#twilight eclipse

[coozygirl]

there is nothing more ✨iconic✨than the wolves entering the scene.

[altarofpersephone]

bella swan aesthetic

[beautyofks]

Kristen Stewart on the Set of Twilight: Eclipse

[edwardsdeathcabcd]

when bella didn't want to get married at 18 because she saw how her parents' marriage crumbled and she was opposed to the patriarchal nature of the whole institution, and is bitter about it until the moment she is walking down the aisle, but as soon as she's married she realizes that being mrs. cullen is actually the best thing to ever happen to her and she's immediately ecstatic to have a baby with her husband. the way jacob says "you don't even belong to yourself anymore" about imprinting and is repulsed by the very idea, but then when he imprints he realizes it's actually what he was born to do & nothing could make him happier & he leaves everything behind to live with his mate's family. man once you become aware of the mormon agenda present within the twilight saga it is ALL you're aware of lol

[cryscabbage]

Im at the part in Twilight Eclipse where Bella's realised she's in love with both Jacob and Edward but is more committed to Edward and all i can think is how much this would have been solved by them being poly

[spencersmopbucket]

Sleight of Hand | Jasper Hale

Pairing: Jasper Hale x Reader Summary: Jasper is a southern gentleman. He hates showing any sort of aggression around you, flashing teeth or using his strength. But you're human and you're fragile -- and not everyone acknowledges it. Some people (or wolves), he just has to correct. Themes & Warnings: fluff, protective!Jasper, Eclipse era, slight violence, Jasper is such a sweetheart i love him <3

When you said you had the sweetest, most trusting husband in the world, it wasn't just a lie like other women told. You were serious. Jasper Hale was seriously the softest, cuddliest, most gentlemanly killing machine on earth.

Being the most protected woman in Washington or even in the world was a wonderful feeling. You never had any doubts in your husband, despite the horrible things you'd been through with him and his family. He treasured you, respected you, catered to all of your needs, and really was a perfect Southern gentleman, just like he'd told you he was the day you met him.

You'd just been married after being together for years. In fact, the plan was to turn you as soon as a solid window of time allowed. But, of course, danger and turbulence with Bella had disturbed your plans. You were still human and still fragile. You would've thought he was going to hover over you at all times, like Edward did Bella. But it was different. It helped that he could feel when you were scared or uncomfortable, but Jazz was comfortable at a distance, trusting you in your ability to identify a dangerous situation and be smart about needing help. And when you did need him, he eliminated the threat swiftly and effectively, reminding you and everyone else just how deadly he was.

The current threat was the newborn army. Most definitely organized by Victoria, it held a certain amount of weight, a palpable danger. Jasper had been tense lately -- he could feel the unease of everyone around him. And you, his human mate, were directly in danger, at risk of bloodthirsty newborns every time you were alone.

He'd recently decided that now, while things were so risky, you'd be by his side under constant protection. Knowing the threat and knowing Jasper's story, his experience with newborns, you didn't complain. You just followed your Major's orders.

Today, you were in the clearing, listening to your husband teach the family and the Pack about how to defense and offense. You couldn't lie, Jazz was dangerously hot like this.

Jasper Hale was never louder than necessary. He didn’t bark orders or boast about his skills. He simply moved and spoke with such controlled confidence that the entire clearing naturally stilled around him.

He stood at the center of the field, broad shoulders squared, golden eyes scanning everyone like a quiet commander taking stock. The tension in his jaw only made him look more dangerous. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, exposing pale, scar-marked skin that shimmered faintly in the weak light -- reminders that he'd lived through so much violence and survived.

His hair was windswept, messy from combat demos, strands falling over his forehead. Somehow, that only made him hotter.

When he moved, he was all precision: a blur of muscle and reflex, striking with the speed of someone who didn’t hesitate. He never wasted energy. Every movement was elegant, efficient.

There was something deeply attractive about the way he balanced that lethal force with his gentlemanly calm. He wasn’t showing off, he was teaching. Guiding. Protecting.

“Newborns don’t think. They react. You use that. Wait for them to lunge -- then redirect their momentum.”

“Don’t aim for the head first. You want the arms, the legs. Disable them. Then finish it.”

“Stay low, keep your center of gravity under control. Don’t rely on brute force if you don’t have to.”

“Speed isn't enough. You gotta predict. Anticipate. That’s how you outlast ‘em.”

“Rosalie, you’re telegraphing. I could see that from a mile off.” (a soft smirk, drawing a glare from Rosalie)

“Don’t swing wide, Emmett. This isn’t a bar fight. That move would’ve gotten you killed a hundred years ago.”

He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t need to. That Southern drawl carried low and smooth, just loud enough to demand attention. You could tell he was holding back, like every part of him was wired to snap, but he was too controlled, too good, to let it show.

Watching Jasper fight was like watching a storm gather in the distance: quiet, beautiful, and inevitable.

Could be anyone. Wolf or vampire. They were quickly and strategically disarmed, usually with one move. It was like Jasper could tell exactly what they were going to do before they did it -- because likely, he could. He could feel whether they were cool headed, overconfident, agitated, restless. He was truly formidable. It was incredibly sexy to you.

Every once in a while, Jasper could feel your stares. He could feel your feelings of.. affection.. too. He tried to stay focused, his eyes locked onto whoever he was speaking to or whoever was swinging at him, but you could tell he knew. A crooked lift of his lip in a slight smirk would expose him.

Now, he stood facing off with Paul.

You'd never liked Paul. He was temperamental, cocky, arrogant and out of line any time you'd talked to him or been around him. But he was part of the pack and needed to be trained, so he was here.

Jasper could immediately feel your discomfort. His golden eyes met yours knowingly, reassuringly, in an attempt to soothe you. You felt yourself calm down considerably before you leaned back against the log, sighing.

He turned back. Paul was already snarling, fur prickling up in confidence and aggression. He hated vampires, whether they were fighting for the same cause or not. He wouldn't take it easy on Jasper, not that it mattered. Jasper never needed anyone to be careful, never needed to take it easily. He was almost sure that if Paul could, he'd go for the kill.

You swooned at Jazz. His face was still calm, staring down at the beast with anticipating eyes. Relaxed stance. He nodded, curving a hand to show Paul that it was time.

“Give it your best.” He said, one final statement, before Paul growled.

Paul lunged, massive wolf body coiled with muscle and teeth.

Jasper shifted just enough to the side, one pale hand shooting out to catch Paul by the ruff of his neck. He used the wolf’s own momentum to slam him to the ground, pinning him with one knee between his shoulders.

His voice was low, unbothered: “Far too predictable. A newborn would've snapped your neck,” he said. “You need to think it through before making an attempt. You have to be better than them -- more patient, more measured.”

Paul snarled and bucked under him, forcing Jasper to release him. The wolf twisted, hackles raised, and launched again with a furious roar.

Jasper didn’t flinch. He waited, eyes cool, then sidestepped at the last second, hand flashing out to catch Paul’s foreleg mid-swipe. With a sharp jerk and a twist of his hips, he threw the massive wolf onto his back, sending him sliding into the treeline.

Jasper leaned in slightly, voice calm but firm.

“Again. But try learning this time.”

With a furious roar, Paul gave it one more shot.

He jumped into the air, not taking Jasper's advice, not thinking, but heading for the southern man full force. With an audible and disappointed "tsk," Jazz landed another blow, a final push, intended for teaching. The blow made contact, once again sending Paul towards the trees. He barreled into them, knocking two over.

Jasper turned around to the group, using it as a teaching example.

“That's why you have to think. Control yourself,” he explained, gesturing towards the direction he'd flung Paul. “They're stronger than you and far more excited to fight. Even more excited to kill. You can't be sloppy.”

While Jasper was explaining, Paul got angrier and angrier.

He hated being beaten. Hated being embarrassed. Hated being talked back to. And hated vampires.

You sat across the clearing, watching him get up from the trees. His teeth dripped with spit, a permanent snarl etched onto his glaring face. His paws were heavy in the dirt.

And the direction he stalked? It wasn't towards Jasper.

It was towards you.

He was angry, embarrassed, and wanted to teach Jasper a lesson by terrifying you. Of course, by pack law, he wasn't allowed to touch you. But scaring a vampire's mate seemed to be equal punishment for the embarrassment.

Your eyes widened as you straightened off the log. Paul got closer and closer, drool dribbling off his teeth and lips, looking positively murderous. He was now within five feet of you, paws crossing the grass in enormous strides.

Jasper’s voice faltered for half a second as he felt the shift in you -- the jolt of fear, sharp and cold.

His golden eyes flicked immediately to you, then the aggressive, snarling wolf right in front of your face. Less than five feet now, pushing you back, making you cower against the wood log.

Jacob spoke from behind Jasper first.

“Paul! Stop!”

It was too late. The damage had already been done. Jasper was angry now.

Jasper didn’t explode.

He didn’t shout, didn’t bare his teeth or make a scene.

He simply went silent.

So silent that even the wind seemed to still in the trees.

And in that breathless, deathly quiet, he moved.

One blink and he was no longer in front of the pack or your family. He was between you and Paul, standing nose-to-snout with the enormous wolf, whose growling abruptly cut short at the sudden presence of something far, far more dangerous.

Jasper’s hand shot out, not to strike, but to press, flat and firm, against Paul’s fur covered shoulder, holding him back like he weighed nothing at all. His voice came low and dark, quieter than anyone had ever heard it.

“Foolish dog.”

Paul snarled, tried to shove forward -- instinct, fury, shame. He didn’t make it an inch.

With one hand still on Paul’s shoulder, Jasper’s other came up in a blur -- grabbing the wolf by the scruff of the neck and slamming him into the earth with a crack of force that shook the ground.

Gasps, footsteps, and whining from the pack echoed behind you.

Jasper didn't look at anyone else.

“I gave you every chance,” he said, voice thick with venom now, words curling with Southern fire. “I trained you. I warned you.”

He leaned into the wolf's snarling face again, letting him snap and growl at him, unfazed. His eyes were deadly, but his face was relatively relaxed.

“You won't make it on the field if this is how you present yourself,” he hummed, squeezing tighter onto Paul's body. “I cared at first. But now?”

Paul growled and twisted. Jasper slammed him down.

“I'm almost certain this world could use one less insolent mutt.”

The threat in his words wasn’t shouted. It was drawled, cold and certain, landing heavier than any yell could have. Paul let out a strangled, furious snarl, thrashing harder beneath Jasper’s unyielding grip. Dirt and grass tore up under his claws.

Jasper didn’t even blink. His golden eyes stayed locked on the wolf’s, steady and unflinching.

“You think you’re ready to fight newborns?” he asked, tone dipping almost to pity -- almost. His fingers tightened just enough to make Paul yelp. “You can’t even manage your temper.”

He waited for the next lunge. When Paul tried to twist again, Jasper slammed him down harder, making the ground quake.

“You’re sloppy. Predictable. And worst of all?” Jasper dropped his voice to a harsh whisper.

“You’re willing to threaten something of mine to save your own pride.”

Paul went still beneath him at that. Breathing hard. Growling, but with a tremor that wasn’t all rage.

Behind them, the clearing had gone silent. The pack frozen. Cullens unmoving. Even the wind felt like it held its breath.

Jasper’s lip curled faintly, not quite a smile.

“Consider this your only warning.”

He held Paul down one second longer, driving the point home. Then he stood smoothly, brushing the dirt from his hands like he hadn’t just manhandled a half-ton predator into submission.

“If you ever step foot near her again,” he drawled, Southern lilt dark as pitch, “I’ll put you down myself.”

He let that promise hang in the frozen air.

Then he turned, utterly calm, and walked back toward you without another glance at the wolf.

His cold hands met your skin immediately, gently nudging you into a standing position and smoothing your clothes out. He searched you silently for injuries -- you prayed he didn't find a single scratch. Even if Paul hadn't done it, he'd still pay the price for it.

Jasper’s touch was careful, almost reverent, as though he feared he might hurt you just by being too rough. His cold fingers brushed along your arms, checking for any sign of bruising. He smoothed your hair back from your face, golden eyes scanning you with laser focus.

“Hold still for me, darlin',” he murmured, voice lower now -- gentler, but still taut with restrained fury.

You swallowed hard, letting him fuss over you. His thumb grazed your jaw, tilting your face toward the light to check for any marks.

Nothing. Not a scratch.

He exhaled, slow and shaky despite the careful control on his face.

“Good,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

His hands lingered at your waist, gripping you just enough to anchor himself. He didn’t look back at the pack, didn’t even acknowledge the others. For Jasper, in that moment, there was no one else but you.

As he felt you relax against him, Jasper’s hold softened even more. His thumbs brushed soothing circles at your waist, the cold of his skin forgotten in the warm hush between you.

“That’s it,” he murmured, southern lilt a low rumble only for your ears. “Easy now, sugar. I’ve got you.”

He dipped his head just low enough to press his lips gently to your forehead, leaving his lips there for a few seconds and letting his eyes flutter shut. Grounding himself. The tension bled out of him by slow degrees, like smothered coals on a fire being put out.

One of his hands drifted up to cup your cheek, wiping the startled tears from under your eyes.

“No more cryin’, sweet angel. He’s never gonna come near you again.”

Once you were sufficiently comforted, Jasper returned to the training session, but decided that he wasn’t going to do any demonstrations. For the rest of the day, you’d be by his side where he could focus on you.

However, Jasper was a practical and respectful man. A warning always came before he broke loose.

Jasper didn’t raise his voice or even turn fully away from you. He just lifted his head enough to look past you, eyes finding the pack’s leader with that glint of cold command still in them.

“Sam,” he called evenly.

Sam’s ears flicked forward in wolf form, body tense, watching every move. No one had much to say, just stared. Emmett and Edward watched cautiously, awaiting a fight to break out.

Jasper’s jaw flexed once before he spoke, his tone unyielding.

“You’ll be down a pup if you ever let one of yours so much as growl at her again,” he asserted, tone cutting through the air like a knife. “She’s human. If you’ve forgotten your rules, if you’ve forgotten the treaty, I can be your reminder.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Didn’t need one.

His gaze lingered on Sam another beat, making sure the threat was received in full, before he lowered his eyes back to you, all that deadly fire softening in an instant.

[bellasapple]

twilight moodboard ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

‘some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. from what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire.’

[uncannywitchery]

him & those fuckass uggs

[eccentricallygothic]

Mine.

Description: Embry is secure in your relationship, but you are too perfect for anyone to be able to resist your attractiveness.

Pairing: Alpha!Embry Call | Omega!Reader. 

Warning(s): Slight insecurity, jealousy, Embry is in LOVE, reader is kind of a dummy, kissing, possessiveness, slight top reader, manhandling, hair pulling, groping, pinching, unprotected p-in-v, smut with plot I am afraid, rubbing/grinding, dick riding, doggy style, missionary, imprinting and a/b/o stuff, breeding kink, dirty talk, d/s dynamics (it's me), overstimulation. MDNI.

Type: Request, here.

. . . 

“Gee, it's hot today” Leah huffs as she approaches Emily's dining table whilst tugging down her tank top with one hand and fanning herself with the other. “Even by my standards.” Some of you are already sitting down and the rest are divided in little groups that tinker about in the pack leader's house. A few groans of agreement sound around the table and you snort, your fingers busy with tuning your guitar. “It's literally like I am on fire” she gulps down the icy lemonade your undisputed hostess has prepared for the lot of you. “Fuck, I am so hot” she pinches the material of her tanktop before tugging it back and forth to try and bring herself some solace. 

You shrug, eyes set on the pegs that you twist and adjust as you lean some of your body weight onto your mate who reclines on his own chair beside you and munches on a hot muffin, unbothered by your doing so. He has told you time and time again that he likes it, actually. “Agreed” you do not notice how the table goes silent and everyone turns to look at you. Even Leah's eyes widen a bit though this is nothing new. You're plagued with the curse of being an effortless flirt. Your mate had his fair share of (pleasant) surprises in the beginning and often even mistook what was a mere response to you for you being bold. “Very hot” your eyes briefly bounce from the machine heads to scan over her tense form and the female in question flushes. 

Paul and Jake howl in the crass way typical to them and the others chuckle. 

“See, you're doing it again!” Seth points an accusatory finger at you and you just snort before you shake your head and look down at your guitar again. 

“No, I am not” it is always an argument between others, especially Seth, and you that you subconsciously flirt. “It's a fact” barks sound around the table once more and you scoff at them, muttering reassurances to yourself that you only meant to compliment her. 

“I mean, you're not so bad yourself, sparkle” you roll your eyes at Jared's lewd smirk and his use of the corny ass nickname the pack has chosen for you. 

Your beautiful fur is so shiny that it sparkles as though it has been dusted with glitter, hence the name.

“Dude” Jake chimes in. “Totally agreed. You're both totally hot” you don't look up to the nods of approval that follow. 

“Like, excuse my French or whatever but,” uh oh, it's never good when Paul starts a sentence like that. He waves both his hands as he tilts his head back, adding heavy moments of suspense to his intentional silence. “I wouldn't say no to a little Leah and sparkle salad” Seth retches as his features scrunch in disgust but most of the other guys howl in agreement and cheer. You feel Embry stiffen beside you but he keeps his composure and hides his disapproval into the soft muffin because he knows Paul well enough to know that this is one of his intentional attempts at eliciting a reaction by being profane. He loves to provoke until it's his turn. 

“Dude!” Seth groans, one hand on his stomach. “Why are you like this?!” His eyes scrunch. “Ugh!” 

“Would be a sight to behold though—” Quill is cut off by Sam.

“Hey!” The Leader calls out across the table in his heavy and authoritative voice when his fiance gently nudges his shoulder to get the horndogs to stop. They are a family, yes, but an Alpha's patience isn't to be toyed with especially if his mate is in question. “That's enough” though it is not nearly as scary as Sam can get since there is a small smile on his own face, everyone still instantly shuts up all the same.

You are not really bothered because you only have eyes for your dear Alpha who has subconsciously snuck an arm around your back to feel you even closer to yourself. You finish up with your guitar and although reluctant, play a couple tunes upon Emily's request and everyone takes turns singing snippets that fit the melodies your fingers produce. 

Hours pass and it is only after dinner that you all set out for your own homes. “So long, hottie~” Embry and you are already a couple feet away from Sam and Emily's house, hand in hand while he carries your guitar for you, when you hear Paul and Jake whistle from behind. 

You snicker but don't look back and instead raise your free hand to wave them goodbye before the two of you take the turn that leads to your own house. 

The two of you walk in the comfortable silence of your dynamic for half of the way, relaxing in each other's presence after a stimulating day as your entwined fingers rock back and forth. It is only when the house appears in your line of sight after another turn and walking past a couple heavy trees when Embry speaks up, pondering and calculating with his words. 

“They're too much.” 

You chuckle and lean into him a little. “Or maybe…” You shrug before glancing at him. “It’s me” a teasing smile tugs at your lips as his eyebrows furrow. 

Ever the loving and supportive mate and lover, Embry rushes to reassure you. “No, no, baby” he lightly shakes his head for emphasis. “All you did was compliment her, angel. It's not you” his fingers tighten over yours in earnest.

“Yeah?” You raise a playful eyebrow, amused. 

“Yeah” he chooses to ignore it because he knows what you're trying to do and since he swears that he is not a territorial jerk, he refuses to give in. He is not ‘like the other Alphas’, if you will. “The guys just…” He carefully chooses his words. “They're—”

“You do know that I am yours, right? No matter what anyone says on purpose or accident, you are the only one I want and you are the only one my heart belongs to” you cradle his hand that you hold to your heart as you ascend the steps to your house. 

Usually, he doesn't even let it come to this. “Yeah…” But he needs it from time to time even if he assures you that he doesn't, granted how you steal the very air from everyone in the most natural of states.

“Yeah?” You stop to stare at him, one eyebrow raised and a hand curled around the door handle but you don't open it just yet, your smile deepening into a smirk.

You can hear his inward groan. “Yes” his red ears tell you everything you need to know. Gosh, you love how he isn't a typical violent, brooding and impulsive Alpha like Paul or some others you know. “Let's just—” you interrupt his weak attempt at reassurance with a kiss. 

You pull back just for a second to look at him. 

“You don't have to do this because of that, you know? It's really fine. It's not your fault the guys are the way they are and I know you don't mean it like that because—” you interrupt his ramblings with a click of your tongue.

You appreciate Embry's understanding nature, but you cannot help the thrill you feel when he gets possessive or insecure over you.

It makes you feel wanted and treasured.  

“You talk too much sometimes, you know?” Your mouth collides into his and your lips melt against his, the fluttering warm feeling making him groan into the kisses that grow heated with the passing second. You peel the guitar off of him as you pull him through the threshold and walk him into the couch while passionately kissing him after kicking the door closed with one heel. You put a heavy hand on his nape to keep him from digressing again. It does not actually do much to affect him but he lets you have your way, a whimper leaving him when you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip.

“I— I—” he blinks to get a grip of himself when you pull away, his heavy pants only firing you up even more because of how worked up he looks and feels. Your omega heat rushes to their confines in different pockets of your body and as the first of your pearly slick trickles down your thigh, you begin to push at his chest and keep at it until his heavy form lands on the couch. “Baby, it's really—” you crawl his huge body and his hands instantly dart to your legs to feel and grope your tender skin. You moan and grind against his erection. 

You can feel he is holding back and that only provokes you even more.

You shush him by ghosting a seductive finger over his lips. His Adam's apple violently bobs at you doing so. “Haven't done that in a while, have I?” Your whisper is the kind of whisper that makes blood rush to his cock and his hips lift to find relief against yours. “So allow me…” You lower yourself until your lips touch the area under his nose and you give him a chaste kiss before moving down to his pink lips. Embry whimpers out a growl and his fingers flex over your thighs before snaking their way to your ass. Your lips leave sloppy kisses along his jaw and you soon reach his ear to let out a sensual little breath that always churns all his gears. “To remind you” he inaudibly curses as his erection twitches against your spread core and he squeezes your ass tightly. 

“Y- You don't have to…” He looks for ways to reason with you but you take it away by nipping at his earlobe before trapping it between your lips and pulling a good suck out of it. You hum as your slick further gushes down your inner thighs and you feel it pool between your spread legs. 

He may not be an Alpha who loses his head to insecurity but the rare occasion he does or is made to by you is always so fun.

“Oh, but I want to, babe” you say and he lets out a moan at the purr that comes out of your throat. You straddle his waist, your legs spread over him and your dripping core rubbing over his shorts. He firmly holds you against him and rocks against you to match your slow pace. You moan into his mouth as you kiss him and pull at the hem of his tank top. Your fingers curl around it and you pull the thin material off of his beautifully tan and sculpted body, letting it fall somewhere behind him. The two of you gasp and pant into your fevered kisses as you press your bodies against each other's to feel even closer. The heat sizzles out of his slightly damp skin due to how his blood boils and the way in which the bare skin sticks to yours makes you shudder and moan into his mouth that he fills with his tongue. 

“Mmmm” your mouth deviates to his neck and you leave a trail of kisses and bites down to his collarbone and over his pectorals. His hands scramble to feel every inch of your exposed back and you whimper, rocking your hips as you drag your tongue along his chest and Embry growls loudly. 

His resolve is weakening. 

Good.

Your tongue continues to paint wet trails over Embry's torso while enjoying his woody sweat and he shivers when your mouth ghosts over his nubs and you peck them just slightly. He swears he doesn't like that kinda stuff but the erection doesn't lie. You cannot resist the impulse to bite his Adam's Apple next and you hear him hiss out a groan, his whole body tightening under yours, in sync with his needy cock. You feel his fingers dig into your spine as though he wants to pull you completely open for himself and you moan into the suck you have clamped on his neck. It gets increasingly hurried. It is messy. It is hot. And you are going to leave your mark on him for he is just as much yours as you are his. 

The two of you seem drunk on one another's scent and pheromones, your bodies in a desperate need to devour one another's. 

Your hand cups the tent in his shorts and you rub and massage it through the fabric. “Gosh, I love you so much” Embry huffs out a groan as he looks at you with eyes heavy with both arousal and affection. “You're so fuckin’ hot, baby” tingles flutter all over your abdomen and your lips part from how the grinding of your cunt feels against his rigid member. “So perfect.”

You smile mischievously as you push back on your heels and slide his shorts down his toned legs that he aids with a life of his hips. A loud smack sounds in the air because of the way cock springs up, hard and glistening with precum and collides with the taut muscles of his belly and your mouth waters at the way it twitches, your nose tingles because you can smell his arousal all the way from where you are and your petals flutter when fresh, pearly slick bubbles out of the tip. 

But you are not quite done yet. 

Embry's hand reaches to stroke himself but you click your tongue as if he is a misbehaving child and gently nudge it away with your own. As an Omega, you don't usually get like this despite everyone pining over you and your mate doting on you all the time and the Alpha's surprised gaze signals that he is equal parts taken aback and turned on with the knowledge that you are a small little thing compared to him, completely dependent upon his mercy if it comes to it, but his bestowing of a free hand upon you allows you to act liberally and even then you choose to serve him.

“Not so fast” your words are an entrancing lull. Embry huffs but keeps his hand away from his aching cock and you begin to sensually undress yourself. You are not a professional or anything so you don't have that kind of edge to it, but your heat tends to make the art of seduction a very effortless second nature matter to you. The Alpha growls and needily reaches for you instead this time around, his fingers kneading the soft skin of your hips as he begins to help you by pulling at your clothes. The primal action of his nature makes you yelp with a gasp at first but it melts into quiet giggles and then whimper-moans soon enough. Your tank top comes off first and his eyes take their sweet time enjoying your chest as you heave for him in response to his touch, your nipples pebbling because of how sensitive your body is. Embry looks at them hungrily and he swallows audibly, his heavy, wanton breaths weighing down his urge to wrap his mouth around them. Since he can't act on that impulse, his fingers hurriedly help you rid yourself of your pants and they pool around your ankles before you kick them away. 

You smirk to yourself as you see the glazed look on his face, his cock twitching on his belly as his heavy chest heaves with want. The Alpha's dark eyes trace the curves of your hips and follow the shape of your waist until he finds your dripping cunt that shines with slick. 

“Fuck” Embry groans and his hips jerk in sync with his twitching erection. “Fuck, baby” he looks like he is going to come just by looking at you.

Which means he is getting desperate.

Good. 

“Tsk” letting out an amused snort, you place your smaller hands against his broad shoulders to push them back as his huge form is looming in your direction and as he moves back, you move forwards until you have climbed him and the undersides of your thighs are straddling his laps, your feet on either side of him and knees bending to get as close to him as possible. You let your weight go because Embry's strong legs supporting it has never been an issue. As a matter of fact, he has confessed time and time again that he rather likes how you press down on him like his good little Omega baby. 

“Mmm” your teeth clamp down on your lower lip as you begin to rub your soaked and thumping folds all over his erection and the way his eyes widen in shock and pleasure as your wet cunt glides over his cock only makes you grind harder in anticipation of what would come next. 

“You like that, baby?” He is still an Alpha, he needs to assert himself somehow so his wolf can remain assured of its ownership and power over you.

“Mmm, Alpha, you're so good!” It only takes a few grinds and you're cumming, your walls clenching and your slick dripping onto his belly and thighs. “Fuck” you moan out a curse of your own though you know he doesn't like you using that kind of language when he is in his Alpha space, your cunt pulsates with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You sit on his thighs and lean back on your hands as you catch your breath, eyebrows furrowed and little whines leaving you from his dick slightly grazing against your petals and twitching. Your heat completely takes over at that point and your body becomes a living inferno.

You aren't like most people or Omegas. Your body reaches its optimum only after you have cum once. Because you love to chase and be made to find your release through the stinging thumps and frustration of overstimulation.

You feel Embry's cock squish against your slick drenched thigh and you look down at it. His growing knot is so big that it seems to rest over your tender lap like a dangerous serpent. “Baby” his hands trace along your hips and your waist, his thumbs tracing your sides. “Can I?” 

He is cracking. 

And though your nature grows the haze of submissiveness in your mind, you only rock your ass harder on his girth.

You can't say anything but just stare down at him like you are entranced, a primal silence engulfing you where it is only instinct and nothing else. Your heart pounds in your ears. It's like a thousand thoughts bolt around in your brain all at once and yet your mind holds onto each one for eternities. Need pulls at your limbs from every direction. 

“I need to feel you, baby” he pleads and you just wordlessly nod, one hand flying to clutch his shoulder tightly. Embry's eyes light up, his hands instantly lifting your ass and sliding your cunt down the length of his cock.

Just to make you cry out, he jerks his cock into you with a jab of his hips, the sensation making him let out a groan and you a mewl, the omega in you shuddering from the sensitivity and yet obediently taking him. Your walls flutter as you feel yourself stretch to fit his girth and you look down to see how your flesh takes him. His cock fills you to the brim and you are filled with an indescribable sensation of fullness that only Embry can give you, the velvet of your insides stirring against his hard girth. 

In mere moments, you're so full that you can't decide whether it is good or painful. Perhaps both. Your core is so wet that you can feel his cock drown in your slick because of the sloshing sounds your riding it -which is essentially Embry carefully moving you about it because his cock is not a joke to accommodate- makes. When you are comfortable, you begin to speed up your movements with the passing second, your ears and heart pounding with nearly unbearable fireballs running wild in your blood. 

“Gosh” Embry pants and a gasp leaves him when you slide down a certain way and knock the breath right out of him, your ass bouncing against his heavy sack and the visual of your boobs jumping doesn't help him. You know you must be a sight to look at. Your knees rock into his toned thighs and you clutch his hard shoulders, panting like a crazed animal as you wince from the painful pleasure. It wouldn't be the first time that you transformed mid fuck because it was too much for you to handle. “Look at you” he groans out raspily, his throat parched. “So fucking beautiful, angel” his long fingers grip your ass to keep you on the rhythm even if your Omega sensitivity makes you falter because some thrusts often get too much for you and your form lops to the side. His hands run all over your hips, your stomach, your breasts and the back of your head, his trimmed nails feeling your delicate nape before they reach to tangle in your locks and your scalp stings from the gentle tug.  

Your body is afloat on pheromone and sensation alike, your skin melts into Embry's golden touch that desperately feels every inch of your body. His grips on you turn harsher when your walls pulsate around him and the way he pulls you to him makes your entrance seethe out bubbling pearly slick down his cock, the angel puddle pooling down on his balls. Every movement sends sparks of pleasure through your core and up your spine. 

“Alpha!” Your teeth sink into your tongue because of how you tense in response to his fingers cupping your mound before his rough thumb tickles your clit. Your droopy eyes fly open as you let yourself feel every inch of him and every flicker of pleasure that your body sends to your brain. “Oh my Goshhh” you whimper out his name as you cum once more, the muscles of your thighs convulsing from the tightly shut dam that trembles free in your loins. Your cunt clamps around his cock and you feel him groan out at the feeling of his own high approaching.

His resolve finally snaps at the feeling of your hot orgasm and he lets out a growl so loud it nearly shakes the walls of the house. Your fucked out brain is too dazed to catch up with how he spins you around on his cock and moves the two of you so you're kneeling in front of the living room coffee table. Your elbows find the tabletop and his hands hook under your hips. He presses his cock into you and pulls your ass back and up so that his cock buries itself to the hilt in your dripping pussy. You feel it push against the swollen, reluctant walls of your cunt and a scream rips from your lips at the sensation. 

Embry pulls out and slams himself back in with a loud slap of skin against skin. His hand comes down on your ass cheek with a loud slap that makes you cry out, your cunt tries to close itself against him.

“Yes, Alpha!” Yet you mewl, wanting more. “Gimme your cum, please!” You tilt your head to look back at him with hazy eyes to urge him on with a lustful widening of your mouth and he stares back with his darkened and blown out eyes.

You are a mess of pure wanton. 

The Alpha lets out a hoarse groan as he watches the way you take his cock. “Fucking hell, baby” he pants. “You little tease” his hips jerk against yours and your breasts bounce over your arms as he fucks into your cunt. Your insides stiffen around his girth in a way that makes your head spin upon his tip fighting its way closer and closer to your cervix and you cannot help but let out a series of frenzied whimper-moans.

“Don't do it on purpose, do you?” His voice is primal and dangerous. “Is that why you provoke me into claiming you after? Huh, you little brat?!” He scolds and starts to firmly jack hammer his cock into your pussy, on the verge of his own climax and so fast that you almost feel like you're on the edge of passing out from the sensory overload.

It doesn't matter if his words are true or not. 

They always get the both of you off.

And when an Alpha and Omega are left to their devices, the sex is the only thing that has to make sense.

And that it does.

So much.

“You're going to milk me dry, my little Omega slut” Embry pants out a guttural order and you moan at how he snakes a ripped arm to the front of your body and slams you back into his toned chest. Your head falls back on his shoulder and you faintly register his fingers feeling up the expanse of your neck. He pounds into you so hard it feels as though he is hitting your uterus with every snap of his hips, your smaller body bouncing on his cock like a straw doll with each thrust. His whole cock sheaths balls deep into your tight slick coated walls before he pulls out all the way until his tip is barely probing you. Your slick drips from where you two are connected down to the both of your thighs and knees. He grabs your hair and tilts your head until your body arches in the way he likes and your nipples point up at the ceiling from the wave of excitement and arousal that an imaginative construction of the visual of your bodies washes over you. “You're mine, you hear me?” He snarls as your marked mating gland comes to light and he wraps your hair around his fingers to keep it out of his way. Embry's mouth clamps down onto the canine scarred patch and he suckles at it like a starved predator, his sharp teeth fitting right into the crevices they created once upon a time ago. Your whole body jolts from the impact and you clench. 

Fuck, it feels good.

“Ohhh—” your body curves outwards and you cry out in ecstacy. “Yes! Yours!” You moan out with a throaty voice. “Only yours, Alpha!” you tremble and send vibrations down his cock as a result, the sensation making him growl into your mating gland and lighting you up all over again. 

“I'm going to fill you up with my cum until your pretty little pussy it so stuffed it can't take or feel anymore” he growls while trapping your waist between his arms, the confinement causing your insides to feel his cock even more vividly and you cannot help but scream for mercy as he bends the both of you over the tabletop to fuck you into the piece of furniture, roughly pushing one of your legs up so it hangs over the edge closest to you and thus giving him even deeper access against your cervix. 

But that's the best thing about having the anatomy of an Omega, it doesn't hurt when he fucks into your womb. Matter of fact, your kind is made to take cocks like that without any kind of damage. And it feels fucking amazing. 

Your brain cannot think anymore. All you can do is feel as your eyes flutter close from the dignity numbing fuck.

Your mind is completely taken over by him as he bruises up your claim mark. It has a feeling of its own. When he gets to toying with it, he doesn't have to tickle your clit anymore because his touching your mating gland elicits such sensations in your body that they heat your clit up as if it's being rubbed silly with a tangible object though it's actually not.  

Embry does not relent until he has cum inside of you a number of times, your head being too fucked out and fuzzy to keep track. His hot seed fills you up so much that it spills out of you true to his promise. You are completely drained when he finishes with you and you hang from the table limply, his cock still pulsing inside of your exhausted cunt. You think it's over and so you begin to dimly yearn for the warmth of the bath he will run you now.

Well.

Jokes on poor little you.

“What?” He chuckles as he turns you on his fat knot once more so you face him, his fingers grabbing a handful of your slick and cum covered ass once more. “Done already, are we?” You numbly blink up at him, brain out of commission.

“H- Huh?” You blink to try and clear your neon vision, trembling hands blindly tapping about for him when he patiently waits for you to respond. 

He chuckles and effortlessly lifts you off the table, his knot swollen between your walls in a bittersweet tuck.

“Up we go, baby” you feel his hands run up your thighs and your back before he walks towards the bedroom while holding you in his arms and on his cock. You moan as his dick rubs against your walls because of the movement, your pussy dripping your mixed juices all over the place. Each step makes his cock stir your stinging insides.

“Shit” Embry curses under his breath at the sight of your shivering body. “Your cunt is still so wet and tight, baby” his fingers slip away from your ass as he plops you down on the bed and his cock slips out of your cunt, the empty feeling of loss making you whine despite the overstimulation. “So pretty and raw pink too” he lets out a chuckle, dark eyes watching you while his long fingers caress his cock. It's his turn to tease now. Your cum oozes out of you in a stream and coats the mattress in a pearlescent puddle as you cannot do much but lay there panting like a bitch in heat -which you are-, your legs dangling from the edge of the bed, teeth nibbling at your bottom lip in anticipation. 

“Maybe children will finally wise you up, huh baby?” He says as he turns to get you some water from the bedside table. “And just maybe, you won't ‘unintentionally’ flirt like a clumsy little Omega baby then” realization hits you like a gong.

He is only replenishing you for…

Though you whimper and pout up at him, too submissive to complain, you feel tiny flames of excitement come to life within you once more. 

Fuck. 

You are obedient in how he pushes you further up on the bed so he can crawl over you like the predator he is. And he spreads your legs open to make you completely and comfortably accessible to himself because you got a long night to go. Embry needs to make you marked and loud enough for everyone to see tomorrow and hear tonight just who you belong to. 

Next his manly hands move your ankles to his shoulders and he pats your petals with his heavy tip to make your fleshy folds shrivel and tremble in the way he likes, the thumping bringing them back into commissioner. Soon after, his cock sinks into you once more and he takes a hold of your sticky thighs so he can do you how he likes best. He slowly begins to fuck into you and his coarse hands squeeze your breasts and his fingers twist your nipples to ‘milk’ you for his future pups, or so he tells you. Your toes curl and your eyes roll to the back of your head at the thought.

The wolf is out.

And he is here to play.

. . .

Fun fact, the Leah thing happened irl where I accidentally said that to one of my female teachers lmfao.

[jasperhaleobsessed]

Poll: Rosalie Hale; Who should I make icons for next?

Rosalie Hale icons

Like or reblog of you save :)

[coozygirl]

if my dad is laughing because I broke my hand trying to punch the boy who forced himself on me and he is CONGRATULATING HIMMM??!!!?

yeaaah…..I would also like to live with another family…. and became a vampire

[ibarra-mari]

Never turn your back on your enemy. ECLIPSE (2010)

[letmelickyoureyeballs]

Peacock what 😭

[okayigetitifuckedup]

Cullen men being simps

Inspired entirely by this post. The tweets are golden, and I thank you for your service in collecting them @jennifercheckwannabeme

[queenofglassbeliever]

@giftober 2024 | Day 15: "References"

[spencersmopbucket]

Fatal Attraction (3) | Paul Lahote

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Reader Summary: The battle is ruthless, just as everyone had expected. But bones aren't the only thing that crack.

The moments before war were quiet. Still. It was as if every molecule in the air was paralyzed, creating no movement. You felt suffocated, yet every undead nerve in your body was buzzing with anticipation. The flameproof gloves on your hands let out a small squeak, only audible to a vampire, as you tightened and loosened your fists. The reason for the gloves?

Grip. The skin of a porcelain figure was easier to hold on to with the gloves. Not to mention the heat.

Today would be the first time anyone but the Cullen family or the Volturi saw the power you held. You could feel it sitting in your chest, propelled by the dread and anticipation. It was ready to loose itself. The feral newborns, organized by Riley and Victoria, wouldn't be able to make sense of what they were seeing. They'd be eliminated before they could.

You felt Rosalie beside you, a cold hand meeting your clothed shoulder. Her touch was grounding — cool, elegant, and oddly reassuring. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Her silence was louder than words, laced with quiet solidarity and shared rage. It wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about proving something. To the enemy. To yourselves.

The wolves had begun to form behind the tree line, thick paws silent on the snow-dampened forest floor. You didn’t have to look to know Paul was there. You could feel him — his heat, his presence — burning against your spine even with all that space between you.

Your eyes flicked toward the open field ahead. It felt wrong to call it that. A field. It sounded too peaceful. There would be nothing peaceful about what happened here. You curled your gloved fingers again, listening to the minute sound.

"You good?" Rosalie asked lowly. Her voice was tight with tension, but it had the edge of protectiveness. You and Rosalie had never been soft with each other, but there was respect. And she’d seen what this war meant to you. Now, it wasn't just extending your protection to people that had once been your family. It wasn't just extending your protection to the human woman who'd destroyed your relationship. It was extending your protection to the one fated to be with you.

A wolf, nonetheless. He didn't really need your protection. You knew Paul could handle himself. Him and his pack of dogs were ruthless. It didn't mean the mating bond didn't make you feel like he did — in fact, your skin crawled at the idea of him even being involved. You couldn't help it.

You were sure he felt the same. In fact, you could feel it in the way he watched you. Tracking your every move with dark, brown eyes.

A quiet growl rumbled low from the tree line. Not loud enough for the humans. Not even for the vampires, unless you were listening for it.

You rolled your golden irises, sending a sharp glance his direction, before answering Rose.

"'M alright," you responded, pulling your gloves further up onto your deadly hands. "Just ready to get it over with. It's unfortunate it had to come to this."

Rosalie hummed her agreement, though her expression remained cold and unreadable. Her gaze was already fixed on the shifting silhouettes beyond the trees. “They made their choice,” she said. “Now they’ll see the consequences.”

You didn’t respond. What was there to say? You were tired. Not physically — you hadn’t felt physical exhaustion in a long time — but emotionally. Spiritually. This cycle of blood and vengeance and claiming had worn you thin. The newborns were victims of their own manipulation, but still, they would not leave this field breathing.

You felt Paul’s presence close in again, pressing against the edges of your consciousness like a pulse, a heartbeat not your own. He hadn’t moved, but you could tell he was poised to. Ready to lunge at whatever or whoever dared get near you first.

Possessive bastard.

You sighed, flicking a bit of snow from your glove. “If he growls one more time, I swear—”

“He’s going to combust if you so much as get a scratch,” Rosalie muttered, voice dry.

You scoffed. “We both know I’m the one they should be worried about.”

“Then show them.”

Your eyes flicked toward her. There was something hard in Rosalie’s face now — something proud. She'd always put herself in front of you, protecting you closely as your best and closest friend, but she knew strength when she saw it. And she knew what it cost you to stand here, for Paul, for the Cullens, for the strange twisted fate you never asked for.

A crack. A blur of movement at the far end of the clearing.

The newborns had arrived.

No more time for dread. No more space for grief.

You turned toward the chaos with a calm that felt entirely foreign. You were done hiding what you were. What you’d become.

Behind you, you heard Paul’s growl deepen into a snarl, the unmistakable sound of his shift beginning.

The wolves charged.

So did you.

You saw them approaching, red eyes thirsty for chaos. There were newborns of all kinds — young girls, young boys, grown men and women. All confused about what they were and what they'd experienced. You could feel it, your empathic ways burning the inside of your body. As confused as they were, they were also as rageful as they'd been taught to be.

You watched as Leah Clearwater eviscerated a small girl who'd eagerly reached for her throat, a deafening snarl ripping from her own. First kill. It had officially begun.

The air was filled with snarls and bone-crunching collisions, snow spraying like white fire with each movement. You didn't hesitate. You launched yourself into the fray, a blur of precise, lethal momentum.

You dodged a broad-shouldered newborn who aimed too high, twisting beneath him and gripping his arms — your flameproof gloves sparing your skin from the fire — and ripped them clean from their sockets in one smooth, brutal motion. He collapsed to the ground, howling, only to be silenced by a wolf — Embry, maybe — who tore into his throat with a snarl.

You moved on.

The field was chaos incarnate. Jacob barreled into two enemies at once, sending limbs flying. Rosalie fought beside Emmett, the pair of them a tornado of sheer force and fury. Jasper was methodical, cruelly elegant, dispatching his targets with a grace that looked almost choreographed.

And you —

You were the storm.

The power building in your chest finally cracked free like a dam breaking, spilling outward in a wave of blistering energy. A newborn lunged toward you and froze midair, his body seizing like he'd hit an invisible wall. His scream was choked, trapped in his throat as his rage turned to blind terror. Your ability turned his aggression against him, amplified it until his mind couldn’t hold. His body burst into flames, melting his jacket, permeating the air with the smell of burning leather.

He hit the snow hard, twitching and trembling, before you snapped his neck with a twist of your boot. Your golden eyes were emotionless, cold.

Another came at you — faster, savvier, but sloppy — and you ducked, grabbed her by the wrist, and let the gloves channel your hold. She struggled, screeched, her panic blooming in your veins. You shoved it back at her tenfold. Her eyes widened, mouth open in a silent scream. She dropped.

You didn’t hesitate. You ended it.

It was going well, newborns getting crushed left and right by older and far more experienced vampires. Their sloppiness, their bloodlust, their hunger was turned against them, causing their instincts to become their own fate.

Although you were focused into sharp precision, you tried to keep a watchful eye on Paul.

The moment you'd been bombarded with four newborns working in a team, though, your watchfulness slipped. A grunt left your lips as you swiftly leapt into the air, mounting the shoulders of one and tearing his head off. Next, you used your momentum to fling his limp body into another, knocking her off balance.

She hissed, lunging for you, but you were faster — ducking beneath her outstretched arms and planting a kick straight into her ribcage, sending her crashing into a nearby boulder with a sickening crack. Her body shattered on impact.

The third one barely had time to blink before your hand was around his throat, your power flaring like wildfire. You didn’t even need to tear him apart — you flooded him with enough dread to paralyze him completely. He groaned in panic as his limbs went up in flames. That moment of hesitation was all you needed. A clean twist. Gone.

The fourth was smarter, staying just outside your range, eyes darting between you and her fallen comrades. She didn’t attack — she ran. You braced for the chase, your lip pulling back into a snarl, but then you heard it.

Agony tore across the battlefield — not human, not vampire. A sound only a wolf could make.

You turned, instincts screaming louder than reason.

Paul.

Two newborns had him pinned — one latched onto his flank, the other clawing at his shoulder, trying to rip him open. His massive form bucked beneath them, snarling, struggling, blood darkening his fur. But he wasn’t getting free fast enough.

You moved before you could think, a blur of black and vengeance.

“Embry!” you barked, voice slicing through the chaos like a blade. He caught your eyes, understood instantly, and broke from his own fight to follow you.

Together, you hit the newborns with every ounce of fury you had left.

Embry tackled the one on Paul’s back, ripping his throat open with a savage snap. You landed on the other, barehanded now — gloves long forgotten — your fingers digging into his jaw. He screamed, more in confusion than pain, as you flooded his senses with fear and regret so potent he collapsed under the weight of it.

One more twist. One more break. He was done.

You didn’t wait to watch him crumble.

You fell to your knees beside Paul as he shifted back, bloodied and gasping, naked and trembling against the snow. His breaths were ragged, pain carved into every inch of him.

“Hey — hey, Paul. Look at me.” Your voice was lower now, frantic, but controlled. You gripped his jaw gently, trying to ignore the crimson staining your hands. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re gonna be fine.”

His eyes flickered open, glassy and strained.

“You came,” he whispered hoarsely, barely audible.

“You idiot,” you snapped, voice cracking despite yourself. “Of course I came.”

Embry hovered nearby, eyes wide, panic barely masked. “We need Carlisle. Now.”

You nodded. “Go. I’ll keep him awake.”

Embry darted off, but you didn’t tear your gaze away from Paul.

You leaned in, pressing your cold forehead to his burning one. “You’re not dying here,” you whispered fiercely. “You don’t get to scare me like this and then check out. You hear me?”

His bloodied lips curled faintly, a ghost of his usual arrogance. “Still bossy.”

You snort halfheartedly, rolling your eyes. "Yeah. I am."

The thunder of footsteps barely registered as you kept your hands firm against Paul’s bleeding side, your mind a frenzy of panic and desperation. You could hear Embry muttering to Paul, encouraging him to keep his eyes open, but your focus stayed locked on the open gash across his ribs, where angry red muscle met shredded skin. It wasn’t just pain you felt—it was the sickening, molten fear crawling up your spine through the mating bond.

Then — finally —

“Move aside,” Carlisle’s voice rang out, calm but urgent.

You shifted immediately, though your hands hovered like you couldn’t bear to let go. Carlisle dropped to his knees beside Paul, his medical bag already in hand. You hadn’t even seen him arrive, but that was Carlisle — quiet, fast, terrifyingly competent.

“I need you to stay calm,” he said without looking at you. “You’re not helping him if you panic.”

You exhaled, sharp and shaky, but nodded. You forced your hands into fists at your sides to keep from reaching for Paul again.

“He lost a lot of blood,” you said, voice low and tight. “Two of them. They blindsided him.”

“I know.” Carlisle’s hands were already working, examining the wounds with surgical precision. “Embry, hold him still.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a curved needle and suture thread.

Paul groaned when the needle bit into his skin, and your knees nearly buckled. You hated this. You hated having a mate. You felt everything they felt, you had an overwhelming urge to protect.

Your fists clenched tighter, nails digging into your palms as you forced yourself to stay still, to let Carlisle work. But every sound Paul made felt like it was happening to you. The bond flared and sparked in your chest like a live wire, his pain weaving itself into your very marrow.

You hated this.

You swallowed hard, jaw tightening. “It shouldn’t have happened. I should’ve—”

“No,” Carlisle said gently but firmly, finishing the final stitch. “Don’t do that. You saved him. Focus on that.”

You looked down at him, your golden eyes locking with his bloodshot brown ones. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Didn’t mean to,” he muttered, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. “But it’s kinda hot when you go all feral for me.”

You huffed, a weak glare directed at him. “Shut up and stay alive.”

“Deal.”

Somehow — somehow — he managed a chuckle, weak and breathless. “Figured… you cared.”

Your throat tightened. “Yeah. Well. I fucking hate it.”

Carlisle's voice cut in, brisk but less urgent now. “Bleeding’s slowing. I’ve stitched him up. He’ll heal — wolves always do. But don’t let him shift for at least twenty-four hours. If he does, he’ll tear the stitches open and we’ll be back to square one.”

Hours later, when the battlefield cleared and the worst was over, you sat at Paul's bedside with the permission of Sam.

He slept, sometimes a small groan slipped from his lips. You felt his warmth, pouring from his unnaturally hot body and seeping into your bones. Your golden eyes analyzed him, looking for any cause for concern.

When you looked at Paul, with the absence of his mouthiness and snide attitude, you felt almost better about the whole imprinting-mating arrangement.

He was beautiful.

Even bloodied and bandaged, bruises blooming dark along his ribs and arms, Paul looked like something carved from heat and fury — raw, rough, and undeniably alive. His copper-toned skin was slick with sweat, stretched taut over sinew and muscle. Strands of his black hair clung damply to his forehead, disheveled from both battle and fevered tossing in unconsciousness.

There was something about the quiet that made it easier to look at him without the usual firestorm of emotions. No yelling. No bickering. No storming off in opposite directions only to find your way back to each other again. Just silence — and him, lying there in the aftermath.

His chest was rising and falling in shallow, steady breaths. His jaw, normally tight with arrogance or smirking mischief, was slack with sleep. Even the scar just beginning to form beneath the fresh stitches couldn’t mar how peaceful he looked.

You swallowed hard. Your hand hovered over his for a second before you gave in, intertwining your fingers with his. His hand, even while unconscious, shifted slightly — the smallest movement, like his body recognized yours even now.

Stupid wolf.

You hated how your chest ached when you looked at him. How the imprint made every inch of you ache to pull him close and protect him from everything — even the things he was built to fight. You hated how natural it felt to care. How it was no longer about choice, but instinct. Like breathing.

You hated how easily your eyes traced every scar and fresh wound, how your chest clenched tighter each time you counted one. Even still, in all the aftermath — bloodied, battered, breathing — Paul Lahote had never looked more real. More yours.

"You're holding my hand. Didn't even have to force ya." His raspy voice rang out, laced with amusement.

You didn’t pull away.

Didn’t snap at him. Didn’t deny it.

Your eyes stayed shut, trying to smother the sudden flare of emotion in your chest — part mortification, part bone-deep relief.

“You were unconscious,” you muttered, your voice lower than usual, hoarse. “Didn’t think you’d wake up to be annoying about it.”

Paul gave a breathy chuckle — more of a wheeze, really — but the sound was warm, familiar. “Wouldn’t be me if I didn’t,” he said, voice cracking slightly.

You opened your eyes and turned your head to find him watching you. Barely, but it was there — the steady weight of his gaze, soft beneath the sharp edges of exhaustion and pain.

He didn’t speak for a moment. Just looked at you — not with the usual bite or smirk, but with something quieter. Something almost hesitant.

Then, in that same rasping voice, he said, “You’re cold.”

You blinked, brows pulling together slightly. “Uh, yeah. Vampire.”

He huffed — a weak laugh that turned into a wince. “Exactly. Cold. You should… maybe get in here.”

You stared at him.

“What?”

He didn’t look at you, suddenly preoccupied with the ceiling. “I’m burning up,” he said, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “Thought maybe your freakish ice-block skin could help break the fever.”

It was such a Paul thing to say — dramatic, stubborn, and absolutely terrible at asking for what he actually wanted.

You didn’t move right away. Your hand was still in his, and his grip hadn’t loosened. If anything, it had grown more certain, more intentional.

“You want me to get in bed with you,” you said flatly.

“I want to not melt into the mattress, yeah,” he muttered, eyes flicking toward you without turning his head. “But if that helps you sleep at night, sure. Let’s pretend it’s just a temperature regulation thing.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t fight him on it. Didn’t tease, didn’t call him out — not this time.

Carefully, you shifted, slipping out of the chair and easing onto the bed beside him. The moment your body touched his, he sighed — not dramatically, not playfully, just… relief. Quiet, tired relief.

Your palm rested gently against his chest, over the slow thud of his heart. His hand moved, settling around your waist with surprising softness.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment.

Then, just as your eyes began to close, you heard him murmur, barely above a whisper: “You smell like rain.”

You smiled against his shoulder, settling in.

“Try not to drool on me, wolf.”

“Can’t make promises when I’m feverish,” he mumbled, boldly pulling you closer to him.

For a while, the room was filled with nothing but the rhythmic sound of Paul’s breathing and the low hum of the fan overhead. His body radiated heat like a furnace, but your touch didn’t flinch. If anything, the contrast between his feverish warmth and your chilled skin made you more aware of every place your bodies touched — shoulder to chest, thigh to thigh, his arm curled loosely around your waist.

You told yourself it was only temporary. Just until he fell asleep. Just until his fever broke. Just until you could talk yourself out of the weight in your chest that came from being this close to someone who wasn’t supposed to matter this much.

But then his fingers moved, slowly — not with the intention of pulling you closer, but more like he needed to remind himself you were real. That you were there. His hand splayed across the small of your back, fingertips brushing the hem of your shirt.

“I didn’t think you’d say yes,” he said, voice soft, eyes still closed.

“To lying next to you?”

“Mm.” He turned his head slightly toward you. “To staying. After everything.”

You exhaled, the sound quieter than a sigh. “You’re not exactly easy to leave.”

A half-smile ghosted across his lips. “Flattered.”

“Don’t be,” you muttered — but your voice was gentler than your words.

There was silence again, but this time it wasn’t empty. It held weight — the kind that filled the room like fog, quiet and creeping and full of things left unsaid.

You stared at the rise and fall of his chest for a long time. Watched the way his lashes rested against his cheeks. Traced, in your mind, the lines of his face — normally sharp with attitude, now softened by exhaustion.

“Can I ask you something?” you said, barely above a whisper.

His eyes opened, a little unfocused. “You just did.”

You rolled your eyes, and he smiled again, smaller this time. Tired, but genuine.

You tried again. “When you imprinted on me… did you hate it?”

His brow furrowed, and for a moment he was quiet.

“No,” he said finally. “I didn’t hate it.”

You didn’t speak — just waited, because you could feel there was more.

“I think I hated how much I felt everything. How fast it hit. How much it scared the hell out of me. You walked into my life and every instinct I had went to war with itself.” His voice dropped again, quieter now. “But no. I never hated you.”

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t hate you either.”

“Liar.”

A soft laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Okay — I hated parts of you.”

“Still do, probably.”

“Definitely.”

His hand moved again, up your spine now, gentle and tentative. “Still staying?”

“For now.”

He hummed low in his throat, pressing his cheek against your temple.

“Then I’ll try not to push my luck.”

You didn’t tell him he already had.

Instead, you let your eyes fall closed, the heat of him warming the cold edges of your body, your mind. Your hand found his beneath the blankets and stayed there.

"Name?" He asked, breaking the silence. "It's my turn to ask you something."

You blinked your eyes open at the sudden shift, but the warmth of his voice kept you from moving too much. You were comfortable, more than you expected to be in his presence, and now curiosity piqued.

“What’s the question?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

His eyes studied you with an intensity that made your breath catch. His hand moved to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent. It was so much quieter now — no noise from the battle outside, no tension from before. Just him and you, the quiet weight of everything between you, settling in like it had always belonged there.

“Why?” he asked, the word simple, but there was more to it. “Why stay? Why not walk away like I expected you to?”

Your chest tightened at the question, unsure how to answer. How could you explain that the choice wasn’t as simple as leaving or staying? That something in you just… stayed, no matter how hard you tried to pull away?

“Because...” You took a breath, feeling the weight of the silence hanging between you. “Because I’m here. With you. And for once, it doesn’t feel like I have to fight it. None of it matters — the age old enemies bullshit, the Cullens.. None of it.”

He studied you for a moment, his dark eyes searching, trying to find the answer hidden beneath your words. Then he exhaled, a slow breath, like he’d been holding something in for longer than you could see.

You could feel it in the air, that moment — the subtle shift between tension and something more. Something soft, undeniable. Something you hadn’t expected to feel, not in a thousand years of trying to fight it.

He leaned in slowly, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. There was no rush, no need to say more. The space between you was filled with everything that had been unsaid, everything that had been building since the first time you met.

And then, with the quietest of movements, his lips pressed to yours.

It was soft. Tentative, at first, like both of you were testing the waters. But it deepened, the hesitance melting away as your body instinctively leaned into him. His hand found the curve of your back, pulling you closer, as though the distance between you could no longer exist.

The world outside — the battle, the old grudges, the mess you’d both carried for so long — faded into nothing. It was just the two of you now, in this quiet room, the warmth of his touch and the softness of his kiss pulling you deeper into something more than just the physical. It was comfort. It was home.

And for the first time, you didn’t feel the need to fight it anymore.

He pulled away, nuzzling his nose against the crook of yours. His mannerisms even reminded you of a wolf, nuzzling its snout into its mate.

You giggled quietly, your hand coming up to press against his cheek. The smell of him didn't even bother you anymore — in fact, it naturally faded into something you enjoyed with the help of the mate bond.

He paused at the sound of your soft giggle, his lips curling into a small smile against your skin. There was something about the sound of it — a break from all the tension, the heaviness that had lingered for so long — that made his heart ease just a little more.

His eyes softened, tracing the lines of your face as your hand lingered against his cheek, the warmth of your touch grounding him in a way nothing else could. The connection between you, the bond that had been created so fiercely and unexpectedly, was undeniable now, as natural as breathing.

"You know," you said, amusement lacing your voice and bringing back the soft banter. "For a big, slobbery wolf.. You're not a bad kisser."

Paul's eyes flickered with amusement at the jab, and a low, rumbling chuckle escaped him. His hand found the small of your back, pulling you in just a little closer.

"Slobbery?" He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with the hint of a smile. "You're lucky you're cute. Otherwise, I'd have to take that personally."

You grinned, the playful edge to your voice never fading. "I mean, you are a big, slobbery wolf," you teased, letting the words hang in the air like a challenge. "Doesn't exactly scream 'smooth operator,' you know?"

His expression shifted to mock offense, but there was a warmth in his eyes that made it clear he was only pretending. He leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against yours, the kiss lingering just enough to remind you of how natural this felt now. How comfortable.

"I'll have you know," he muttered against your lips, "I could teach you a thing or two about being smooth."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't hide the smile that tugged at your lips. "I think you're doing just fine," you said softly, your voice playful but genuine.

You studied him for a moment, the seriousness of his tone stirring something in your chest. But then he gave you that half-smirk again, the one that made everything feel light again.

"Maybe I'll show you just how smooth I can be, if you’re lucky," he added, voice thick with promise.

A laugh escaped you, and you settled back into him, the rhythm of your heartbeat aligning with his as if you were always meant to fit this way.

"Then you'll have to try harder," you teased, "because I’m not easily impressed."

Paul chuckled low in his throat, brushing your hair back from your face with a tenderness that surprised even him. "Challenge accepted."

And for the first time, it didn’t feel like a challenge at all. It felt easy. Natural.

Like everything was falling into place.

The next morning, when you went back home to the Cullens, they instantly smelled the wolf on you.

The moment you walked through the door of the Cullen house, the familiar scent of the air seemed to shift just slightly. A subtle change in the atmosphere, something that was immediately noticeable to anyone who was paying attention.

Alice, of course, was the first to notice. Her sharp eyes locked onto you as you stepped inside, and her lips curled into a knowing grin. "Well, well," she teased, a playful edge to her voice. "Did someone have a very interesting night?"

You froze for just a second, the heat creeping into your cheeks. You didn’t even have to look down to know that the scent of Paul still clung to you, mixed in with your own. The imprint bond was still fresh, stronger than ever, and it left an undeniable trace.

"Please don’t start," you muttered, trying to sound nonchalant, but you could feel your face flush deeper.

Jasper raised an eyebrow, giving you a knowing look as he stood up from the couch, his eyes never leaving yours. "It’s not exactly subtle, you know."

You sighed, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "I didn’t plan for it to be," you shot back, though the way your heart raced said otherwise.

"Mm-hmm." Alice waggled her eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. "And what exactly happened last night, huh? You just happened to get cozy with a hot, muscular wolf who’s been on your mind for weeks?"

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes, but you couldn’t stop your smile from widening. "It wasn’t like that," you protested weakly, though deep down, you knew Alice had nailed it.

Emmett, lounging on the arm of the couch, let out a low whistle. "You know," he started with a smirk, "I thought you’d be the one to hold out longer. But hey, who am I to judge? The wolf's got his claws in you now."

"Not funny," you muttered, though the light teasing didn’t bother you as much as it would have before.

"You stayed the night?" Edward asked, his tone more neutral than Alice’s, but there was an amused glint in his eyes as he watched you.

You winced slightly, but your response was straightforward. "Yeah, I stayed. He was… sick. I had to make sure he didn’t burn the house down with his fever."

"Right, sure." Alice’s grin widened. "And you just happened to stay because of his fever, huh?"

You groaned and rubbed your temples. "Alice, please."

But her smile only grew. "It’s okay," she said, her voice mockingly soft. "You don’t need to be shy. We all know what’s going on." She gave you an exaggerated wink. "Just remember to tell me all the juicy details later."

"Not happening," you muttered, though there was no hiding the amusement in your tone now.

"You might want to watch your back, though," Emmett added, his voice playful. "That dog's probably gonna be even more clingy now that you’ve shared a bed with him."

"Emmett," you protested, though you couldn’t deny that the idea made your heart skip a beat. "It wasn't like that!"

"Keep telling yourself that," Alice teased, crossing her arms over her chest. "We’re all just so happy for you."

You shot her a look but couldn’t suppress the smile that played on your lips. "Thanks," you said, a little sarcastically, but the warmth in your voice betrayed you.

And as the teasing continued, it felt strangely comforting. Despite the teasing, despite everything that had changed, it was easy to relax in their presence — to know they weren’t judging you, but just enjoying the newfound dynamic.

They might have been a little over the top with their teasing, but it didn’t matter. You were here, with them, and with Paul. And for the first time, you didn’t feel the need to hide it. You felt okay.

The ache of loneliness subsided. You felt loved.