#twilight reader

[lillyrob]

How I feel asking for a Pt 2 😔

[vigilante-3073]

Harm

Edward Cullen x Female Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Y/N has always had issues with physical contact and Edward never understood why until an accidental touch brings up unpleasant memories for her.

TW: Mentions of sexual assault, death and molestation, angst.

*Contains mature themes that could be triggering*

Y/N had always had an issue when it came to physical contact, she would shift away like any kind of unexpected touch made her squeamish. Edward had never questioned it, simply assuming that it had been a matter of personal preference. Physical contact had never been a big factor in their friendship and Edward found it easy to respect her boundaries.

Most people were willing to accept her dislike of physical touch, but there would always be people who didn't understand or respect her wishes.

They were walking down the hallway talking about their biology assignment when Emmett ran up behind Y/N and grabbed her waist. She let out a panicked scream as memories began to race through her mind. The memories were so powerful that Edward couldn't keep himself from hearing them.

"Here, munchkin, I got you a toy, but you can only have it if you promise not to tell anyone about our little game," The man said to a 5-year-old Y/N.

The sound of a belt buckle clinking and a sudden unyielding feeling of fear overcame everything.

"Such a good little girl," The man said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before leaving her bedroom.

The memories continued to fly by, each one more unpleasant than the last. It was years of torture, fear and abuse. Her emotions were overwhelming as the memories began to resurface, like a festering wound that never healed.

Emmett set her down on her feet and she immediately broke free of his hold, running down the hallway and into the girl's bathroom.

"The hell was that about?" Emmett asked.

Edward shook his head before quickly following after her. He pushed aside his discomfort and made his way into the women's restroom. Edward moved over to the stall where Y/N had fallen to her knees, coughing and retching as she threw up.

Edward held her hair back, providing silent comfort as she continued to get sick. The memories obviously weighed heavily enough on her to produce such a visceral response.

She finished getting sick before slowly shifting onto her butt, leaning back against the wall of the bathroom stall. Tears rolled down her cheeks as Edward reached past her and flushed the toilet. He stepped away and wet some paper towel for her before returning to her side.

He held out the paper towel to her and she took it silently, wiping her mouth. Edward watched her, listening to her erratic heartbeat as it began to return to normal.

"Who was it?" Edward asked, she gulped, "My uncle," Y/N admitted softly.

"How long?" Edward asked.

"Until I was twelve," She stated.

"Where is he now?" Edward questioned.

Y/N shrugged, "I don't know," She said, toying with the paper towel in her hands.

"Did you ever tell anyone?" Edward asked.

She shook her head, "No, I was-I was scared and I just- I felt like it was my fault," Y/N said shakily, more tears gathering in her eyes.

"You were a child," Edward said, kneeling down beside her.

Y/N scoffed, "I could have said something but I didn't... I thought that no one would believe me," Y/N said, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"I'm sorry that you felt like you were alone in that, Y/N. No one should have to go through that," Edward said.

Touch had become an evil thing for her. That man, that family member, had taken her choice away and robbed her of her innocence. Y/N was just a child when he took advantage of her and it went on for years before she was able to escape him.

Y/N was abused and manipulated into thinking that no one would believe her. She endured years of pain and lived in a state of constant fear of this man who was supposed to be someone she could rely on.

He was family.

...

Edward took some time away from school after that day. He told Y/N that he was going to see his cousins, but he wasn't going to Alaska. Edward went to Y/N's hometown and found her uncle stumbling drunkenly out of a bar.

The stench of alcohol permeated the man's entire being as he staggered over to his truck. He fumbled for his keys in his pocket, dropping them down onto the pavement with a mumbled curse. The man bent down to pick them up and Edward had appeared in front of him when he straightened up.

"The hell do you want, kid?" The man asked.

"I'm a friend of Y/N's," Edward said.

"Oh, wow, I haven't seen her in years," The man chuckled.

"You mean that you haven't assaulted her in years?" Edward questioned, eerily calm.

The man scoffed, "Now, I don't know what she told you-," He started.

Edward didn't allow him to finish, grabbing onto his throat and slamming him back against the side of his vehicle. The metal caved in from the force, knocking the wind out of the man.

"I know all about what you did to her and you deserve to endure a lifetime of suffering for it," Edward growled, leaning closer to him and tightening his hold around the man's neck.

He sputtered, hands shoving desperately at Edward's chest to try and push him away.

Edward felt like an avenging angel in this moment, choking the life out of such a vile man. It brought him comfort to know that he would be removing a very evil person from the world.

Edward leaned in and bit into the side of the man's neck, shredding the arteries and spilling his blood in the parking lot brutally.

He pulled away, watching the life drain from the man's face, "You will never hurt her or anyone else ever again," Edward said before letting him go.

He watched the man's body slide down to the ground, gasping and gurgling on his own blood as he died. This man was a predator and he finally knew what it felt like to become the prey.

...

Edward returned to Forks a day later with red eyes, Carlisle knew what he had left to accomplish and chose not to acknowledge it. Even Carlisle had to allow him leniency in this case, violence was never the answer until it was the only answer available.

That man was sick and he deserved to suffer for what he had done to such a kind person, a child nonetheless. He could not be saved or changed and the world would be a better place without him in it.

Edward never told Y/N about what he had done that day, but he would never forget the day her mother had told her the news. They thought it was an animal attack, her mother called it 'gruesome' and 'awful.' She had said that the animal responsible hadn't been located, but assured Y/N that they were searching for it.

Edward watched the look of recognition cross Y/N's face before her glossy eyes slowly came to focus on him. She hung up the phone, dropping it down on her bed.

"What happened?" Edward asked.

"My uncle is dead... They said it was an animal attack," Y/N said.

"Seems to be happening a lot lately," Edward stated.

Y/N stepped over to him, sliding her arms around him and pressing herself against his chest. Edward slowly wrapped his arms around her, holding her gently.

"Thank you," She mumbled, a few warm tears soaking into his shirt.

"You're welcome," Edward said.

She let out a soft breath before her body began to shake with sobs. Y/N cried until she had nothing left in her, standing silently with her head on his chest and her arms wrapped tightly around him.

His shirt had been saturated with her tears and he could feel her beginning to shiver from the ice cold temperature of his body. Edward wanted to get her a blanket or a warm cup of tea, but he knew that she needed this. She needed to hold onto him and feel safe.

Edward had protected her more than anyone else had and Y/N finally allowed herself to enjoy the touch of another person. Y/N would never have to live in fear of that man again and maybe she would eventually be able to tell her family about what he did to her. And if she didn't, her secret would rot in the ground with her abuser.

[alixandra-multifandom-version]

A reader who doesn't know the cullens are vampires

Reader: do different type of blood taste different?

Cullens forgetting the reader doesn't know answering fast: yes

Reader: ...that was too fast of an answer

The cullens: shit....

[wisteria-bae]

“Reader has black hair and blue eyes-“

THEN ITS NOT AN X READER!!???

Edit below cut

Hey guys, so when I made this post, I was extremely frustrated and annoyed. Now that I’m way more mellowed out and had the chance to read a lot of reactions and responses, let me act my age and actually clarify some things.

First, I want to apologize to those who were deeply upset by my post. My post overall was towards those who claim they don’t write for a specific audience, and yet put specific descriptions in their work. There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with adding certain details to your reader, such as gender or body type. The issue comes in when you don’t properly title and tag it as so, or completely ignore it altogether.

If you see my post as an eye opener and want to change up your work, then you have every right to do so, but please do not think that this is an attack or jive directed at you. It’s just that some of us readers want exactly as promised. That’s like blindfolding someone, telling them that you’re gonna feed them an apple, and then making them bite into a banana - peel and all.

I know some writers have said that they want to be more inclusive in response to my criticism. If that is what you truly want, then by all means, but I cannot stress enough: write what YOU want to write. Do not feel as though you’re being pressured to change what you put out; it’s just a means of how you categorize it.

Thank you to everyone who took the time to read, respond, and engage with my original post. I truly appreciate the perspectives shared, they’ve helped me see things more clearly and refine my thoughts.

[s9fti3]

‘I can fix him!!’

Him in question;

[percabething]

when the fandom is so small that everybody knows everybody

[blac-ivy]

One thing golden era Wattpad writers had going for them was that they knew the importance of a buildup. I'm of the opinion that the sexual tension is WAY more satisfying to read than the actual sex and quite frankly there is a serious lack of non smutty writing.

Like I really miss reading fics/ x readers that start from scratch. Meeting the characters, initial reactions getting to know them, the tension the jealousy the TENSION the freaking tension.

Looking and looking away when they get spotted, touches that feel like they linger but perhaps they didn't and they're both so hot for each other that they think it's wishful thinking. And I don't mean just sweet sunshine romances, darker works can have a buildup too but it seems like so much is just about getting to the smut instead of the psychological aspect.

Bring back the build up!!!!!!!

[darkmold]

Thinking about casual dominance with the Cullens

Carlisle makes sure you bring a jacket whenever you go out. You both could be halfway out the door and he’ll turn around just to go get one for you (not without a gentle scolding, of course)

Esme never lets you cook for yourself. She’s so excited to have someone to cook for. Plus, it allows her to make sure you’ve eaten well that day.

Edward keeps track of all your likes and dislikes. He can order for you at restaurants flawlessly and is not afraid to send the dish back if it’s not up to standards. It also lets him keep Alice’s party plans in check (after all, you can’t enjoy yourself if things are subpar)

Jasper has a hand on your waist at almost all times. He guides you through crowds and away from people he deems threatening. He’d also kneel and tie your shoelaces for you if they came undone. He doesn’t want you to trip!

Emmett is not about to let people disrespect you. If someone gets a little too passive aggressive in history class, he’s gonna call them out on it. Holds you close and glares at them in the cafeteria.

Alice picks your outfits. She insists she knows more about fashion than you and that you should listen to her expertise, but it’s usually just so you two can match. She’d even help you get dressed if you let her.

Rosalie helps take care of you. Makes sure you drink lots of water and brush your teeth every morning/night. She’d definitely give you a little “excuse me?” look if you say the routines aren’t that important (because taking care of you is important)

[deniable-masterpiece]

missing the undead bf trio

[kirsteinlvqr]

How I feel after crying over a literal x reader fanfic

[lillyrob]

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

[blue-sadie]

Second Head

Imagine:

Being Paul's mate and him being seen as the grumpy person who hates anyone one coming near him or touching him but in reality he's attached to you as soon as you come through the door Emily has even said he's like the second head attached to your body.

"What can't a wolf boy hug his mate, is that against the rules now. Well I don't care what they think they could fuck off for all I care as long as your in my arms I'm happy"

[zapreportsblog]

Could you do something with the Cullens where the reader has a meltdown at school and they find out it’s because they have diabetes and their blood sugar dropped and they can’t find their juice box they packed just in case

❝i need a juice box❞

✭ pairing : cullen siblings x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) has diabetes and their sugar intake tends to drop quite a bit hence why their always remember to bring a pack of juices with them everywhere, not only does it help but it’s tasty too. But then one day her juice boxes bust in her locker, so what does any frustrated person do? Have a mental breakdown like it’s the end of the world, luckily some classmates of hers has her back

✭ authors note : Ayo ignore that juice part that says no sugar added 😭 i used the first picture i seen of juice and those shits be bustin. Ah and I’ve been watching anime lately so i apologize in advance for the lack of writing I’m putting out

✭ twilight masterlist 2

(Y/N) had always been well-acquainted with the delicate balance of her health. Diabetes wasn't just a condition for her; it was a family legacy. With half her family members wrestling with the same ailment, it was almost a rite of passage.

The sun had barely risen over Forks as she hurriedly got ready for her first day at Forks High School. This new beginning was daunting enough, but it became even more challenging with the knowledge that her diabetes would be a constant companion throughout the day.

As she zipped up her school bag, she made sure to slot in her lifeline - a package of juices. These juices were her safety net, ensuring her blood sugar levels stayed within a safe range. She had diligently followed this routine every day, her tiny insurance policy against hypoglycemia.

With her backpack securely on her shoulders, (Y/N) headed downstairs to the kitchen. Her mom greeted her with a warm smile, understanding the importance of this daily ritual. "Don't forget your juices, dear," she reminded.

(Y/N) grabbed the chilled package from the fridge and slipped it into her bag. "Thanks, Mom," she said, returning the smile. Her mom's familiarity with diabetes had always been a source of comfort.

Minutes later, she was out the door and on her way to Forks High School. The campus buzzed with excitement, but (Y/N) couldn't help feeling a bit of trepidation. New school, new faces, and the relentless specter of diabetes were a lot to handle.

History class was her first stop, and she found a seat next to a boy named Jasper. They exchanged polite nods as she settled into her chair, trying to focus on the teacher's introduction.

Then it happened. A discreet but insistent beep emanated from her wrist. Her watch timer, meticulously set to remind her when to take her juice, had gone off. This was the crucial moment to maintain her blood sugar levels. With practiced ease, she reached into her bag to retrieve her juice, only to discover her heart-sinking realization – it wasn't there.

Panic started to creep in, her fingers trembling as she fumbled through her bag in desperation. Jasper, noticing her distress, leaned closer. "Is everything okay?" he asked in a concerned whisper.

(Y/N) could feel her face flush with anxiety. She mumbled, "I think I left my juice in my locker. I need to go get it."

The teacher, Mrs. Thompson, glanced their way. "Is there a problem?"

(Y/N) stuttered, "I just need to grab something from my locker. It won't take long, I promise."

Mrs. Thompson nodded, granting her permission to leave the class. Her heart raced as she hurried out the door, fervently hoping that her juice would be where she thought it was.

(Y/N) practically sprinted through the hallways, her heart pounding in her chest. The idea of waiting another four hours until lunch without her juice was unbearable. She needed to retrieve her lifeline from her locker, and she needed it now.

Finally, she reached her locker, a sense of relief washing over her as she yanked it open. But that relief quickly turned to frustration as she stared at the sight before her. Her textbooks had fallen over and, in a cruel twist of fate, had crushed the juice boxes. Their colorful packaging was torn and sticky liquid seeped from the ruined containers.

"No, no, no," she muttered in frustration, tears welling up in her eyes. It felt like the universe was conspiring against her today, and the overwhelming weight of her situation crashed down on her shoulders. Her mind raced with thoughts of how she would make it through the day without her juice.

Just when it seemed like her world was spiraling out of control, a voice interrupted her thoughts. "Hey, are you okay?" It was Rosalie, a girl she barely knew, but one of the few familiar faces in this new school.

(Y/N) blinked back tears and explained what had happened, her voice quivering with anxiety. "I don't know what to do. I can't wait until lunch without my juice."

Rosalie glanced at the sticky mess inside her locker and then at Emmett, who had joined them. "That's totally not cool," he said, sympathy in his eyes. "I'll grab you something from the vending machine. What do you want?"

(Y/N) opened her mouth to protest, but before she could utter a word, Emmett had already taken off down the hallway. She looked helplessly after him, torn between gratitude and a sense of intrusion.

Rosalie placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about it," she said with a warm smile. "Once Emmett's made up his mind, that's that. He's a bit overbearing at times, but he means well."

(Y/N) couldn't help but smile through her frustration. In this unexpected moment of crisis, she had found a glimmer of kindness and support. Sometimes, it took a helping hand to make a bad situation feel a little more manageable.

Just when (Y/N) thought her day couldn't get any stranger, Emmett returned with a comical surplus of juice boxes in his arms. He had not come back with just one or two; he had brought what looked like a small grocery store worth of them.

"Emmett! What are you doing?" Rosalie exclaimed, smacking him on the back of the head. She looked at the impressive stack of juice boxes with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

Emmett shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. "I didn't know how many she wanted, so I just grabbed them all."

(Y/N) stood there, stunned and grateful. She couldn't believe the lengths this stranger was going to in order to help her out. "Thank you," she managed to say, her voice filled with genuine appreciation.

Emmett chuckled. "No problem at all. It's better to have too many than not enough, right?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes but wore a fond smile. "You always do this, Emmett. How are you going to carry all of them?"

Emmett scratched his head, looking a bit perplexed. "I'll just carry them around until we see her again at lunch. She can take what she needs now."

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "I don't even know how to thank you both enough," she said, reaching out to take a handful of juice boxes, about six of them. It was a bit heavy, but she could manage.

Emmett grinned, his good-naturedness shining through. "You're welcome. Anytime you need help, just let us know."

Rosalie gave (Y/N) a playful shove. "Girls gotta help girls, right?"

With her backpack now considerably heavier with the added juice boxes, (Y/N) felt a newfound sense of belonging. These two strangers had shown her kindness and support when she needed it most, and she couldn't help but feel that Forks High School might not be such a daunting place after all. As they walked her back to class, she couldn't help but smile, grateful for this unexpected friendship.

Lunchtime arrived, and (Y/N) entered the bustling cafeteria with her stack of juice boxes, feeling a mixture of gratitude and nervousness. She looked around, wondering where to sit when she heard a familiar voice booming across the room.

"Hey, juice girl!" Emmett called out, waving enthusiastically from a table on the other side of the cafeteria. His infectious energy drew the attention of many students, and a few curious glances followed her as she made her way toward him.

A warm smile stretched across her face as she approached Emmett's table. He had saved her from a diabetic crisis earlier in the day, and now he was offering her a seat at his table, as if she were already part of their group.

"Thanks," she said, taking a seat next to Emmett, her stack of juice boxes settling beside her. She couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging that she hadn't expected to find so quickly in this new school.

As she settled in and started unpacking her lunch, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel grateful for the kindness of her new friends. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to her, and it made Forks High School feel a little less dauntin

Emmett introduced his siblings to (Y/N) with a playful grin. "This is Rosalie, my lovely and sometimes overly responsible partner, and this," he gestured dramatically to a young man who had been quiet until now, "is Edward, our resident brooding poet."

“Partner?”

“It’s complicated,” Rosalie says but she gave (Y/N) a warm smile, and Edward nodded in acknowledgment, his expression more reserved.

Emmett couldn't resist a teasing grin as he turned to (Y/N). "And, of course, you already know me, the one who saved the day earlier—your trusty juice retriever." He emphasized the last part, a playful twinkle in his eye.

“Then there’s Alice and jasper but I’m not sure where those two are at the moment.” He added.

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh at Emmett's description. "Yes, my hero," she replied, her gratitude evident in her tone.

Edward, who had been observing the interaction quietly, couldn't resist a smirk. "Emmett and his heroic acts. Quite the storyteller, he is."

Emmett chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Well, I just wanted to make sure our new friend here didn't pass out from low blood sugar."

(Y/N) felt a sense of warmth and camaraderie settling in at the table. These strangers had quickly become friends, and she was grateful for their support. With a newfound sense of belonging, she joined in the conversation, feeling more at ease in this new school than she had thought possible.

[bruisedboys]

trouble — jacob black

it’s raining and you’re bored. your boyfriend proves to be an effective distraction (if you can distract him, that is) OR in which jacob is busy and you like to cause trouble. based off this drabble!

jacob black x fem!reader, 2k words. suggestive content 16+ pls!!

The rain is unforgiving today. It’s not uncommon for it to be wet in Forks, the rain a persistent, stubborn thing, but today it’s horrendous. Heavy and icy cold, big fat droplets that seem sure to pierce your skin and freeze you to death. It hasn’t stopped since last night and doesn’t seem like it’ll stop for a good few days.

You’re bored out of your mind. You realise rain just comes with living in Forks, and you’re mostly used to it, but you’d really wanted to go shopping with your friends today and the rain squandered your plans the moment you woke up. Jacob’s busy working on his bike in the shed, and everyone else is rained in. You’re stuck on the couch at Jacob’s while the rain comes down in sheets outside. You flick through channels on the TV until you can’t stand it anymore. There’s nothing good to watch, anyway.

You grab one of Jacob’s jackets from the hook by the door and brave the rain, using the jacket as a makeshift umbrella as you jog your way over to the garage, shoes sloshing in the mud.

You find Jacob sitting on the beat-up wooden bench, hunched over his newest project. It’s a bike he found second hand at a yard sale — when he first got it, it looked to you an unrecognisable hunk of metal, hardly a bike at all. But your boyfriend has a way with his hands, and now it at least has two wheels and a proper seat.

Jacob looks up as you come in, though the sound of the rain completely covers your footsteps.

“Hey, trouble,” he says. Then, at the look on your face, “You okay?”

Your frown deepens. “No,” you shake your head. “I’m bored, Jake.”

Jacob chuckles. Trust him to laugh at you when you’re clearly suffering.

“Yeah?” He asks. “You want to come help me?”

You take one look at the frankly confusing array of tools around his feet, and wrinkle your nose. “No, thanks. Can’t we go for a drive?”

Jacob wrinkles his nose back at you. “I’m busy, babe. And the road’s slippery, it’s dangerous. Maybe later.”

You roll your eyes. He can be such a grandma sometimes. Jacob goes back to his bike and you wander around the shed looking for something to do and moping. After a half assed search for some way to entertain yourself, you find an old novel you or Jake must’ve left in here a few months ago — you remember starting it and getting bored, but you’re already knee deep in boredom with no way out, so you decide to give it another try.

You sit in the bed of Jacob’s truck where it’s parked in the back of the shed, legs swinging over the edge. The rain drums rhythmically above you as you start reading. It takes about ten pages for you to get bored again, and five more for your mind to start wandering.

You think about how you could’ve been out shopping right now. Looking at all the lovely dresses in the new store they opened near the cinema. Sorting through books at the second-hand bookstore. Choosing a pretty new bra that you know Jacob would love seeing on you, and taking off of you. The thought gives you an idea. Unceremoniously, you give up on the book and slide off the truck bed, crossing the room to Jacob.

He doesn’t lift his head as you come up behind him, but acknowledges you with a brush of his knuckle to your thigh. You stand over him for a moment, watching him work. He looks hot when he’s concentrated, eyes trained in on his work, jaw set in concentration, arms muscles straining as he twists a particularly stubborn screw. He’s got big, strong hands, which only fuel your desire even more. What’s the best way to drag him away from his work?

“Did you want to help?” Jacob asks without looking up, interrupting your thoughts. You’re lucky he doesn’t catch you staring, or he’d figure out your plan in an instant.

You shake your head. “No. I’m just watching you.”

Jacob hums and goes back to what he’s doing, which happens to involve a lot of strained muscles as he tightens another loose screw with a wrench. You’re holding your breath as you watch his tanned bicep strain beneath the fabric of his t-shirt, and yeah, you’re a minx, but he’s really hot, and you don’t think anyone would blame you for reaching out and touching him.

Jacob doesn’t startle under your touch nor does he acknowledge it. You play it off casual, like you’re only rubbing his shoulder, palm gliding over the hill of it. You can feel his abnormally high body heat through his t-shirt, a nice change from the cold air. You find yourself pushing your hand down the expanse of his shoulder blade and up again, pressing the heel of your palm into his muscle.

Jacob sighs a little under your touch and rolls his shoulder back, leaning into your hand.

“Feels nice,” he murmurs.

You grin. This far into your relationship you’ve learnt that Jacob is a lot like a puppy when it comes to physical affection — he’s a total sucker for it, he melts for shoulder rubs and back scratches, and he turns to complete putty in your hands when you play with his hair (though you won’t implement that just yet.)

Instead, you just hum softly, smiling to yourself as you press both hands to his shoulders. He’s equally warm and muscled all over, and at this point it would take a hoard of vampires to hold you back from touching him. You get a good grip on his shoulders and push your palms into his muscles, massaging him.

It’s mean, because you know what it’ll do to him, know exactly what kind of mood it gets him into. Still, it’s not until you start to push your hands further up towards his neck that he confronts you.

He turns to face you, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Did you want something, sweetheart?” He asks, and you can tell you’ve begun to unravel him by the way he says it, plus he’s called you sweetheart, which almost certainly means he’ll give in.

You feign innocence, though the look on his face almost unravels you.

“Nope,” you lie. “Just watching.”

Jacob raises his eyebrows at you. “You sure? You’re being awfully touchy.”

“You’re really warm,” you say, shrugging.

Jacob squints at you, then shrugs. “If you say so,” he says, and (looking like he’s exercising quite a bit of restraint) turns back to his bike.

You stay where you are and give him about five minutes of peace before you start being cruel. Keeping one hand at the base of his neck, you slide the other up the back of it, pushing up into his hair. You card your fingers through the short strands at the very nape of his neck, and Jacob goes very still. You think he’s holding his breath. When you push your hand further up into the longer strands, and let your nails drag over his scalp on the way back down, he folds.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he murmurs. He drops his tools, scrubs his hands on his jeans and spins on you, hooking one leg over the wooden bench, straddling it so he can properly face you. He‘s giving you a dangerous look that makes your heart race. Finally.

You blink at him, a picture of innocence. “What’s the matter?” You ask sweetly, though you know your smile gives you away. As if you weren’t caught red handed already.

Jacob huffs and rolls his eyes, before grabbing your hips and pulling you forward roughly. You go tumbling into his lap and he catches you, hands hot on your jeans, adjusting you until you’re properly sitting in his lap. Your legs fall on either side of his hips and you giggle, pleased and flustered at his manhandling.

Jacob gives you a somewhat disapproving look, though his thumb rubs fond circles into the fat of your hip.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” He says in a low voice. His eyes flicker to your lips. He looks a bit like he wants to eat you.

“Sorry,” you say. You are kind of sorry for disturbing him, but the heat building in your chest outweighs the guilt. “I was really bored.”

Jacob laughs through his nose. “Yeah, I know, babe.” He spread his hands over your hips and butt and pulls you closer still. Your hands end up on his shoulders again. “You always know how to get what you want, huh?”

Something about the way he’s talking to you makes you so dizzy you can’t speak. You’re silent as Jacob dips his head to press a kiss to one of your wrists, then takes it in his hand and guides your hand up his neck and back into his hair.

“Keep going?” He asks in a quiet voice, encouraging your hand around the back of his head. “Please?”

Well, when he asks like that, how could you say no? You curl your fingers into his hair and Jacob barely gives you time to breathe before he’s kissing you, mouth landing on yours in the sort of kiss you can only describe as desperate. You’re equal amounts of needy as him, pushing forward in his lap and grabbing at his hair with greedy hands.

The rain thunders overhead. Jacob tilts his head, kissing you until your lips part under the pressure. His tongue slips into your mouth and your stomach swarms with butterflies. You grip Jacob’s hair harder, ensuing a sound from him like an angry dog, half moan half growl. It seems your touching earlier got him in exactly the mood you knew it would.

It’s not long before his hands start to wander. First your ass, then your arms, rubbing up and down as he kisses you hard enough to make you forget where you are. Then back to your hips, and you can feel the scalding heat of his hands through your jeans. He grabs you and tugs you further up his lap, close enough that your legs spread as you press against his bulge.

“Jake,” you whisper.

“Mmm,” he moans back. Then pulls away just an inch, lips swollen and forehead pressed to yours. “What, babe?”

You shake your head, breathless. “Nothing, just feels nice when you do that.”

Jacob ducks in to kiss you again. “Yeah?” He murmurs between hot kisses, sounding both pleased and a bit dangerous.

You nod your head, and it’s all it takes for Jacob to rock you against him again, pushing his hips up into yours as he goes. You moan and Jacob makes a similar sound from the back of his throat, heating you all the way through.

It quickly turns into not just kissing after that. Jacob’s kisses turn sloppy. You push your hands under his shirt to feel along the ridges and planes of his chest and abdomen, his skin like a furnace. Jacob guides your hips forward and back and forward again, grinding you against him slowly and breathing hard into your open mouth.

You forget about the rain, the pounding of your heart much louder than the downpour outside. You forget about the cold, your failed shopping trip, and the boring book abandoned in the bed of the truck.

It’s not long before Jacob’s got his hand on your thigh and a warm ache sweet as honey has bloomed between your legs.

Jacob’s busy kissing at your neck, bullying your skin with his teeth and tongue while you go breathless. His hand trudges further and further up your thigh until it’s high enough to abuse the waistband of your jeans.

His hand roves along the length of it, until he reaches the button. He tugs at it, mumbling into your neck a barely intelligible, “Can I?”

You nod vigorously, and your breath catches as he unfastens the button — his thumb skims over your underwear and you make a needy sound you can’t help.

Jacob emerges from your neck, smirking like mad. You’d say you hate him for it, but his thumb is tracing the hem of your underwear and you can’t speak.

“Not so bored now, huh?” Jacob teases in a low voice, but he’s out of breath too. You’ll tease him later for how quickly you managed to unravel him, but right now you can’t form more than two words.

“Shut up,” you manage, then make sure of it by pressing your mouth to his again.

He shuts up.

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed 🤍

[bambieyedoll]

I WISH YOU’D STAYED .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

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

pairing: jacob black x fem!reader

word count: 4,8k

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

masterlist | check out my other work !

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

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

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

jacob had promised you tonight.

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

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

you should have known better.

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

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

you saw the name before he even answered.

bella.

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

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

“bella?”

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

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

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

then, without hesitation, he stood.

your heart dropped.

“where are you?”

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

“i’ll be right there.”

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

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

or didn’t want to hear it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but it wasn’t enough.

because you could already see the outcome.

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

his choice had already been made.

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

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

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

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

his lips parted, but no words came.

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

didn’t try to convince you otherwise.

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

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

but it wasn’t.

and you were so, so tired.

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

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

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

for a split second, he hesitated.

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

you held your breath, waiting.

but he reached for his keys.

and you exhaled, shattered.

the answer was clear.

it had always been clear.

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

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

and you already knew how this night would end.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but he said nothing.

and silence had never hurt so much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and jacob?

jacob was drowning.

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

but the imprint had other plans.

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

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

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

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

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

and worst of all? it was his fault.

he had caused this.

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

the pack noticed almost immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he had made you wait long enough.

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

but this time, he knew better.

taking a deep breath, he knocked.

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

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

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

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

you knew who it was.

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

and yet, you had stayed away.

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

another knock—louder this time, more urgent.

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

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

“y/n… please.”

the sound of him nearly brought you to your knees.

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

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

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

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

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

you had missed him.

more than you wanted to admit.

your body moved before your mind fully decided.

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

your hand hovered over the doorknob. you hesitated.

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

and yet…

you exhaled shakily and pulled the door open.

jacob stood there, looking wrecked.

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

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

for the longest time, neither of you spoke.

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

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

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

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

his restraint made your chest ache.

jacob had never hesitated before.

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

you clenched your jaw, willing yourself to stay firm.

but then jacob did something he had never done before.

he fell to his knees.

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

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

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

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

you sucked in a sharp breath.

because that was the wound that had festered most.

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

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

you clenched your jaw, your emotions warring inside you.

because damn him. damn him for finally getting it.

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

this was raw.

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

and yet… you hesitated.

“why now?” you whispered.

jacob blinked, his brows furrowing.

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

pain flickered across his face.

then, he did something that nearly stopped your heart.

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

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

your breath hitched.

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

your heart stuttered.

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

never with this much certainty.

never with this much desperation.

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

you had left to protect yourself.

but he had changed to earn you back

slowly, cautiously—you reached for his hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

wordlessly, you nodded.

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

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

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

hope.

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

the kiss was desperate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

you were feeling them.

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

[s9fti3]

“You’re doing so good.” Alice praises to you, holding onto you as your eyes roll back. She keeps her legs over yours so you can’t close them as Jasper pushes the rest of himself into you. “Almost there, just- hold on.” Jasper say, closing his eyes and taking in a breath he knew he didn’t need. But he needed to compose himself or else he could risk hurting you. “It’s alright, Jas, you won’t hurt her.” Alice says as she takes her attention off of you for a moment to look at Jasper. With those words, he pushes himself into you completely without any warning. He watched you cry out and arch your back, clinging onto Alice’s arm for support. For a moment he thought he hurt you, until he felt the pure bliss you were in.