to be dead. Someone would find your body—drained and wounded—and call the feral hotline. Vampires would show up, deal with the feral with minimal effort, and make sure the area was secured again. That’s just how it goes.

EXCEPT!

You are fucking alive!!

You didn’t even know that was possible—a feral giving up on its prey after pinning it down instead of just killing it for the blood.

It was talking, too—mumbling nonsense by your ear, like it was actually trying to communicate with you.

It bit you, injecting its venom.

Your skin was horribly marked now. The wounds that had once been there had all turned into thin layers of scar tissue. Not the usual kind, but one formed by the venom injected into your bloodstream. The red and black layers against your otherwise normal skin tone made it look like the weirdest tattoo you’d ever seen—like you were a broken porcelain doll with satan himself trying to break free from inside out.

It started at your neck, on your left shoulder, blooming into an ugly, messy bite that was definitely the most obvious problem there.

It went down your left arm and chest, streaks that looked like veins, or cracks.

The artwork was completed by ending on the wounds you’d gotten on your lower body while fighting off the vampire on top of you—scrapes around your hips and legs.

At least you actually searched a bit about vampires after that, panicking hard over the weird markings on your skin. The only and most important thing you needed to know was whether ferals could transform humans or not.

Which, unsurprisingly, they could.

At least, in theory.

They still have their venom, but when they go feral, they usually just want to drink blood from their victims blindly, and the venom is mostly forgotten. There was never a case of a feral actually turning someone into a vampire!

Maybe that feral wasn’t as far gone as the others...

But now, this was somehow your problem! You barely knew anything about vampires', or how they worked in the first place!

What do they even do after transforming someone?

Are you really a vampire now??

Why did you have the ugliest markings all over your body after being bitten, when you’d never heard of vampires leaving markings like this???

And why the hell was your boss still making you go to work after you told him you were attacked late at night last week, the asshole?!?!

Maybe you should’ve specified it was a vampire who attacked you, but you were scared to face what had happened. What had been done to you, and what you might now become. Do you need to speak to vampires now? Are you actually one? You don't even have any fangs or anything different besides the markings...

You had so much to do—so many projects left unfinished for school. You never missed class, not even when you were sick. But now that you’ve become a completely different species…

"Dearie, what happened to you??"

You were startled by the worried voice of an old lady close to you, making you look up from the chip bags you had been staring at for a solid five minutes in the middle of the aisle.

You glanced back at her for a few seconds before turning your gaze to your own body, looking down at your neck and collarbone where the giant marking started, barely hidden by the collar of your work shirt.

"Oh, it's... dunno, a birthmark." You mumble, tired, not really caring much for a better excuse.

You were so tired lately... what the hell even happened? You always had that healthy college student tiredness from working and studying, but it never made your body feel this heavy.

If you were any more weak-minded, you might have just stayed in bed forever.

But then again, college student.

"It doesn't look like one…." The woman squinted, analyzing your neck like it was her fucking business.

Okay, maybe you were also a bit more irritaded than normal.

"Ma'am, it's nothing. Can I help you with something?" You force a smile, though it’s more cynical than polite, as you weren’t really in the mood to be that polite to people who couldn’t mind their own business.

She stared at you for a few more long seconds in complete silence, her eyes squinting as she made that slow, long hum that old people make when they're being casually judgmental.

"That's a vampire thing, isn't it?" A middle-aged man appeared around the corner, his eyes also drifting to your neck as he tilted his head to the side. "It looks like a vampire bite on your neck..."

This guy you actually know—Thomas, from the real estate office nearby—who always comes to buy a snack around this time of day.

"How did you even get to that conclusion...?" You mumble, frowning slightly in annoyance.

"For one, I can see two teeth marks on your neck, clearly. Second, have you not seen the news? There's a feral mosquito zooming around our area. He was spotted last week and still hasn't been caught."

The old lady gasped in shock, eyes wide as she turned back to you.

"Have you been attacked, dear?!"

Well, fuck. So much for ignoring the problem until it couldn’t be ignored anymore.

"I guess..." You shrug, wincing slightly at the pain that shot up your left shoulder from the action.

"You guess?? You should’ve called the hotline if you were attacked!" Thomas frowned, just as confused as he was indignant.

"You don’t get it, I have so much going on right now..." You groan tiredly, already slipping into a depressive mood as you remember all the work you still had to do for your classes.

"What does that even have to do wit—?!"

"Hey, what's with the commotion?!"

You sighed heavily at your boss’s loud voice booming through the store, the balding man approaching with a huffy expression, slightly controlled thanks to the two clients standing with you in the aisle.

"Didn't know you were at the store today, mr. Miller...." You mumble softly, trying to dodge the last subject.

"I wasn’t supposed to be! But we all received a notification—there’s a Coven coming here to deal with the fucking feral!" He grunts, clearly annoyed. "I came to close the store; apparently, those snobby suckers want all businesses closed to make their work easier."

"Oh no, don’t tell me that…" Thomas sighs, suffering, pulling his phone from his pocket immediately to start a call with what you can only assume is his manager, turning away from the group.

"Does that mean I can go?" You ask, raising an eyebrow as you point hesitantly at the glass door.

"Oh, you have to let her go, she needs to go to the hospital...!" The old lady quickly agrees, nodding with the most pitiful look on her face.

"Hey, hey, wait a sec, who said anything about a hospital—?"

"You still haven’t checked the fucking mark consuming your neck? Are you trying to kill yourself, girly??" Mr. Miller interrupts, glaring at you like this situation isn’t part of his fault.

"What the hell? You didn’t give me any days off??" You sputter, indignant.

"I have only you and that stoned kid right now, I can't afford to give any days off! You should go when you have time, like everyone else who works!"

You’re ready to probably yell back at his face when Thomas quickly runs back to the group, a bit desperate as he fumbles with his bags and cellphone.

"They're already here...! I have to go back too!"

"Yeah, I should be going too! Hit me up when you're uptaded, Mr. Miller! Thanks so much, bye-bye!" You say quickly, running out the door after Thomas, your backpack already over your shoulder.

You couldn't even focus on your boss' loud ass voice as you hurried down the street, your head pounding relentlessly. Ever since you got bitten, this had been your reality—splitting headaches, aching muscles, no appetite, itchy gums, and, above all, a bone-deep exhaustion.

To be fair, some of the symptoms were still pretty mild. But deep down, a gnawing fear told you something was off. You could barely wrap your head around the fact that you were actually turning (had already turned?) into a vampire. But feeling like absolute crap made you wonder… what if something was going wrong?

You should call the hotline. You should go to the hospital. Just get it over with—at least get some help. But wouldn’t that change everything? Wouldn’t it make things even more complicated? And what would the all-powerful vampires do with you then?

God, you can’t graduate if you miss too many assignments in a row!

Don’t you have that group project due in two weeks—the one no one in your group has even said a peep about?

A small noise from the other side of the otherwise silent street caught your attention, your head snapping up in alert. The street was empty—of both cars and people, as usual—except for the two men standing by the closed pet store.

And goddamn, these were NOT normal men.

They were dressed strangely, a mix of military style and high-end fashion. Clearly rich. Heavy black clothes with small pops of color, loaded with pockets and belts. Their boots—thick, heavy, the kind that could break your bones with a single kick.

But that wasn’t the weird part...

No, the weird part was how much of their faces they were covering. One of the men wore a heavy jacket, with a hood and beanie pulled up to hide his jet-black hair. A black surgical mask—like the kind you'd see in a hospital—covered his face, and dark sunglasses hid his eyes.

The other… good lord, he had to be around three meters tall. Sure, vampires were naturally bigger than humans, but still… what the hell? This guy was wearing a full veil over his head, black, with suspicious red streaks running down it, and his heavy clothes hid the rest of his body just as much.

They... they had to be vampires, right...?

You flinched when the man wearing sunglasses suddenly snapped his head in your direction. His face was completely hidden, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze. The other man too turned in your direction slowly, now both of them facing you, completely still.

It truly seemed as if time had stopped for a few moments. No one moved or made a sound. You weren’t sure what to do. The ugly markings on your skin—too high on your neck to be hidden by your snug polo work shirt—seemed to burn under their stares.

You can't take this anymore.

Without thinking, you immediately turned around and tried to make your way back to the convenience store, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

But you didn’t even manage to take a single step forward.

"What is this?" the man wearing sunglasses asked, his voice rough and quiet.

You jumped in place, a small hiccup escaping your lips in surprise as you felt heavy hands settle on your shoulders, keeping you still.

How did they get to you so fast?? You were on the other side of the street!

"Fledgling." The other man spoke even more gruffly, tilting his head down to see you properly. His veil was falling forward just enough for you to almost see his face beneath it.

You could distinctly see a red glow beneath it.

"W-Wha—"

Your stuttered words were interrupted by the veiled man's big, heavy hand tilting your head up gently, while his partner unbuttoned your polo shirt, pulling the cloth aside to reveal more of the damaged area.

"Abused by their Sire." The veiled man growled lowly in anger, his voice still mostly quiet as he analyzed the markings. You could clearly hear a distinctive German accent in his words. "Who? It's just our Coven here."

"There were visiting Covens not that long ago." The other one also spoke with an accent—something Asian, it seemed—but you couldn't quite place it.

"Too fresh. This is a just-turned."

"E-Excuse me—"

"This is a grievous sin against nature itself." The Asian man growled, making every hair on your body stand on end. The sound of his growl sent a shiver through you, paralyzing you slightly. "She didn't even complete the transformation."

"Fledgling, who is your Sire?" the German muttered slowly, forcing your head slightly higher so you had to look up at him.

Now they quieted down, letting you speak. Though you didn't really want to right now—not when you didn't understand what the hell they were saying.

"M-My... my what...?" You mumble anxiously, looking up in between both of their covered faces.

...

"Scheißdreck!" The veiled man cursed gruffly, his hands immediately going under your armpits to lift you up as if you weighed nothing, making you yelp in surprise.

"I did think the tribunal was too quiet recently," the Asian guy grunted, his arms crossed firmly as he watched you squirm slightly in panic in the bigger man's arms. "They're gonna love to hear about this."

"And the feral?" the German asked quietly, gently immobilizing you against him, tapping your back in small motions to calm you down.

"The others are here. No matter how smart a feral, they are easy targets. We have more important matters to attend to now. Isn't that right, Fledgling?"

You whimpered slightly in fear and confusion, your head pressed against the taller vampire's shoulder.

"How are we going to deal with this...?" The German sounded slightly calmer now, less aggressive with you in his arms. "This is serious, Horangi, a crime of this caliber..."

"I know, König. The tribunal will deal with that. For now, we keep her close. How about her teeth?"

You felt your body being slightly adjusted to lay more against the big guy's body, his giant hand coming up to your mouth to push his fingers inside it.

"No way!" you hissed defensively, trying to turn your head from side to side to avoid him.

"Shh, Fledgling. You're okay, stay calm. Open up." You let out a grunt in surprise and indignation as Horangi stepped forward, forcing his fingers into your mouth while König held your head in place. "Ha, it's what we thought. A fresh fledgling. Her teeth haven't even fallen out yet." He laughed without humor, shaking his head slightly as he let go.

"F-Fall out?? W-Wait, t-this is...! O-Oh, God..."

You whimpered, getting overwhelmed. This was precisely why you didn’t want to deal with the attack and transformation matter. And a tribunal?? You were so busy, living alone, and you couldn’t miss work—much less miss your classes.

"You are tired, Liebchen. Your body is taking a toll after the bad transformation. Settle, we'll take care of things." He patted your back gently a few times.

"She has a ton of venom in her bloodstream, and she's still awake. Rock her a bit, and she should fall back asleep quickly. I'm calling Laswell."

God Fucking Dammit!!

[stinkii-boii]

Cptn Price finding out there's a sergeant called Soup, story was they fell asleep in their soup one singular fucking time and people have been calling them Soup Face ever since, later shortened to just Soup. so Price thought ok this is funny i'll take it. stole them like he did with Gaz and put them in his team.

now there's Soap and Soup.

[stinkii-boii]

kiss the skin that crawls; masterlist

john price x fem!reader | the surrogate au | read on AO3 | pinterest board

Living in an old cottage on the fringes of nowhere and somewhere, you find yourself strapped for cash, and in desperate need for repairs. When you come across an online post of a same sex couple searching for a surrogate, you decide to take up their offer after seeing the weighty compensation they present. What you don't realize is that the sperm donor enjoys doing things the old fashioned way, and you grow closer to him than you ever knew you wanted to.

a/n: while i plan on keeping this anthology very light and fluffy (an oddity compared to my other works) please heed any content warnings on the chapters as the story progresses, just in case!

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