#jared cameron

Sam Uley

For Sam, the moment isn’t loud, it’s quiet. It’s late, the rain coming down soft and steady outside the cabin. You’ve fallen asleep on the couch, a blanket slipping off your shoulder. He’s across the room when he looks up and sees you, really sees you. Not as his imprint, not as someone he’s meant to protect, but as the center of his world.

And it hits him, this bone-deep truth that he would burn down everything if it meant keeping you safe.

He walks over, kneels by the couch, and carefully tucks the blanket back around you. His hand lingers, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

There’s a faint smile on his lips, the kind that holds more pain than joy, because it scares him, how much he feels.

“You have no idea,” he whispers, voice rough.

He thinks about the way you look at him, not as a leader, not as someone broken by guilt, but as Sam. Just Sam.

And in that moment, he knows he’d do anything. Stand against the pack. Walk away from everything he’s built. Anything, if it meant you’d never cry because of him again.

It’s not about obsession for Sam, it’s about surrender. The quiet kind that reshapes a man from the inside out.

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶

Jared Cameron

For Jared, it happens in the most ordinary way possible, you’re sitting cross-legged on the porch, a cup of coffee in hand, laughing at something he said. There’s no big moment, no danger, no fight, just you, sunlight on your skin, your laugh mixing with the sound of the ocean.

And then it hits him.

He’s done for. Completely, hopelessly.

His grin falters for half a second, eyes softening as he just stares. You don’t even notice, you’re still talking, still alive in the moment.

His heart does this strange flip, half warmth, half ache.

“You good?” you ask, smiling at him, and he just shakes his head a little, that dimple showing. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m great.”

But inside, something shifts. The thought settles in deep: I’d do anything for her. Not because of the imprint, because of you.

Later that night, when you’re curled up in his hoodie, asleep on his chest, he whispers it aloud. “Anything. You just say the word.”

For Jared, love isn’t a vow, it’s an instinct. It’s already written in his pulse, in the way he moves closer when you sigh, in the way he’d throw himself between you and the world without a second thought.

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶

Paul Lahote

Paul’s realization is raw, like a punch to the chest. It happens after an argument, voices raised, emotions snapping like wire. You’d stormed off, and he’d let you, but the second you were out of sight, something broke inside him.

He’s pacing, furious at himself for letting it get that far, and then the thought comes, sharp and terrifying: I can’t lose her. Not her.

The anger fades into panic, his hands trembling slightly. He doesn’t even realize he’s shifting until his chest tightens, the wolf part of him clawing at the edges.

He finds you by the cliffs, sitting with your knees to your chest, eyes red.

When you look up, ready to argue again, he just shakes his head and says, “Don’t. Please.” His voice is low, breaking. “I can’t do this without you.”

You blink at him, confused by the rawness, but he takes a step closer. “You don’t get it,” he says, softer this time. “I’d fight anyone. Anything. Even myself, if it meant keeping you.”

Later, when you let him hold you, he presses his face into your neck and whispers, “You’re it for me.” It’s not a confession. It’s a truth that’s been there all along, he’s just finally admitted it to himself.

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶

Jacob Black

Jacob’s realization comes slow, steady, like a sunrise. He’s always cared deeply, that’s just who he is. But one day, while you’re sitting in the garage helping him tinker with the Rabbit, grease smudged on your cheek, he catches himself watching you laugh at his terrible jokes… and something inside him goes still.

It’s different. He’s loved before, but never like this. Never in a way that feels like his entire life just reoriented around someone else.

You ask him a question about the car, and he doesn’t even hear it at first, too busy watching the way the light hits your face.

“Jake?” you say, laughing a little, and he blinks, shaking his head. “Yeah, sorry. Just spaced.”

He smiles, but there’s something deeper behind it now. A realization, a weight. He’d give anything for you. Even the things he thought he’d never let go of.

That night, when you fall asleep against him, his arm curled protectively around you, he breathes in the scent of your hair and thinks, This is it. This is what home feels like.

He presses a soft kiss to your head, his voice barely a whisper. “Whatever happens, I’ve got you. Always.”

For Jacob, love isn’t just devotion, it’s purpose. It’s the anchor that steadies him, even when everything else threatens to pull him apart.

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶

Quil Ateara

For Quil, it happens so naturally he almost doesn’t notice it, until it hits him all at once. You’re sitting cross-legged on the sand, the bonfire painting your face in warm gold, laughing so hard you’re crying at something Embry said. And Quil’s just… watching you.

Not in the usual way, not with that easy smile and teasing glint. No, this time, it’s quiet. Still. He feels it hit him low in his chest, this warmth, this certainty.

He’d do anything for you. Without question. Without thought. Without hesitation.

He doesn’t even realize he’s stopped laughing until Jared elbows him and mutters, “Dude, you’re staring.”

Quil just grins, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he says softly, eyes still on you. “Guess I am.”

Later that night, when you’re shivering a little from the ocean breeze, he shrugs off his hoodie and wraps it around your shoulders. You start to protest, but he just shakes his head.

“Don’t argue. You come first, remember?” he says, voice gentle but firm.

And that’s the moment it cements, this instinct that’s already written into his bones. The kind that says: I’ll always put you first. Always.

He doesn’t tell you that, though. He just smiles when you look up at him and say thanks, but inside, he already knows. He’s yours, and that’s never going to change.

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶

Embry Call

Embry’s moment comes on a rough day. You’d both had a fight, something small that grew too fast, too sharp. You walked away before either of you said something you’d regret.

He spends the next hour pacing near the tree line, the wolf in him restless, uneasy. Every instinct screams to go after you, but he waits, gives you space, like you asked. It’s agony. And that’s when it hits him: he’d do anything for you, even the hard things, even learning to hold back when every part of him wants to run to you.

He finds you sitting by the cliffs, staring at the water. You don’t turn when he sits beside you.

The silence stretches until he finally says, “I hate fighting with you.” His voice cracks just slightly.

You sigh, leaning against him, and he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours.

“You make me crazy,” he says softly, eyes on the horizon. “But I’d still pick you. Every time.”

And when you finally smile, small, tired, but real, he feels it all the way to his core.

That’s Embry’s truth: his love runs deep, steady, unshakable. He doesn’t need grand gestures or promises. Just that quiet certainty that no matter what, he’s yours, heart, soul, and everything in between.

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶

Leah Clearwater

For Leah, the realization scares her more than anything. She’s built walls so high she forgot what it felt like to want to let someone in. But then there’s you, patient, kind, stubborn enough to stay even when she tries to push you away.

It happens one night when you show up at her door after a long patrol, a bag of takeout in your hands and that smile she swears she doesn’t love. You sit with her, eat, talk about nothing, and when you finally fall asleep on her shoulder halfway through a movie, she freezes.

And then it hits her like a wave: I’d do anything to keep this safe.

She looks down at you, her jaw tightening because the thought terrifies her.

You murmur something in your sleep and shift closer, your hand finding hers, and her breath catches.

She squeezes your fingers gently, her chest aching with something soft and sharp at once.

“You’re trouble,” she whispers, but her voice shakes.

Later, when you wake up and smile at her like nothing in the world could go wrong, she realizes she’s done for.

For Leah, love doesn’t come easy, but when it does, it’s fierce. She’d fight the whole damn world for you, even if it scares her to admit it out loud.

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶

Seth Clearwater

Seth’s realization is pure warmth. He’s always been loyal, always protective, but this? This is something deeper. It happens when you’re hurt, not badly, just a twisted ankle from tripping over a rock on one of your hikes. He panics anyway.

You’re laughing, brushing it off, but Seth’s already crouched in front of you, inspecting it like it’s the end of the world. His hands are gentle, his brow furrowed, his voice low with worry.

“It’s just a sprain, Seth,” you insist, but he shakes his head.

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean I can’t carry you,” he says, and before you can argue, you’re in his arms.

You roll your eyes, but your heart stutters when you see the look on his face, that mix of focus and care, like you’re something precious he refuses to let break.

Later, after he’s patched you up and you’re sitting on his lap with ice on your ankle, he finally admits, “I don’t ever want to see you hurt. Not if I can stop it.”

And that’s when he knows, it’s not just protectiveness. It’s devotion. Pure and simple.

Bella rolled her eyes, shoved Y/N aside, and knocked on the door. Jacob’s father opened the door and tried to stop Bella from coming inside, but she simply pushed past him. “I’m so sorry,” Y/N muttered, doing the same thing as her sister.

“Damn it, Bel…” Y/N trailed off when she realized Bella wasn’t inside the house anymore, instead heading toward the four men standing outside.

She quickly ran after her. When she caught up to her, she tried to pull her sister away. “Bella, please, let’s just go. You can’t always make such a scene!”

Bella, however, tried to break free from her grip and continued to yell at Sam Uley.

“Yes, Bella, listen to your sister and get out of here!” The man Sam was trying to calm down spoke up. Bella didn’t like his tone, she finally broke free and punched the man.

Y/N spun around in shock, “Paul, no!” Sam pulled her aside at the last moment. Still in shock, she fell to the ground and stared at the massive wolf in front of her. Horrified, she screamed and tried to crawl backward, bumping into Sam’s legs in the process.

The wolf looked in her direction, which made the young girl even more panicked; he didn't notice Jacob running toward her, just as he had lost interest in Bella. Now he seemed to be focusing solely on Y/N. The wolf whimpered once, as if he could sense her fear, and lay down on the ground in front of Y/N, his ears flattened.

Confused and overwhelmed, Y/N looked up at Sam. “Please tell me a six-foot-tall wolf that was a human just two seconds ago hasn’t just laid down in front of me… and while you’re at it, I’m hallucinating, right?”

“Well, I guess the wolf is out of the bag!” “Not helpful, Embry!”

Sam knelt down next to Y/N, gently wrapping his arms around her waist, which didn’t sit well with Paul. He jumped up and began to growl, but with a stern look from Sam and a command to go into the woods, he quickly fell silent, glanced back once more at the trembling young girl, and disappeared into the woods.

Sam turned his attention back to Y/N. “Are you okay?” She blinked at the man, let him help her up, and shook her head. “Is that a trick question?”

Jake came over to Y/N’s side and helped steady her. “Take both of them to Emily’s. We’ll explain everything there.” Y/N nodded silently and watched Sam follow the wolf into the woods.

“Can you make it to the car on your own?” Jake looked at her searchingly. Y/N shook her head, as she was still trembling. The dark-haired man nodded and lifted Y/N into his arms.

“I’m sorry, Jake.” He looked down at her, confused. “What are you sorry for?” “I wanted to stop Bella.” Jake laughed. “You know her. It would have been a miracle if you’d managed it.”

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“Who do we have here, and what happened to that poor girl?” Emily stood at the entrance, looking around questioningly. “That’s Bella and Y/N Swan. Paul transformed in front of them, and Y/N’s been in a bit of a state ever since.” Jared looked at her with concern.

“Sit Y/N down on the sofa.” Emily gestured toward the living room and followed with a cup in her hand. “Drink this; you’ll feel better afterward.” Y/N took a sip and smiled; the warm cocoa warmed her up, finally allowing her bones to relax. “Thanks,” she murmured quietly to herself.

“Do you need anything else?” Jake looked at her questioningly. “Answers would be great.” Embry came over and draped a blanket over her. “You’ll get them, but it would be better if you talked to Paul first.”

Just then, Sam and Paul walked in. Sam went over to Emily and kissed her.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Paul said, looking at her with a slight smile as he sat down at the table. Y/N, infected by his smile, smiled into her mug. “You don’t have to be sorry. Bella needs to learn not to jump on people all the time.” Bella gasped, “I just thought…” “And that’s usually the problem!” Everyone started laughing; Jake nudged Y/N, while Bella glared at her.

Y/N snuggled up to Jake. She was cold, and now that the shock had worn off, she was getting tired.

“Jake, maybe you should take Bella and Y/N home.” Sam looked at the girl, who was almost asleep. Paul, who had been focused on his muffin, watched as Jake picked up Y/N and disappeared with Bella. He wanted to follow them, but Sam stopped him. “Give her time; she needs to process what she saw today first.” Reluctantly, Paul sat back down, but watched after the car longer than it was even visible.

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Y/N had woken up in her room but couldn’t fall back asleep. No matter how many times she turned over and closed her eyes, she couldn’t get Paul out of her head. The way he’d looked at her in his wolf form, and just as much in his human form. As if he’d known her his whole life.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a noise at her window. Confused, she sat up and heard it again—like small stones hitting her bedroom window.

Y/N got up, walked over to the window, and opened it. “Paul?” “Can I come up?” Confused, she nodded, taking a step back.

With an ease that left Y/N speechless, Paul jumped into her room.

The young girl cleared her throat slightly, looking at him more closely. She raised an eyebrow. “Hey, do you have a problem with a T-shirt?” Confused, Paul looked down at himself, but quickly began grinning at her. “Am I distracting you?” Y/N blushed and looked away. “A little.”

“Why are you here, Paul? Surely not to show off your bare chest to me again?” The young girl sat down on her bed.

The black-haired boy shook his head as he sat down next to her.

“I’m here because I couldn’t sleep without knowing how you’re feeling. "To be honest, I’m not exactly sure myself. I’m confused. I knew vampires existed, and now there are werewolves too? It’s a lot.” Y/N paused, thinking carefully about what to say next. “But what interests me most is why you reacted that way to me? You were so angry at Bella, and I thought you were going to attack her, but then nothing happened. It was as if all your anger had vanished.”

Paul turned to Y/N, gently took her hands in his, watching her react to his touch. When he noticed that Y/N didn’t tense up, he continued,

“I suppose Jake told you about us.” Y/N nodded slowly, looking her companion straight in the eyes. “But he left out one detail, since it’s my part to explain it to you.” Paul took a deep breath. “We wolves imprint. You can think of it as a soulmate bond. From the moment of our imprinting, we no longer feel bound to the ground by gravity, but by our imprint. We would give everything for her, just as we would be everything for her. A friend, a brother, or a lover. The most important thing is that we’re with her and can protect her.”

Y/N nodded, studying Paul’s features. He seemed almost shy, and although Y/N didn’t know him that well yet, she suspected that this was a trait Paul Lahote wouldn’t describe in the slightest under normal circumstances.

“And you’re telling me this because I’m your imprint?” Paul nodded. “Y/N, that doesn’t mean we have to fall in love with each other. I can be anything you want. I just want to ask if you’d be open to the idea of getting to know me better, so we can see where the imprint might lead.”

The young girl swallowed. She knew a lot would change. Fear crept into her; was she ready for this? Was she ready to let a stranger get so close to her?

Y/N looked closely at the man in front of her. But what could possibly happen? She was his imprint, and Y/N had the feeling that Paul would do anything to not hurt her.

“I’ll be open to it, I promise.”

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After the evening Y/N made her promise to Paul, a new life began for the young Swan. She spent every free minute with the wolf pack. She slept most of the time at Jacob’s place, in a room Billy had set up for her.

It even got to the point where Billy spoke to Charlie, saying it would be best if Y/N attended school in the reservation. Charlie wasn’t thrilled at first, but he hadn’t seen his daughter this happy in a long time, so he agreed.

Paul and she began to get to know each other better and better; they even went on dates. Y/N also didn’t go into shock as easily anymore whenever she saw one of the boys or Leah in their wolf forms. She even started to love it when she could run through their fur.

Y/N was sitting on the beach in La Push, lost in thought, when Paul called out to her. Smiling, she turned to him and looked at him questioningly. “Are you coming to the bonfire tonight?” Nodding, Y/N laughed as Paul picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

“Paul!” she cried out, tapping him lightly on the back. They weren’t a couple yet, but every day Y/N realized more and more how she was falling in love with him.

However, along with this feeling, fear also spread through her. She couldn’t get the thought out of her head that maybe Paul only liked her because of the imprinting.

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“What are you thinking about?” Paul sat down next to Y/N by the fire. She had been staring absently into the flames the whole time, asking herself the same question over and over again. “Nothing.” She closed her eyes. Y/N didn’t even believe her own words—so how could she expect Paul to? Paul nodded, unconvinced, stood up without a word, and held out his hand to Y/N.

“We should talk.” His tone was serious, which made Y/N pause; he hadn’t been like this toward her during the weeks they’d been getting to know each other. With slightly trembling fingers, she took his hand and let him lead her toward the beach.

The two walked side by side along the sand in silence.

Abruptly, he stopped and stood in front of her, letting go of her hand.

“Now that we’re alone, are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Since last week, you’ve been lost in thought the whole time, you seem to be pulling away from me. Did I do something or…,” Y/N didn’t let Paul finish. “That’s not it.” “Then what is it?” “I’m starting to fall in love with you, Paul…”

Paul was silent for a moment, “And what’s so bad about that?”

Y/N took a deep breath. This was exactly what she’d been afraid of. Telling him what was going on inside her, but Paul took the words right out of her mouth. Because from her reaction, he could see what was wrong. “You’re afraid my feelings aren’t real because of the imprinting, aren’t you?” The young girl didn’t dare look him in the eyes, nor could she stop the tears that were welling up. Paul ran his fingers through his hair, desperate about the situation and wondering if he’d done something wrong.

Y/N heard him breathe in and out. She knew he needed to calm down.

“Y/N…” Paul gently cupped her face so she had to look at him. “The imprinting has nothing to do with my feelings for you. Nothing is forcing me to love you. Nothing is forcing me to think about you all the time. Nothing is forcing me to want to be near you 24 hours a day.”

“Paul, I’m scared. I need time to understand…” Paul let go of her, took several steps back, almost as if he’d burned himself on her skin. “So you want some space?” Y/N nodded; she knew it wasn’t fair to him. But she was confused and overwhelmed. Paul said nothing more, looked at her for one last moment, then simply turned around and disappeared.

“Fuck!” Y/N covered her face with her hands and began to cry. Emily, who had been sent by Sam—he must have heard Paul’s thoughts—placed a hand on the young girl’s shoulder and pulled her into an embrace. “I know,” she murmured as Y/N began to cry harder. “I want to go home.”

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Three days had passed and she hadn’t heard from Paul. Even though that was exactly what Y/N wanted, it still hurt her. Y/N was lying in the bed she had at Billy’s place, eating nothing and barely sleeping, just staring at the wall and wondering why she was putting Paul and herself in the wrong. When it was obvious that they both had feelings for each other.

“Y/N, this can’t go on any longer!” Jake stood in front of her bed and looked down at her sadly. The young girl hadn’t even noticed how he’d come in.

“Go away!” Jake rolled his eyes and pulled the blanket off her. “No, I’m not leaving. First of all, you stink, and second, I can’t stand hearing you cry and sink into self-pity anymore!”

Y/N turned toward him and tried to get her blanket back. Jake, who didn’t want to let Y/N crawl back into her hole, grabbed her, threw her over his shoulder, and stomped toward the bathroom. He turned on the shower and placed her, fully clothed, under it.

“Jacob Black! What’s this supposed to achieve?!” Y/N turned off the shower and glared at him. “I can sense how bad Paul’s doing, and I can see how bad you’re doing! Go take a shower, and then we’ll talk!” Jake slammed the bathroom door shut behind him.

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“Better?” “Better,” Y/N mumbled, taking the sandwich Billy held out to her.

“So what was the problem between you and Paul?” “You must know—aren’t you two linked or something?” “We can block each other out; the ‘link,’ as you call it, isn’t 24/7. We just know that Paul isn’t doing well, and you obviously aren’t either. So what’s the problem?”

“I’m the problem, okay!” Y/N pushed the plate away from her and stared at her hands. “I’ve fallen in love with Paul.” Jake gave her a confused look. “Isn’t that actually a good thing?” “It is, but…”

Jake gave her an impatient look. “Y/N, spit it out!” “I’m afraid his feelings are only there because I’m his imprint!” Billy and Jake both stared at the young girl, speechless.

“Y/N.” Billy took her hands. “Just because you’re his imprint doesn’t mean his feelings aren’t real. Because when a wolf imprints, it can also just form a deep friendship between them and their imprint. Falling in love is solely their own decision.”

Doubtfully, the young Swan looked at Billy. “How sure can you be of that?” “Very sure. While the bond does have a pull on us, making us want and need to protect them, everything else is up to us,” Jake interjected.

Sadly, Y/N exhaled, “Then I guess I really messed it up, didn’t I?” Jake shook his head. “Go to him and talk to him. He’s at his place; I can drive you there.” “But first, you’re going to eat something, young lady!” Billy gave her a stern, fatherly look and pushed her plate back in front of her. Smiling, Y/N took a bite of her sandwich.

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“Paul?” Y/N knocked gently on the door of his house. When there was no answer, she stepped inside cautiously.

Jake had told her that Paul had been living with Sam and Emily until recently. But, with Sam’s permission, he had started building a house on a piece of land farther away that belonged to him and Emily.

As Y/N stepped inside for the first time, she took in the wooden house. It was small, but she could imagine living here with him. Still, she noticed that it felt cold. The interior was half-hearted. There was a sofa in front of a fireplace, but the fireplace wasn’t lit. The kitchen looked unused. She went up the stairs and looked straight into a bedroom. It was dark, with a mattress in the middle where she could make out Paul’s silhouette.

She cautiously entered the room and crouched down next to him. She looked at his sleeping face. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, and his cheeks looked sunken.

It hurt her to see him like this, because after all, it was her fault. Neither of them was doing well, and that was only because she had let fear get the better of her.

Y/N gently stroked Paul’s cheek. He flinched slightly but didn’t wake up. After a moment’s thought, she stood up and took off her jacket, as well as her shoes. She placed everything in a corner of the room and laid down next to him. Paul, who seemed to sense her presence in his sleep, immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. The young girl breathed in his scent deeply and immediately drifted into a deep sleep. A sleep that was long overdue for both of them.

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“I can literally feel you staring at me.”

Y/N opened her eyes, blinking. Paul had turned onto his side and watched her sleep. When he woke up, with the scent of his imprint in his nose and someone in his arms, he couldn’t believe it at first. Paul was convinced that after their time apart, Y/N saw him only as a friend and nothing more. It would have hurt him, but he would have accepted it. Anything was better than having no contact with her at all.

Carefully, almost as if Paul were afraid Y/N might shatter at his touch, he placed his hand on her cheek.

“What are you doing here?”

Y/N placed her hand on Paul’s wrist. “I’m here because I want to apologize.” Paul wanted to interrupt her, but she wouldn’t let him. “It wasn’t fair of me to ask you to keep your distance. It wasn’t fair that I didn’t listen to you, but let my fear get the better of me. I’ve thought a lot about the imprinting and us.” Y/N removed her hand from Paul’s and sat up straight in front of him; he did the same, leaning his upper body against the wall.

“I understand now. Your feelings are real; they have nothing to do with the imprinting. I honestly think it’s something else that’s worrying me.”

Paul, who was watching Y/N closely, leaned forward, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her onto his lap. “You can tell me anything; I won’t judge you.”

Paul began tracing light circles on Y/N’s hips.

“I’m afraid to get involved with you because you’re my first.” Paul paused his movements. “What do you mean?”

“You’d be my first kiss, my first boyfriend, and my first time. My first love. It scares me, Paul, to let someone get this close to me. Still, I’m excited and glad that it’s you, Paul.”

Paul was silent for a moment; he let his hands slide up from Y/N’s waist to her cheeks. He forced her to look him in the eyes. “What exactly do you feel for me, Y/N?” “I love you, Paul.” Paul began to smile, leaned forward, but paused just before Y/N’s lips. “May I kiss you?” The young girl smiled, “Only if you tell me how you feel about me.” Paul chuckled softly, “I love you too!” Paul pulled her close and kissed her passionately. He poured all the feelings of the past few weeks into that kiss, even having to break it for a moment to smile. “What?” Y/N looked at him, smiling just as much. “I was afraid the distance would drive us apart, and now you’re sitting on top of me, half-naked, if I may point that out.”

Confused, Y/N looked down at herself and only now noticed that she was sitting on Paul wearing nothing but shorts and a sports bra. He was wearing only boxer shorts. “I curse you and your heat! I was wearing more than this when I fell asleep!”

Y/N leaned down to kiss Paul again. He placed his hands back on her waist, his grip tightening slightly as Y/N moved to snuggle up against him, her hands in his hair.

“Y/N!” Paul’s voice was deep; he was slightly out of breath. Y/N looked at him innocently, aware of the bulge between her legs that was slowly growing. “Paul.” He closed his eyes. “If we don’t stop now, I can’t promise it’ll just be your first kiss!”

Y/N didn’t even think twice as she leaned down again to bring Paul’s lips to hers once more.

Paul’s hand rested on her neck, his thumb against her jaw. His lips trailed down to her collarbone, where he planted kisses. Y/N was sure everyone would know what had happened the next day, but she didn’t care.

When he reached her bra, he looked at her again. “Are you sure?” Blushing, Y/N nodded. Paul gave her another little kiss on the lips, then helped her out of her bra. “God, you look beautiful, ” he murmured as he lowered his lips to her breasts and kissed every inch he could reach.

Y/N tried to stifle her moans. She was embarrassed. But Paul didn’t like that at all. With a swift movement, he turned them both around. Y/N gasped in surprise. “No one can hear you here, Y/N; you don’t need to hide.” He pressed his lips to hers, but didn’t stay there long. He kissed his way down her neck, between her breasts, and along her stomach. When he reached her waistband, he grabbed it, sat up slightly, and helped Y/N take them off. Paul let his hands glide over Y/N’s thighs, gently pushing them apart as he did so. He studied Y/N’s body closely, every detail. “Fate has sent me a goddess.”

The young girl blushed, giggling.

Y/N propped herself up on her elbow, looked at Paul in confusion, her breath catching. Everything inside her tightened, but in a good way, one she had never felt before. “What are you doing? Paul grinned at her, “I’ll make sure you can’t hide your moans anymore!”

He took off his boxers and slowly slid between Y/N’s legs. He forced Y/N to lie back down.

Paul kissed his imprint deeply, taking her right hand in his. “Are you really sure, Y/N? We have our whole lives together to share this experience.” “I know, but I want it now, here with you.”

Paul Lahote

Before Imprinting:

• Paul has trouble calming down. He can lie in bed for hours, running through memories or frustrations, fists clenched in the sheets.

• He sleeps in short, shallow bursts and often wakes with a pounding heart or clenched jaw.

• Most nights he ends up outside, pacing or sitting on the porch trying to breathe it out.

After Imprinting:

• Everything changes. His imprint is like a balm for his soul. With them beside him, his body finally relaxes.

• He falls asleep with one arm slung over them, face buried in their shoulder like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

• If they wake during the night, he mumbles, “You good?” without even opening his eyes—always attuned to their needs.

⸻

Embry Call

Before Imprinting:

• Embry sleeps with headphones in or TV on low—he hates silence. It reminds him of how alone he feels.

• He usually curls into himself, always on the edge of sleep but never quite at peace.

• Occasionally wakes up from dreams he can’t remember, just left with the ache of wanting someone he hasn’t met yet.

After Imprinting:

• It’s like breathing fresh air. He doesn’t even need sound anymore—just their heartbeat.

• He wraps his arm around them and fits his face in their hair, whispering things he was too shy to say in daylight.

• Sometimes he dreams about growing old with them—and wakes up smiling, holding them closer.

⸻

Quil Ateara

Before Imprinting:

• Quil’s always been a heavy sleeper, but a lonely one. He pretends to be fine, but his room’s a little too quiet.

• He sleeps curled in a nest of blankets, trying to mimic the comfort he’s missing.

• On bad nights, he lies awake thinking of Claire and how wrong it feels to be stuck in time.

After Imprinting:

• Quil turns into a human blanket. He holds his imprint like they’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him—because they are.

• Falls asleep talking to them, laughing softly, sharing little pieces of his soul he hides from others.

• Wakes up smiling, fingers tangled with theirs, as if to make sure they’re real.

⸻

Jared Cameron

Before Imprinting:

• Jared’s bed is made. His alarm’s set. He falls asleep at a decent time, but there’s no warmth to it—just routine.

• He sleeps on his side, facing the wall, arms tucked in like he’s bracing for something.

• Every once in a while, he dreams of someone he’s never met, and wakes up oddly heartbroken.

After Imprinting:

• He turns over in bed now—to face them. His walls come down slowly, quietly.

• He falls asleep later and later, not because he can’t sleep—but because he’s soaking in every second of them being there.

• He keeps one hand resting on their back or tucked under their pillow, as if memorizing their presence.

⸻

Sam Uley

Before Imprinting:

• Sam’s sleep is shallow, burdened by responsibility. He wakes often, heart tight, haunted by dreams of what he’s lost.

• Even in sleep, his body stays tense—muscles locked, jaw clenched.

• He sometimes stares at the ceiling for hours, wondering if he’ll ever feel peace.

After Imprinting:

• His imprint brings stillness. She touches his chest and he exhales like he hasn’t in years.

• They sleep close, always. Not out of need, but comfort. As if their souls are aligned even in dreams.

• If she stirs, he murmurs her name like a prayer and settles instantly when she answers.

⸻

Seth Clearwater

Before Imprinting:

• Seth is the only one who really wants to sleep. He’s a dreamer—curling into a ball, mumbling half-formed thoughts into his pillow.

• He sometimes sleeps with the lights on or a book open on his chest. He dreams in vivid color.

• Leah teases him for being a cuddler—even alone, he hugs a pillow to his chest.

After Imprinting:

• Seth lights up when they share a bed. He spoons, clings, tangles limbs—and smiles in his sleep.

• He’ll wake up just to press a sleepy kiss to their cheek and whisper “love you,” then drift off again.

• His imprint often wakes to find him already awake, just watching them with this soft, awe-filled gaze.

⸻

Leah Clearwater

Before Imprinting:

• Leah doesn’t sleep so much as collapse from exhaustion. Her nights are full of tossing and turning, angry tears, and cold sheets.

• She always wakes up alone, sore from clenching her jaw or curling too tightly into herself.

• Sleep is a battle—one she rarely wins.

After Imprinting:

• She’s hesitant at first—sharing space feels vulnerable. But over time, she starts to trust it. Trust them.

• She sleeps with her face in their neck, breathing slow and steady, one arm across their stomach.

• Her sleep becomes deeper, safer. For the first time in a long time, she stops waking up crying—and starts waking up at peace.

Disclaimer:

Just like any other day.

. . .

It hit Paul like a freight train and caused sweat to form in ice cold drops on his otherwise warm skin. He had just returned from patrol with Embry and was spread over Emily's dining table whilst stuffing his face with the food she had cooked for them. Everything was fine and dandy. It was a pleasant day and the weather was nice and cool. Soon, he would be done with his daily obligations and then he would go home.

But then Sam came up behind Emily who was standing next to her mate's seat at the head of the table, one hand on the frame and other on her hip as she listened to Seth drone on and on about something that Paul's voice refused to register due to what unfolded next.

The pack leader's strong arms snaked around the waist of his delicate lover as he nuzzled his nose into her hair until the tip had found its way past the dark strands and against her tender cheek until it was caressing and tracing the scars he had left on her. 

All blood drained from Paul's skin and something in his head clicked. His surroundings faded to a dim buzz and the next few moments went by in a blur. 

And then he was standing in front of home.

“Paul!” You yelp in surprise at the sight of your nude lover. He usually dresses himself at Sam's house after patrols before coming home to you. 

Since you are human and your initial experience with the pack had both been overwhelming -thanks to your lover imprinting on you the first chance he was given- and traumatizing -as said lover who was much worse at controlling his primal urges back then had lost control at the sight of you because he was so overcome with raw, foreign emotion he did not know how to process-, you prefer to keep by yourself near the outskirts of the community in a house that Paul had moved in with you upon your request. 

The pack life is simply too loud and… public for you; a city girl used to her secluded places and treasured privacy.

You notice that Paul is panting -which is very unlike him due to his superhuman strength- and a redness outlines his eyes when his huge form approaches yours. “Are you— Paul!” You gasp and nearly flinch from both the shock and impulse when he lets his heavy body collapse on its knees in front of you. “What the hell happen—” you never know with your hyper emotional mate.

His long fingers push your sweater up and out of his way so he can stroke the soft skin of your stomach with the tip of his nose, his head nuzzling into your chest as his dark eyes flutter close and he inhales a deep whiff of your scent. It is the only thing that never fails to calm your hot blooded lover down. 

“What's wrong?” Your voice lowers to a concerned mumble as you peer down at him, your fingers cradle the dusky skin of his handsome face -as much of it as you can reach- and your nails rake through the male's jet black mass of short hair. “Honey?” He only behaves like this if something went wrong or when he is in need of comfort, which are both rare occurrences as he is the usual caretaker in your relationship. But you aren't a complete stranger to him acting like this. 

Ever the uncommunicative one, the male only sighs— no, whimpers against your skin as if he's wounded and softly feels your skin with gentle caresses of his fingers. Words require thought, patience and wisdom. Unfortunately, Paul's instinctual mind runs too fast for those things to catch up with it in time and rash actions get carried out before better sense can supply him from its store.

“Paul…” A shiver runs down your spine when his lips that had begun to softly peck your navel find their way up your stomach before they halt to ghost over the healed, plum coloured lesions that stretch across your tender skin in menacing shapes akin to claw marks. “What are you doing?” Though he never mentions or discusses it verbally due to the guilt he feels, sometimes Paul becomes hyper aware of the scars of his unmediated passion that mar your skin and tries to make up for them in his own wordless ways.

Except, this only ever happens when you're underdressed or the two of you are indulging in activities typical to couples and the sight of them reminds him of their cause. He has never stormed into the house stark naked and marched up to you like an unreadable oversized pup on the brink of tears like this. 

“I am sorry.” You nearly jump due to how unexpected the sound of his words are. Usually he just sulks in silence. “Baby, I am so sorry” Paul never speaks when he is in one of these moods. Especially when he is experiencing bouts of guilt for his actions during his first encounter with you. “Oh, God” his body grows heavy against yours as he practically pushes his face into the crevices like he wants to become one with them and fill them back up to their original state with parts of himself. 

“Paul— oof!” Your smaller body yields to his weight and the ground slips from underneath your feet. “D- Did the guys say something?” You fear the worst as Paul's protective hands catch you before your back can hit the wooden ground and you cannot help but whimper from how his lips lock with the scars in thick, desperate and hurried apologetic kisses. 

Paul and his pack mates play rough and sometimes they go too far with the teasing. So though he clings to the tough guy act in front of them, he dismantles into you once he is home if their words ever get too far. Yes, the tussling and fighting is not enough if it's serious. And just sometimes, when it gets too much for him to bottle it up, he shares some of it with you. But most often not, since he knows how you feel about the pack and he does not like to worry you.

“I am sorry it has taken me this long to say it out loud, baby… but I am so sorr—”

“Paul, hey, look at me” but he refuses to detach himself from your skin in his shame, his big hands safely holding your whole body up against his. “You don't have to—” you cannot help it, you hate to see him like this when you know how badly he regrets it. You hate for him to hurt.

“But I do” he nearly growls against your skin, his fingers tightening on your hips to brace himself against the war in his head. “There’s not a day that goes by where I don't regret it.”

“But you didn't do it on purpose, baby” you sigh when he refuses to let you see him. Your fingers try to pry his stubborn face upwards. “And you worked and improved for us, didn't you, hm?” Your eyes earnestly search for his. “Don't sell yourself so short.” One of your hands rubs his tense shoulders to try and ease their guilt-stricken stiffness. 

“All the same” ever the stubborn knucklehead. “I should have done this a long time ago. But I was selfish and I was afraid that if I verbally mentioned it…” He hesitates and the love you behold for him renders you helpless against a burning urge to reassure him. 

“My love—”

“I was scared you'd get reminded of it and…” He takes a deep breath and then gulps down the bile in his throat, blinking back tears. “L- Leave me…” Paul's voice is barely a whisper and your heart breaks at how vulnerable he sounds. “And I am such an asshole for it because it had more to do with my fear of you leaving me than you reliving your trauma…” 

“Paul…” You blink and try to focus, but his warm gropes and caresses falter your steam of thought. 

“I love you, I really do, so much” he peeks up at you just a little, dark eyes frightened for the first time since the day he scarred you. “Please forgive me. I don't ever want to lose you. I know what I did was irreversible but I swear I'll spend the rest of my life fixing it… if you'll let me.” You shake your head. 

Does he really think there's an off chance that you will leave? 

“Paul” when you cup the side of his face, he hides into your stomach again. “Hey,” you try to duck your face closer to his. make him look at you. “Look at me” your intended request comes out an order due to all the emotions you feel. “I forgave you a long time ago. That's the reason why I am still here” you finally manage to place your forehead against his, making your breaths mingle with his. “I love you more, so much more.” He opens his mouth to drone so you beat him to it. 

“Now shut up and kiss me.”

Paul is taken aback at your demand, his widening eyes prove it. But as surprising as it may be for him, this isn't something that was unresolved for you until today -unlike him- so you aren't as overwhelmed with angst. Because your mate has proven his love, devotion and worthiness of you through his actions over the course of your relationship. He has shown you that he loves you and that he is sorry for what he did. 

If anything, his innocently intimate and lovestruck worship of your body has fired it up instead of making it sentimental. 

And so you want him. 

Bad.

“But—”

“No buts. Kiss me.” You are breathless as you urge him to do so, your hands try to pull his face closer into yours although in vain because his bigger and stronger form remains unbudging. 

Paul's eyes search yours for assurance. “... Yes, ma'am” he whispers once finds it and the next thing you know, you're being pounced down onto the floor with his arms cased around you to protect you from the impact. 

And though you always feared that him getting physical in this manner would trigger you, you giggle against his mouth that he drags across your chest and up your throat to clamp onto yours. Your arms circle around his broad shoulders and instead of trying to repel him -like you suspected you would despite having grown to trust him now- you pull him closer as you whimper into the tender yet hungry kiss, feeling your legs climb the lower half of his body instinctively.

“Paul~” you needily blabber against his tongue that he uses to enjoy the sweetness of your mouth, his balmy lips enveloping everything your mouth has to offer in tight, big kisses. “Mm~” your chest aches from the strain the lack of oxygen puts on your lungs but your sparking nether regions only scoot closer to his that you feel riling up against yours, your hips grinding against his and limbs tightening around his rock hard body.

“Mine” he growls against your mouth when he has no choice but to pull apart at last, his coarse fingers groping you in greedy handfuls while peeling away any fabric that hurdles their path to your skin. “All mine” you moan at the feeling of his teeth grazing against the tender skin of your boobs that he sprays with kisses and licks. “God, mouse, I love you so much” the strength he puts into pushing everything you wear on your upper body away from it leaves you breathless. You love the thrill you feel when his touch feels like he is on the horizons of the dangers he is capable of. When he is so worked up and desperate that he cannot help but get rough because your sweet sweat and arousing body heat fires him up the way it does. You are addicted to the sight of him not giving in to his beastly impulses despite all that because he loves you so much. It is scary, yes. But it turns you on too.

“I love you too, Paul” though he likes to act cocky and all-knowing most of the time, you know he needs to hear it too. Underneath all that knucklehead play fighting and manhandling of his, he needs reassurance just as much as the next person and though he tries not to burden you as his different lifestyle is hard enough for you as it is, you don't have to be part wolf to feel him and hear his heart. 

“You're so perfect…” The way he peppers wet kisses along your cheekbone whilst relieving you of the rest of your clothing causes for your eyes to flutter close to cherish the tingling feeling that sparks your body alight. “Just—” when you try to reach for him to also make it enjoyable for him, he plants your hands above your head and softens your confused pout with a kiss. “Just let me take care of you today, yeah? Don't worry about anything.” 

“But— oh!” He reaches for the mating mark that sits on the right side junction of your neck where a she-wolf's mating glad would be. And though you lack the physical features to feel him through it, the meaning that it holds for Paul serves as a bridge for the biological gap. “Oh…” You turn your head sideways to rub your cheek against his shaved one, your hips roll into his hand that dips between your legs and you shudder against Paul's hot tongue that drags across the impressions of his teeth that crevice your skin. 

“Taste so fuckin' sweet, baby” there is a strain in Paul's voice because of how much strength it is taking him to hold himself back from impaling you full of his cock right there. “So perfect” the lower half of his body leaps down so he can rub his bare erection against the softness of your leg. 

You moan at the feeling. “Paul,” you whisper into his hair, the feeling of his sharp teeth causing for slick to sizzle up to your entrance from the inside. He growls out a quiet yes, baby against the mark, one hand constantly caressing the dents running along the width of your stomach. “Don't hold back” you go to touch his rock hard cock and he grunts in denial, seizing your wrist in his fingers faster than you can blink. 

His face comes up to dominate your vision. “No, mouse, tonight is all about you” another kiss squishes out any protest you can form and when his invasive tongue has your nostrils flared from the breathlessness, Paul drags it down your writhing body in the company of heavy pecks until his mouth is between your thighs and he is propping one up with a broad shoulder and the other with his hand that isn't occupied with caressing the evidence of his temper. 

“Paul—!” He knows how shy you get when he is between your legs like this. 

But it's not his fault you taste so fulfilling. 

“Sh, little mouse, you're perfect” he kisses any and all insecurities away with gentle kisses, the hand that cases one of your thighs stroking the tender inside with its thumb. “And you taste so good too” he takes his time worshiping your pelvis, deliberately leaving out your pussy to save the best for last. And though you pretend to disapprove and whine for him to come back up and just fuck you instead, his soft kisses that vibrate into your skin every time he moans at the feeling of your nether skin touching his slightly chapped lips, you find yourself helplessly crying out for more at the end. 

“Paul, please!” You feel his mouth twist into a smirk and your hands dart to finger his thick hair to withstand the sensation of his mouth hovering over your petals. 

“Please what, mouse?” You roll your eyes at the taunt in his voice. 

“Please touch me!” Your fingers impatiently tug at his short strands and he grins.

“Oh, mouse, but I am touching you” you whine and his shoulders vibrate under your knees from his devilish mirth. 

“Y- You know what I mean!” Though your cheeks are already aflush, you feel new heat seep underneath the layers of the reddened skin. 

“Mmm, but I thought you wanted me to—”

“Paul!” You desperately whine and he lets out a deep cackle.

“Fine, geez” he is so mean when he gets smug. You go to scowl down at him but he takes the mound between your legs in a deep handful and feels the slit between your petals in a vertical caress of his thumb before you do and you end up letting out a loud moan instead. “Needy much?” You bite your lip and wantonly roll your hips closer to his mouth. “Tsk, tsk. Impatient little mouse…” The tip of his digit presses between your nether lips that are dusted with pearly discharges of your arousal and a cherry red flush and your hips buck in anticipation. “You're lucky that you're so pretty and I like you so much…” Your spine trembles in your skin when you feel the coarse skin of his thumb against your ultrasensitive folds. “Because I typically don't appreciate things so small ordering me around…” Your back arches when he finally sticks the hot tip of his tongue between your nether lips.

“Oh…” You feel your toes curl. “More, please, Paul, more.”

He is so enchanted by your sweet scent and addictive taste that he is ignorant to anything that isn't your body. “But you, my dear mouse, you're something else…” His strong hands take your ass in them and he firmly kneads the plump skin, talking pretty much over you with a lust-drunken madness. You mewl out a moan at the feeling and Paul growls at the sound you make, pulling you closer to his mouth as he presses an open kiss to your pussy. “Fuck,” he groans and licks his lips that glisten from your slick, his own tip leaking at the taste of you. “I've never tasted anything like you before and I sure as hell am never gonna get tired of it.” 

“Paul!” you cry out when his tongue twirls against your entrance, his nose rubbing against your clit to caress it with the tip as he begins to eat you out.

His growl that vibrates your soaked folds to a buzzing life causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head. “Paul” you moan breathlessly, his name turning to a prayer as you tremble on the verge of releasing more slick.

“Gimme that sweet cum, baby, let me taste it” your lips part and you can't help but arch into his mouth with need. His hands are merciless, the one on your ass kneads it with rough gropes as the other massages the underside of your thighs in broad, determined strokes. You moan and writhe against him, your vision blurring at the hot waves that take over your body.

“I am gonna— oh, Paul!” He moans against you as you tremble and then release more even slick into his mouth. His tongue is in heaven as he greedily licks up all he can get. 

“Fucking hell, baby” the grainy tip of his tongue pokes and prods at your entrance, working the little hole open. “I can't wait to stuff this pretty little pussy full of my pups.” 

“Mmm, oh fuck, Paul, oh fuuuck” when he finally penetrates the tight barrier and his hot tongue invades your sensitive cavern, the burning knot between your hips gets tighter. Paul moans at the feeling of your delicate walls and though the vibrations of his doing so shakes you to your core, you cannot help but greedily wrap your legs around his head to both stay in place and withstand the pleasure.

“Oh, God, Paul, ’m so close!” Your voice is a breathless mewl and he growls at the vulnerable sound, his cock hurting from need. “Oh, fuck” you tremble so badly that you'd collapse into the ground if your knees weren't propped up by your mate's shoulders. “Oh fuck, oh fuck” Paul’s jaw flexes against your thighs when he begins to fuck you with his tongue, one hand fumbling for your cunt before he tickles the hood with his thumb. Your back arches and you clench your eyes shut, your chest heaving as you gasp out his name.

“Tsk, tsk, mouse” his hot breath fans your sensitive folds and you can't help but whimper at the feeling of his middle finger replacing his tongue. “You need to relax.” His hand that holds your ass pats your cheek in an endearing yet condescending way and your whole body tenses up at the touch even more. “I'm gonna take care of you, baby” you cannot help but rock your hips to his finger stretching your insides out against it. “You're mine and I'll never let you get hurt again, I promise” he croons before pressing a tender kiss to your clitorial nub. “You know that, right?” He kisses the slick covered inside of your thigh next to soothe your shaking body. “Tell me you know you're mine” his possessive words make the heat between your legs to go haywire.

“I am yours, Paul” you breathlessly promise him before letting out a moan when he tickles your folds with his tongue in a praising manner, satisfaction breaking out on his handsome face at your obedience.

“Good mouse” he begins to lap at your nub and your walls tense around his finger as a result, causing for your slick to slosh from the opening and down Paul's hand. “Shh, mouse, easy now” he cooes to get you to relax because of how tightly you are clenching yourself and it only gets worse when he adds a second finger. Your hips are so tight. You are on the edge. “You're gonna let me take care of this cute little pussy, aren't you?” You whimper at the feeling of being stuffed full and being licked at the same time.

“Y- Yes, Paul!” The air is heavy with the smell of slick and the sound of him slurping your juices up.

He adds a third finger and you nearly burst into tears from the pleasure. “Oh God, Paul, I am gonna cum!” Your entrance burns from the stretch and you moan from the bittersweet discomfort. “Please, lemme cum! Wanna cum so bad! Please, please!” Your submissive side comes out because of how overwhelmed you are and Paul can cum from the fragility of your voice right here.

“Hold it for me, mouse, good girl, c'mon” you sob at his cruel denial and he closes his lips around a mouthful of your folds, soundfully sucking at the clammy skin as he speeds his hand up to practically hammer your trembling pussy into an orgasm. Your toes curl and you throw your head back, fingers tugging at his hair as you tremble violently against him. Your back arches from how his free hand pinches and twists your nipples, softly landing occasional smacks to your boobs. “Good girl. I know you can take it” his hand then comes down to massage your ass cheek to make for a better stretch. “Relax, baby” you sob out his name and he smiles against your quivering core, his cheek gently caressing the inside of your thigh to get you to loosen up a little because you are clenching so hard.

“You're doing good, mouse. So good” his lips buzz against your clit. “Take it, baby, take it” your walls twitch against his coarse digits. “That's a good girl” he praises you while continuing to stuff your pussy with his fingers, the feeling of being filled up to the brim causing for you to shake and tremble violently. “That's my good girl” his tongue licks your clit as his fingers curve inside of you to search for your sensitive bundle of nerves that always makes you let out the sweetest of melodies.

“I'm gonna— I can't anymore, Paul!” Neon shapes cloud your vision when his fingers graze your sensitive spot and he growls at the feeling of your walls convulsing around his fingers.

“Yeah, baby. You can cum now” he finally relents and you cry out from the joy. “My little mouse, give me that sweet cum” his mouth never stops moving against you and you are so overcome with emotion that you are not sure if the tears that are streaming down your cheeks are due to pleasure or pain. “Gimme it, mouse. Gimme it” his tongue is like a beast that eats you up to satiate its starvation. You cry out his name from the pleasure.

“Paul! Paul, Paul— oh god!” The tongue is too much, though it gives you everything you could ask for at the moment, you need to escape. But when you try to pull away Paul catches your hips and holds you in place. 

“Now, where do you think you're going, little mouse?” There is a beastliness to his voice.

“N- No, Paul! No more—” you don't get to finish your plea because his mouth clamps down on your sensitive flesh to suckle on it in big, eager kisses again and your heart threatens to burst through your chest.

“Oh fuck” the knot between your legs tightens so hard you cannot maintain it anymore. Vertigo breaks through your hearing. “Oh— Paul!” The orgasm takes over your whole body, your mind blurs from the burst of sensation that courses through your blood and everything turns into a euphoric mess. “O- Oh God…” You tremble from the aftershock and Paul groans when he feels you squirt. He releases your hips and you fall back onto the floor, your body too weak to withstand its own weight. “O- Oh fuck…” You're breathless and your body feels like jelly. “Paul, oh Paul…” Your fingers desperately try to reach for him like you're no older than a baby and you notice that he is stroking his hurting cock because of the need to bury his knot in you, a pained expression etched across his face. “P- Paul, I am ready” though you can barely speak, your body shakes from the need to be filled up by him.

“Mouse… are you sure?” Though his voice strains from the painful need, he prioritizes your comfort over his and your heart wells up.

“Y- Yes” you try to sit up. “Fill me up, please” he needs no more encouragement after that. With a low growl, he jumps onto you and you feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance in a heated caress that makes you whine, your body even forgetting to yelp from how he pounces on you. 

“I'll never hurt you again, mouse” he whispers into your ear as he buries his nose into your hair, cock throbbing between your legs. You gasp when he enters you in a quick thrust that makes for all the air to bolt out of your lungs. “I promise.” You tremble in his hold and Paul groans at the feeling.

“I know” his mouth clamps down on the mating mark upon hearing your whisper and he slowly stretches your pussy to fit around his erection that even after all that fingering is still too big for your tiny cunt. The overstimulation causes for stars to form in your vision. His cock twitches inside you and he growls, the tip of his tongue tickling your nape in need.

“That's a good girl, baby” the hand that cups the side of your face tenderly strokes your cheek. “Relax for me” when your walls finally adjust to his log-like girth, Paul grins against the mating mark. “You're doing so good for me” the thrust of his hips causes for his cock to rub against your sensitive spot and your eyes roll to the back of your head with the feeling. “There's my good girl. You take my cock so well.” He releases his bite, hips pistoning up and down between your legs as he baby talks to you and strokes your hair to comfort you against the overstimulation that makes you whine.

“Paul!” You tremble as he fucks you in slow, long strokes and you cannot help but cry out his name in need.

“I'm here, baby. I got you” he murmurs into your hair and you moan at the baritone of his voice. “Take this cock, baby, you got it” he pants as his fat cock slides in and out of you. Then he suddenly grunts and readjusts you in his hold because the position is not comfortable enough for you and he can feel it. “God, you're so perfect.”

“I love you, Paul” you murmur into his ear, your hips lazily rolling against his as you hold him tight. 

“I love you more” the latter part of his sentence turns into a growl due to his struggle with the positioning and he collects your limp form in his. “And I can do this better” though he roughly pushes your bodies off the floor to head for the bedroom, his fingers subconsciously caress your back in gentle strokes to make up for how your bare skin rubbed into the floor during the ordeal. You whine from how his heavy sack puts a strain on your entrance where your bodies connect as he does so. He cooes praise and reassurance in your ear as comfort, peppering your mouth with gentle kisses.

.

The next morning when he leaves for patrol in a black tank top and some shorts, there is a shy grin on his face as he looks back at the door one last time to wave you goodbye. You blush and return the gesture, biting your lip like it's the morning after your first time with each other. 

“Geez, man, not the dreamy eyes!” A groan sounds from somewhere in the woods and you gasp before ducking behind the door. Chuckles and howls follow. 

The jerk brigade has arrived.

“Someone get these two a room!” You recognize Jake's voice and shake your head as you peek outside from behind your shield. “Oh, wait, they did that already!” You cannot help but snort when you see that Paul has begun to jog in the direction of the voices. “In light of how the whole town learnt all the ways in which Paul's name can be moaned last night” uh, oh. That's not going to be good. Your lover is very private and sensitive about you as it is and when someone tries to pry or joke about matters of this sort he does not appreciate it. Especially if it's his hormonal friends that he knows too well. “Paul, Paul, oh, Paul!” Your cheeks burn in embarrassment and Paul snarls before he flings his shirt off and jumps into the air, transforming into his beastly form midway and disappearing into the woods to attack the offendor.

You see the great trees shake from the tussle that you can practically visualize behind them and the encouraging howls of Paul's pack mates further confirms it. They love to get a rise out of your easily excitable boyfriend and he loves to put them in their place, being the strongest after Sam. Their crossing of each other's boundaries for the sake of fun used to concern you in the beginning but Paul himself assured you that that was just how they played and it was not coming from a bad place. 

So you wait for the ferocious crowd to move further away into the jungle that surrounds your house before you walk down to the dirt road to collect his clothing with a lighthearted shake of your head. A smile graces your lips as you do so and you cannot help but graze the now covered scars that your superhuman lover gave all his love to last night.  

Though it will be a while before he does, you cannot wait for him to come back home to you.

. . .

You always found the steady drizzle of the Pacific Northwest to be comforting. But after three centuries of wandering the earth as a nomad, a quiet exhaustion had settled deep into your cold bones. Lately, life had become entirely lacklustre. Staring out at the monotonous, heavy grey skies and the permanently drenched terrain, the magic of the endless forest had faded. Everything mostly just felt damp and dreary.

As a nomadic vampire, you didn't belong to a coven. You preferred the absolute freedom of the open road, answering to no one but yourself, though you shared the strict "vegetarian" lifestyle of your "cousins," the Cullens and the Denalis. Because you chose to abstain from human blood, you occasionally dropped by the rainy town of Forks to hunt the abundant wildlife and exchange pleasantries with Carlisle and Esme, who always welcomed you with open arms.

But even a welcome guest had to respect the rules. Because of the ancient treaty established between the Cullens and the local shape-shifters, you knew the exact layout of the boundary lines down to the millimetre. You stayed strictly on the Cullen side of the Hoh River whenever you came to visit, and you never tried to push your luck. You had lived for three hundred years by being smart, and poking a pack of giant wolves was never on your itinerary.

Until this particular grey afternoon.

You had been tracking a particularly meaty mountain lion for miles, the thrill of the chase briefly cutting through your dark, existential boredom. The large cat was fast, and the adrenaline of the hunt sent you tearing through the brush, matching its speed stride for stride. But your excitement had made you careless. The chase pushed you entirely too close to the treaty line, and just as you braced your legs to spring and make the kill, the mountain lion panicked. It bolted straight across the invisible border line, disappearing into the forbidden Quileute territory.

You skidded to a sudden halt right at the edge of the tree line, the damp earth groaning under the sudden force of your boots. Your bright topaz eyes, glowing with the hunger of a vegetarian vampire who hadn't fed in days, tracked your escaped meal as it vanished completely into the dense, foggy thicket of the reservation.

You let out a long, irritated sigh, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. As hungry as you were, you weren't about to instigate a problem over a snack. Carlisle would be disappointed, and honestly, you just didn't want to deal with the headache of fighting off a pack of wolves.

But just as you turned on your heel, preparing to leap back into the mossy canopy and find another trail, the heavy air shifted.

The wind blew from the west, and a sudden, overwhelming scent hit you like a physical blow. It was thick, intoxicating blend of woodsmoke, crushed cedar, and the distinct, muskiness of a wet dog. It was a smell so strong, it was nearly overwhelming, making your long dead heart give a strange, phantom twitch.

Before your brain could even fully process the frantic, heavy snapping of thick branches, the underbrush exploded.

A massive, silver-grey wolf burst from the thicket, its colossal paws tearing up the damp earth as it skidded to a violent halt just feet away from you, right at the precipice of the treaty line. The beast was easily the size of a horse, its powerful muscles bunching beneath a thick coat of silver fur. Its dark lips were pulled back in a vicious, terrifying snarl, exposing a row of razor-sharp, dagger-like teeth. A lethal, vibrating growl rumbled deep within its chest, a sound so low and resonant that it caused the small pebbles by your boots to tremble against the dirt.

You didn't flinch or stumble back, like most would when faced with such a creature. You were a three-hundred-year-old vampire; fear wasn't really a concept that existed in your emotional vocabulary anymore. Instead of fleeing, you merely tilted your head to the side, your bright topaz eyes sweeping over the creature with genuine, unbothered fascination.

So, the shape-shifter legends Carlisle mentioned are actually real, you thought to yourself, a spark of true interest finally breaking through the dull boredom that had plagued you for years.

You knew, conceptually, that beneath the wild, predatory exterior of the animal laid a human man. But looking at the wolf before you, you couldn't deny that he was truly majestic, a perfect specimen of raw nature and power. As your awe-struck, curious gaze lifted to meet his, you watched a sudden, inexplicable shift overtake the beast.

The wolf froze instantly, locking up as if he had been turned to solid stone.

The low, menacing growl died abruptly in his throat, cutting off into a sudden silence. The fierce, dark eyes dilated so completely that the irises nearly swallowed the whites. The massive beast stumbled backward a step, his front legs buckling slightly beneath his weight as if he had just taken a physical, crushing blow directly to the center of his chest. He stared at you, his chest heaving with shallow, ragged breaths. Even trapped in a wolf's form, he was particularly expressive, and you watched in utter fascination as the blinding, lethal hostility completely melted away, replaced by a look of profound, paralyzed shock.

You raised a single, perfect eyebrow, entirely unaware of the ancient, cosmic magic taking place right in front of you. You had no idea that the universe had just snapped its fingers, or that this boy’s entire world had just re-centered itself around the very breath in your lungs. You just thought he looked incredibly confused.

"Did I break a rule just by looking across the river, puppy?" you asked, breaking the heavy silence. Your voice came out as a smooth, melodic, if not slightly taunting purr, that rang clearly through the damp forest air.

The sound of your voice seemed to snap the wolf out of his trance instantly. A violent, chaotic shudder ripped through his massive frame from head to tail, his fur bristling in a sudden panic. He gave you one final, deeply conflicted glare before he whirled around with a desperate burst of speed, tearing back into the deep woods and vanishing into the fog as quickly as he had arrived.

You stood alone at the riverbank for a moment, listening to the distant, frantic thudding of his heavy paws fading into the distance.

"Well," you muttered softly to yourself, a slow, entertained smirk finally tugging at the corners of your cold lips as you looked back toward the empty tree line. "That was interesting."

The moment Paul’s paws hit the damp earth in a frantic, desperate sprint, his mind exploded.

He was running blind, tearing through the thick underbrush of the Quileute forest, his powerful chest heaving as he tried to put as much distance as humanly possible between himself and the treaty line. Between himself and you.

But he couldn't run from his own head. The second his focus cracked, the pack telepathy slammed back into his consciousness, loud and overwhelming and too chaotic for Sam and Jared to make of.

“Paul?! What the hell is going on? Paul, answer me!” Jared’s voice echoed in his mind, sharp with sudden panic.

Paul didn't answer. He couldn't. His thoughts were a chaotic, swirling vortex of images he couldn't control, and because of the pack bond, Sam and Jared were seeing every single one of them.

Through Paul’s eyes, they saw the flash of flawless skin. They saw the curtain of hair catching the dim forest light, the impossibly graceful tilt of a head, and worst of all, the striking, brilliant glow of topaz eyes.

“Is that... a leech?!” Jared shouted mentally, his thoughts recoiling in disgust. “Paul, did a bloodsucker cross the line? Did you fight—?”

“No!” Paul roared back in his mind, a deafening, mental snarl that made Jared wince within the bond.

“Then why does your head feel like it’s imploding? Let me see, Paul,” Sam commanded, pushing past Paul’s chaotic mental walls.

Sam didn't just see the memory; he felt the echo of what had happened to Paul the exact millisecond his eyes had locked onto the vampire. The sudden shift of Paul's universe. The way the gravity of the earth had suddenly detached from the center of the world and re-anchored itself entirely to a beautiful, cold monster standing across the river.

The telepathic link went dead silent.

“Oh shit,” Jared breathed, his voice dropping into a shocked, hushed whisper. “Oh, man. No way. Paul…”

“It’s not happening!” Paul screamed internally, his paws digging viciously into the mud as he pushed himself to run faster, trying to outrun the literal laws of physics. “It’s a mistake! She’s a parasite! She’s dead! I don't—I don't feel anything!”

But he was lying, and the pack knew it. They could feel the terrifying, absolute devotion that had just taken root in Paul's soul. They could hear the echo of her voice ringing in his head like a beautiful chime, “Did I break a rule just by looking across the river, puppy?” and they could feel the agonizing, furious heat of Paul’s humiliation and desire.

“Paul, calm down. Come to the clearing by the old mill,” Sam ordered, his mental voice surprisingly gentle now, filled with a heavy sympathy that only made Paul angrier. “We need to talk about this.”

“Get out of my head!” Paul snarled mentally, severing his conscious thoughts from them as best as he could, locking himself behind a wall of pure, unadulterated rage. He didn't go to the mill. Instead, he tore toward a secluded, deeply wooded ravine near his house where he knew he’d be alone. His silver-grey form was a blur of frantic motion until he finally collapsed into a dense thicket of ferns, his massive body trembling violently.

A choked, human sound forced its way out of the wolf’s throat. With a horrific, echoing crack of shifting bones, Paul forced himself to change back—a feat that nearly surprised him considering how volatile his emotions currently were. His body convulsed, muscles snapping and reshaping, fur retreating into skin until he was lying face-down in the wet dirt, entirely human, gasping for air as if he had been drowning.

He dragged himself up against the trunk of a massive cedar tree, still shivering—not from the cold, but from the raw, terrifying power of the imprint. He reached into a hollow in the tree roots, pulling out a pair of beaten-up denim shorts he kept cached there, shaking as he pulled them on.

His skin was burning hot, a fever pitching through his blood. He buried his face in his hands, his fingers gripping his short, dark hair so tightly his scalp ached.

He could still smell you. Even miles away, the scent of the forest seemed completely devoid of meaning compared to the memory of her. He could still see her perfect, mocking smile, could still hear that slightly taunting purr that had completely dismantled his entire existence in a matter of seconds.

"Damn it," Paul choked out into the empty forest, his voice shaking with a mix of fury and absolute helplessness. He slammed his fist into the dirt, leaving a deep crater. "Damn it, no."

He was a protector of his tribe. He was meant to hunt the cold ones, to rip them to shreds and burn the pieces. He was Paul Lahote, the pack's muscle, the one who hated them most.

And now, by some sick, cosmic joke, his soul belonged to a leech.

Two days later, you found yourself lounging on a thick, mossy branch near the treaty line, idly tossing a pinecone up and down in your pale hand. Ever since you had encountered the massive silver wolf, you had been dying to see him again. The lingering curiosity had been humming beneath your skin for forty-eight hours, until finally, the temptation was simply too much to resist.

You had only been waiting for about ten minutes when the sharp sound of approaching footsteps reached your ears. They were human steps, not the heavy, padded thuds of a four-legged beast, but the scent cutting through the rain was unmistakably the same—that scorching, intoxicating blend of woodsmoke, cedar and wet dog.

A few moments later, a tall, powerfully muscular boy stormed through the trees. He was wearing nothing but a pair of torn denim shorts despite the chilly Pacific Northwest rain, his bronze skin radiating a visible steam, due to his abnormally high internal temperature. His chest was heaving with erratic breaths, and his jaw was clenched so tight you could literally hear the bone grinding from twenty yards away.

Your head tilted much like it had the first time you saw him, but this time, you were studying his human form. He was remarkably handsome—not like vampires, who possessed a flawless, frozen perfection, but in a way that was entirely wild and rugged.

He stopped dead at the edge of the treaty line, glaring up at you in your tree with dark eyes full of fire.

"You," he spat, his voice dropping an octave into a gravelly, dangerous threat. "Leech."

The corners of your lips twitched into the ghost of a smirk, instantly amused by his explosive temper. "You must be the dramatic puppy from Tuesday," you said, your voice a smooth, melodic purr that drifted down from the canopy. "Are we jumping straight to pet names, or shall we make a proper introduction?"

He looked like he wanted to rip your head off right then and there, but beneath the mask of his fury, there was a bizarre, frantic desperation bleeding into his eyes that completely contradicted his aggressive posture.

"You need to leave," he commanded, his voice shaking with a strange, ragged intensity. "Leave Forks, leave Washington. Get out."

You leaned forward and leapt down from the branch, dropping through the damp air with absolute weightlessness. You landed soundlessly on your feet just inches away from him, separated only by the invisible boundary of the treaty line. Cocking your head, you met his blazing stare with an unbothered, glittering gaze.

"Why?" you asked, your tone light and conversational. "As far as I can see, I'm breaking no laws. I haven't hunted on your side, and Carlisle says I'm perfectly within my rights to be here."

"I don't care what Carlisle says!" he growled, the words tearing out of his throat.

A sudden tremor ran through his broad shoulders, and you felt the temperature in the small clearing instantly spike. The air around him grew incredibly hot, heavy with the suffocating warmth of a furnace as his body vibrated on the verge of a physical shift.

"You're a monster," he hissed, his chest heaving as he fought a losing battle against his own skin. "A parasite. You shouldn't exist, and you damn sure shouldn't be... shouldn't be doing this to me!"

Your brows furrowed slightly as you tried to piece together exactly what you could have done to him. Yet, absolutely nothing came to the forefront of your mind. He was the one who had hunted you down, after all. But naturally, seeing how easily he was unraveling, you decided to push his buttons.

“Well, that’s a little rude," you murmured, adjusting your stance and letting your lips form a perfect, exaggerated pout. "And here I thought this modern age was all about acceptance and inclusivity. Where are the manners, puppy?"

"Shut up!" he barked, the sound echoing like a gunshot through the quiet woods. His hands curled into tight, white-knuckled fists at his sides.

A dangerous, rhythmic ripple passed directly under his skin—the telltale sign of a shape-shifter on the precipice of exploding into a giant beast. The sheer heat radiating off him was making the damp mist around his bare chest evaporate into wisps of steam.

"Don't tempt me, leech," he threatened, his jaw locking so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek. "I'll tear you to pieces, treaty or no treaty."

"I'd love to see you try," you dared softly, stepping a fraction of an inch closer to the invisible boundary line.

You flashed him a dazzling, flawless vampire smile, your perfect teeth glinting like polished porcelain in the dim, grey light of the forest canopy. You let your eyes trail slowly down his trembling, muscular frame before bringing your gaze back up to lock with his burning stare.

"I haven’t had a good tussle in a while," you purred, a wicked, teasing spark igniting in your topaz eyes. "And you know, they say hate sex is particularly appealing after a brawl. I’d be more than interested to try it if you are. Being mortal, biological enemies would certainly make it an interesting night to remember, don't you think?"

Paul choked on his own breath, the dark bronze of his skin rapidly darkening into a furious, deep crimson at your shameless offer but unlike him you were centuries old, shame was also another thing no longer in your emotional vocabulary.

"You—you fucking psycho," Paul stammered, his gravelly voice cracking under the sheer weight of his humiliation. He stared at you, his eyes wide and completely unhinged by your shameless teasing. "You think this is a joke?"

"Oh, come now," you laughed, the sound a bright, chiming cadence that mocked the heavy gloom of the forest. You shifted your weight, leaning hip-first against a massive, moss-covered boulder right at the water's edge, entirely comfortable in your own skin. "Don't tell me a big, bad wolf is afraid of a little experimentation. I'm just offering a creative solution to all that pent-up aggression you're carrying around. If you’re gonna hate me, we might as well make it fun with some benefits.”

"Get bent," he spat, though his eyes involuntarily flicked down to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes with a look of pure self-loathing. He took a sharp step backward, away from the tempting, intoxicating scent of your proximity. "I'd rather eat glass, leech. Keep your disgusting, cold mouth away from me."

"Your loss, puppy," you chirped, giving him a little wave of your fingers. "But if you change your mind, you know exactly where to find me. Clearly."

Paul let out a final, furious yell of pure frustration, turned on his heel, and stormed back into the dense foliage. He kicked a rotting fir log so hard the damp wood exploded into a shower of splinters and moss, his heavy, angry stomps echoing through the valley until he finally phased somewhere deep in the reservation.

You leaned your back against a cedar tree, a breathless, musical laugh escaping your chest. He was a puzzle, an explosive, dangerously hot puzzle, and for the first time in three centuries, you found yourself entirely cured of your boredom.

Oh, yes. Poking the wolf was going to be an exceptional way to pass the time.

Over the next three weeks, your little routine escalated into what could be considered an art form.

You quickly learned that Paul Lahote—the name belonging to your delightfully angry wolf—possessed the shortest fuse of anyone you had ever encountered in your three hundred years of existence, with the singular, spine-chilling exception of Caius Volturi himself. But unlike the ancient, genocidal Italian ruler, Paul’s wrath was loud, expressive, and incredibly fun to provoke. You made it your personal mission to light that fuse as often as humanly possible, finding a wicked thrill in watching how quickly his composure could disintegrate under the weight of a single, well-placed taunt.

As the days blurred together, you weren't the only ones attending these strange, borderline theatrical standoffs. The other wolves—the stoic, deeply burdened Alpha, Sam Uley, and the taller, lankier one you’d come to know as Jared—started showing up in the brush occasionally. They never crossed the line, and they never spoke a single word to you, keeping their distance. Instead, they would stand just inside the Quileute tree line, watching Paul's explosive, vein-popping tantrums with expressions of deep, utterly exhausted sympathy. They looked at Paul the exact way a tired parent looks at a toddler having a meltdown in the middle of a crowded grocery store. More than once, as Paul's body would begin to violently blur on the precipice of an involuntary phase, Sam would step forward, placing a heavy, grounding hand on Paul's shaking shoulder. You could practically feel the invisible weight of the Alpha's command cutting through the air, forcing the younger boy to forcibly calm his racing blood before he caused a catastrophic, treaty-breaking international incident.

And then, of course, there was Paul himself.

Despite his endless growling for you to leave, his colourful vocabulary, and his daily, incredibly detailed promises to rip you to shreds and burn the pieces, he never missed a single day. Not once. You started testing him, purposely showing up ten or fifteen minutes late to your usual spot on the riverbank just to see what would happen. Without fail, every single time you delayed, you would find him already there, pacing the muddy bank of the opposite side like a caged wolf. His dark, wild eyes would be scanning the high mossy canopy with a frantic, almost desperate urgency, his chest heaving as if he were physically suffocating.

But the exact millisecond your feet touched the branch, the very moment his eyes locked onto yours, the change was staggering. The borderline manic panic tightly gripping his chest would visibly ease, his shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch as a heavy wave of relief washed over his features. A beat later, he would remember himself, instantly settling back into his usual, comfortable mask of defensive rage and snap an insult across the water to cover up his slip.

You weren't stupid. You were an old, highly perceptive predator who had survived three centuries by reading the hidden motives of both humans and monsters alike. You knew with absolute certainty that whatever was truly happening between the two of you, it wasn't just simple, straightforward hatred. There was a tether. A thick, invisible cord pulled completely taut across the rushing waters of the Hoh River, binding your cold, unmoving, timeless existence directly to his scorching, vibrant, and fiercely chaotic life force. You weren’t entirely sure of the exact terminology or the ancient magic behind it, but you knew with a supernatural certainty that it had everything to do with the nature of the wolf beneath his skin.

You probably could’ve asked Carlisle for some clarity, but Edward was currently throwing a massive fit because some human girl in town happened to be his bloodsinger. The whole ordeal was causing an absurd amount of tension throughout the entire Cullen house, so you had been giving them a wide berth while they sorted out their dramatic coven issues.

"You know, for someone who hates me, you sure spend a lot of time staring at my mouth," you teased one evening, sitting gracefully on a moss-covered boulder right at the edge of the river.

Paul, who had been pacing like a caged animal on the opposite bank, froze dead in his tracks. In the dimming twilight, you watched the dark bronze of his face flush a deep, dark red. "I'm watching your fangs, monster," he snapped, his voice rough and defensive. "Making sure you don't try anything."

"Mhm. Sure," you murmured, a playful hum vibrating in your throat. "But there's just one little problem with that, puppy. We don’t actually have fangs. As someone who hunts vampires, shouldn’t that be a fairly crucial detail for you to know?"

You teased him ruthlessly, shifting your weight to slide down from the boulder and move even closer toward the invisible boundary line. Your eyes locked onto the rhythmic trembling of his broad shoulders. "You're shivering, Paul. And definitely not from the cold."

"I don't get cold," he growled, though his chest gave a heavy heave as his breathing suddenly became shallow and restricted.

You tilted your head, looking at him properly this time. Really looking at him. Beneath the layers of explosive anger, the harsh, venomous words, and the desperate masculine bravado, you could see the sheer, crushing exhaustion etched into every line of his face.

The relentless desire to poke the wolf suddenly evaporated, completely replaced by a strange, foreign pang of genuine concern deep inside your cold, unbeating heart.

“Are you alright?” you asked softly.

Paul blinked, completely caught off guard by your sudden, drastic change in tone. The venom vanished from his eyes for a split second, and he looked down at the rushing water separating the two of you, his rigid shoulders sagging just a fraction before he caught himself. His jaw tensed immediately. “I’m fine.”

“I’m over three hundred years old, darling. I’m filled with life experiences," you scoffed playfully, trying to ease the heavy, suffocating tension that had settled over him. "I’m practically offering you free therapy right now."

Paul let out a sharp, bitter breath that wasn't quite a laugh, but it lacked his usual venom. He didn't look back up at you, keeping his eyes firmly glued to the swirling eddies of the river.

"I don't think you have a license for that," he muttered, his voice barely carrying over the sound of the water.

You watched him silently, your supernatural vision effortlessly picking up the subtle, persistent tremor in his hands and the way the muscles in his neck were strained to the point of snapping. The teasing, lighthearted facade you usually wore around him began to feel inappropriate, slipping away to reveal the ancient, deeply observant creature beneath. You stepped right up to the very edge of the riverbank, the damp earth shifting slightly under your weight, your perfect posture loosening into something genuinely receptive.

"No license, but I have an infinite amount of time on my hands," you said softly, your voice cutting through the damp forest air like a soothing melody. "Come on, Lahote. What's eating you? Besides me, obviously."

Paul's jaw worked. For a tense second, you thought he was going to turn on his heel, shatter another log, and storm away into the fog like he usually did when his emotions overwhelmed him.

"I don't need therapy from a leech," he grumbled, though the insult felt half-hearted, lacking any real sting. It was an instinctual shield, a habit he was clinging to because he didn't know what else to do.

"Suit yourself," you said, crossing your arms and leaning your hip against a sturdy birch tree. "But 'fine' doesn't usually involve looking like you haven't slept since the turn of the century."

He lifted his head, his dark eyes burning into yours with a sudden intensity that made your playful banter die instantly on your tongue. The defensive anger was still there, but it was incredibly thin, cracking open right before your eyes to reveal the staggering weight he was carrying underneath.

The truth was, Paul’s life was a chaotic storm, and he was completely drowning in it.

When the shape-shifter gene had finally activated in his blood a few months ago, it had felt like an explosion. Out of the three shifters currently running the forests of La Push, Paul had supposedly taken to the wolf the easiest. Where Sam and Jared had deeply struggled with having to abruptly cut off and ignore the people in their lives to keep the tribal secret, Paul didn’t have that struggle. Phasing into a massive, silver-grey beast felt almost natural to him because he had spent his entire life carrying a baseline of nuclear-level rage. To Sam and Jared, he appeared to effortlessly embrace the unbridled, primal power of the spirit-warrior.

But the reality was a living nightmare. He was a teenage boy who had been abruptly stripped of his normalcy, forced into a supernatural pack bond that offered absolutely zero privacy. Every dark thought, every flash of insecurity, and every bitter memory of his failures was broadcast directly into the minds of his pack mates whenever they were in wolf form.

In truth, inheriting a sacred tribal legacy didn't magically erase the wreckage of his human life. It only magnified it.

His home life was its own quiet, miserable war zone. His father was a deeply bitter, abusive drunk—a man who spent his days drowning his own failures in cheap whiskey and his nights taking his frustrations out on whatever, or whoever, was within arm's reach. Before Paul phased, he had spent years taking those hits, absorbing the venom and building up a dark reservoir of hatred that threatened to swallow him whole. Now that he was a protector, now that he possessed the supernatural strength to tear a car in half with his bare hands, the dynamic at home had become a precarious tightrope. Every time his father stumbled home, slurring and swinging, Paul had to physically lock his entire body down. He would grip the edges of the kitchen counter until the wood threatened to snap beneath his fingers, utterly terrified that if he lost his temper for even a fraction of a second, he would accidentally murder his own father.

Because of that suffocating terror, he barely spent any time at home anymore. He practically lived on the run from his own house, taking refuge at Sam and Emily's place just to have a safe haven. On the nights when the shame and embarrassment of overstaying his welcome grew too heavy, he wouldn't even stay in a house at all; he would sleep out in the dirt and the damp woods as a wolf, letting the wild weather numb him.

He was entirely, utterly exhausted. He was so tired of the total lack of privacy between him and the pack, so tired of the lingering trauma of his childhood, and deeply weary of carrying the thankless burden of protecting a tribe that ultimately viewed him and the other boys as nothing but delinquent, good-for-nothings. He was a walking powder keg, and his hair-trigger temper felt like a bomb ticking away in his chest, waiting for the spark that would blow his entire world to pieces.

And then, to make a total mockery of his entire existence... there was you.

Paul ran a rough hand over his face, pushing his damp, dark hair away from his forehead. He looked at you—at your perfect face, the gentle curve of your mouth, and the bright gold of your eyes. He stared at how you seemed to stand so peacefully across the river, utterly unaffected by the biting rain, the freezing cold, or the crushing misery of the modern world. You were a creature of frozen grace, a timeless masterpiece carving a quiet space into his chaotic nightmare.

He hated how much he needed to be near you. He loathed the primal desperation that gripped his throat every single hour he spent away from this riverbank. But more than anything, he hated the terrifying truth that the endless, agonizing thoughts in his head—the fury at his father, the pack's telepathic intrusion, the burden of the tribal legacy— completely stopped the moment he was right here, standing across a river from a creature he had been born to kill. Your presence was an oasis of escape in his loud, violent world.

"You don't get it," he muttered, his jaw tightening so hard the bone beneath his bronze skin looked sharp enough to cut. He looked down at his own trembling hands, watching them clench and unclench into tight fists as if he were trying to physically hold his sanity together.

"I'm supposed to hate you," he whispered, his voice cracking violently under the staggering weight of the confession. He didn't look up, his gaze glued to his hands. "I try so hard to hate you. I can't sleep. I can't think. Every time I close my eyes, my head is full of your voice, your face, your stupid, mocking smile. I’m supposed to want to rip you to pieces. I’m supposed to want to kill you. Instead, I’m spending every single second of my day fighting my own body, making sure I don't cross this goddamn river just to be near you. It's making me lose my mind."

You stared at him, your ancient mind rapidly recontextualizing every single interaction you’d had over the last three weeks. The pacing, the panic when you were late, the heavy, sympathetic looks from Sam and Jared. You knew there was some kind of bond, but you didn’t realize how hard it had been on him. You didn’t know it was an all consuming need that his biology had forced upon him, and he was tearing himself apart trying to fight it.

A heavy, suffocating silence descended on the riverbank, save for the wild, rushing water churning over the jagged rocks below. For the first time in three hundred years of wandering the earth, through every empire you had seen fall and every coven you had seen break, you felt completely, utterly speechless. The wit that usually defined you, the clever, taunting armour you wore to keep the lacklustre world at bay, dissolved into nothingness.

"Paul..." you started, your voice barely louder than a whisper, stripped entirely of its usual taunting edge.

"Don't," he choked out, his fists clenching tight at his sides. He looked at you one last time, a look of profound defeat and agonizing longing warring on his rugged features, before he turned sharply and vanished back into the shadows of the Quileute woods.

You stood entirely frozen, staring at the empty tree line as the first heavy droplets of a gathering storm began to fall through the canopy, the cold rain washing over you as the echo of his confession rang in your ears.

"Paul..." you started, your voice barely louder than a whisper, carrying a soft, aching weight you hadn't felt in centuries.

"Don't," he choked out, his fists clenching so tight that his entire body began to tremble with that dangerous, pre-shifting heat. He lifted his head and looked at you one last time—a look of profound defeat, raw exposure, and agonizing, heartbreaking longing warring on his rugged features—before he turned sharply on his heel. With a desperate burst of speed, he vanished back into the deep, unforgiving shadows of the Quileute woods.

You stood entirely frozen, your immortal body locking into the stillness of stone as you stared at the empty tree line. The silence of the forest rushed back to fill the void he left behind, and the first heavy, freezing droplets of a gathering storm began to pierce through the high canopy, splashing unnoticed against your cold skin.

The turning point came on a night when the storm was loud enough to drown out the very sound of the forest. Thunder clapped in deafening, rolling waves, and the rain fell in thick sheets, blurring the world into a chaotic haze of grey and green. You were hunting a few miles out, tracking a deer, when the air suddenly carried something that made your entire body lock up—blood. Intoxicating, heavy, human blood, followed instantly by the sweet scent of a rogue vampire having moved through the area.

Your predatory instincts flared, but it wasn't hunger that seized you despite how tempting the human blood smelled. It was a cold, paralyzing jolt of panic. As you tore through the woods, tracking the fast-moving scent trail, you realized with growing horror that the vampire had already went straight across the Hoh River. The nomad had most likely attacked the hiker directly onto Quileute land.

And your very first, consuming thought went to Paul.

You crossed the river without a second thought, your feet barely skimming the rushing water as you launched yourself deep into the forbidden territory, driven by a desperate, frantic need to ensure he was safe.

By the time you burst into the hidden clearing, the brutal reality of the hunt was already unfolding. The human hiker was gone, likely fled or worse, but the clearing was a battleground. A massive, silver-grey wolf was locked in a horrific, snarling grapple with the red-eyed nomad. They were a blur of teeth and claws, tearing up the mud, but the rogue had gained the upper hand, pinning the giant wolf beneath his weight. In his pale, stone-like hand, the nomad gripped a heavy, jagged rock, raising it high and aiming it straight for the wolf's eye with lethal force.

A primal, deafening screech tore from your throat. You didn't think. You just launched your body across the clearing, tackling the rogue vampire off of Paul a split second before the rock could descend. The blinding velocity of your collision threw the nomad violently through the air, sending him crashing into a massive, ancient cedar tree with a force that cracked the thick trunk right down the middle.

Before the nomad could even hit the ground, you dropped into a low, lethal crouch directly in front of Paul. Your clothes were soaked, your posture was entirely feral, and your topaz eyes seemed to shine in the darkness as you shielded the silver wolf with your own body.

"Don't touch him," you hissed, the words vibrating with a venomous, unyielding threat that rang clearer than the storm.

The nomad scrambled to his feet, rubbing his chest where you had struck him. He straightened up to his full height, his dark crimson eyes darting from your protective stance to the panting, bleeding wolf behind you. A look of profound, sickening disgust contorted his pale features.

“You’re defending a mutt from your own kind?” he spat, his voice laced with utter disbelief.

Behind you, Paul let out a low, ragged rumble. He was struggling to push himself up, his heavy paws slipping in the slick, blood-stained grass. You could feel the intense, furnace-like heat radiating from his massive body, practically baking the skin of your back. Even injured, his instinct was to push past you, to put himself between the danger and his imprint. But you didn't give him an inch. You stood like a wall of solid marble, unyielding and fierce.

The rogue nomad narrowed his red eyes, assessing the situation. He looked at the cracked cedar tree, then at your lethal posture, and finally at the massive silver-grey beast snarling behind you. He was fast, but he wasn't stupid. He was outnumbered, outmatched, and facing a vampire who looked entirely ready to tear him limb from limb.

“Disgusting parasite,” the nomad hissed, backing up a step into the shadows of the ferns. “You’re a disgrace to our kind.”

With a sudden, fluid movement, the rogue whirled around and launched himself high into the canopy, vanishing into the blinding sheets of rain as he fled, tearing away from the reservation.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket, your cold fingers moving with supernatural speed to send a quick text to Jasper. You gave him a brief heads-up on the runner's description and where he seemed to be headed, knowing with absolute certainty that the Cullens would handle the rest. They wouldn’t want dangerous rogues hunting anywhere near their territory and drawing unnecessary human attention.

Silence descended on the woods, save for the heavy, laboured panting of the giant wolf behind you.

You turned around slowly, your vampire grace suddenly feeling incredibly clumsy. Paul was already shifting back, the gruesome, rapid sound of cracking bones echoing in the quiet night. He quickly pulled a pair of shorts from a hidden cache in a hollow tree and stepped into them.

You waited for him to yell at you. Your cold muscles tensed as you stood your ground, bracing for the inevitable explosion. You had broken the treaty. You had crossed the river. By all rights and laws of his tribe, he could try to kill you right now.

Instead, Paul walked right up to you. The anger that usually defined him was completely gone, replaced by a fierce, burning intensity. He stopped inches from you, his body heat radiating off him like a furnace, pushing away the damp chill of the night.

"You crossed the line," he whispered.

"He was going to take your eye out, Paul," you said defensively, crossing your arms over your chest as your chin tilted up to meet his gaze. "I couldn't just stand across the river and watch."

You looked at him, truly looked at him, and for the first time in three centuries, you felt a lump form in your throat. You swallowed hard, a purely human reflex that you hadn't needed in a regular conversation for a very long time, and shifted your gaze away from his. You couldn't bear the raw, bleeding exposure in his eyes. There was something about this shape-shifter, something about the searing warmth of his presence and the terrifying depth of his devotion, that made you feel human again. It was a feeling you had thought lost to time, a dangerous, beautiful spark breaking through the timeless numbness of your nomadic life.

“I broke your law," you murmured quietly, the words feeling heavy and hollow on your tongue. "If you want me to leave Forks and never come back… I will.”

It was all he’d been yelling at you to do since the exact moment you two had met. For three weeks, he had growled, demanded, and threatened you to disappear, and you were finally offering him exactly what he wanted on a silver platter. You figured that maybe with you gone, he might finally get some peace of mind.

The silence that followed your offer was deafening, stretching out between you even as the thunder rumbled overhead and the heavy rain continued to batter the ancient canopy. You kept your eyes trained on the muddy ground, watching the steam rise off his bare feet where they sank into the earth. You were bracing for the relief you expected to feel from him, the agreement that he wanted you gone.

But the relief never came. Instead, the air between you grew impossibly hotter, thick with a sudden, sharp spike of panic that was so potent you could practically taste it.

Paul felt his chest gave a sharp, violent heave, a ragged breath tearing out of his throat as if your words had physically struck him.

Instead, what you expected never came, he reached out. His large hand was trembling slightly, as he slowly, hesitatingly, rested his warm, calloused palm directly against your cold, wet cheek.

You gasped, a phantom shudder ripping through your unmoving veins. Your eyes snapped back up to his, wide and startled. His skin felt like liquid fire against your ice, a contrast so sharp, it nearly felt as if you were being burned, but it didn't hurt. In fact, it made you feel undeniably, beautifully alive. For three hundred years, you had walked the earth feeling nothing but the same boring cycle of a world that couldn't touch you. But right now, under the pressure of his hand, your entire universe shrank down to the singular point of his warmth.

“No. I’ve been an asshole to you," Paul muttered, his voice cracking as he forced the words past the tight knot in his throat. His dark eyes searched yours with an open, bleeding sincerity that laid him entirely bare. His thumb moved slowly, gently tracing the smooth, porcelain line of your cheekbone, wiping away the cold raindrops. "Every single day since I met you, I've done nothing but scream at you. I called you a monster. I called you a leech. And you just crossed the treaty line and risked your life to save mine."

Looking up at him now—completely exposed, completely stripped of the defensive, hot-headed bravado he used to shield himself from the wreckage of his life—the familiar, playful spark finally flickered back into your topaz eyes. You couldn't help it. The wit was your defence mechanism, your own way of handling the terrifying weight of what seemed to be blooming between you two.

"I told you before, Lahote," you whispered, your voice a soft, melodic purr that leaned into his warm touch just a fraction of an inch. "I like poking the wolf. I can't exactly let a rogue nomad break my favourite toy."

A breathless, genuine laugh broke from Paul's lips—the first real, untainted sound of amusement you had ever heard from him. It made his eyes crinkle at the corners, the harsh, severe lines of his face softening into something so breathtakingly handsome it made your dead heart ache.

"You are infuriating, you know that?" he murmured, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small, wry smile as he leaned his head down, resting his forehead gently against yours. Ice met fire in the middle of the dark, rain-slicked forest, and for the first time, there was no war.

"I've been told I have a certain charm," you replied softly, your pale, slender hands tentatively rising to rest against his bare, broad chest. Beneath your palms, you could feel the frantic, heavy thumping of his heart, a rapid, fiercely alive rhythm that seemed to echo in the empty space of your own chest.

"Yeah," Paul sighed, closing his eyes as he finally let go of the anger, the guilt, and the fear that had been tearing him apart for weeks. He wrapped his strong, trembling arms securely around your waist, pulling your cold body flush against his furnace-warm chest and you couldn’t help but relax into him. He held you like you were the only solid thing left in a world that was constantly shifting beneath his feet. "Maybe you do."

The storm raged on around you, the thunder shaking the earth and the rain washing the blood from the clearing, but as you stood there in the forbidden territory, wrapped in the arms of the boy who had been born to kill you, the dull grey of the world finally began to fade away.

That's why he hates to admit that he fell for you...almost too easy.

When Emily said she was bringing a friend over for dinner, he smugly asked if you were "hot". She rolled her eyes and made him swear that he wouldn't try anything with you, knowing how he was.

"She's the sweetest person in the world, and we're becoming best friends. Do NOT ruin that,"

Little did she know that she was bringing home his soulmate.

When Emily introduced you to the pack and Paul imprinted, she sagged her shoulders in defeat. Sam couldn't stop laughing, seeing Emily turn to pout at him with her arms crossed.

"I won't let him hurt her," Sam assured as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, kissing her temple.

"Better not."

-

It had started off as lingering gazes from afar, to small conversations in passing. Paul was so scared of your rejection, and you didn't think he could ever be interested in someone like you. After all, you had heard rumors about the hot head, and none of them involved relationships.

Both of you were so busy convincing yourselves that you meant nothing to each other, that you had no idea just how truly deep the other was.

When he had finally gotten the courage to ask you on a date, it was your turn to be nervous.

"He's never even gone on a date, Y/N," Kim had told you that afternoon while helping you get ready. "That means you're pretty damn special."

Paul had been nothing less than a gentleman. He had been sweet, attentive, and ended the night with a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Can I see you again?" He had asked outside your door, just above a whisper.

Your smiled widened softly as you nodded, your eyes locked in his.

Pauls world had flipped upside down. His usual charm and charisma crumbled, replaced with anxious nerves. It wasn't just the imprint bond that made him fall head first. It was that, to him, you were perfect.

Paul knew right away that you were too good for him. But instead of accepting that and moving on, something in him changed.

He had wanted to be better, for you.

When you weren't around, the girls joked that you were the sunshine to his raging storm. They'd never seen him like this before. He was just calmer around you, more steady. Emily and Kim gushed over this completely different version of him.

-

One date led to the next, and before either of you realized, you were seeing each other.

All the time.

You would spend a majority of your day at Emily's house, who was more than thrilled to have someone around to chat and help with the cooking.

That is, when Paul was on patrol and not in your vicinity.

The pack quickly realized that Paul showed affection by being very handsy.

There was never a moment when you two were in the same room that he didn't have some sort of hold on you.

Whether it be a hand squeezing your knee under the table, his arms wrapped around your torso, or pecking soft kisses on your neck when he thought no one was looking.

You vividly remember the day that Embry walked into the bathroom and caught you both in a heated make out session, his one hand engulfed in your hair as the other held you up against the sink.

"Get the fuck out!" Paul seethed.

"THE DOOR WAS UNLOCKED!?" Embry looked at him incredulously as he slammed the door and stormed off.

Paul looked at you, watching your face turn bright red as you tucked into the crook of his neck, your laugh ringing through his ears like a sirens song.

Paul didn't expect this, he hadn't wanted this.

But he'd be lying to himself if he didn't know one thing.

He loved you.

~

At least, that's what he wishes he had told you. Before his entire world came crashing down around him.

Before he sit here, in this cold, unforgiving metal chair. Staring at you, the holder of his heart, bruised, battered and helpless on that hospital bed.

It was his fault. Sam, Jared, Embry, anyone could try to tell him it wasn't. That this could have happened to any of them. But he knew the truth.

He let his hot headed, egotistical, selfishness get in the way. That anger that he swallowed and tried to hide. It had bubbled to the surface like a vice, and now here you lay because of it.

If he knew he would ultimately be here in the end, he would have handled things much differently.

~

It all started when another pack came into town. They were supposed to be just passing through. When it was found out that the alpha and Billy had been good friends in the past, they were invited to stay for a few weeks.

"We must share this land with our kind," Billy had said. "Treat them as family."

All of that was perfectly fine. This wasn't the first pack that had come and visit. They were respectful, cordial, and even friendly.

Except for one of them.

They had all been invited to the weekly bonfire. It was a crisp autumn night, just chilly enough for you to be comfortably snugged against Paul as the fire roared.

The men sat around the pit, buzzing in conversation, while the imprints laughed and took turns sharing stories. It was getting to be a really good night.

The pack had one lone wolf. He was a bit younger, albeit just as big as the rest of the men. He didn't speak to anyone, rather than give off dirty looks and sneers from the sidelines.

"I'm sorry about him, he's new and quite troubled," their alpha had said.

No one really paid him much attention after that.

Until he made the biggest mistake any of them could.

He sauntered over to you.

Paul had been by your side the entire time. One hand wrapped around your waist, the other with a drink in his hand. He would softly squeeze your side every now and then, nuzzling his nose in your neck.

"You look so beautiful tonight," he'd whisper in your ear, making you smile.

Paul looked in your eyes for a brief moment, and he knew. He would tell you tonight. Later on, when the crowd faded and it was just the two of you, he would say those three words that he had been terrified to say all of his life. His heart preemptively beat out of his chest, and he tried to relax.

When his drink was empty he had made a small acknowledgment that he was going to get a new one, leaving you for just a moment.

That's when it happened.

The man had come up to you from behind, like he had been waiting for his opportunity. He slung his arm around your shoulder, tightly gripping you. You gasped, stunned from his aggression around the movement, smelling his breath that reeked of alcohol.

"Damn, are you a sexy little thing. You could do so much better than him sweetheart, why don't you come-"

He didn't even have time to finish his sentence before he was forcefully launched onto the ground, Paul towering over him in front of you. He was trembling, growling intensely at the man beneath him. The noise deafened as everyone stood up, staring in shock at what they just witnessed.

One of the imprints pulled you back, just in time as both the man and Paul phased, teeth snapping angrily as they clawed at one another.

"PAUL!" You shrieked, tears welling in your eyes. Emily appeared out of nowhere, grabbing you by the arm and forcing you back into the house where you were out of sight.

Several of the men from both pack's phased, desperately attempting to rip the two off of each other.

Once the door to the house was closed you sobbed into Emily's arms, completely terrified and shaking as she rubbed your back,

"It's okay, they'll take care of him. I promise,"

Emily was able to calm you down slowly, understanding the intensity of the situation. You had seen Paul phase, but never out of anger.

Even though you were pretty certain Paul could handle himself, you couldn't shake that disgusting feeling you got from that guy. It made your stomach nauseous.

Around half an hour later, you sat at the table with Emily when the boys walked into the house. Paul immediately rushed over to you, engulfing you in his arms. Feeling his touch made your emotions heighten all over again, tears flooding his shoulders.

"Shh, baby I'm right here. It's okay, I'm not going nowhere," he said into your hair as you just hugged him tighter.

Emily looked to Sam with wild eyes.

"They took him back to their camp. He won't be back here again." He said, as if reading her mind.

But the look he shared with Paul after, was less than convincing.

----- A few days later ------

"I'm going to get this new book that just came out at that bookstore in town, and then I'll be right over," you had said over the phone to Paul.

"Whatever you want babe, we're about to watch some movie," he smiled.

"Tell Jared to lay off all the popcorn and save some for me?" you giggled.

"Anything for you."

That was nearly two hours ago. Paul sat in the living room with the boys, the movie playing that Embry had been dying for them to watch. But he was barely paying attention, drumming his fingers along the armchair. Why weren't you here yet? Paul was getting concerned, but didn't want to bother you or seem like the controlling type. After all, you were one to easily lose track of time in a bookstore.

Paul hadn't told you what he wanted to say that night, given everything that happened.

He wasn't worried anymore though. If anything, he was more confident in his feelings. He figured that when the time was right, he'd tell you.

His phone rang, your name plastered on the screen as Paul sighed of relief.

"Hey, are you almost here?"

"Paul." You whispered, so low he almost didn't hear it. He didn't know if it was the bond or general instincts, but he immediately sensed your fear.

He stood up abruptly from the couch, eyebrows furrowed. The sudden movement attracted the attention of the pack, the boys pausing the movie and listening in with their hearing.

"What's wrong baby? Tell me."

"T-T-that guy. The one from the bonfire," you breathed.

Paul froze, his stomach dropped, his heart rapidly beating in his chest.

"He's at the bookstore. He's outside in his car and I think he saw me. I-" your voice cracked as tears welled in your eyes.

"Y/N, stay right there. Do you hear me? Do not go outside. I'm on my way." after you agreed, Paul hung up the phone.

One look behind him and everyone was already up, ready to follow him.

"Let's go," Sam commanded the others, as they tore off their shirts and raced outside.

Emily looked to Kim with fearful eyes, them being the only ones left.

"I don't have a good feeling about this,"

---

Paul could count on his hand the number of times he was scared.

Right now, he was terrified.

Within ten minutes, they had arrived to town and at the bookstore. Your car was still parked, but you were no where to be found.

Sam had to hold Paul back from practically jumping over the counter when the cashier told them you had left a few minutes earlier with a guy.

Heading back outside by the woods beyond the store, Sam ordered the pack to shift and separate, knowing they'd have better senses when scouring the area outside.

Paul and Sam were together, and Paul was about to come unglued. Every minute that passed felt like hours. Thoughts of you flooded his mind, regrets about every little thing he did that led to this. He should have never left you alone. If anything happened to you...

No. He had to focus.

They were deep in the forest when the sound of rustled branches startled them.

What emerged made Paul's heart drop.

It was the man from the other pack, also in his wolf form.

But you weren't with him.

"Where the FUCK is she!?" Paul demanded through his mind, his desperation turning into pure rage.

The wolf snarled, "You always get what you want, don't you? You don't deserve her...you can't even protect her."

Paul bared his teeth, "And what the fuck makes you think you do?! Huh?? I have every right by tribal law to tear you apart you if you so much as TOUCHED her."

The wolf huffed, "You think I give a shit about that? About any of this? I didn't want to be like this..."

"Then why take her?" Sam questioned, trying to remain calm.

His mouth curled up as he sneered, "Because at least I finally have the strength, to take whatever it is that I want."

Before Paul could charge at the wolf, he winced as the mind link was overwhelmed with screaming.

"I FOUND HER! I FOUND HER!" Embry croaked. A flash of the image of you overpowered his mind.

You were tied to a tree by rope and duct tape. You were bruised and bloodied, scratches all over your body. Tears streamed down your face as you weakly reached your arms out to Embry.

The other wolf, seeing this, laughed maniacally. "You gotta admit though...she's a fighter."

Paul's vision went red as he lunged.

---------

Paul sat in the chair across from your hospital bed. He leaned over and rubbed his temples, as if by doing this, he could erase the memories of breaking that wolf down.

It wasn't until the man surrendered and phased back, crying and helpless, did Sam and the other alpha who found them, manage to rip Paul off just before the job was done.

Embry had rushed you to the local hospital where he said you were attacked by an animal. Luckily, Dr. Cullen took over before any follow up questions were asked.

"She'll be alright Paul, you saved her life." Sam put his hand on Paul's shoulder next to him.

Paul huffed, "She wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for me. If I would have just told him to fuck off, not gotten so angry at the bonfire..."

"Stop. Any of us would have done the same. I can promise you that." Sam interrupted, shaking his head.

They sat there in silence for awhile.

The monitors beeping started to pick up, and you squinted your eyes tight before slowly opening them.

"Paul?" You wheezed, your throat on fire.

Paul practically leaped out of his seat to come to your side.

"Hey, hey, I'm here." He said as he took your hand in his, running his fingers softly through your hair with the other.

Sam took this as his que to go back to the waiting room, giving Paul a reassuring nod as he left.

"You saved me," you said softly, smiling as you squeezed his hand.

Paul nearly collapsed. After all of this, you didn't hate him. You weren't too scared to be with him, or think he was just a monster.

"I will do anything for you. Forever, you know that?" He whispered.

He cleared his throat, "It's because I love you."

You blinked, almost as if you were processing what you just heard. You supposed you both would say those words eventually, but to actually hear it, was something else.

"I love you too," you said as your eyes welled with tears.

That's when he leaned down and kissed you...really kissed you. Like he was afraid he would wake up and this would all be a dream.

A "whoops" interrupted you, as you both pulled away, slightly breathless. You couldn't help but laugh as you saw Embry, cheeks flushed, awkwardly wave as he was the first of the pack behind him to step in.

"I can't catch a break with these two," he sighed to Jared, who snickered.

The girls came in with your favorite candy and snacks, giving you hugs and telling you how worried they'd been. The boys chatted with one another, and Paul never left your side.

—————————-

“Dude, she obviously likes mw better, she took the food i handed her first” Embry said, barging into Sam & Emily’s house as usual, right after patrol, following along with Quil, Jacob not too far behind them.

“She only took it first because you were taking up her whole line of sight!” Quil shot back, shoving Embry playfully, making him stumble while he took a seat at the table next to Seth and Paul, in which they stared at him with confused expressions, very unsure of what the two were talking about, Seth tilting his head to the side, trying to make sense of what was going on.

“Ypu two jus’ gonna leave us out or are you gonna tell us who’re talking about?” Paul commented, Jacob anf Embry joining them at the table, immediately digging into the food laid out for them.

“They’re talking about my lil sis, she unfortunately came home from school early, and ran into them when we were about to go out.” Jacob replied as Paul’s gaze switched to him when he spoke up, along with Seth’s.

“Oh yeah? How old is she?” Paul replied, he wasn’t aware of Jacob having a sister, although, they didn’t go around Jacob’s place much. “She’s 14, almost 15.”

That caught Seth’s attention, he suddenly seemed more interested in the topic, considering Jacob’s sister was around his age, scooting his chair slightly closer.

“Cool, bring her to a bonfire.” Paul said bluntly, surprising them all. “What?” Jacob said abruptly, he did not think that was a good idea, considering the pack could get.. rowdy. “C’mon, man, if she met Embry and Quil, she should meet the whole pack, don’t play favorites.” Paul convinced, and Jacob caved—barely.

Then came the night of the bonfire.

You strolled into their cozy environment, the fire cracking and everyone sitting around the bonfire, Jacob trailing slightly behind her, grumbling about how stupid Embry abd Quil are for opening their mouths. Soon, unintentionally, her and Seth lock eyes.

Cue—imprinting, his eyes softened as he saw their future, their soft moments together, the romantic ones and all, and not long after, the whole pack just realized what happened.

“Wait. Wait wiat wait wait, WAIT.” Embry said, looking between the two, seth looking a bit dazed while you looked confused. “Did Seth just imprint on baby black?!” Quil chimed in.

“Imprinting? What.. even is that?” You said, very confuzzled. Tilting your head to the side slightly, a habit both you and Seth shared when you were confused, unbeknownst to you two. “It’s best if Seth tells you, when he’s ready, of course.” Sam commented. “Jake, how could you not tell your sister what imprinting is??” Jared spoke up, in which earning no response from Jacob.

“Aww, look at Seth, finding his imprint so early!” Embry nudged him teasingly, earning a nudge back from Seth “hey, stop it..!” He muttered, already stiff and fidgety.

—————————-

Throughout the whole night, they didn’t exactly speak, you can feel his eyes on you throughout the night, though.

And soon, you two were the only ones by the fire, surprisingly, Jacob left you alone.

You and Seth could barely make eye contact, frankly, it was Seth who could barely make eye contact. You on the other hand, were perfectly fine.

You decided to break the awkward silence. “So, imprinting, what’s that?” You asked, scooting over at a close but respectful distance.

“Uh.. it’s… in a simple way to put it..” Seth spoke up softly, his eyes darting anywhere but her, “‘s like.. finding your soulmate, y’know?” Realizing how that sounded, he quickly added more to ease her thoughts, he doesn’t wanna think she’s forced into being in a romantic relationship with him. “B-But it doesn’t have to be romantic! If you don’t want it that way..” He explained. “It’s really up to you..” he finished shyly, finally looking at her properly.

“Mmh.. well, we’ll talk more, yeah? And we’ll see from there.” You said, nudging him playfully as Jacob called them and told them to get inside. You stood up first, offering your hand to him.

In which, he took it.

—————————-