twilight request: paul and human reader know each other since childhood and he imprinted on her at this time so its been known that they're "together" but he never officially asked her to be his girlfriend or anything and reader gets really frustrated with that bc she feels like paul and the whole imprinting thing are trapping her and she feels suffocate by him sometimes so tension !!!
distance makes the heart grow fonder
pairing; paul lahote x fem!reader
word count; 1.4k
warnings; hurt/comfort, angst, fluffy ending, paul is a dumb boy but he makes up for it ig
a/n; ahhh i missed writing for twilight! luv my boy paul<333
You're pouting, pressed into the well worn divot in the seat of Emily's couch as you glower at Paul from across the room; the leather almost swallows you whole, suctioning against your bare legs when you shuffle to face him. He huffs when you sigh, corded biceps crossing over his chest.
"What?" He feigns innocence as though you weren't witness to him flirting his way through the party at La Push last night. Something red hot and angry twists at your insides as you recall the memories.
"I'm not your girlfriend."
He breathes a sharp exhale, a brow raising in question.
"No, you're not."
You resist the urge to roll your eyes at his dismissal, pushing back the sharp sting at the edges of your vision and instead sinking further into the old leather and picking at a loose thread in your sweater. You can feel his eyes on you when you angle your body away from his, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as it warbles.
"So how come you think you have this stupid claim on me, then? A guy likes me and you threaten to rip his throat out, but you're allowed to flirt with any girl with a pulse?"
A low warning rumble pushes through Paul's chest, a signal that you dutifully ignore. He takes a step towards you, then two and three, until he's looming over your figure.
"Because you are mine," he says, brow pulling tight.
"So I'm yours but you're not mine?" you persist. "I don't think that's fair." Your blood roars in your ears; everything feels too hot, jealousy pouring into your veins like molten lava, thrumming and rushing against your frantic pulse. "I'm done, Paul."
He blinks. Takes another step towards you before you're holding your hand out, pressing the tips of your manicured nails into the dip of his stomach to halt his approach.
"What?" His mouth feels dry, struggling to form words as he stares– just stares, brow pinched, nostrils flaring.
"I- I can't do this. I can't spend my life waiting around for you when you don't care about me."
He crouches, sliding those warm palms up and around your calves, cupping the backs of your knees.
"You think I don't care about you?"
You sniffle, folding your knees up to your chest; Paul moves fluidly with you, thick fingers curled round your limbs as though he's an extension of your own body.
"Not the way I care about you."
Your body betrays you, flushing white-hot as he knuckles at your jaw, the pad of his thumb - calloused from years of fighting and rough play - pushing its way into the soft flesh of your cheek.
A tear slips from your welling waterline and gathers in the crook of his knuckle.
"Baby-"
You bristle, shrugging away his touch as if it will somehow lessen the ache in your chest, the hollow feeling you can't seem to shake. He crawls upward, onto the couch next to you, his spine bowing until he's curled over your shuddering form.
"Don't call me that. You don't mean it."
"Bab-"
"Stop."
He straightens, taut as a bowstring, watching as your back curves and you rake your flushed face against the rough denim of your jeans. You feel his attitude change, soft pity melting to anger, spine stiffening, lips pushing into a hard line that morphs his expression into something you hate.
Because he never directs his anger at you.
Shame - ugly and cruel - licks at your veins, heats your blood almost hot enough to curdle. It scalds your every vein and sours you from the inside out.
You swipe at your swollen eyes with the backs of your fingers, unfolding your limbs until you're standing. Your voice wavers as you speak.
"I'm going home," you croak.
"You can't just leave!" He throws his hands up, standing until you're chest to chest, nose to nose. "We need to talk about this."
"There's nothing to talk about. You didn't ask to be shackled to me."
"You think that's what you are to me?" he asks, and the cruel bite to his tone is enough to make you cry all over again.
"What am I, then?"
A beat passes. Two. Three. Paul's fingers curl into tight fists at his sides; your eyes sting when you push back the telltale itch at your waterline, and you sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that he means more to you than you do to him.
"I'm going home," you say again, firmer. "It's better this way, Paul. Trust me."
It's always what you've been best at, anyway. Running.
Paul's torn between following you and sinking further into the couch; he opts for the latter, teeth bared in a groan as he curls a fist around a stray cushion, nails almost piercing and tearing the soft fabric.
The engine of your truck sounds far away in his ears as you pull out of the driveway, his chest hollow, the ache growing as you cover more distance.
Away from him.
When you walk through the door, the silence of your apartment is like a strike to the head; the soft whooshing of the washing machine does little to soothe the throbbing in your chest at your imprinters absence.
Not that you're sure he really is yours.
You're quick to strip of the tee and jeans you're sporting, eager to rid yourself of Paul's scent – once a comfort, now it only serves to deepen the aching tremors that wrack your body with white-hot agony.
The quiet lasts two days. Two days of no text messages, no phone calls, not a whisper of his name among the wind. Complete radio silence.
Two days until Paul Lahote is beating down your door with a ferocity that should terrify you.
It only serves to kick up your flaring anger as you wrench the door open, the hinges rattling.
He doesn't give you a second to breathe, surging forward to lock his arms around you like a vice, shoulders shuddering with every laboured breath.
"Paul," you scold, squirming in his grip when he tightens his hold on you, nuzzling his nose against your pulse point. The frantic way in which he clings to you, palms kneading the flesh beneath your t-shirt, is almost primal – as though he's scenting, marking you.
"You know how much it fucking hurts to be away from you?" he grunts, backing you into the wall. You gasp, instinctually threading your fingers through the hairs at his nape as he hungrily grabs at every inch of your skin he can reach. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, scoffing at his words.
As if he has any right to feel this way. As if this isn't his fault.
"You know how much you hurt me..." You take a breath, voice warbling as tears gather at your lash line. "...all the time? You know how much you torture me?"
Paul coos, smoothing a hand over your head. "I know, baby. I know."
You sniffle, and your throat tightens, a silent sob pushing its way from your clenched teeth.
"Hate you," you whimper. "Hate you so much."
Paul groans, pressing his chest to yours. His rumbling cadence seeps right down to your bones.
"I'll swear off it all, princess. No more girls, no more flirting. No more parties. Just me 'nd you, how 'bout that?"
You sigh, eyes wide as you peer curiously up at him. "You don't mean that."
Desperation coats his every word. "Mean every word of it, I promise. Please, these last two days have been hell without you, princess. I don't want to be away from you."
"You're just saying that," you purl. "You'd be unhappy."
Paul's head dips until his lips are ghosting across your cheek, his voice rasping. He kneads circles into the fat of your hip, nudging you closer into his space with every reverent touch.
"I can't breathe without you," he says, voice thick with tears. "I'm miserable. I'll do anything, please."
You sniffle, preening at his touch like a needy kitten. "You wanna be with me? Or you're just sayin' that 'cause I made a fuss about it?"
"Wanna be with you always, baby. I'm yours."
You sob, curling your fingers around the nape of his neck to press wet, smacking kisses to his cheeks. Tears coat your lips as you mouth at him, thumbs rubbing circles over his jaw.
Paul's chest shudders around an exhale.
"I love you."
You laugh wetly; he lifts you up until your legs twine around his waist.
"How about you show me how much you love me, Lahote."
Okay this took me months to finish, whoopsy!! Thank you for your patience, let me know what you think ❤️
Paul was in love. Hopelessly, irrevocably, in love.
You had come into his life when he least expected it. Completely shattering the walls that surrounded his heart, the ones he was sure were built to last.
See, Paul was not the "love" type. He did hookups, one night stands, flings, but never, ever love.
If he saw the signs that there were stronger feelings afloat, he would cut it off immediately. No explanation, no shame.
He didn't do love.
It's not that he hadn't wondered what it was like to imprint, seeing his brothers and their relationships. But he was sure of one thing: that kind of life wasn't for him. 
That's why he hates to admit that he fell for you...almost too easy.
When Emily said she was bringing a friend over for dinner, he smugly asked if you were "hot". She rolled her eyes and made him swear that he wouldn't try anything with you, knowing how he was.
"She's the sweetest person in the world, and we're becoming best friends. Do NOT ruin that,"
Little did she know that she was bringing home his soulmate.
When Emily introduced you to the pack and Paul imprinted, she sagged her shoulders in defeat. Sam couldn't stop laughing, seeing Emily turn to pout at him with her arms crossed.
"I won't let him hurt her," Sam assured as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, kissing her temple.
"Better not."
-
It had started off as lingering gazes from afar, to small conversations in passing. Paul was so scared of your rejection, and you didn't think he could ever be interested in someone like you. After all, you had heard rumors about the hot head, and none of them involved relationships.
Both of you were so busy convincing yourselves that you meant nothing to each other, that you had no idea just how truly deep the other was.
When he had finally gotten the courage to ask you on a date, it was your turn to be nervous.
"He's never even gone on a date, Y/N," Kim had told you that afternoon while helping you get ready. "That means you're pretty damn special."
Paul had been nothing less than a gentleman. He had been sweet, attentive, and ended the night with a soft kiss on your cheek.
"Can I see you again?" He had asked outside your door, just above a whisper.
Your smiled widened softly as you nodded, your eyes locked in his.
Pauls world had flipped upside down. His usual charm and charisma crumbled, replaced with anxious nerves. It wasn't just the imprint bond that made him fall head first. It was that, to him, you were perfect.
Paul knew right away that you were too good for him. But instead of accepting that and moving on, something in him changed.
He had wanted to be better, for you.
When you weren't around, the girls joked that you were the sunshine to his raging storm. They'd never seen him like this before. He was just calmer around you, more steady. Emily and Kim gushed over this completely different version of him.
-
One date led to the next, and before either of you realized, you were seeing each other.
All the time.
You would spend a majority of your day at Emily's house, who was more than thrilled to have someone around to chat and help with the cooking.
That is, when Paul was on patrol and not in your vicinity.
The pack quickly realized that Paul showed affection by being very handsy.
There was never a moment when you two were in the same room that he didn't have some sort of hold on you.
Whether it be a hand squeezing your knee under the table, his arms wrapped around your torso, or pecking soft kisses on your neck when he thought no one was looking.
You vividly remember the day that Embry walked into the bathroom and caught you both in a heated make out session, his one hand engulfed in your hair as the other held you up against the sink.
"Get the fuck out!" Paul seethed.
"THE DOOR WAS UNLOCKED!?" Embry looked at him incredulously as he slammed the door and stormed off.
Paul looked at you, watching your face turn bright red as you tucked into the crook of his neck, your laugh ringing through his ears like a sirens song.
Paul didn't expect this, he hadn't wanted this.
But he'd be lying to himself if he didn't know one thing.
He loved you.
~
At least, that's what he wishes he had told you. Before his entire world came crashing down around him.
Before he sit here, in this cold, unforgiving metal chair. Staring at you, the holder of his heart, bruised, battered and helpless on that hospital bed.
It was his fault. Sam, Jared, Embry, anyone could try to tell him it wasn't. That this could have happened to any of them. But he knew the truth.
He let his hot headed, egotistical, selfishness get in the way. That anger that he swallowed and tried to hide. It had bubbled to the surface like a vice, and now here you lay because of it.
If he knew he would ultimately be here in the end, he would have handled things much differently.
~
It all started when another pack came into town. They were supposed to be just passing through. When it was found out that the alpha and Billy had been good friends in the past, they were invited to stay for a few weeks.
"We must share this land with our kind," Billy had said. "Treat them as family."
All of that was perfectly fine. This wasn't the first pack that had come and visit. They were respectful, cordial, and even friendly.
Except for one of them.
They had all been invited to the weekly bonfire. It was a crisp autumn night, just chilly enough for you to be comfortably snugged against Paul as the fire roared.
The men sat around the pit, buzzing in conversation, while the imprints laughed and took turns sharing stories. It was getting to be a really good night.
The pack had one lone wolf. He was a bit younger, albeit just as big as the rest of the men. He didn't speak to anyone, rather than give off dirty looks and sneers from the sidelines.
"I'm sorry about him, he's new and quite troubled," their alpha had said.
No one really paid him much attention after that.
Until he made the biggest mistake any of them could.
He sauntered over to you.
Paul had been by your side the entire time. One hand wrapped around your waist, the other with a drink in his hand. He would softly squeeze your side every now and then, nuzzling his nose in your neck.
"You look so beautiful tonight," he'd whisper in your ear, making you smile.
Paul looked in your eyes for a brief moment, and he knew. He would tell you tonight. Later on, when the crowd faded and it was just the two of you, he would say those three words that he had been terrified to say all of his life. His heart preemptively beat out of his chest, and he tried to relax.
When his drink was empty he had made a small acknowledgment that he was going to get a new one, leaving you for just a moment.
That's when it happened.
The man had come up to you from behind, like he had been waiting for his opportunity. He slung his arm around your shoulder, tightly gripping you. You gasped, stunned from his aggression around the movement, smelling his breath that reeked of alcohol.
"Damn, are you a sexy little thing. You could do so much better than him sweetheart, why don't you come-"
He didn't even have time to finish his sentence before he was forcefully launched onto the ground, Paul towering over him in front of you. He was trembling, growling intensely at the man beneath him. The noise deafened as everyone stood up, staring in shock at what they just witnessed.
One of the imprints pulled you back, just in time as both the man and Paul phased, teeth snapping angrily as they clawed at one another.
"PAUL!" You shrieked, tears welling in your eyes. Emily appeared out of nowhere, grabbing you by the arm and forcing you back into the house where you were out of sight.
Several of the men from both pack's phased, desperately attempting to rip the two off of each other.
Once the door to the house was closed you sobbed into Emily's arms, completely terrified and shaking as she rubbed your back,
"It's okay, they'll take care of him. I promise,"
Emily was able to calm you down slowly, understanding the intensity of the situation. You had seen Paul phase, but never out of anger.
Even though you were pretty certain Paul could handle himself, you couldn't shake that disgusting feeling you got from that guy. It made your stomach nauseous.
Around half an hour later, you sat at the table with Emily when the boys walked into the house. Paul immediately rushed over to you, engulfing you in his arms. Feeling his touch made your emotions heighten all over again, tears flooding his shoulders.
"Shh, baby I'm right here. It's okay, I'm not going nowhere," he said into your hair as you just hugged him tighter.
Emily looked to Sam with wild eyes.
"They took him back to their camp. He won't be back here again." He said, as if reading her mind.
But the look he shared with Paul after, was less than convincing.
----- A few days later ------
"I'm going to get this new book that just came out at that bookstore in town, and then I'll be right over," you had said over the phone to Paul.
"Whatever you want babe, we're about to watch some movie," he smiled.
"Tell Jared to lay off all the popcorn and save some for me?" you giggled.
"Anything for you."
That was nearly two hours ago. Paul sat in the living room with the boys, the movie playing that Embry had been dying for them to watch. But he was barely paying attention, drumming his fingers along the armchair. Why weren't you here yet? Paul was getting concerned, but didn't want to bother you or seem like the controlling type. After all, you were one to easily lose track of time in a bookstore.
Paul hadn't told you what he wanted to say that night, given everything that happened.
He wasn't worried anymore though. If anything, he was more confident in his feelings. He figured that when the time was right, he'd tell you.
His phone rang, your name plastered on the screen as Paul sighed of relief.
"Hey, are you almost here?"
"Paul." You whispered, so low he almost didn't hear it. He didn't know if it was the bond or general instincts, but he immediately sensed your fear.
He stood up abruptly from the couch, eyebrows furrowed. The sudden movement attracted the attention of the pack, the boys pausing the movie and listening in with their hearing.
"What's wrong baby? Tell me."
"T-T-that guy. The one from the bonfire," you breathed.
Paul froze, his stomach dropped, his heart rapidly beating in his chest.
"He's at the bookstore. He's outside in his car and I think he saw me. I-" your voice cracked as tears welled in your eyes.
"Y/N, stay right there. Do you hear me? Do not go outside. I'm on my way." after you agreed, Paul hung up the phone.
One look behind him and everyone was already up, ready to follow him.
"Let's go," Sam commanded the others, as they tore off their shirts and raced outside.
Emily looked to Kim with fearful eyes, them being the only ones left.
"I don't have a good feeling about this,"
---
Paul could count on his hand the number of times he was scared.
Right now, he was terrified.
Within ten minutes, they had arrived to town and at the bookstore. Your car was still parked, but you were no where to be found.
Sam had to hold Paul back from practically jumping over the counter when the cashier told them you had left a few minutes earlier with a guy.
Heading back outside by the woods beyond the store, Sam ordered the pack to shift and separate, knowing they'd have better senses when scouring the area outside.
Paul and Sam were together, and Paul was about to come unglued. Every minute that passed felt like hours. Thoughts of you flooded his mind, regrets about every little thing he did that led to this. He should have never left you alone. If anything happened to you...
No. He had to focus.
They were deep in the forest when the sound of rustled branches startled them.
What emerged made Paul's heart drop.
It was the man from the other pack, also in his wolf form.
But you weren't with him.
"Where the FUCK is she!?" Paul demanded through his mind, his desperation turning into pure rage.
The wolf snarled, "You always get what you want, don't you? You don't deserve her...you can't even protect her."
Paul bared his teeth, "And what the fuck makes you think you do?! Huh?? I have every right by tribal law to tear you apart you if you so much as TOUCHED her."
The wolf huffed, "You think I give a shit about that? About any of this? I didn't want to be like this..."
"Then why take her?" Sam questioned, trying to remain calm.
His mouth curled up as he sneered, "Because at least I finally have the strength, to take whatever it is that I want."
Before Paul could charge at the wolf, he winced as the mind link was overwhelmed with screaming.
"I FOUND HER! I FOUND HER!" Embry croaked. A flash of the image of you overpowered his mind.
You were tied to a tree by rope and duct tape. You were bruised and bloodied, scratches all over your body. Tears streamed down your face as you weakly reached your arms out to Embry.
The other wolf, seeing this, laughed maniacally. "You gotta admit though...she's a fighter."
Paul's vision went red as he lunged.
---------
Paul sat in the chair across from your hospital bed. He leaned over and rubbed his temples, as if by doing this, he could erase the memories of breaking that wolf down.
It wasn't until the man surrendered and phased back, crying and helpless, did Sam and the other alpha who found them, manage to rip Paul off just before the job was done.
Embry had rushed you to the local hospital where he said you were attacked by an animal. Luckily, Dr. Cullen took over before any follow up questions were asked.
"She'll be alright Paul, you saved her life." Sam put his hand on Paul's shoulder next to him.
Paul huffed, "She wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for me. If I would have just told him to fuck off, not gotten so angry at the bonfire..."
"Stop. Any of us would have done the same. I can promise you that." Sam interrupted, shaking his head.
They sat there in silence for awhile.
The monitors beeping started to pick up, and you squinted your eyes tight before slowly opening them.
"Paul?" You wheezed, your throat on fire.
Paul practically leaped out of his seat to come to your side.
"Hey, hey, I'm here." He said as he took your hand in his, running his fingers softly through your hair with the other.
Sam took this as his que to go back to the waiting room, giving Paul a reassuring nod as he left.
"You saved me," you said softly, smiling as you squeezed his hand.
Paul nearly collapsed. After all of this, you didn't hate him. You weren't too scared to be with him, or think he was just a monster.
"I will do anything for you. Forever, you know that?" He whispered.
He cleared his throat, "It's because I love you."
You blinked, almost as if you were processing what you just heard. You supposed you both would say those words eventually, but to actually hear it, was something else.
"I love you too," you said as your eyes welled with tears.
That's when he leaned down and kissed you...really kissed you. Like he was afraid he would wake up and this would all be a dream.
A "whoops" interrupted you, as you both pulled away, slightly breathless. You couldn't help but laugh as you saw Embry, cheeks flushed, awkwardly wave as he was the first of the pack behind him to step in.
"I can't catch a break with these two," he sighed to Jared, who snickered.
The girls came in with your favorite candy and snacks, giving you hugs and telling you how worried they'd been. The boys chatted with one another, and Paul never left your side.
Every so often, he'd squeeze your hand three times, and you'd squeeze it back four.
𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You never meant to get tangled up with the Lost Boys, but a wrong turn in the woods led you to them—four vampires with glowing eyes and dangerous smiles. Now, weeks later, you’re theirs. Surrounded by their cold skin and sharp promises, you’re not just safe—you’re wanted, desired, and maybe too far gone to care what they are.
𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1.7k
𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: suggestive themes. sexual tension. possessiveness.
The boardwalk hums with life, the carousel’s tinny music clashing with the roar of motorbikes and the screams from the roller coaster. You weave through the crowd, the salty ocean breeze tugging at your hair, your waitress apron still tied loosely around your waist from a double shift at the diner. Your feet ache, your head’s foggy, and all you want is to collapse into bed.
But the weight of their eyes on you, always watching, always there, makes your skin prickle with something that’s not quite fear anymore.
It started that night in the woods. A stupid shortcut after a late shift, your flashlight flickering, and then those glowing eyes. Four of them stepped out of the shadows like they owned the night. Paul, with his wild grin and a joint dangling from his lips. Marko, all sharp edges and sharper laughter. Dwayne, silent, his dark eyes pinning you in place. And David, cold and commanding, like he was sizing you up for dinner.
You should’ve screamed. Run. Done something. Instead, you snapped at David to get out of your way, or you’d make him. The words had tumbled out before you could stop them, fueled by exhaustion and defiance.
Paul had howled with laughter, Marko’s eyes had glinted with something dangerous, and even Dwayne’s stoic mask cracked into a faint smirk. David, though—he’d just stared, his lips curling into a slow, predatory smile.
“Feisty,” he’d said, voice like gravel and smoke. “I like that.”
You thought that was the end of it. A weird encounter with some punks who hung out in the wrong part of town. But then they started showing up everywhere.
Paul slipping a mixtape labeled “For Our Girl” onto your windowsill, filled with Mötley Crüe and The Cure. Marko ambushing you at the pier, dragging you to a secluded stretch of beach to watch the stars his arm brushing yours. Dwayne wordlessly showing up at your rundown apartment to fix the lock after you mentioned it was busted, his hands steady and sure, his gaze lingering too long on your throat.
And David. David, who one night draped his leather coat over your shoulders when the wind off the ocean turned sharp, his gloved fingers grazing your jaw as he tilted your face up to meet his icy blue eyes. “Anyone messes with you,” he said, voice low and deadly, “they answer to us.”
Now, weeks later, you’re unsure what you are to them. Not a victim—they’ve made that clear. Not just a friend, either. There’s a heat in the way they watch you, a hunger that’s equal parts thrilling and terrifying. You’re theirs, they say, and the word carries a weight you’re only starting to understand.
Tonight, you feel it more than ever. You’re halfway across the boardwalk when Paul’s voice cuts through the noise, lazy and teasing. “Yo, babe, where you runnin’ off to?”
You turn, and there they are, lounging against the railing like they own the place. Paul’s sprawled out, one leg kicked up, his blond hair a mess from the wind. Marko’s next to him, twirling a switchblade between his fingers, his patchwork jacket catching the neon glow. Dwayne leans back, arms crossed, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he watches you with that quiet intensity that makes your pulse race. And David—David stands at the center, his cigarette glowing red in the dark, his smirk promising trouble.
“Home,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “Some of us have jobs, you know.”
Paul laughs, loud and bright, hopping off the railing to sling an arm around your shoulders. “Jobs are overrated. Come hang with us. We’ve got plans.”
“Plans?” You raise an eyebrow, glancing at the others. Marko’s grin is all teeth, and Dwayne’s expression doesn’t shift, but you catch the faintest tilt of his head like he’s daring you to say yes. David just exhales a plume of smoke, watching you through half-lidded eyes.
“Something… fun,” David says, and the word drips with suggestion, his voice curling around you like a promise.
Your stomach flips. You know what they are. You’ve seen how their eyes glow in the dark, and their teeth glint a little too sharp. You’ve noticed the bloodstains on Marko’s jacket that he laughs off and the way Dwayne’s hands are always cold when they brush your skin. Vampires. The word sits heavy in your mind, but instead of running, you’re still here, caught in their orbit.
“Fun,” you repeat, crossing your arms. “Last time you said that, Marko tried to teach me to surf at three a.m. I nearly drowned.”
Marko snickers, flipping the switchblade closed. “You loved it, admit it. Looked hot in that wetsuit, too.”
“Keep dreaming,” you shoot back, but a smile tugs at your lips, and Marko’s eyes light up with mischief.
Paul tightens his arm around you, pulling you closer. “C’mon, babe. Live a little. Or, y’know… unlive a little.” He winks, and you roll your eyes, but the heat of his body against yours sends a shiver down your spine.
Dwayne finally moves, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell the leather of his jacket and the faint tang of salt and iron that clings to him. “You’re tired,” he says, voice low, almost gentle. “Let us take you home.”
It’s not a question, but there’s no threat in it either. Just a quiet certainty, like he already knows you’ll say yes. You glance at David, who’s still watching you, his cigarette forgotten between his fingers. There’s something in his gaze—possessive but not cruel. Like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do.
“Fine,” you say, exhaling like you’re annoyed, but your heart’s pounding. “But I’m not riding on the back of anyone’s bike. Last time, Paul nearly crashed us into a dumpster.”
“Lies!” Paul gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “I’m an artist on that bike.”
“An artist at chaos,” you mutter, and Marko laughs, sharp and delighted.
David flicks his cigarette away, stepping closer until he’s right in front of you, his presence overwhelming. “You’ll ride with me,” he says, and it’s not a request. His gloved hand brushes your cheek, lingering just long enough to catch your breath. “Unless you’re scared.”
You scoff, meeting his eyes. “Of you? Please.”
His smirk widens, and for a second, you think he’s going to kiss you right there in front of everyone. Instead, he steps back, jerking his head toward the bikes parked nearby. “Let’s go.”
The ride to your apartment is a blur of wind and adrenaline, David’s bike roaring beneath you as you cling to his waist, the leather of his coat cool against your cheek. The others follow their laughter and whoops cutting through the night.
When you reach your place, you expect them to drop you off and peel out, but they don’t. They follow you inside, sprawling across your tiny living room like they own it—Paul kicking off his boots, Marko raiding your fridge, Dwayne leaning against the wall, watching you with that unreadable stare.
David doesn’t sit. He prowls, circling you like a predator as you untie your apron and toss it onto the counter. “You’re tense,” he says, voice low, almost a purr. “Rough night?”
“You could say that,” you reply, leaning against the counter, trying to ignore how your skin tingles under his gaze. “Some creeps at the diner wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
The air shifts. Paul’s head snaps up from where he’s sprawled on the couch, his grin gone. Marko freezes a bottle of soda halfway to his lips. Dwayne’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing. David stops moving, his gaze locking onto yours, sharp and dangerous.
“Who?” David asks, and the single word is a blade.
You shrug, trying to play it off. “Just some drunk tourists. I handled it.”
“You handled it,” Marko repeats, setting the bottle down with a thud. “What’d they do?”
“Nothing worth mentioning,” you say, but your voice wavers and you curse yourself for it. “Just… got too close. Said some shit. My boss kicked them out.”
Dwayne pushes off the wall, stepping closer. “They touch you?” His voice is quiet, but there’s a lethal edge to it that makes your heart skip.
“No,” you say quickly. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“It’s not fine,” Paul growls, sitting up. “Point ‘em out next time. We’ll handle it.”
You laugh, but it’s shaky. “What, you gonna beat up every jerk who looks at me wrong?”
“Yes,” Marko says, dead serious, and the intensity in his eyes makes your stomach flip.
David’s gloved hand cups your chin, tilting your face to meet his gaze. His touch is firm but not painful, and the heat of his stare makes your breath hitch. “No one touches what’s ours,” he says, voice low and deliberate. “No one bothers you. Ever.”
The possessiveness in his words should scare you, but it doesn’t. Instead, it sends a thrill through you, dangerous and electric. You’re not sure when you stopped being afraid of them—when their sharp edges and glowing eyes started feeling like safety instead of a threat.
“I can take care of myself,” you say, but your voice is softer now, your defiance melting under the weight of their attention.
“We know,” Dwayne says, his voice a low rumble as he steps closer, his hand brushing your arm. “But you don’t have to.”
Paul’s on his feet now, crowding in, his grin back but sharper, hungrier. “You’re ours, babe. Means we’ve got your back. Always.”
Marko’s behind you, closer than you realized, his breath cool against your neck as he murmurs, “And we don’t share.”
Your pulse races, the air thick with tension—sexual, dangerous, intoxicating. You’re surrounded, their bodies close enough that you can feel the unnatural chill of their skin, the promise of something more in every lingering touch. David’s thumb brushes your lower lip, and you swallow hard, caught in the pull of his gaze.
“Get some rest,” he says finally, stepping back and breaking the spell. “We’ll be around.”
They leave as silently as they came, the roar of their bikes fading into the night. But the weight of their promise lingers, heavy and warm, and as you crawl into bed, you know there’s no going back. You’re theirs—and you’re not sure you’d want it any other way.
🍷 summary: Reader is a newly turned vampire and mated toThe Lost Boys. She was turned a few months before Micheal arrived. And the day that Frog Brothers come with the Emerson’s the Reader decided to sleep with her mates. And in their haste to rid Santa Carla of the Vampires they make a grave mistake. (No use of Y/n)
🍷 Word Count:2.7k
🍷: Part 2
The cave was quiet, the only sound being the waves hitting the rocks outside. All of the inhabitants of the cave peacefully sleeping, well almost all of them. Something instinctual, deep in your gut and the back of your mind is telling you somethings not right. Slipping through the dark fog in the faint chime of hushed whispers. Voices exchanging softly, all dim and low like they were sharing secrets.
It has you pushing your face deeper into David’s neck in an attempt to muffle out the sounds, desperate to escape fully back into the comfort of a deep sleep.
You usually slept in a bed that wasn’t far from where the boys slept, while Star and Laddie slept in the more open part of the cave. Something in your mind told you to sleep with the boys, so you listened to it.
When you arrived back at the cave after feeding, you were brought to where they slept. There was a little arguing over who you slept with,but something was telling you to sleep with David. So you stopped them from arguing,and they all climbed up to the bar they hang from. Dwanye stayed on the ground with you, so you had help getting to David. Once David is settled he opens his arms for you, and with a kiss to your head Dwanye helps you wrap yourself around David. Once you’re settled David wrapped his arms around your waist, letting you tuck yourself into his hold.
It’s still daytime. Something deep in your gut and the back of your mind assures that the sun is still high up in the sky, scorching and hot. An intuition that you still don't quite understand, but it has your limbs turning heavy and lax, muscles relaxing in David’s hold Your exhaustion has you numb to the world, the delicate rhythm of the waves crashing outside the cave muting down into nothing, the sound of the quiet voices vanishing.It must be two of the boys. Awake already. It would strike you as odd on any other circumstance, and to a degree it does, but your sluggish brain is quick to let go of that train of thought.
The insistence that something is wrong fading into an ignorable afterthought. The scuffle of shoes along dust and stone ignites a tremble down the notches of your spine, as though your body is begging for you to wake up and investigate while it simultaneously sinks further into David’s tight hold.
Something isn't right, something isn't right.
It's like a chant. A primal whisper that coils through your bones and sinew. Leftovers from your ancestors, remnants of the instincts that had kept them alive long ago, but it all seems null and void against the fatigue that seems to press you down like a physical weight. Even while hidden away from the sun it seems to sap you of all your strength.
It's impossible to even try to rouse yourself. Its as though you're held under water. The strength of that debilitating exhaustion sweeps back over you, making the sound of the angry, masculine voice that rises up high within the cave, reverberating from the dust covered stone, dim and distant. As though it's miles away.
“I feel a draft. I think there’s something up here.” You hear from far-away, murky and vague.
“Let’s check it out Sam.” Another voice.
“I’ll be right back Mike.” A third voice. Mike. Mike. That sounds familiar from somewhere - someone. A name mentioned in passing. Mike. Michael. A discussion carried on by the boys while they were all encircled around one of the burn barrels one night. So casual while they considered the fate of a complete stranger as though they were discussing dinner and not the destiny of a man's soul. Some sap that had apparently caught the eye of Star. She hadn't wanted it to go far, but then again, it's never supposed to go that far. But David wanted the guy dead. He was meant to be her first, she hadn't been able to do it.
A wave of muddled scents breaks past the barrier of the rotting wood. Unfamiliar and thick, coated with cologne and shampoo that you don't recognize. All of it twisting with something even more out of place here. Something alive. Heat and life and blood. Iron, warmth, and salt. It's distinctly human. Living. The alarms go off in your head. Raging and flashing red in a way that's violent. And a bright light flashes behind your eyelids.
“JESUS.” One of the voices yells, another one screams before being cut off. Your eyes blink, lashes fluttering as you try to fight the sleep weighing your lids down. Your vision blurs a little, straining through the exhaustion, but then you notice the three figures standing below. They're children. Looking lost, dressed in camo and gear as though they've prepared to fight a war. One has his hand wrapped around the mouth of the blonde child muffling his scream. Wide blue eyes reflecting a visible panic while he stumbles back away from the other two. Another swears, cursing sharply under his breath while he flinches. But it's the one closest to you that moves. His dog tags glinting and chiming from a movement so sharp that it had to be a reflex, but the determination burning in his eyes is purposeful.
“I thought they were supposed to be in coffins.”
“That’s what this cave is. One giant coffin.” The one with the bandanna says as he moved with the other one dressed in camo. They begin to climb up the wood beside your group.
“They’re at their most vulnerable. Easy pickings.”
“You just have to kill the leader huh.”
“We don’t know which on he is. We’ll kill them all.”
“We’ll start with her. She’s already seen us.” They say as the climb closer to where you’re hanging with David. An animal kind of panic tears through you, lighting up your nerves like lives wires, electricity and adrenaline burning through your veins with the white heat of fire. You try to move and wake up David, but your limbs struggle, sleep thawing in your tired arms and legs.
"Kill her, kill her!" One shouts all while the blonde in the background yells at them to stop, but it falls on deaf ears. The boy wielding the stake lunges forward with a war cry. You manage to wiggle slightly in David’s hold.
“David wake up!” A panicked shout rips from your throat, but David remains sleeping.
"The bitch is trying to wake them, you gotta get her before they wake up," someone shouts in a panicked rush. You continue to squirm in David’s hold trying to get the two of you away from the teenagers. Poised in the air, high above the boy's head in an arch. There's hardly any time to act and fear sinks in your gut, chilled and frozen as he drives it down with all the strength he has in his body; his lips curled in a hateful snarl. He's going to kill you. This is it. This is how you die. Your mind screams it over and over again on a broken loop, but your body acts all on its own. It twists so David’s unconscious body turns away from the stake,and your heart is away from the point.
There's no time to rejoice when the stake is already piercing your skin. It sinks in deep, parting flesh and muscle beneath its lethal point. The boy collapses and tips over the side of the ledge that they were standing on. You don't initially realize that you're screaming. You feel it first. The strength of your agonized wail shreds up your throat as though you've swallowed nails, but that pain is secondary to the fire and anguish pulsing through your shoulder. The stake is still wedged inside of your back, burrowing past skin and meat, prying at your shoulder blade like it means to rip it free from the sinew keeping it intact with the other bones. You're bleeding. You can smell it, sharp and distinct in the panicked air. The pain is crippling. Ripping and engulfing, eating up your spine.
The boy with the blue bandana wrapped around his head is stepping forward, already clasping a stake in a white-knuckled hold. The resolve in his eyes is haunting. The desire to kill you fervent and glaring in his stare. That's all it takes to have your voice spilling from you, rising up in another terrified shout.
“BOYS WAKE UP!”
"Say your prayers bloodsucker." He practically spits it out, lips twisting in a grimace as he moves forward preparing to stake you again. And then combined hissing and snarling fills the pit as the boys awaken. They finally awoke to your shouts and the smell of your blood. Four sets of yellow eyes focus in on the three humans in front of them as snarls fill the air.
"Guys, guys, we gotta go." It's the blonde that's repeating it over and over as he sees the vampires awaks, stumbling over his words while he jerks on the other's arms. They give in without any resistance. Fear alive and bright in their eyes, even while the kid with the bandana points his stake in your direction and tosses a quick "This isn't over" at you as the three of them take off in a brisk jumble in the direction that they came from.
The growls from within the cavern raise up higher as the boys realize what happened and it has the kids in a full-blown panic. Tripping over their feet in an ungraceful run as they try and reach the opening of the cave. Your body trembles and your head rolls forward onto the snarling David’s chest.
“YOU’RE DEAD MEAT.”
You can feel your lung snag and pinch as though it's being burned from the inside out, catching on the point of the stake when you inhale. It has you crying, a tear managing to trickle free as your ribcage shudders violently as you gasp.
You don't want to take your eyes off of them, desperate to track their panicked flee, but your eyes cloud over. Stars dot your vision, spotting and flickering in shifting colors as a vignette blurs around the corners of your sight. You feel the world spin as David jumps down from the bar and lands on his feet. You still cradled against his chest. Three more thumps follow as the rest of the boys land behind. Iron coats your tongue. Thick and wet. Bursting up from the back of your throat while you try to breathe, spitting up with each labored inhale. You can feel your life waning. The strength diminishing, shrinking under your skin. Dying out like a flame that's being smothered. Whimpers spill from your lips as your carefully laid on your bed. You can hear the sound of claws ripping across the earth as two of the vampires tear their way out of the chasm like creatures pouring out of hell.
You hear muffled screams and shouts. The dull thud of hysterical footsteps as they rush to escape before death can seize them. You hear David's bellow roll throughout the cave, crashing over the screams from the horrified children. The loud chaos of it all grows dim - distant as they're no doubt running up the mouth of the cave while Paul's laugh rings out from somewhere far away.
It makes you jump when a pair of hands smooth over your shoulders, light like a caress, but you can still feel a heavy tremble run through the fingers. A voice hums out, cooing softly to hush you when a strangled sob wrangles out from your body. The way they handle you is delicate, softly turning you over onto your hip and lifting you up to cradle you against their chest as though you might shatter into a million pieces otherwise. Breathing past the wet iron to try and notice the traces of spice and earth and musk.
It was Dwanye. You try to say his name, but your throat tightens, choking on blood. You can feel his fingers grip your bicep, holding you still and you know that he's looking at the stake punctured deep in your flesh. His hold is nowhere close to the to the wound and yet it flares pain across your nerves, making you twist in his arms while a gutted sob wracks from your body.
"I know, I know, love. I know,but I have to take it out" he says into your hair. It's difficult to hear his voice past the roaring in your ears, but once the words make it past the hum. It's like you can feel the agony already, simmering and slicing across your fried nerves like the edge of razor blades.
“Marko! I’m gonna need your help. ” He calls and you can hear another person coming. And then a gloved hand is cradling your face. The glove was cold against your skin as the hand tilts your head back from where it was tucked against Dwayne’s shoulder. It makes your lashes flutter, and you have to force yourself to keep your eyes open with how heavy they've grown, weighing heavy and threatening to slip closed.
“If we don’t remove it. You’ll die baby.” Marko says. There's a protest lodged somewhere in your mouth, slick from the blood and caught on a broken gasp, but you don't have time try and voice it.
“I’m gonna hold her still you pull it out.” Dwanye says as his grip around you tightens. Marko nods, gripping the stake in his hand and pulls. You want to scream, but there's no air left in your lungs for you to do so, and all that makes it out is a ragged, splintered gasp.
Scorching hot pain pours in your veins as he rips the wood from your shoulder. It slices ribbons up your spine, feeling bone deep and white-hot, acid lashing up your muscles.You thrash in Dwayne’s lap, the grip around you tightening and pinning you against his chest. Marko continues to pull the stake from your shoulder, and there’s hardly any relief once its out. The damage it's done is still agonizing, coiling through your muscles. It's as though the flesh on your back has been flayed.
You can faintly hear the clatter of the stake hitting the stone walls. As the two fuss over you, David and Paul rush back into the area where your bed is.
“How is she?” There's a rawness to his voice, a breathless edge despite the non-necessity of breathing.
“She needs to feed.” Dwanye says. “She won’t make it to sundown.”
David stalks forward while dragging his nail across his wrist. He kneels beside your bed and presses his wrist against your lips. You clasp your fingers around his arm, digging into the aged leather of his jacket. Your teeth bury themselves into his arm as his blood pours down your throat. You feel a hand stroking your head as you feed on his blood. Life floods back into you with each gulp, syrupy and warm. The hole made in the split meat and torn flesh of your back begins to mend in a sluggish process, stunted. You’re cradled protectively between Dwayne and David as Paul and Marko hover around the two.
Paul leans over and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
"Did you get them?" Dwayne asks.
The thick silence that follows gives Marko and Dwayne their answer. And twin snarls rip out of their throats.
“They’re dead.”
“And they will be. They will be.” David says with a snarl.
“Paul when nightfall hits I want you and Dwayne to go hunt. She’ll need an actual feeding and we’ll need our full strength.” David says as he continues to stroke your hair, letting you have your fill of his blood. He wanted to make sure your wound was healed.
“Marko you’ll be staying here with her while we go take care of the little pests.” Paul nods as he sits on the edge of your bed by your head.
“They’ll regret touching our mate.” They all say as your wound completely healed and you pulled away from David’s wrist sagging against Dwayne as exhaustion took over. The boys continued to plan their attack as you fell into a deep sleep.
Description: In an alternate universe where Paul never dreamed and fell in love with Chani, he becomes a tyrant feared throughout the universe, being a sadistic maniac whose power is worshipped as that of a god. The Brotherhood sent you as Muad'Dib's concubine to try to manipulate him, but all you want is to live free, so you don't try to persuade him, but to escape. But your unexpected twist in fate makes Atreides start to love you, his obsession growing without you realizing it.
So when you finally escape, Paul is not accepting it.
.
Warnings: possible spelling mistakes (English is not my first language), bene gesserit!Reader, nsfw, afab!reader, obsessive and possessive behavior, Dark!PaulAtreides, slavery (not sexual), child abuse, mentions of torture and blood, swearing, mentions of ideas like suicide, use of Voice, sexual content (not recommended for minors, read at your own risk), obscenity, (Spoiler: Corrino!Reader), everything is fictitious and false!
You were always going too fast.
Always fast.
But now it seemed you were too slow.
-
You were a slave, sold from master to master, you never knew your parents, you never knew your origins or what made you a slave in the first place, you were just… there.
Being used, being ordered around, obedient, educated, all for your own good.
Maybe that was what drew Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam to you.
What had it been like? Oh, you had been thrown out by your former master and taken to be sold again. On the streets, you walked in handcuffs, your gaze expressionless as you walked, you had been taught that, as a slave, you should look down, never directing your gaze to those above you.
That was why you had bumped into her.
She was accompanied by two sisters, all three dressed in black, with a veil like night over them. The slave buyer attacked you in front of everyone for your carelessness, but you didn't say anything, you weren't allowed to. Imagine your surprise when somehow, the Reverend Mother approached her seller wanting to buy you.
Her sisters also showed surprise (moderate, of course), but they said nothing. That day you were taken by them, and you were never the same again.
You were trained in the bene gesserit arts, your teaching was much more severe than the others, said by the Reverend Mother herself, but she never told you why.
You never questioned it further, fearing punishment.
You trained in all kinds of things: history, politics, justice, posture and reflexes, trained to control and know the human body and its reactions, trained to control your body. You trained in the Voice, the mechanism was the hardest, trying to find the perfect timbre, you trained your body in hand-to-hand combat, trained to study and identify any poison, toxin or anything harmful to health and well-being and how it all affected the body.
You learned everything.
But you were never told why you, a slave, should learn these things.
And, although you could not ask the reason for your training, you asked about your freedom.
"Will I be free?" "Will I have freedom after I complete my purpose?" "Will I be able to have freedom someday?"
The answers were always the same.
"Only destiny knows, child."
It was not a No, it was a doubt. You could be free someday, that is why you obeyed the Reverend Mother, that is why you pushed yourself beyond measure. In the hope that, someday, you would be set aside and could be free.
You never knew your purpose, but the hope of sweet freedom remained like a blanket of comfort over your heart.
There was hope.
That was until Paul Atreides ascended the throne.
The Kwisatz Haderach.
He killed the former Emperor, Shaddam Corrino, and seized power. He showed no mercy as he brought the Fremen into the universe and subjected the great houses to his empire. A tyrant, sadistic and cruel, he killed billions, his power unknown even to the Brotherhood.
Your influence and fear spread throughout the universe, your presence dominating and claiming everything in front of you, even though your reign was only five years old, everyone already felt the weight of your power.
It was in this dictatorial regime that you understood the reason for your training.
A sacrifice.
Reverend Mother Gaius had trained you to control whoever rose to power, whether it was Feyd-Rautha or Paul Atreides, you were a plan B in case Irulan failed, and although your training at first was for the case of Feyd reigning, with Paul conquering the throne and massacring the entire Corrino house for treason, the Reverend Mother focused your training on controlling the Kwisatz Haderach.
And you only found out about this a month before marrying the Emperor.
Shocked, you accepted it, you trained for it and to maintain your obedience to the brotherhood, but you did it because you didn't realize the main point, you only realized it after a few hours.
The Reverend Mother did not expect to give you freedom.
That was enough for you.
You wanted to be free! You were a bird trapped since birth, with no choices, no peace, no love, no affection, living a life of fear and suffocation, where you could be given and subjugated by anyone who bought you for a price, you were tired of being controlled and handled like a doll.
With your marriage to Paul, possibly being one of coldness and appearances, just to manipulate events, you would only be taken from one cage to another.You refused to do that.
So, as you approached the throne room, with a light gray dress and veil that covered your entire face, along with the bene gesserit accessories that you clutched tightly, either out of anger or fear, you decided at that moment.
You would do anything to escape, both from the brotherhood and from Paul Atreides.
You would be free.
Whatever the cost
—
Paul made many choices in life.
Some good, some bad, and that led him to who he is today.
The Emperor of the Universe.
Paul Atreides stopped being the innocent and kind boy when his entire home, his honor, and his father were taken from him. And although he made many bad choices, he will never regret keeping a part of the innocent boy he was inside him.
The golden path he was following, for the survival of humanity, would make him be recognized as a maniacal and heartless tyrant, never as the savior of the human race. But for him it was okay, the only people he loved and cared about were his mother and his sister, and they were both on his side in this game.
But perhaps, the decision to keep the old Paul Atreides inside him, would make him regret or be grateful for the rest of his life.
It all depends on you.
-
Paul was intrigued.
He knew the old witch would try anything to keep him under her control. But he had expected that after Irulan's death when she tried to poison his little sister, Gaius would be more fearful of confronting him.
Apparently, she was braver (or stupider, it's the same) than he thought.
Offering a political marriage was a bold move, one that Paul could have easily rejected.
But the Reverend Mother needed a lesson for defying him so openly, and what would be better than seeing her plan fail miserably?
Oh, that would be fun.
To become a tyrant, Paul had immersed himself in the memories of his Harkonnen ancestors, seeking to delve into the pleasure of others' suffering, the diabolical and maniacal methods he had so immersed himself in made him find himself silencing the whispers in his mind to go further, to do more.
So there he was, sitting on the throne in black robes, he allowed himself to sink into ways in which he could break his new concubine. Delighting in the good manners of making the woman surrender to the brink of madness.
Then when he felt the Reverend Mother he was confused for not feeling anyone with her.
Wouldn't the union be today? Why didn't she-
"My lord, Reverend Mother Gaius is here." Gurney said as he entered the throne room, Paul waved his hand tediously as Duncan went to his side. The large doors opened with a creak that everyone had become accustomed to, Gaius' figure approached him along with another woman at his side, it took more than a few seconds before Paul realized.
He didn't feel that woman, didn't feel her presence and hadn't even anticipated her arrival.
He didn't see You.
He waited until you were at the foot of the throne, where you bowed subtly, your movements being followed by everyone in the room "Your divinity."
Only those closest to Paul could call him sir or by his name, the rest could only address him with titles befitting the Emperor. The slightest bit of disrespect caught in speech could lead someone to the gallows, or even a worse sentence, in another life, Paul would be disgusted by this and would be more benevolent.
But he didn't go.
He smiled falsely at the witch, his anger towards her hadn't diminished one bit over the years "I was beginning to think you wouldn't come." No expression appeared on the old woman's face, but in her eyes, deep down, he could see the trace of anger towards him.
Even after years, the enmity between them remained strong and firm. Paul was amused by how the witch was forced to respect him, even though years ago she had treated him with ferocity. "We didn't mean to take so long, but Your deity knows how rigorous the process is to enter the palace."
"Yes, I know." His attention was on the girl beside him, once again his interest being drawn to her. He stood up from the throne, the movement attracting the attention of both of them. With slow steps, he approached you. Wisely, you didn't dare meet his eyes or raise your head, not even when Paul was in front of you.
"I assume this is the girl you talk about so much, isn't it?" He tried to look through you again, to see your mind or your ways, but Paul found himself blank again. It was as if he was near a black hole, a beautiful mystery that constantly pulled him closer to you.
What the hell are you?
"That's right, your deity." Paul looked at your face through the gray veil over you, for some reason he felt like seeing your face. So he took the veil and lifted it up, passing it over your head, finally giving Paul a view of your face.
Although Paul had acted surprised when he took your veil, your face still seemed unmoved, he got no reaction from you other than the almost imperceptible movement of your head when the veil was lifted.
Your face was a truly divine vision, the features of your face were like a painting taken from the sky, the skin as soft as the clouds and soft as the petals of the Caladan flowers he still remembered. Your hair was like a flowing river, caught in the hairstyle you wore, its vibrant and vivid color hidden behind the veil.
And your eyes, Oh your eyes.
Your eyes were lowered, but Paul could still see them, they were a mixture of your own tones that made Paul sigh in ecstasy, an explosion like the immense clouds of nebulae that roamed the universe, their beauty reflected in your irises. Your eyes, your eyes were the window to your soul, the soul that Paul Atreides lost himself in the moment he saw you.
Still mesmerized by you, Paul put two fingers to your chin and lifted your head. "Look at me." His voice came out lighter and sweeter than he had used in years. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ducan and Gurney looking at each other in confusion, but he didn't care.
You followed his order, your beautiful eyes meeting his deep blue, you stared at each other for a few seconds before his voice rang in the air again. "What is your name?" Your eyes blinked slightly before your voice, the voice he had unconsciously longed to hear, spoke.
"It's [Name], your deity."
"[Name]" he felt the name on his tongue, tickling his mind, he traced his thumb across his lips, gently parting them "Indeed, it is a very beautiful name, it suits the owner." His cheeks darkened slightly and his lips trembled, his eyes averted to the new floor, shining in subtle embarrassment.
𝕾𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘. biting and kissing their neck instead of them doing it to you
𝕻𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘. the lost boys + star and micheal x g.n. reader {separate}
𝕸𝖎𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖑 doesn’t know what to do. He's entirely new to being a vampire and to have someone flip it on him? He's floored and just laying in bed as you work your magic. Though once he is comfortable his hands walk on your sides, maybe one on your thigh to pull you closer.
𝕯𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖉 tries to bite back. David is the leader, he's never been in a position to where he is under someone's control. (other than max ofc) he doesn't like it at all. Yeah at the start he’ll joke but when you get into the knitty gritty of it all he starts to become squeamish. His hands grasp your arms and he tries to pull you under him. But, I believe if you do it long enough or bite down hard on his neck he'll just melt like puddy in your arms.
𝕯𝖜𝖆𝖞𝖓𝖊 mumbles into your ear and caresses your back. As I've stated before, Dwayne is the romantic type. He likes things slow when it comes to his partners. Instead of being pinned down like micheal or david he'd be sat down with you in his lap. He adores it and can't get enough of you biting his neck.
𝕻𝖆𝖚𝖑 moaning, groaning horny mess. He's a horn dog ok!! (everyone on the planet knew this) He immediately melted into you once your canines hit his neck. His hands would either rome in short bursts or stay laced with yours. He was in heaven. When he finally regains some sort of sanity he's immediately talking smack, playfully of course. He wants to rile you up as much as possible to get you to bite harder. freak
𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖔 teases and plays around. His hands are all around your body. Like Paul he moans and smirks. He pulls your hair, wraps his legs around your waist as you hover over him, really anything to get you riled up to get you more excited.
𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖗 melts into your touch. Like Dwayne, she sits with you. With her on your lap. She whispers into your ear as you work, soft moans and whimpers. Her hands also are clamped around your back. She loves you an unimaginable amount and doesn't want you to leave. Star also returns the gesture by peppering your shoulder with kisses as you bite her neck.
bait and switch?? more like bite and switch!! :DDDDDDD
pls laugh...
omg uuh edit ubt I just noticed in the pairings I put David instead of Micheal... I am laughing and crying I am so stupid lmaooo
17 years after Paul Atreides takes the throne of Emperor and control of the Great Houses, he makes it his mission to unite the universe and remaining planets under his rule.
He and his army have conquered all but one planet left: Terra Millneium, a secretive yet diplomatic planet ruled by its new Imperial Empress.
And it is here Emperor Paul Atreides finds his match...
Warnings: 18+ only!, eventual smut, talks of war, violence, war, rivals to lovers ?, POC!reader, reader is written with brown/morena skin tone!, reader does have very long hair!, hopefully canon Paul!
Warnings Subject to Change Per Part!
A/N: the pictures used are not saying what Reader looks like, they are just inpo!!
!AGELESS & MINOR BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED TO ANY TAGLIST!
Could you do a poly!lost boys x human reader where the reader gets like jumped in the day time by the surf nazis. When reader (g/n your choosing?) comes by the cave at like sunset or something still really hurt the boys turn comforting and murderous? I hope that makes sense!! Thank you so much :)
I’m so glad I’m getting requests for my literal favorite movie 😼
I’m currently working on a Dwayne fic so stay tuned yall
Anyways yar
(If you can’t tell I’m terrible at naming these fics)
Bruised losers
Fandom: The Lost Boys (1987)/TLB
Warnings: violence, vampirism, blood, kind of graphic?, slight angst, mentions of drugs (marijuana/weed), choking, fluff, I’m terrible at warnings ik
Pairings: Poly!Lost Boys x GN! Reader
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You hadn’t expected your day to go like this.
After weeks of going to the boardwalk after the sun had set, you decided to go during the day.
What you thought was going to be a nice refreshing sun filled afternoon, turned into a bruised, bloody one instead.
You were walking past some of the game stalls, just looking for something interesting to do or see if anything is different in the daytime versus the night.
Well, some guys decided to take an interest in you, and approach.
“Hey Sugar, how about you come with us… we’ll show you a real good time…”
He said, just by the way he presented himself you could tell he was a… surf nazi.
Aka your boys rival gang.
Also the gang they fed from the most.
The words that fall from between his chapped lips made a rush of disgust rip through your body and settle in your chest.
“Um, I’ll pass.”
You said, bluntly and firmly, hoping and praying they would just back off and leave you alone.
What were you thinking? These were surf nazis for crying out loud!
In response he snarled
“Cmon baby, we don’t bite.”
He stepped closer, while the other men started to circle around you.
They smelled like the beer from the pub not too far down the boardwalk.
Instead of answering verbally, you placed your hands on his shoulders and shoved him as hard as possible, and bolted.
You hid in an alley way for about half and hour.
In which they found you
Then cornered you
And beat you.
One was holding you still, while one of them held your throat tightly restricting your breathing, the other struck your face with a clenched fist.
“I don’t take kindly to ungrateful little bitches.”
This went on for the next couple minutes, only stopping when more people started to crowd the areas around the alley.
They let go of you, and walked away, laughing like hyenas.
You slowly sat up, head spinning, throat hurting, while you tried to regain your breathing. You had bruises up and down your arms, red cheeks and eyes, a reddish purple mark around your neck, and a bloody nose.
Standing up, swaying a bit, you walked to your car.
Getting in and driving to your house to hopefully fix whatever was done to your body.
Time skip
It had been about 5 hours since the initial attack, and you had felt a lot better than before, your nose had stopped bleeding, the bruises didn’t hurt as much, the redness on your cheeks and eyes had gone away, the only thing that was still visible were the dark purple bruises and the red ring around your neck.
Quickly covering that up with makeup though, just so the boys wouldn’t worry.
You drank some water… okay not just “some”, a LOT, just to help keep your body hydrated.
You left the house, heading back to the boardwalk to meet up with the boys for the night, when you arrived, you stood by the railing that looked over the beach.
Marko was always the one to find you, his sense of smell was the best out of the boys.
The sound of fabric shuffling made you turn your head, greeted by three blondes and a brunette standing to the side of you.
Marko was the first one to hug you, placing a small kiss to the tip of your nose, next was Paul, he picked you up and spun you around, David was third, walking over to you and kissing your head, brushing his hand over your cheek, last was Dwayne, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of Paul’s embrace, to which he whined, Dwayne captured your lips in a kiss that always made you feel woozy and your knees almost give out.
Paul grabbed you from Dwayne and backed you against the railing you were originally leaning on.
Peppering your face with kisses, which soon turned into a heated make out. The others let out wolf whistles and laughed.
His hands started to wander, rubbing up and down your sides, he grabbed a particularly sensitive area on your hip and you winced, which he noticed.
Pulling away from your lips, Paul looked at your face.
“You okay baby?” He asked, a little worried he had grabbed you too hard or had hurt you.
“Yeah I’m fine Paulie” you lied, but Dwayne picked up on it, Dwayne could always tell when someone was lying versus being truthful.
Marko also noticed something, apparently you had missed a spot when covering the ring around your neck.
Marko stood beside you, licked him thumb, and swiped it across the area around the dark patch that wasn’t covered, revealing more of the dark circle around your throat.
Paul and Marko both frowned. David wasn’t paying that much attention, instead looking for his victim of the night, Dwayne’s eyebrows furrowed in worry.
“Who did this to you?” Dwayne’s voice chided from beside Marko.
“I went out to the boardwalk earlier today because I wanted to see if anything was different about it, and some surf nazi’s came up to me and started hitting on me and then when I told them I wasn’t interested and ran away they followed me into an alley… and then, they um… started hitting me… one of them was choking me”
You held back tears explaining what happened.
“Oh Angel…” Marko said, grabbing your hand and rubbing his thumb across your knuckles.
David didn’t look at you, but he heard everything and he was holding back a scowl, who could ever hurt his mate like that.
Paul frowned and rubbed your cheek.
Dwayne stood there, staring at the red mark around your neck, seething with anger that he can’t quite show yet.
“Let’s go get some cotton candy and go ride some rides, to help get your mind off that thing.” Paul said while stroking your cheek.
“Ok…”
A couple hours go by and now you were all in the cave, listening to whatever music Paul put on, snuggled against Dwayne’s side while he stroked your hair.
It was getting late and you started getting sleepy, Marko picked you up and helped you snuggle into one of the makeshift beds in the cave.
After that he went to the main area where all the other boys were at.
…
“So are we gonna do something about those bastards?”
Paul said, hoping to make an absolute mess out of the guys that hurt you.
David nodded.
“Let’s go boys, it’s feeding time.”
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A/N: this was a little hard to write but I think it turned out pretty good if I do say so myself
