Joslyn | she/her | 29 | I make mood boards and I've taken a stab at writing | Wattpad: @demon_cactus | My multi-fandom Pinterest blog: @BellasCactus | Spotify: @LovelyDemon | Main Masterlist
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.
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?
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.
Omg I just read Second chances and I wanted to know if it’s going to have more chapters. Honestly if my so called soulmate friendzoned me I would move out of the country as fast as possible
Yes more chapters are in the works! I have no idea how long it’s going to be (handful at the most), but part 2 is almost ready👀
Okay same, but I love being (slightly, but believably) unrealistic in fanfiction lol just wait until I impale you in the chest with the ✨why✨
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.
Summary: It was just an accident, what is the infamous big bad Paul Lahote afraid of?
Losing his imprint, that’s what.
Warnings: panic attack, curse words, buncha’ angst that ends with fluff
Notes: of course I had to write a Paul POV since you guys loved the first one! Oh I love a good bit of angst
Word count: 2300
Masterlist
Part One
Paul
Metal crunching, sirens wailing, frantic voices - they were all on a loop in my brain and I was helpless to stop it.
I could feel the eyes on me, the worried glances, but I didn’t give a shit.
“Sam, please don’t-”
“Paul, you’re wearing a hole in the floor, the doctors have it under control-” I know Sam is trying to reason with me, reason with my wolf, but I can’t take it.
“Don’t fucking tell me this shit is fine or it’s going to be fine, it’s not fucking fine!” I close my eyes and force out a breath, blowing up at my brother is not what I fucking need right now. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“Don’t, I know what you’re feeling. Imprints and rational thought don’t go together.” Sam gives me a sad, lopsided grin.
Just then, a nurse walks in the waiting room and the entire pack stands. It’s late in this po-dunk little town and we’re the only people here, she’s here about my girl.
“Are you the family of-” She starts but hesitates, eying everyone gathered.
“Yes, all of us.” Thank the ancestors for Sam taking charge, I don’t think I could force out a response past the tightness in my chest.
“She is stable,” relief floods my system, “but she remains in critical condition.” Panic, pure and thick forces its way down my throat and everything grinds to a fucking halt.
What does she mean ‘stable but critical’?
I can’t hear anything she continues to explain, the ringing in my ears too loud. Sam, I turn to my brother, watching as he focuses on the nurse and nods along. If she’s stable, why do I feel like I’m drowning?
A hand on my shoulder startles me, Jared.
The nurse must of finished her report, because Sam meets my gaze - his lips are moving, but I can’t fucking hear. He grips my shoulder and tugs me forward, into the hallway, but no one is following us.
“Breathe.” His voice is under water and distant, my vision is soda-strawed in on his mouth and I’m trying. I’m trying to understand, trying to suck in oxygen.
My lips are starting to tingle, just like my fingers.
She—I can’t—she can’t—
I can’t even string a thought together about what this means in a way that makes sense and the silence in this hallway is fucking roaring.
Sam cups the back of my neck and brings me forward so that we’re forehead to forehead, his other hand grabs my wrist to bring my hand to his chest, he exaggerates a deep breath and waits for me to follow suit.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I didn’t notice the tremor in my hands, in my arms, my body.
The ringing in my ears begins to fade.
Breathe in, breathe out.
The beeping of heart monitors and the low voices of our family begin to filter through the fog surrounding my brain.
I bring my other arm around Sam’s shoulder and pull him in for a hug, I’d be absolutely fucked without this man’s guidance.
“Thank you.” My voice is small and muffled by his thick jacket.
“Always here, brother.” He pats my back in a soothing manner and it shakes me out of the lingering stupor that had me paralyzed. “Let’s go see her.”
“See her?” I can’t contain the surprise and the hope in my voice, I get to see my girl?
“Nurse said she can have two visitors at a time, I’ll sneak the rest of the boys in later, but she needs you first.”
Following Sam down the hallway feels like a dream, a nightmare.
He stops at a door and glances over his shoulder, raises an eyebrow and pushes it open after I nod. I focus on his back as we enter the dimly lit room, but my eyes snap to the figure on the bed when I hear a small hitch in Sam’s breath.
My girl.
My imprint.
My reason for existing.
There’s so many wires. Wires running under the collar of her hospital gown, a heart rate monitor clipped to her delicate finger. Tubes, ancestors—the tubes. She has a breathing tube forced in her mouth, an IV line taped to her right forearm, but the worst yet if that’s even possible—my eyes burn at the sight of a larger gage tube peeking out from the left side of her gown currently draining into a clear container of blood at her bedside. There’s swelling and the beginning of bruising around her left eye that makes me shudder. And fuck, all the cuts, my eyes scan over every inch of exposed skin. The fucking cast on her right leg.
My sweet, sweet girl.
I take a shuddering breath as Sam scoots a chair within my reach, I tug it towards the end of her bed—afraid to touch her anywhere other than the uninjured real estate of her body, which leaves me with her left ankle. I wrap my hand around it and frown at how cold her skin is. I’m here, I’ll warm you up.
Sam pulls up on the other side of the bed facing her, “Three cracked ribs, a fractured orbital bone, a punctured lung, and a broken tibia. They’re worried about the lung, it’s been sutured, they’re monitoring the chest tube output.” He scrubs a hand down his face, “she’s sedated for her own comfort, which is why she’s intubated. To give her some rest.”
I squeeze my eyes closed as he lists everything, why my girl? My imprint? Before we’ve… even had a chance? A tear slides down my cheek and clings to my chin annoyingly.
“Paul, she’s going to make it,” my eyes snap open, ready to chew him out because fucking look at her, but he continues, “she’s banged up to hell and back, but the docs are confident she’ll recover. She just needs you and some rest.”
I glance at her and send a prayer up to the ancestors, please let them be right. I’ve never asked for anything, but I’m asking for her.
“She is strong, has to be if she’s yours.” He gives a half-assed chuckle that barely lifts the corner of my mouth.
“Ancestors know, she’s got a handful to deal with if she ever accepts the bond.” I can tell my tone is sad and I wince.
“You have to give her the chance, but I know she will.”
My eyes snap to his.
“Don’t give me that look, that girl is head over heels for you.” He dared to fucking smirk.
“H-how could you possibly know that-”
“She looks at you the same way Kim looks at Jared, same look I see in Em’s eyes every day, you’re just fucking blind.” Sam states it like it’s a matter-of-fact.
I huff, no fucking way.
“Huff all you want, but you brother, are lovable—contrary to your own hard-headed belief. And you already love her.”
“Of course I fucking do, she’s meant for me.”
“Meant for you, that’s what the imprinting tells us. But I’m talking about the love sick puppy eyes you follow her around with-”
“I don’t-” But he cuts me off.
“You do and you’re not as covert with it as you think you are.”
He’s right, I can’t fucking argue with that.
“How do you do it?” I ask him abruptly.
“Do what?” I can feel his eyes on me.
“Sit here, useless, like this. With her, like that.” My voice is quiet, afraid.
“It’s not easy,” he sighs and leans back in his plastic chair, “but you do it because she needs you, she’s the center of your gravity now, the reason behind everything we do. So we wait, together.”
I nod along, folding my arms and settling in to watch the steady rise and fall of her chest.
I’m here baby, I’m here.
Soft mummering slowly starts to peck at my awareness, the dull pain beginning to flare in my back from being hunched over the foot of this hospital bed.
“How long have I been here?” Her scratchy voice wraps around my heart and squeezes.
Her heart rate ticks up audibly on the monitor and I lift my head to answer her, “Three days.”
I squeeze her uninjured ankle gently, so fucking glad to finally see those eyes.
“Going for coffee, I’ll bring you back one.” Sam turns to kick the boys awake and it causes her to giggle, fuck I missed that sound.
As they leave and the door clicks shut, a heavy tension settles over the room causing my heart to leap into my throat.
“Sweetheart.” I opt for being gentle, she won’t meet my eyes so I swipe my thumb over the skin of her ankle.
Her eyes meet mine and I list off her injuries, needing to get the information out of the way before I fuck all of this up with my feelings, but I can’t finish the sentence—the feeling of helplessness crashes back into me.
“Paul,” I close my eyes and inhale at how gently she utters my name, “Paul.” She’s serious now, I turn to her with the beginnings of tears causing my vision to swim. Why can’t I fucking do this?
“I’m still here, what are you so scared of?” Her voice is so small, the insanity of her question pulls a laugh from my chest.
I rub at my temples and mumble a “You.” Hoping she wouldn’t catch it, terrified she would.
“What?” Surprise, she’s genuinely surprised.
“You.” My eyes lock onto hers with full force and my resolve steals a bit. “You’ve… you’ve wormed your way in here-” my chest is on fire and her breath hitches, “and I was scared. Am scared.” Pausing to gather my thoughts, the tension is thick, “your car, seeing it flipped… it’s like the world stopped and I couldn’t hear anything-couldn’t think straight, but watching you getting pulled out, I-” I groan out of frustration. “I-I-” I stutter like a fucking idiot, get a grip. “So I haven’t left. Can’t. I can’t even think of leaving this room let alone going home and just being useless-”
“Paul, I’m fine.” She tries to reach for my hands, but she stops mid-motion and lets out a small gasp, her ribs.
“Please don’t do that, don’t say that, you weren’t awake when they brought you in with that fucking tube down your throat-” my hands start trembling and I stop. “You weren’t fine and nothing-nothing else matters.” I finish with a whisper.
Her chin starts to wobble.
Fuck.
“Sweetheart,” I rise from my chair and cup her delicate cheeks, mindful of the scratches and bandages. “Sweetheart, please…” I swipe my thumb over her cheekbone to try and soothe her, but a tear spills over and threatens to stop my heart.
“I’m so sorry.” Her voice wobbles and it spears me right down to my soul.
I lean down further, pressing me forehead to her own, my nose barely brushing hers. The heart rate monitor picks up in speed and I grin, I affect her.
“I’m the one that’s sorry.” I admit quietly, before I lose my confidence. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner how I’ve felt.”
She stops breathing all together, my lips brush her cheek as I whisper into her ear, “breathe.” She immediately gulps oxygen down.
What a good girl.
After a few seconds, her unusual quietness and my anxiety gets the better of me, “You don’t have to say anything-”
“Kiss me?”
I’m done for.
Box me up and throw me in the ground.
Kiss me? Kiss her? Is this real?
She’s like gravity and I’m helpless to resist her pull, I tilt her chin upwards and I search her face—committing this moment to memory for all of eternity.
“If you-” I can’t even let her finish the thought.
Heaven, this is what heaven is like. Has to be.
My mouth seals over hers and immediately I know nothing could top this, top the feel of how goddamn perfect we fit together.
I pull back because I know she needs oxygen, her monitors are beeping erratically all over the place. But she whimpers, fucking whimpers and chases my mouth.
Ancestors—she’s got me hook, line, and sinker.
I take pity on her and lean in with a chuckle before taking her mouth again. Fuck, how on earth have I managed to wait this long for this? I fear I could kiss her all day long and then some, ravish her from sun up to sun down and still not find it in me to stop.
My hands gently slide into her hair, I can’t fucking help it. A gasp from her punches right through my sanity and I shiver. I’m on auto-pilot and I seize the opportunity to lick past her lips and I fucking moan at how goddamn perfect she is.
She’s in the hospital. For a lot of injuries. She’s in pain. A lot of pain and on a lot of medications.
I managed to rip myself away and force my feet to pace around the end of her bed, get a fucking grip Lahote.
“Too much?” Her beautiful lips tilt in a shit eating grin, she knows.
Too much? Not fucking enough.
Before I could think of how to respond, Emily pushed the door open with a soft rap of her fist against the wood “knock, knock.”
Emily is like a soothing balm over my frayed nerves, always has been.
“Come in.” I tell her as I push my chair closer so that I can take her much smaller hand in mine, careful of the IV taped to the back of her hand. I can feel a satisfied grin overtaking my mouth as my eyes glue to our joined hands.
GIRL FAIRLY NEW??? are you sure , you’re like, a natural
I only say that because I’m not seasoned with a lot of diverse works under my belt😭 I’m starting to realize I’m too hard on myself and I need to just embrace it
Y’all know damn well I have no self control… Late For Patrol is out! I’ll have Part 2 for Scared of Losing You out in the next few days! I just have to put finishing touches on it.
Summary: He’s been getting home late for the last week and I’ll be damned if I don’t get that time with him back.
Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, smut, adult themes, smut, p in v, wrap it before you tap it, curse words of course
Notes: just a quick little thing that popped up in my head. I feel like he’s the type of character people like to write as always being in charge - this ain’t that🤭
Word count: 1350
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His chest rises and falls at a normal steady pace, still deep in sleep.
I can’t keep the self-satisfied grin off my face, I never wake before he does, I never get to him first.
My mouth continues its lazy path across his collarbone, I’m in no rush to wake him. It’s rare I get to show this beautiful man my devotion and I’ll be damned if I let the opportunity go to waste.
So I travel higher, I linger in my favorite spot—the junction of his neck and the strong line of his shoulder. Paul stirs momentarily and I hold my breath, stay asleep-I’m nowhere near done.
He settles and I continue, I drag my nose slowly up his throat, inhaling his musky scent. Goddamn, he always smells so fucking good.
I pepper light kisses along his strong jaw and as I drift towards his mouth, my time is up.
Large hands find my hips beneath the sheets as his body turns towards mine.
“Good morning, handsome.” I mumble against his lips.
“Mmm, a very good morning at that, sweetheart.” His voice low and sleep-riddled, warming me from the inside out and tickling that part of my brain that is absolutely feral for him.
His eyes are still closed as I press more kisses under his jaw, transitioning to the other side that I’ve left unattended.
“Baby.” Sleepy and a little breathless, just how I like him.
“Mmmm?” I’m on a mission and I won’t be derailed.
“I have patrol this morning.” He says it like I need reminding.
“Well aware, my love.” I nip along his shoulder and he clenches the hand on my hip.
He exhales, “you want me to be late, don’t you?”
I lean back and meet his sleepy gaze. “You’ve been late getting off every night this week, the boys can deal with the consequences of that and lose out on thirty minutes.”
“Only thirty minutes?” A tired, shit-eating grin takes over his features.
I lean over to whisper in his ear, “I’d take longer if I didn’t think they’d come looking for you and I’m not trying to give anyone a show.”
A growl rumbles in his chest, I know I’ve won as I sling a leg over his hips and the bed sheets pool at my waist, exposing my bare chest to his hungry eyes.
“Fuck.” A shuddering breath is forced from his beautiful lips.
“That’s the point, sweetheart.” I press my hands to his chest and lean my head back, his large hands squeeze my thighs.
“You’ll be the fucking death of me.” Pushing my thighs backwards so that I rub against the rapidly hardening length of him.
“I’m just taking what’s mine.” It’s my turn to sound breathless, he feels so goddamn good—even like this.
“Yours,” he shudders, actually shudders under me. “All yours.” His voice is damn near reverent.
“Mine.” Something serious invades my tone as I line him up at my entrance and slowly descend.
The raw need inflating my chest snatches all rational thought, he’s the only thing that exists right now—the only thing I care about.
“Oh shit…” Gone is the sleepy timber of a freshly awoken Paul, curse words uttered with absolute clarity punch out from his throat and are hurled at the ceiling of our master bedroom.
Full. I’ll never get over the utter fullness of this man—the way he fills me with perfection every single time is sinful.
I begin to raise myself up on my knees, shins flat on either side of his hips—I don’t have to work as hard with his hands supporting me from the underside of my thighs.
“Paul.” It really is a gorgeous sight: him underneath me, head thrown back with his eyes screwed shut, mouth falling open like he can’t suck down enough oxygen, the corded muscles in his neck straining.
This. I could die happy, right here, right now. Oh if I could just paint this view. This is all I need, him like this. Angelic, completely ethereal laid out in our bed like this on a Saturday morning.
I take my time a sink back down slowly, absolutely fucking savoring the feel and the view all at once.
“Baby, more. Please.” His brows scrunch as he looks up at me, and who am I to deny this gorgeous man? Especially when he asks so nicely?
Speeding up my pace, his hands help lift my hips so that my knees don’t cramp.
My hands press against his flexed abdominal muscles and his hands squeeze a little tighter, leaving bruises no doubt.
Nothing but the huffs of our breaths and the lewd slapping of sweaty skin fill the room, it’s downright despicable.
“Wait—slow down, I-I’m going to—” he’s stuttering and his rhythm falters just a fraction. “Too-soon—”
“Mhmm, that’s the point.” I pant above him
I pick up the pace, I need to see him wrecked and ruined, I need to see his gorgeous face screwed up in the pleasure that I give him.
“But you-” there’s that adorable eyebrow scrunch I love, always the giver, worried about me.
“This is me taking what I want from you, and I want you to come, now.”
He takes it like a command and detonates not even a second later. Massive hands squeezing the fatty parts of my thigh and the pain is so goddamn welcome. His head is thrown back and it’s like he’s running a marathon with the force of his orgasm.
The sight alone throws my own release over the edge and he chokes on the oxygen trying to force its way down his throat.
Nothing, absolutely nothing compares to this, to him.
Fuck, it doesn’t even take much to get us there and we’ve been together for years.
Coming down from both of our highs, I start to laugh as I gaze down at his blissed-out expression.
“Does this ever fade?” I never want it to.
“Ancestors, I hope not.” He smiles and flips us so that I’m caged underneath his body, his temperature raging like an absolute furnace.
Paul
“You’re forty minutes late to relieve me!” Embry’s voice pings inside my brain the second I phase.
“Well-fucking-aware, brother.” I let the annoyance drip from my tone. It takes a great deal of effort to keep my thoughts away from what kept me so long, ancestors help me.
“And??” Fuck, he isn’t going to give it up.
“And what, dumbass?” I huff as I bump past him on the trail and he ruffles his coat in response.
“And whyyy are you late?” He’s insistent on an answer, but over my dead body will I answer that in this form.
Dead puppies, Emily’s grandparents, crying babies, Jacob’s stupid face, vampires, vacuuming my living room rug—
“Why the fuck are you thinking about—NO-” Embry’s train of thought abruptly ends and his paws furrow into the soft dirt of the path we’ve been running along, I whip around to face him. “You fucking ass!”
“Bro, I’m begging you, do not to press me on it.” I bare my teeth at him, grasping at literally anything else to think about.
“Disgusting…” he trots past me and shoulder checks me on the way.
“I don’t want to hear shit, she was upset you guys have been late to relieve me all week!”
A hacking sound echoes off the trees ahead of me as I lope behind him to catch up, I roll my eyes at his theatrics.
“She’s like my sister dude, c’mon.” Embry whines.
“She’s my imprint and very good at-”
“NOPE, nuh-uh, stop that shit!” He takes off like a bullet through the woods, as if distance could solve this mind-sharing problem.
“We’re not even done with our turnover lap of the Rez!” I shout after him.
“Nah, I’m done! Tapping out! Have fun!” His panicked voice makes me want to chuckle, silly kid.
I can’t wait for him to get an imprint I can tease him about.
It’s not that I don’t want to, I just don’t have the writing vision for him and I’m still fairly new to writing in general. Thinking about writing for requests kinda scares me😅 but that’s mostly just fear of disappointing the requester🙃
I think it's a real shame that you prefer to write your Paul story and completely neglect your Jasper story. I don't want to sound mean, but that's a big fuck you to the people who have been waiting so long for you to continue writing your Jasper story
This actually made me laugh, Anon.
I’m a new writer. I had a lot of shit happen to me in the last year. I’m not the same person I was when I started my Jasper story. Moods change, inspirations change, thought processes change, the will to fucking live and decide to keep going changes. I’m not the first writer to do this and I won’t be the last.
I’m also not a fucking robot.
No writer is a robot, no writer that does this shit for free owes anyone anything.
Does it fucking suck from your end? Absolutely. Does it fucking suck from my end? I promise you, it sucks so much worse as a writer that loves what she does. Of course I’ve said exactly what you just said in my own head non-stop since I decided to take a break, because stopping was the LAST thing I wanted to do - but again, life. Fucking. Happens.
Miss me with this entitled shit. Read what I write or go somewhere else, no one is twisting your arm to read their fanfiction and shitting on someone you’re waiting on to crank out a new chapter? Nah, I have plenty of amazing followers that are supportive, that understand the shit I’ve been through, that have been kind and patient while I’ve been getting back to the me that wants to finish that story. THOSE are the people I write for.
Old people-pleaser me would’ve spiraled at this kind of ask, new me ain’t taking this negativity. I have a big girl life outside of this app, I write what I feel like, when I have time. Unfollow me if you have a problem with that.
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