when you show up wearing their hoodie or flannel
fandom: twilight (wolf pack imagines)
characters: sam uley, jared cameron, paul lahote, jacob black, quil ateara, embry call, leah clearwater, seth clearwater
summary: headcanons/scenarios of how each of them reacts when you show up wearing their hoodie or flannel, from teasing and possessive to soft and quietly affectionate moments that feel like home.
tags/warnings: lowercase writing, fluff, comfort, established relationship, implied intimacy, protective behavior, light teasing, gender-neutral reader, wolf pack x reader, cozy vibes
credits: @dollywons
Sam Uley
Sam’s hoodie practically swallows you whole, oversized, heavy, and carrying that distinct scent of cedar, pine, and something purely him. When you walk into the room wearing it, everyone notices, but no one says a word. They don’t have to. The way Sam looks at you says it all.
He’s talking to Jared when he sees you, mid-sentence, and the words just… stop.
His gaze trails over you, quiet but unreadable, the kind of look that feels like a touch.
You fidget, tugging the sleeve over your hand. “What?” you ask, pretending not to know.
His lips twitch, not quite a smile, not quite a smirk. “That’s mine.”
“You left it in bed,” you counter, chin tilted up. “Finders keepers.”
He doesn’t argue. He just steps closer, brushing his thumb along your jaw, murmuring, “Keep it, then. Looks better on you anyway.”
When the others start teasing, Sam only gives them one glance, and suddenly, the jokes stop.
Later, when you’re alone, his fingers hook into the hem of the hoodie, tugging you toward him until you’re chest to chest. “You know what that does to me, right?” he murmurs, voice low, rough.
You just smile into his chest as his arms wrap around you, the warmth of him bleeding through the fabric that already smells like home.
To Sam, it’s not just a hoodie, it’s a claim, a quiet, unspoken promise that you’re his and he’s yours.
︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶
Jared Cameron
Jared’s flannel is soft from wear, faded plaid, sleeves rolled, the faint scent of smoke and soap clinging to it. When you show up wearing it, he’s instantly grinning, that signature, cocky grin that makes his dimple show. But underneath the teasing, there’s that warm, full-hearted love that makes his chest ache a little.
“Well, damn,” he drawls, eyes roaming over you with a playful spark. “That mine?”
You shrug, feigning innocence. “Could be anyone’s.”
“Mmh,” he hums, stepping closer. “Nah. I’d know that shirt anywhere. Looks better stretched across you, though.”
His fingers find the edge of the fabric, brushing lightly against your skin as he teases, “Didn’t even ask, huh?”
You smirk. “You would’ve said no.”
He shakes his head, smile softening. “I would’ve said take it. Didn’t know seeing you in it would knock the air outta me, though.”
The others tease him for letting you “steal” his clothes, but he doesn’t care, he likes when people see you in his things. It sends a small, primal jolt through him every time.
Later, when he pulls you into his arms, his voice softens. “You know, I didn’t realize how much I’d love that look on you.”
He kisses the top of your head, murmuring, “Smells like me. Feels right.”
Jared’s teasing is loud, his affection louder, but when you wear his flannel, the laughter quiets into something softer. Something that feels like home.
︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶
Paul Lahote
Paul doesn’t do subtle. When he sees you in his hoodie, the one you stole from his room without warning, there’s no mistaking the reaction. It’s pure, instinctual, a mix of shock, pride, and something darker. He’s always on edge, always running hot, but that sight? It makes him still.
You walk up to him at Emily’s, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, the sleeves hanging long past your fingers.
The second he looks up, his jaw goes tight. “You’re wearing my hoodie,” he says, voice low. Not angry, just stunned.
“Yeah,” you say casually. “It’s comfy.”
His nostrils flare slightly, his gaze dragging down your frame, his hoodie hanging loose, your hair messy, his scent all over you.
“You have no idea what that does to me,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair as if to keep his temper, or something else, in check.
The others notice his reaction instantly and start teasing. “Easy there, Lahote. You look like you’re gonna combust.”
Paul glares. “Shut it.”
When you try to laugh it off, he steps closer, lowering his head until your foreheads nearly touch. “You can wear it whenever you want,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Just… don’t be surprised if I can’t keep my hands to myself after.”
Later, when you’re curled up in his arms, he tugs the hood over your head and kisses your forehead. “Smells like home,” he whispers, quiet, reverent, almost gentle.
For Paul, your wearing his clothes hits every instinct at once, protective, possessive, and completely undone by the thought of you choosing something that belongs to him.
︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶
Jacob Black
Jacob’s hoodie isn’t fancy, just a worn, dark one that’s clearly seen too many days of grease and sawdust. But to him, it’s comfort. Familiar. And when he sees you wearing it, it’s like watching a piece of his world fit perfectly into yours.
You don’t even announce it, you just show up at the garage, sleeves too long, the hem nearly hitting your knees.
He turns around mid-laugh with Quil, then freezes mid-word.
“Is that—” His brow furrows, then softens instantly. “—my hoodie?”
You grin, tugging at the hood string. “Was cold.”
“Could’ve told me,” he says, though the corner of his mouth is already twitching upward.
“Would you have said yes?”
He exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Probably not. But seeing it on you now… yeah, I take it back.”
He reaches out, his hand resting at your waist as he tugs you closer. “You look… good.” It’s simple, but the softness in his tone carries everything he can’t say out loud.
You catch Quil’s teasing glance from the corner of your eye, and Jacob huffs, wrapping his arms around you protectively. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”
Later, when you’re sitting by the fire together, he tugs the hoodie’s sleeve over your hand, intertwining your fingers inside it. “You should keep it,” he murmurs. “Looks better on you anyway.”
Jacob’s calm, warm kind of pride makes moments like that feel heavier, not possessive, not showy, just real. You wearing his hoodie isn’t just cute to him; it’s a quiet declaration of belonging.
︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶
Quil Ateara
The second Quil spots you in his flannel, he nearly drops whatever’s in his hands. His grin spreads slow and wide, that easy sunshine smile that somehow still makes your heart skip a beat. It’s not teasing, not really, it’s pure awe, like he’s seeing something he didn’t know he needed.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa— is that mine?” His tone is playful, but there’s a genuine wonder beneath it.
You glance down at yourself, pretending to think. “Maybe. Found it lying around.”
“That’s my favorite one!” he protests, stepping closer. “You can’t just steal it and expect me to— okay, fine, yeah, you can.”
He gives in too easily, fingers brushing the sleeve like he can’t quite believe how right it looks on you.
“You look really good,” he admits, voice soft now, his teasing melting into something tender.
He tugs gently at the fabric until you stumble closer, and his grin turns boyish again. “It’s official, you’re never giving this back.”
Around the others, he’s shameless, proudly slinging his arm around you, letting everyone see the way you’re practically swimming in his clothes.
Later, when it’s quiet, he buries his face against your shoulder and murmurs, “Smells like me now. Guess that means you’re stuck with it… and me.”
For Quil, it’s not about ownership, it’s affection, plain and bright. You wearing his flannel feels like warmth shared, a sign that you belong in every piece of his world.
︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶
Embry Call
Embry freezes mid-step the moment he sees you, his hoodie hanging loose, sleeves too long, hood halfway up. It’s the one he practically lives in, and on you, it looks… softer. The way his gaze lingers gives away how much it hits him.
“That’s mine,” he says, but there’s no edge in it, just quiet amazement.
You hum, tugging the hood up. “It was cold. I borrowed it.”
“You could’ve asked,” he murmurs, though the faint smile tugging at his mouth says he doesn’t mind at all.
His eyes follow every little movement, the way the hem brushes your thighs, the way his scent clings to you.
“Didn’t realize it’d look better on you,” he finally says, voice low, rougher than usual.
When you pass him later, he catches your wrist, pulling you into a brief hug that lingers too long to be casual. “Keep it,” he whispers. “I’ll just… steal it back when I miss you.”
Around the pack, he pretends to shrug it off, but they all notice the way he glances at you every time you adjust the hoodie.
Later that night, when you’re sitting on the porch, he leans against the railing beside you. “I like seeing you in my stuff,” he says quietly. “Makes it feel like you’re right where you’re supposed to be.”
With Embry, it’s not loud or dramatic, just full of quiet warmth. You wearing his hoodie says all the things he doesn’t always know how to put into words.
︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶
Leah Clearwater
Leah’s reaction is immediate, a mix of raised brows and the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Her flannel looks oversized on you, sleeves rolled up, collar a little crooked. It’s casual, but she notices everything, especially the fact that it’s hers.
“Really?” she says, tone half amused, half fond. “Couldn’t find your own clothes?”
You grin, tugging the sleeve. “Yours are warmer.”
“Yeah, because they’re mine,” she quips, though her eyes soften as they linger on you.
Leah pretends to play it off, but the smile that slips through isn’t one she can hide.
“You look… cute,” she finally admits, voice quieter than before. “Don’t get used to me saying that.”
You arch a brow. “So I can keep it?”
“Mmm… we’ll see,” she says, stepping closer, tugging the collar straight. “Just don’t go getting anyone else’s attention in it.”
When the boys tease her, she shoots them a sharp look that ends it instantly. “What? It looks good on them.”
Later, when you’re curled up together, she traces her fingers over the sleeve and murmurs, “Keep it. You already made it yours anyway.”
Leah isn’t one for big gestures, but the softness that slips through when you wear her clothes, that’s her love language. Quiet, careful, and real.
︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶
Seth Clearwater
Seth lights up the second he sees you. His grin is instant, wide, unrestrained, pure sunshine energy. You could be wearing a sack and he’d still find you adorable, but seeing you in his hoodie? That’s a whole different level of heart-melting.
“No way,” he laughs, pointing at you. “That’s my hoodie! You actually took it!”
You shrug, playing innocent. “You said I could borrow it.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think you actually would!” he says, shaking his head but smiling like he can’t believe his luck.
He circles around you, pretending to inspect it. “Okay, yeah, that’s officially unfair. How do you make my clothes look that good?”
When you roll your eyes, he tugs gently on the hood string. “Don’t give me that look. You’re adorable.”
Later, when the two of you are sitting by the fire, he drapes his arm around you, tugging you closer until you’re tucked against his side.
“You should keep it,” he murmurs after a while. “It looks better on you, anyway.”
His voice softens even more, almost shy. “Besides… I like knowing you’re warm. That you’ve got a piece of me with you.”
He rests his chin on top of your head, still smiling, his hand drawing slow circles against your back. “You’re kind of my favorite thief, you know that?”
Seth’s joy is pure, uncomplicated. When you wear his hoodie, it doesn’t make him possessive, just proud, happy, like the universe gave him proof that you belong in his arms and his world.
