#twilight angst

Y/N's POV

The low hum of the TV fills the room, some old Western I put on to tease Jasper playing in the background. Muted gunfire crackles through the speakers, but my mind registers none of it. The only sound I hear—the only thing I feel—is the weight of Jasper’s gaze on me. 

It’s subtle at first, a quiet pull, the kind of thing that creeps in slowly, like a shift in the air before a storm. But once I notice it, it’s impossible to ignore. Heat rises along the back of my neck, a slow and deliberate kind of warmth that spreads through me like liquid fire. My pulse flutters, reacting to something unspoken, something thick and heavy that lingers between us in the stillness of his bedroom. 

I try my hardest to focus on the screen, but my body betrays me. My breath comes in quicker now, my skin tingling with an awareness I can’t shake and there’s the beginning of that familiar ache between my legs that Jasper still runs from. I will it to go, not wanting whatever is happening to stop. 

And then I make the mistake of turning my head. 

Jasper is waiting.

His golden eyes are darker than usual, soldering beneath the dim light, his expression unreadable yet impossibly intense. He’s stretched out behind me, propped against the pillows, his body relaxed but his presence anything but. His lips parting slightly, just enough for me to catch the faintest inhale, like he’s breathing just for the sake of drinking in the scent of my anticipation. 

Something in my tightens and I clench my thighs together, 

Before I can react, his fingers are on me—just the lightest of touches, grazing along my jaw, his knuckles trailing down to the delicate line of my throat. A shiver runs through me, my breath catching as he hooks a single finger beneath my chin. 

I barely have a second to think before he tilts my head towards him and claims my most with his own. 

The kiss is slow at first, teasing, his lips brushing against mine like a whisper of a promise. But then I sigh into him—melt into him—and something shifts. Jasper exhales sharply, like he’d have been holding his breath if he needed to, and then his mouth crashes into mine with a hunger that steal the air from my lungs. 

His icy hands are on me now—one tangling in my hair, the other pressing against my hip, anchoring me to him. The weight of his body shifts as he leans over me, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping along my lower lip before sipping past my parted mouth. 

A low, helpless sound escapes me, and Jasper groans in response—a deep, rumbling noise that vibrates against my skin, making my pulse stutter. His grip tightens, his fingers flexing against my waist as he shifts his weight, rolling me beneath him in one fluid motion.

I gasp, my back pressing into the mattress, but he doesn’t give me a second to recover. His mouth is everywhere—tracing the curve of my jaw, down the slope of my neck, pausing at my pulse point.

He stills.

I can feel the hesitation in his body, the war waging just beneath the surface. His lips hover, barely a breath away from my skin, and for the briefest moment, I wonder if he’s about to pull back. A soft whimper catching my throat. 

But then his mouth presses there, at that delicate, vulnerable place, and he lingers.

A slow, measured kiss. Then another.

His lips linger against my throat, a slow drag of cool breath across overheated skin, and a soft whimper catches in my throat.

Jasper stills again.

For a heartbeat, I think he’s going to pull away completely, retreat into the self-imposed restraint that’s kept us hovering at the edge of this moment for far too long. But instead, he only shifts back slightly, just enough to see my face.

His golden eyes are molten now, darkened by something that has nothing to do with thirst and everything to do with the way I feel beneath him. His expression is unreadable, but his body betrays him—the faintest tremor in his hands where they grip my waist, the shallow rise and fall of his chest as he takes another steadying breath.

I reach up slowly, running my fingers through his golden curls, feeling the softness of them as they slip between my fingers. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, like he’s savouring the touch, and when they open again, there’s something raw in his gaze.

I let my hands drift lower, tracing the firm lines of his shoulders, feeling the strength coiled just beneath his skin. His muscles shift under my fingertips, tensing when my fingers ghost over the first button of his shirt.

I hesitate—just for a second, waiting, giving him the chance to stop me.

He doesn’t.

Instead, Jasper exhales softly, the faintest nod of permission, and I push the button through its hole.

Then another.

And another.

I take my time, revelling in the slow reveal of smooth, pale skin beneath my fingertips. He’s all hard lines and sculpted perfection, like something carved from marble—impossibly smooth, yet impossibly strong. My hands glide over the firm ridges of his chest, the faintest indentations of old scars marring the otherwise flawless expanse.

Jasper shudders at my touch.

Not from cold. Not from hesitation.

From want.

A thrill rushes through me at the realisation, heat coiling low in my stomach. My hands splay across his bare torso, feeling every ripple of his muscles beneath my touch as I slide them lower, over the defined lines of his abdomen, the sharp dip of his hips.

I shift beneath him, my leg hooking over his thigh, pulling him down against me.

Jasper gasps.

The sound is quiet, almost involuntary, but I feel it—the sharp inhale against my lips, the way his entire body tenses the moment my hips press flush against his.

He drops his forehead to mine, his breath coming faster now, uneven. Shaken.

"You have no idea," he murmurs, voice rough, strained, "how long I've wanted this."

My fingers tighten in his hair, pulling just enough to make his breath hitch. I tilt my chin, letting my lips brush against his in the lightest of teasing touches before whispering—

"Then stop holding back."

And just like that, Jasper breaks.

He crashes into me, his mouth searing, desperate, any last remnants of restraint burning away in the fire we’ve ignited between us. 

Jasper's hands work with deliberate care, his fingers trailing down the fabric of my shirt as he tugs it over my head. I shiver as the cool air meets my bare skin, and he stills.

For a long, breathless moment, he just looks.

His golden eyes darken, his jaw tightening as a quiet, reverent groan escapes him. "Damn." The word is rough, almost guttural, and I barely have time to register the raw appreciation in his gaze before his hands return—featherlight at first, tracing the curve of my waist, the swell of my ribs, before he grips me with something closer to desperation.

His mouth is on me again, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone, down the center of my chest, worshiping every inch of bare skin he can reach. My head falls back against the pillows, my fingers tangling in his curls, tugging just enough to make him growl.

The sound sends a sharp thrill straight through me.

Then I feel it—his hands at the waistband of my jeans, fingers slipping beneath the fabric, teasing, waiting.

A shiver of anticipation rolls down my spine as I reach between us, my fingers seeking the metal button of his jeans.

I fumble.

A quiet, frustrated whimper leaves my lips when I struggle with the button, my hands trembling too much to work the damn thing free. Jasper lets out a breathy chuckle against my skin, the vibrations sending a delicious shudder through me.

"Need some help, darlin'?" His voice is thick with amusement, but there’s something else beneath it, something dangerous.

I shake my head, determined, my fingers working the button again, and finally, finally, it gives.

Jasper exhales sharply as I push the denim open, my hand skimming lower, feeling the hard planes of his abdomen beneath my palm. His entire body tenses, like he's barely holding himself together, and when I drag my nails lightly down his stomach, his breath hitches.

Jasper moves faster than I can process, his body shifting, pressing me deeper into the mattress as his mouth crashes against mine. There’s nothing hesitant about him anymore—only hunger, only the weight of his hands gripping my hips, his body caging me beneath him, every inch of him solid, unyielding.

The last of our clothing disappears in a blur of movement—denim sliding down my legs, his jeans hitting the floor with a quiet thud, leaving us bare, nothing between us but heat and want and the raw, electric tension that has been building for far too long.

And then I feel him.

Hard, heavy, pressing hot against the softness of my thigh. A strangled sound escapes my throat at the sheer intensity of it—the anticipation, the promise of what’s coming. My fingers grip his biceps, tracing the sculpted lines of muscle beneath skin that feels impossibly smooth, impossibly perfect. He shudders under my touch, his control fraying at the edges.

Jasper hovers over me, breath uneven, his golden eyes now dark—nearly black—with unrestrained want. His forehead rests against mine, his body trembling, but it’s not from fear. It’s something deeper, something almost reverent.

"Tell me to stop," he breathes, the words choked with barely controlled restraint. "Please."

I meet his eyes, seeing the plea in them. But I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want anything to stop. I pull him closer, guiding his hips so that his hardness presses into me, and I gasp at the feeling, the coolness of his body against mine only adding to the heat of our connection. I feel his breath catch as he shifts, his golden eyes dark with something untameable, something desperate.

"I don't want you to stop," I manage, my voice a whisper of need.

Jasper’s eyes flicker with something deep, something ancient, as he slides into me. Slowly, deliberately, his cool body easing into mine, stretching me in the most exquisite way. I bite my lip, stifling a gasp, and he immediately shifts, his hand coming up to cradle my face as he looks into my eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort, any hesitation.

His lips kiss my forehead gently, his hands soothing circles on my wrists as he fills me completely, the overwhelming sensation of him both foreign and familiar all at once. I breathe out slowly, letting my body adjust to the fullness of him. He doesn’t move yet, doesn’t rush. His eyes never leave mine, and in the silence that settles between us, I feel him. All of him. His control slipping as the deep bond between us builds, as he becomes attuned to every single beat of my heart, every flutter of my breath, reading my emotions with an intimacy that only he can.

And when he moves, when he pulls back slightly before thrusting into me again, I gasp—each movement deliberate, slow, measured, and full of reverence. He’s in no rush, and neither am I. Each stroke, each shift, is a promise. A promise of safety, of trust, of connection. He moves in a rhythm that makes me feel cherished and desired in ways that I never thought possible.

I feel my body move with his, and there’s a gentle push-pull between us, as if we are dancing—each movement perfectly timed, each touch an extension of something deeper. The bed beneath us groans, and I laugh softly against his lips. His grip tightens, his muscles flexing under the strain, and with a soft crack, the bed gives way beneath us, collapsing onto the floor.

Jasper pulls back slightly, and for the briefest moment, he looks panicked, searching for anywhere I’m hurt but instead I’m tangling a hand into those delicious curls and tugging his lips back to mine, needing him to move again and being oh so close. The duel action of yanking his hair and slamming my lips to him has him letting out a growl that has me wrapping my legs around the vampire’s waist. 

“Jazz,”  I whine against his lips and his blunt nails dig into my waist, so hard I know I’ll handprint bruises for at least a week and that thought alone has me throwing my head back in a silent scream of bliss. Jasper slams into me hard, forcing my body up what’s left of me the bed more, his whole body shaking as he tries to keep control. He’s so close, I can feel him pulsing inside me so I squeeze myself and let all my emotions flow from me. 

It has Jasper burying his face in my neck, fangs brushing my jugular as he lets out a growl, slamming himself inside me one last time before his hips jerk, his come filling me fuller than I ever thought possible. All I can do is lay there as his hips jerk in overstimulation and he slowly lets himself fall on top of me, my hands brushing through those soft curls as I try to catch my breath. 

We don’t move for a while, only when Jasper can begin to sense the ache in my bones beginning and he’s slowly easing himself onto his elbows, head lowered as he looks between us, watching as he eases himself from me, watching as my lips flutter with the sudden emptiness. “Fuck doll, you have no idea what you do to me.” 

Jasper rises from what’s left of the bed, leaving me to lay there and watch as he moves around his room looking for things before he tells me to sit tight and with his vampire speed he’s gone, the sound of the bath running next door before he’s back. 

Jasper rises slowly from the wreckage of the bed, the sound of wood creaking softly under his weight as he stands. I stay where I am, tangled in the sheets, propped up on one elbow as I watch him move around the room with an effortless grace, his golden eyes scanning the room like he's searching for something—though I know it’s just his way of regaining control. The rush of adrenaline and intensity is starting to settle, leaving behind a pleasant weight of fatigue, the ache of muscles that never quite had a chance to relax.

He pauses, his gaze flicking over to me as if making sure I'm still okay. Then, with a soft sigh, he moves toward the door, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sit tight. I'll be back in a second."

Before I can respond, he's gone, the sound of his feet barely registering as he disappears with a flash of vampire speed. The air in the room seems to thicken, and for a moment, I just lay there, the softness of the ruined bed beneath me and the warmth of his absence surrounding me like a comforting cloak. I hear the distant sound of running water from the bathroom next door, and I can’t help but smile softly, knowing exactly what he’s preparing for. I’m grateful for him, for his thoughtfulness.

Moments later, Jasper reappears, the door creaking open softly as he steps inside, his presence filling the space as he carries a small towel in his hand. His eyes meet mine immediately, flickering with tenderness. He moves toward the remnants of the bed, sitting down with a fluid motion beside me. The air feels thick with the aftermath of everything we’ve just shared—the unspoken emotions, the tenderness that still lingers between us like an invisible thread that binds us even closer.

"Let me help you up," he says softly, his voice full of care as he reaches out, his cool fingers grazing my skin as he helps me sit up. I wince slightly, feeling the residual ache of our intense connection settling into my body, but it’s a good kind of pain—one that reminds me of everything we just shared. I lean into him, feeling the warmth of his body as he wraps his arm around my shoulders, supporting me as I rest against him.

The bed is barely intact, but I feel safe with him, held close in the quiet aftermath of everything. His cold skin against mine is oddly comforting, and I close my eyes, letting the quiet settle around us.

"Are you alright?" Jasper murmurs, his voice low, full of concern as his hand gently strokes the back of my neck, his fingers soft against my skin. His touch is soothing, and I find myself relaxing into him, the slight ache in my body still there but fading slowly under his care.

"I’m fine," I whisper back, my voice heavy with a weariness that I can’t quite shake off. "Just... a little tired, that’s all."

He nods softly, pressing a tender kiss to the top of my head before pulling me closer. I rest my head against his shoulder, feeling his cool, steady presence surrounding me, grounding me in this space between us. There’s something so calming in his stillness, in the way he holds me with such reverence, as if I’m something precious, something he can’t bear to lose.

"I love you," he says after a beat, his voice soft but filled with conviction. His hand traces small circles on my shoulder as he continues, "I love the way you make me feel—like I’m human again, even if I’m not. I love the way you laugh, the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. The way you trust me…"

I shift slightly, looking up at him as he speaks, feeling a flutter of emotion in my chest. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the world outside of us fades. There’s only him, only the truth of his words sinking into me like a promise.

"I love the way you make me want to be better," he continues, his voice almost a whisper. "You make me want to be the man I always wished I could be. You make me feel like I'm worthy of this—worthy of you."

His words are soft, but they hit me in a way that feels like a deep exhale, like the release of something I didn’t realise I was holding onto. He’s always been good at hiding his emotions, but in this moment, there’s nothing left for him to hide. His love for me is as clear as the stars in the sky, and it makes me feel small and cherished at the same time.

"Jasper…" My voice is barely a breath, my words fading against his skin as I sigh softly, feeling the weight of his love wash over me.

"I love you more than you know," he murmurs, pressing another gentle kiss to my forehead. "More than I ever thought possible."

The silence that follows is filled with the warmth of his presence, the rhythmic sound of the bath running next door, and the steady beat of his breath—though it’s not his heartbeat that reassures me, it’s the steady pulse of his love, the promise in every word he’s spoken. I close my eyes, the exhaustion from everything we’ve shared pulling me deeper into his embrace.

"Rest now," he whispers, his voice a lullaby. "We’ll take the bath together in a minute, but for now… just stay with me."

I nod, allowing myself to sink further into him, the weight of sleep beginning to settle in, the fatigue of our night finally catching up to me. His arms tighten around me, holding me close as I rest my head on his shoulder, my breath evening out in the calm of the moment.

The gentle hum of the water running next door, combined with the softness of his touch, lulls me into a peaceful sleep. The last thing I remember before drifting off is the feel of Jasper's cool skin against mine, the sound of his voice telling me how much he loves me, and the overwhelming sense of being utterly, completely safe.

And in his arms, I know I’m exactly where I belong.

You forced a smile, shrugging like it was nothing. “Just tired, I guess. It’s been a stressful few weeks, you know? All the patrols, Jacob imprinting on… that situation. It’s a lot.” You tried brushing her off.

Emily turned back to her muffins, humming as she pulled them from the oven and set them on the counter. “That’s true. It’s been hard on everyone.” She didn’t say anything else for a moment, but you could feel her watching you out of the corner of her eye. “Are you sure that’s all it is?” she asked gently not wanting to push too hard.

Your smile faltered. “Of course. What else would it be?”

Emily walked over and sat across from you. Her expression calm but concerned. “Well, you’ve been tired a lot lately. And you’ve barely eaten today. You won’t even touch my muffins like you always do. I also saw you push your plate away last week at dinner too.” She tilted her head, her tone as light as she could make it. “And I saw you make a face when I started the coffee earlier. You used to love coffee… I haven’t seen you drink a cup in weeks now.”

You stiffened slightly, trying to brush her off with a laugh. “I’m just… off, that’s all. It’s probably just stress or maybe a stomach bug. Nothing to worry about.” That unease grew in the pit of your stomach though.

She didn’t drop it. “Maybe,” she said slowly. Her dark eyes studying you. “But… have you thought it might be something else?”

You blinked at her, frowning. “Something else? Like what?”

She hesitated before she reached across the table to rest her hand on yours. “I don’t want to assume anything, but… you and Paul are together all the time. Could there be… another reason why you’re feeling this way?”

Her words hit you like a freight train and you immediately shook your head. Your voice pitching higher than you intended. “No. Absolutely not. There’s no way, Emily. We’re careful! I mean, mostly. But… no. That’s impossible.”

Emily gave you a patient look but didn’t pull her hand away. “I know you’re careful,” she said gently. “But accidents happen. When was the last time you had your period?” She asked the dreaded question… when was it?

The question made your heart lurch, and you froze. “I…” shit, you didn’t know, “I don’t know,” you stammered. “It’s been… I mean, I’m not great at keeping track, but…” Your voice trailed off as your mind began counting backward. The realization hitting you like a bucket of ice water on a freezing winter day. Your chest tightened. Your mouth suddenly ran dry.

Emily leaned forward slightly. Her voice soft but steady. “How long has it been?”

You swallowed hard while staring at her as the truth sank in. “I.... A month? Maybe more?” You guessed as you kept counting further back. No, it was more than a month now. It’d been nearly six weeks.

Emily’s expression didn’t change though there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes. “It might not be what you think,” she said carefully. “But maybe… maybe you should take a test. Just to be sure.”

Your stomach flipped at the thought, and you instinctively shook your head again. “I can’t. What if it’s positive? What am I supposed to do? What’s Paul going to say? What about the pack or my parents? Shit! My parents Em!” Your voice cracked, panic bubbling up as the possibility became more real. Pregnant. You couldn’t possibly be pregnant. No, it was just stress. You’d been so stressed lately. Periods were often late when stress was abundant. Yeah, just stress.

Emily squeezed your hand. Her calm presence grounding you. “If it’s positive, you’ll figure it out like you always do. You’re not alone in this, okay? You have me. You have Paul. And you have the while pack. Whatever happens, we’ll all be here for you.” Her voice was low and soothing as it always was. Her reassurance should have been comforting, but your thoughts were spiraling. The only thing you could focus on was the quiet truth settling into the back of your mind. You might really be pregnant. She stood with you still trying to process what was likely true.

Emily slipped out the door after giving you a reassuring smile. Her keys jingling as she walked to the front door. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” she’d said. “And don’t even think about panicking while I’m gone. Just breathe. I’m going to go buy one from the pharmacy. It won’t be a big deal if someone sees me buying one.” Easier said than done.

You sat stiffly on the edge of the couch with your knee bouncing restlessly as the minutes ticked by. Emily was right. If anyone saw her buying a pregnancy test, they wouldn’t think twice about it. She and Sam were married, in their twenties, and settled. But you? At nineteen, unmarried, and still figuring out your life, the very idea of people finding out sent a wave of nausea through you.

When Emily returned, she came through the door with the same calm efficiency as before. She held a small paper bag like it contained something perfectly ordinary. She set it down on the table while brushing the rain from her hair as she gave you a steady look. “Alright,” she said. Her tone light but firm. “No one saw me. Not that it would’ve mattered. But I figured you’d want to hear that.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Thank God. I’d die right here if word got back to my mom. Or the whole reservation.” You peeked through your fingers, your voice dropping to a mutter. “This place is like a fishbowl.”

Emily laughed softly and slid the bag toward you. “Relax. It’s done. Now, the next part is up to you.”

You stared at the bag. Your palms suddenly very disgustingly sweaty. Your heart hammered as you reached out and pulled the slim box from inside, the pink lettering glaring up at you like a warning. “I feel like I’m in one of those cheesy after-school specials,” you mumbled, your voice shaky as you tried to make light of the situation.

Emily gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’re not. You’re just figuring out what’s next. Go on. I’ll wait here.” With a long breath you stood and made your way to the bathroom, the box clutched tightly in your hands. The next few minutes felt like an eternity. You sat on the edge of the bathtub staring at the little plastic stick on the counter, its blank screen taunting you.

When your phone buzzed with the timer you’d set, your stomach flipped. You stood slowly, your hands trembling as you picked up the test. Two pink lines.

Positive.

Your knees felt weak as you gripped the counter for support as a tidal wave of emotions crashed over you. A strange mix of fear, joy, and uncertainty swirled in your chest, leaving you utterly breathless. You stared at the test for a long moment trying to process what it meant. Your hand drifted to your abdomen as you gulped.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, Emily was waiting on the couch. Her face was soft as ever with understanding. She looked up as you stepped into the room, the test still clutched in your hand. “Well?” she asked gently. Her brown eyes searching your face for any sign of what it said.

You held up the test. Your mouth dry. “I guess I’m pregnant,” you said with your voice unsteady. Then in a weak attempt to lighten the mood you added with a shaky laugh, “Stealing Bella’s thunder, huh?” Bella’s pregnancy had been the talk of the pack ever since the group found out what she was carrying. Then the vampire human baby decided to make its appearance after only 28 days. The thought sent a shiver down your spine as you thought of what carrying a werewolf baby would entail.

Emily blinked, then burst into laughter. Her head tilting back as she shook her head. “Oh, you’ve got to stop hanging out with Paul so much. You’re picking up his sense of humor.” She grinned as she gave your arm a reassuring squeeze.

Despite your spinning thoughts her laughter pulled a smile from you. She wrapped you in a warm, steady hug. “It’s going to be okay,” she murmured, her voice firm. “Paul loves you so much. More than I ever thought he’d be capable of. You’re not doing this alone.” You clung to her words like a lifeline as tears brimmed in your eyes. You weren’t sad… no, not at all. You were simply overwhelmed as this had not been in your plans. You were going to get married to Paul in a few years and maybe have some kid’s years after that. Not now. But life had a funny way of throwing you completely off. First, being imprinted to a damned werewolf. Now this.

You sat at the kitchen table with the pregnancy test still in your hand. Emily had made you a cup of tea. The warm mug sitting untouched in front of you as your thoughts spiraled. You’d stared at the little pink lines so long now that they were practically burned into your vision. A constant reminder of the new, terrifying reality that had just taken shape.

Emily leaned against the counter, watching you with a mixture of patience and quiet concern. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked gently.

You let out a shaky breath, placing the test down on the table so gently as if it might explode. “Everything,” you said. Your voice barely above a whisper. “I mean… Paul and I are nineteen. This wasn’t exactly in the plan. What if he’s not ready for this? What if he feels… trapped?” The thought made your stomach churn. You couldn’t shake the image of his face falling when you told him.

Emily frowned, stepping closer and taking the chair across from you. “Yes, you both are young, but you know he’s devoted to you. He’d run through fire for you without thinking twice. That’s the bond. It’s unshakable.”

You nodded slowly, but her reassurance only soothed one layer of your anxiety. “But what about my parents?” you asked. Your voice cracking yet again. “If they find out, they’ll never let me hear the end of it. They’ll say I’m ruining my life. That we’re not ready. And Paul’s parents… What if they think I’m irresponsible or… God forbid, trying to trap him or something?”

Emily shook her head firmly. “No one who knows you would think that. You and Paul have been through so much already and you’ve come out stronger every time. His parents will see that. His parents love you. And as for your parents…” She gave you a small, wry smile. “They’ll probably be shocked at first. Maybe even upset. But they’ll come around. They always do.”

You laughed bitterly, rubbing your temples. “It’s not just them. It’s the pack, too. What are they going to think? There’s so much going on right now. Jacob imprinting on a half-vampire baby, the Cullen drama, all of it. This is the worst time for this to happen. What if they see it as a distraction? What if they resent me for pulling Paul’s attention away?”

Emily reached out grabbing for your hand. “First of all, no one in that pack would resent you. You know how they are. They’re family, even if they don’t always show it the right way. And second, you’re not pulling Paul’s attention away. If anything, this will give him more to fight for. Plus, I think they all like you more than Paul anyway.” She added with a mischievous grin.

Your chest tightened at her words. A mix of hope and fear swirling inside you. “But what if I’m not enough?” you whispered. “What if I can’t handle this? What if I ruin everything?”

Emily’s grip on your hand tightened. Her scarred fingers warm and steady. “You’re more than enough,” she said firmly. “You’re strong and you have so many people who love and adore you. You’re not doing this alone. Paul’s going to be over the moon, you’ll see. And the pack? They’ll probably throw a barbecue to celebrate.”

Despite the storm of emotions swirling in your chest that last comment drew a weak laugh from you. “Yeah, and Embry will probably make a joke about Paul being the first one to ‘start a litter,’” you muttered.

Emily grinned. “Probably. But you’ve got to admit, they’d all step up to make sure you and that baby are safe. It’s what they do.”

You took a shaky sip of tea. The warmth grounding you for a moment. Deep down you knew Emily was right. But the thought of telling Paul, and everyone else, still felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. “Guess I’ll find out soon enough,” you murmured while staring down at your tea. “I just hope you’re right.”

Emily smiled softly, giving your hand one last squeeze. “I’m always right,” she teased. Her voice light. “Now, let’s figure out how you’re going to tell Paul. You’ve got this.”

Just as you were going to ask her how in the hell you’d drop this bomb on him the front door opened loudly, followed by the familiar sound of Paul’s laugh, low and warm, rolling through the house. “We’re back!” Quil called out, clearly in a good mood. Jared muttered something about food and within seconds all three of them were in the kitchen rummaging around for snacks.

You sat frozen at the kitchen table gripping your mug of now-cold tea. Your eyes were glued to the wall like it might have answers to the mess of thoughts tangling in your head. Emily shot you a look that practically screamed, you better handle this soon, before helping the hungry wolves to whatever snack she deemed acceptable.

“Hey,” Paul’s voice broke through the fog. You looked up just as he walked over to you. His usual easy grin faltering slightly as he studied your face. He crouched in front of you, his warm hands resting on your knees. “You okay? You’ve got that look.”

“What look?” you asked. Your voice faltering slightly as you tried to sound normal.

“The one that says you’re either about to cry or punch someone.” He tilted his head. His grin returning. “Hopefully not me.”

You forced a laugh but it came out weak and shaky. “I’m fine. Just tired. You know, the usual.”

Paul narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. His sharp instincts both as a wolf and your imprint meant there was no hiding anything from him for long. “Uh-huh. Sure babe. You’re totally not being weird. Not at all.” He teased lightly.

“I am not!” you shot back too quickly. His brows shot up.

“Okay…” He dragged the word out, standing and looking toward the kitchen where Quil and Jared were now arguing over a loaf of bread. Paul glanced back at you. His concern deepening. “Wanna take a walk? Fresh air might feel good.”

You hesitated. Your pulse roaring in your ears. You couldn’t do this here. Not with Jared and Quil’s supernatural hearing and Emily’s knowing looks. “Yeah,” you muttered finally, standing abruptly. “Let’s go.”

Paul smiled softly and walked behind you as you made your way out of the house. He grabbed his jacket and followed you out the door. The crisp air hit your skin, grounding you slightly as you led him down the gravel path toward the edge of the forest. Paul stayed quiet. His hands stuffed in his pockets as he matched your pace. He didn’t push but you could feel his eyes on you. His quiet presence making your nerves churn even more.

When you finally stopped, he turned to face you. His expression soft but cautious. “Alright then,” he said, leaning back against a tree. His arms crossing over his chest. “What’s going on? You’ve been acting… off since we got back. And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I know you better than that love.”

You fidgeted. Your fingers twisting the hem of your sweater as you avoided his gaze. Your stomach was in knots and the words felt stuck in your throat. “Paul, I… I need to tell you something,” you started. Your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” he said, his tone steady but laced with worry. “Whatever it is, just say it.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, you made a strange almost choking sound which made his eyes widen. “Are you okay? It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.” he said while stepping closer.

“I’m fine!” you said too quickly yet again. Your voice pitching higher than you wanted. “It’s just… this is… ugh!” You threw your hands up while pacing a few steps before spinning back to face him. “You’re going to freak out.”

Paul blinked slowly. His brows knitting together as a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up before babe. What’s going on?” You just had to tell him. Just do it.

You stopped pacing. Your chest tightening as you blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Paul’s face went blank, his arms dropping to his sides as he stared at you. You felt the blood drain from your face. The panic rising as his lack of reaction stretched on. “Paul?” you whispered. Your voice trembling. “Say something. Please, say something.”

He blinked, his lips parting slightly. “You’re serious?” he asked in a silky soft voice like he was trying to make sure he’d heard you right.

You nodded. Your throat tight. “Yeah. I just found out today. I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be like this. I wasn’t even sure how I should tell you, because I know we’re young, and everything’s crazy right now, and…”

“Shh,” he said cutting you off gently. He stepped forward completely closing the distance between you. His hands finding your arms as he looked down at you. Those chocolate brown eyes searching yours. “You’re pregnant? We’re… having a baby? Our baby?”

Your heart pounded as you nodded again with tears welling up in your eyes. “Yeah.”

A slow grin spread across his face. It started small but grew until it lit up his whole expression. He laughed softly almost in disbelief and suddenly pulled you into his arms. He held you so tightly you could barely breathe. “You’re serious?” he asked again. His voice muffled against your hair. “We’re having a baby?”

You let out a watery laugh. Your hands clutching at his jacket. “Yeah. We’re having a baby.” You said softly.

Paul pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes shining with something you couldn’t quite name. “You’re amazing,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I mean it. I can’t even…” He broke off, shaking his head like he couldn’t find the words. “This is crazy, but it’s… it’s amazing. I’m so happy right now,” He grinned before pulling you in for a kiss, “We’re having a baby!”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as a laugh bubbled out of you. “You’re not scared? Or mad?”

“Of course, I’m scared,” he admitted. His hands moving to cradle your face. “But I’m not mad. Never. You’re my world, and now… now we’re building something together. How could I be anything but happy about that?”

You sniffled, leaning into his touch. “Well, I’m glad one of us is confident. Because I was ready to fake my death and disappear into the woods.”

Paul laughed before kissing your forehead softly. “Not a chance. You’re stuck with me, babe. And this kid? They’re going to have the best damn parents in the world.” His hand ran over your abdomen gently.

A small, tentative smile tugged at your lips as you rested your forehead against his neck. “I hope you’re ready to break the news to the pack, though. I can already hear Embry’s jokes.”

Paul’s grin only widened. A glimmer of excitement sparking in his eyes. “We’ve got to tell them.”

Your stomach dropped, and you blinked at him. “Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” he said. His voice filled with conviction. “Why wouldn’t we? This is huge! It’s amazing! They’re going to be so happy for us.”

“Paul,” you said slowly while trying to reel him back in. “We just found out. Don’t you think we should… I don’t know, let it sink in first? Maybe figure out how we’re going to explain this before we say anything?”

But Paul shook his head. His hands framing your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “There’s nothing to explain, babe. This is good news. They’re family. They’ll support us no matter what. And if anyone has anything negative to say…” His voice dropped slightly. A spark of protectiveness flaring in his tone. “They’ll have to deal with me. But they’re going to be so excited love. So damn excited.”

You hesitated. Your doubts lingering. “It’s not that simple, Paul. What if they think it’s irresponsible? Or too soon?”

He took your hands, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Look, I know things are messy right now. The timing might not be perfect. But then again, when is it ever? What matters is that this is ours. You, me, and this baby. We’re going to be okay because we have each other.” His voice softened and the corners of his lips tugged into a smile. “I want to celebrate that with the people who care the most about us.”

His sincerity broke through your defenses, and you sighed, nodding reluctantly. “You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure of anything,” he said. His smile warm and full of pride. “You’re carrying our baby. How could I not want to shout it from the rooftops?”

A small laugh slipped out despite yourself. You shook your head at his antics. “Fine. But if this goes sideways, you’re the one dealing with the fallout.”

Paul chuckled, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Deal. Now, let’s go tell them.”

As he led you back toward the house, his excitement practically radiating off him, you still felt a twinge of nerves. But the way he held your hand, so steady and unshakable, made you believe that somehow everything would work out.

The moment you and Paul stepped back into the house. Emily’s eyes flicked to the two of you. Her lips curled into the smallest, most knowing smile. Her gaze lingered on Paul who was still vibrating with energy like he could barely contain himself. She exhaled softly, relief washing over her face.

“He knows, doesn’t he?” she asked you, her voice low enough that only you and Paul could hear.

“Of course, I know,” Paul cut in with his grin so wide it was practically smug. “You really think she could keep something like this from me?” His arm wrapped protectively around your waist. His hand warm against your side as he glanced down at you. “She tried, though. Gotta give her credit.”

Emily’s smile grew. She stepped closer to squeeze your hand. “I’m glad you told him,” she said simply. Her calm steadiness grounded you in a way nothing else could.

Jared and Quil, however, were still oblivious. Quil frowned at Paul. His sandwich frozen halfway to his mouth. “What’s up with you? You look like you just hit the jackpot.”

“Yeah,” Jared added, leaning back against the counter. “You’ve got that weird, smug thing going on. Like you know something we don’t.”

Paul smirked, his fingers flexing slightly on your waist. “Maybe I do.”

Quil rolled his eyes. “You gonna share with the class, or…?”

Paul leaned against the back of the couch looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Let’s wait until everyone’s here,” he said, glancing toward the door. “Don’t wanna repeat myself.”

Jared groaned. “Dude, seriously? You’re such a…”

“Later,” Paul interrupted. His grin growing wider. Jared muttered something under his breath, but Paul didn’t seem to care. His attention stayed on you. His thumb brushing absently along your hip.

By the time Sam and the rest of the pack arrived the room was buzzing with conversation. The pack had settled in, tired but loud as usual, filling the space with their usual chaos. You could feel your nerves creeping back but Paul’s steady presence beside you kept them at bay.

Once the noise quieted enough for him to speak, Paul cleared his throat. All eyes turned toward him. The sudden intensity of his expression silencing even Quil’s usual chatter.

Emily, sipping her tea, shot Paul a look. Silently daring him to be subtle. But Paul being Paul had no plans for subtlety. He straightened while crossing his arms over his chest as he cleared his throat. “Me and Y/N… we’re not just us anymore. We’re adding one.”

The room went silent. All eyes turning toward him. Jared frowned. “What does that even mean?”

Quil looked at you both, confused. “Wait. Did you get a dog? Please tell me it’s a dog.”

Paul smirked, clearly reveling in the suspense. “Nope. Not a dog.”

Embry tilted his head, his brows furrowed. “A cat? Fish? What?”

Paul chuckled, dragging it out just a little longer. “Think bigger.”

Quil’s eyes narrowed and then he gasped. His mouth dropping open. “Oh my God! You’re moving?! Are you leaving the rez?”

Paul groaned before dragging a hand down his face. “No! Not moving, not a pet, not a damn secret stash of food.” He glanced at you. His grin softening slightly and nodded like it was your moment to take over.

And you couldn’t help it. With all their clueless guesses and Paul’s smug antics a laugh bubbled out of you, warm and uncontrollable. Everyone froze, watching you with the most curious eyes and through your laughter, you managed to blurt, “We’re having a baby!”

The room went completely still for a beat, Jared’s apple frozen mid-air as his jaw dropped. Quil looked between you and Paul. His face blank before he finally sputtered, “Wait… like an actual baby?” Even Sam looked a little shell shocked at that news.

“Yes, Quil,” Paul said dryly though his grin betrayed his pride. “An actual baby. Our baby.”

Jared blinked rapidly then burst out laughing, slapping the counter. “Holy shit. You’re serious? Paul Lahote’s gonna be a dad?”

Quil let out a strangled laugh while running a hand through his hair. “Wow. This poor kid’s gonna have your temper, huh? Better hope they get your patience.” He looked at you with a knowing grin.

Sam, who had entered the room halfway through the chaos, finally stepped forward. His expression calm but full of warmth. “That’s great news,” he said simply while clapping Paul on the shoulder before looking at you. “You’re both going to be amazing parents.”

The pack didn’t hold back after that. Quil and Jared immediately started throwing out ridiculous suggestions for baby names while Embry vowed to make the baby a tiny wolf plushie as a first gift. The teasing was relentless, but it was full of love. It was clear that they were genuinely happy for you both. Your earlier nerves vanishing in an instant at their exuberance.

Hours later when the house had quieted and everyone had left, you and Paul found yourselves alone in the dimly lit living room. You curled up against his side. Your head resting on his chest as his arm draped securely around you.

“You know,” you murmured, smiling faintly, “your announcement was terrible.”

Paul laughed. The sound rumbling through his chest. “Terrible? That was brilliant.”

“You had everyone thinking we got a dog,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I think Quil’s still processing.”

Paul smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Hey, I had to keep them guessing. Besides, you’re the one who cracked under pressure.”

You rolled your eyes but the warmth in his gaze softened your retort. His hand moved to your stomach, resting there gently as he whispered, “We’re really doing this, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. Your voice steady. “We are.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. His voice low and full of quiet conviction. “It’s gonna be perfect. You, me, and our little one. We’ve got this.”

Paul’s lips brushed against yours, slow and deliberate, grounding you for a fleeting moment. His hand, warm and steady on your stomach, reminded you of the little life you’d just announced to the pack. But the moment his forehead rested against yours the weight of what was coming next crept back in.

Your parents. His parents.

You pulled back slightly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as your heart pounded. “Paul,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “How are we going to tell them? My mom is going to flip, and not in a good way. And your mom…”

“Hey,” Paul interrupted softly, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “Look at me.”

You hesitated but the steady warmth in his eyes drew you in. His grin was softer now, tempered with something deeper. “We’ll tell them the same way we told the pack, together. And if your mom flips, I’ll handle it. I’ll handle all of it. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“I don’t know if you’ve met my mom,” you whispered. Your voice wavering as you tried to find humor in the situation. “She’s going to think this is reckless. She’ll probably yell. A lot.”

Paul’s grin widened, and he tipped your chin up with his knuckle before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Then let her yell. I’ll stand there and take it because, at the end of the day, none of that matters. What matters is us and this baby.”

You swallowed hard trying to keep your emotions from bubbling over. “But what if it’s too much? What if they think we’re too young, or not ready, or…”

Paul’s grip on you tightened slightly. His voice cutting through your spiral. “Then I’ll marry you tomorrow,” he said. His tone firm but laced with tenderness. “If that’s what it takes to make them see how serious I am, I’ll do it. Hell, I’ll do it tonight if you want.”

Your breath caught as you stared at him, wide-eyed. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m completely serious,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “I love you. I love this baby. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks. You’re my family now. You’ve always been my family and nothing, not your mom, not mine, not anyone, is going to change that.”

The conviction in his voice broke something loose in your chest. The fear and doubt unraveling as his words sank in. You let out a shaky laugh with tears pricking at your eyes. “You can’t just solve everything by offering to marry me, you know.”

Paul smirked, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Maybe not, but it’s a pretty damn good start, isn’t it?”

You laughed again, softer this time, and leaned into him, letting his steady warmth anchor you. “We’ll figure it out,” you murmured more to yourself than him.

“We already are,” he said, his voice low and sure. “One step at a time. And I’m not going anywhere, no matter what. You know that love.”

As his arms tightened around you, you felt it, the certainty he carried, the unwavering belief that you could face anything together. It didn’t erase all your fears, but it made them feel a little smaller, a little more manageable.

And for now, and forever that would be enough.

It seems as though his intentions are to repeat the words to himself, but the way they echo in the space of your bedroom endorses the performance that he's putting on.

"I know- God, I know she feels something for me."

He goes on like this for a solid twenty minutes, tirading about. He doesn't even notice that you've started getting ready for bed. By the time his arms have slumped at his sides after flailing about like a madman, you've already peeled back your covers and slipped into the comfort of your space.

"Bella this, Bella that," you grumble to yourself.

You sigh. Trying to comfort him simply doesn't work anymore. And as awful as you feel seeing how hurt he is, it pains you even more trying to sleep away the feeling of him not realizing what's in front of him.

"What?" He puts his spiel on hold and your skin burns up.

You open your mouth to speak, then close it, shaking your head.

"I'm tired of this, Jacob. Tired of you hurting over this because how many times does she have to reject you for you to finally take a hint?"

"Did I do something?" he asks earnestly, eyebrows furrowing once his eyes fix on your figure.

Your words hit him like a boulder. He never expected you to speak up, much less be annoyed that he was able to confide in you.

You always lent him a shoulder to lean on...what's going on?

His expression drops even more. You take it as an opportunity to let it all out, staying still in your bed because you're sure that if you get up, things will spiral into something far more than what you wanted.

"I can't do this anymore, Jacob. I care about you. It sucks seeing you beat yourself up over her. It's been years now and I-I can only bear so much. I can't be the one that you keep running to when she gives up on you! Shit, Jacob, you're not the only one that has feelings-"

Easily, your tone grew louder and passionate.

You cut yourself off in an instant, realizing that you've said too much. You shut your eyes in a weak attempt at getting rid of the tears that had glossed over.

His face softens, your words ringing in his ears. He shifts closer to your bed, but you just recoil further into the safety of your bed.

"Just lock my front door when you're ready to go."

Your voice catches him off guard. It's monotonous, yet he picks up on the hint of annoyance that lingers behind.

The room goes still for just a few seconds. Your breathing slows, afraid that it's too loud.

You hike the covers further up your body as if that would somehow make his gaze less intense. He sighs to himself, bidding you a good night before seeing himself out.

You and Jacob had been joined at the hip since the beginning of time. Your parents frequented the reservation and Billy insisted that you join them, learn a thing or two about the tribe.

It was always you, him, and Bella ― the three of you getting into trouble like there was no tomorrow.

As you got older, though, it became more of him and Bella. Just them. You were left on the back burner, becoming the one he turned to when she broke his heart and left him out in the cold for the umpteenth time.

And as much as you hated to welcome him with open arms, you did it. Every single time.

You remained under your covers, breathing slowly. Your skin crawled, itching for just a lick of warmth as these scenes of him pacing and stressing over Bella replayed in your mind.

Fresh tears prickled at your waterlines but the sound of howling, distant in the woods, earned a small chuckle.

You were no stranger to the Quileute wolf tales. You had heard them howling one too many times late into the night.

You scurried out of bed upon realizing that Jacob had left not too long ago, rushing over to dial his place. Billy answered. Your call at this hour was nothing out of the ordinary. Most of the time, you'd call just to check up on them down at the reservation or chat with Jacob if you couldn't sleep.

"I just called 'cause I, um, just heard some wolves in the woods. Jacob just left my house, so I just wanted to make sure he was safe."

You absentmindedly twisted the wire around your finger, waiting for Billy to tell you that he was fine so you'd sleep peacefully.

When he tutted, your heart sank.

"I'm sure he'll be home soon, don't you worry. Go on and get some rest."

You didn't sleep at all. You were just spread across your mattress, staring up at the ceiling. Part of you wanted to call again, to go out and make sure yourself, but your parents would talk your ear off if you left at this hour.

The next day, you called. Over, and over, and over, and over. Either they weren't home or they were purposefully ignoring you and you were praying that it wasn't the latter.

You took it upon yourself to visit the reservation, but when Billy insisted that Jacob was safe, just feeling unwell, your mind went to the worst.

"Did he get attacked? Did-did the wolves hurt him?"

Billy laughed and your eyebrows furrowed. If you didn't respect him, you wouldn't hesitate to ask what the hell was wrong with him.

"He's fine, dear. Just give him some time to rest. I'll make sure that he gives you a call when he's doing better," he nodded, trying his best to assure you that Jacob was fine.

You felt like Jacob now as you circled the space of your bedroom nonstop.

You'd gone through most of the day feeling horrible, feeling as though you should have been there. Your guilt ate away at you, reminding you that your last words to him were ones to get him out of your home.

The night rolled around and nothing from Billy. You had been scribbling away on old pieces of paper, conjuring an apology and just a brief explanation for your actions. You weren't about to give yourself away fully, but if Jacob never wanted to speak to you again, you at least had the peace of knowing that he was made aware of your feelings.

You were probably on your fifteenth sheet of paper, pen hovering over the lines as you tried to formulate the right words. A pebble hitting your window grabbed your attention and you jumped to your feet, rushing over.

Only one person in this town would ever stop by your bedroom window and throw pebbles at it.

"Jacob," you whispered, jaw dropping when you saw him.

He stood just feet below your window with a wolfish grin, sporting a drastic new hair cut and a fresh tattoo.

His eyes were like honey, drinking in the sight of you, but then they hone in even more.

It's like something in him is going off.

His head tilts ever so slightly like a confused puppy. You mistake the shift in his expression for a scowl, but he's simply trying to process what's going on in his mind.

You can see his lips moving as he mumbles to himself.

"Oh my God, there's no way."

He's in complete and utter shock, just standing there.

"Jacob?" Your voice echoes as you push yourself forward, riskily resting on your windowsill. "W-what's going on? What the hell did you do to your hair? I was worried ab-"

"I imprinted," he cuts you off, his face finally softening with a smile when he realizes.

"What?"

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and he shakes his head, laughing.

"Look, I'm gonna show you something and I need you to not freak out."

You feel like he's about to play some bizarre trick on you. He takes a step back, undressing himself in front you.

"Jacob!"

"I'll explain later," he chuckles.

"What the hell are you doing!? People are gonna-"

When he's just in his briefs, he shakes off any jitters before he's transformed into a wolf with a rich brown coat. You stumble back from your window, gasping when he sits there primly.

His name falls from your lips again, this time in disbelief and his head nods off to the side. You're too shocked to say anything else, only a huff of laughter sounding from your mouth.

"Wait, was that...was that you, last night in the woods?"

He puffs his chest proudly, tilting his snout toward the sky before howling into the distance.

"Holy shit."

You're in awe, desperately trying to wrap your mind around it. You look away for just a second and he's shifting back into his human form, eyes gleaming up at you. He motions for you to step back once his clothes are gathered into his arms, jumping about til he's in your room.

The silence is unsettling.

You'd heard of the many legends but never thought for a second that you'd witness it. You had too many questions, but the words "I'm sorry" were first to flee your lips.

He knows what it is that you're apologizing for but he just stays quiet. He doesn't want to think about Bella, doesn't even want to say her name, because after being your best friend for all of these years, he's finally imprinted on you.

"It's okay," he finally speaks up. "I know I’ve been insufferable."

Both of you laugh quietly.

"I just wanna explain something to you, though."

He leads you both over to your bed.

"So, uh,” he sucks in a breath. “Imprinting is something that wolves do when they've found their mate, life partner, or whatever. It's a...primal thing essentially where you're bound to protect whoever you've imprinted on. You don't get to choose, you don't get to change who that person is."

His hands find yours and it catches you off guard. You can feel the intense heat radiating from his skin.

"I wanted it to be the girl that I've had a stupid crush on for God knows how long because," he shakes his head, nothing really coming to his mind as he licks his lips. "I guess it was just familiar."

When his eyes find yours, you feel like you're on fire.

"And I hate myself for not seeing you sooner. Now, it's clear as day. Now I see that you're the one, the one that always picked me up and loved me when it seemed like no one else did. And I am sorry for everything that I put you through."

His leg starts bouncing and his eyes keep flicking back and forth between both of yours. The way they glisten makes you turn into putty.

"And if you'd let me, God I’m hoping you say yes, I'll spend forever, or however long, making it up to you. It's the least I can do."

His voice cracks on his last word and before you can even stop yourself, you're leaning in, closing the distance between you two like your heart depends on it.

His lips are like a furnace on yours but the warmth only draws you in, enveloping every fiber of your being. When you pull away, he looks at you like you've hung each and every one of the stars in the sky above.

Your hand slides around the back of his neck, forehead pressing to his.

"I love you, Jacob,” you start. “But I know I'm never gonna be her. You'd just be here with me, sulking because you didn't get to choose her."

He shakes his head faster than a strike of lightning, eyes desperate as they fall on your face.

"No, no. I promise," he takes your hand that's resting in your lap and places it over his chest. "I won't do that to you ever again. Never."

The warmth radiating from his skin and the thumping of his heartbeat only grow stronger when your eyes close, tears racing down your cheeks.

"How do I know you're not crossing your fingers?" you laugh, wiping your tears with the back of your other hand.

He moves both hands so that they're in front of you, softly taking your face into them.

"For as long as I live, I will spend every breathing moment proving the truth to you. I've waited years for my person and it was worth the wait because it's you. I got the most amazing girl in the world and truthfully, I don't deserve you, but please let me make things right. Let me show you that I want this."

He sees the slight doubts jogging your mind and the part of you that wants to say yes. He sees it all. He won't back down. He never will.

You ease his nerves with the sweetest kiss, lips melting into his. Your hands rest on his forearms, thumbs caressing his skin.

You pull away just enough to murmur "forever" against his lips, both of you smiling into one another like it all finally makes sense, like all of your problems are solved. Like this was about the be the best "forever" of your lives.

That was the first thing Jasper Hale noticed about you.

Not that you were pretty, though you were, in a way that made humans stare before they remembered staring was rude, with skin that looked alive beneath the fluorescent lights and eyes that changed softly in every weather, never too bright, never too still, never reflecting the light in the way theirs did when they forgot to pretend. Not that you were popular either, though you were that too, effortlessly and strangely, slipping from one group to another as if you had been born knowing exactly how to belong, laughing with a group of literature majors one moment, helping a graduate student carry photography equipment across campus the next, listening patiently while an engineering student explained a film he had completely misunderstood, then stopping outside a lecture hall to compliment a first-year student on her earrings with the kind of sincerity that made her blush for ten minutes afterward.

No, the thing Jasper noticed first was that you did all of it too well.

Humans were messy creatures.

They contradicted themselves without realizing it, wore emotions too loudly, stumbled over lies, fidgeted when nervous, flushed when embarrassed, leaned toward people they liked and away from people they did not, and even Bella, whose silence had always been its own shield, had human fragility in the odd placement of her feet, the delayed way she reacted to jokes, the faint, involuntary tightening around her eyes whenever Edward’s attention shifted too suddenly.

You had none of that.

Or rather, you had enough of it to pass.

A small smile at the right time. A breath taken before answering a teacher. A heartbeat steady enough to go unnoticed by any human ear and warm skin that had made Bella look at Edward in confusion the first time your fingers brushed hers when you handed her a dropped pen.

“She’s human,” Bella had said afterward, quietly, as they stood near Edward’s Volvo beneath a sky the color of old steel. “I touched her.”

Edward had looked toward the school doors, where you had just disappeared into a cluster of students, laughing at something Eric Yorkie had said. “She thinks like one too.”

Rosalie had scoffed, arms folded so tightly across her chest she looked carved from irritation and marble. “That means absolutely nothing. Humans can be suspicious.”

“Not like that,” Edward had murmured.

Emmett, leaning against the Jeep with his usual careless grin, had tilted his head. “Not like what?”

Edward’s expression had gone distant in the way it did when he was listening to something no one else could hear. “Her thoughts are… ordinary. Homework. Lunch. That essay for English. Wondering whether the rain will ruin her hair. Nothing unusual.”

Jasper had said nothing then, because that was the problem.

You were too ordinary.

And you avoided them too deliberately for someone who was simply shy.

You never ran from them, never flinched when they entered a room, never stared the way most humans did, caught between attraction and fear without understanding either. You merely arranged yourself away from them with such subtle precision that most people would have thought it coincidence. You chose a different lunch table when Bella sat with Edward. You took the longer route to history when Rosalie was at her locker. You laughed with Emmett once during gym when he made a joke loud enough for half the class to hear, but you never let the conversation deepen. With Jasper, you were polite, almost gentle, yet always gone before politeness could become familiarity.

At first, that was all it was.

A strange girl with a strange kind of perfection.

Then Jasper started noticing the pattern after lunch.

You ate.

That was part of the act, apparently, and you did it with more grace than most humans did anything, picking at cafeteria food as though you had opinions about it, wrinkling your nose at overcooked vegetables, accepting half a cookie from Angela, drinking water from a plastic bottle and swallowing at perfectly timed intervals.

Then, five minutes after the bell, you left.

Never through the front entrance where too many people might see you, never with the rushed desperation of someone skipping class, but through the side doors near the art room, your backpack over one shoulder, your expression calm, your pulse steady, your breathing even.

You came back twelve minutes later.

Not ten. Not fifteen.

Twelve.

Every day.

By the third week, Jasper followed.

He told himself it was necessary, and some part of him believed that, because if you were something dangerous, if you were a threat wearing a human face inside a building full of children who would never hear death coming, then hesitation would be unforgivable. But another part of him, quieter and more uncomfortable, knew that necessity was not what had him moving through the trees behind the school with his steps soundless over wet pine needles, keeping far enough back that no human would have felt watched and close enough that anything inhuman should have noticed.

You noticed.

He knew because your shoulders shifted almost imperceptibly when he crossed into the woods behind you, because your head angled a fraction toward him before returning forward, because for half a second the rhythm of your breath changed, not in fear, not in surprise, but in calculation.

Then you kept walking.

Jasper slowed.

The forest folded around you, thick with damp moss and the cold metallic smell of rain soaked into soil, and you moved through it with an elegance that no human teenager should have possessed, your boots avoiding roots without looking down, your body adjusting to uneven ground as if gravity liked you better than it liked everyone else. There was no panic in you. No guilt. No embarrassment.

Not until you stopped beside a fallen cedar and dropped to your knees.

Jasper froze.

At first, he thought you were hurt.

Then he heard it.

The quiet, controlled sound of someone forcing something out of their body.

The cafeteria food.

The water.

The half cookie.

All of it, rejected by a system that, to Jasper’s understanding, was painfully human and painfully broken.

He turned away before you could look up, some old, buried piece of manners taking hold of him even though he had already crossed too many lines by following you here, and for a moment he stood between two trees with his hands curled at his sides, listening to the rain gather on branches above him and the miserable, careful sound of you trying not to make noise.

Concern arrived before suspicion did.

That unsettled him more than anything else.

Jasper Hale was not soft in the ways people imagined softness. He knew suffering too intimately to be sentimental about it. He had felt fear rot in the air of battlefields, felt grief pour out of newborns as they tore apart lives they could no longer remember wanting, felt rage, hunger, agony, loyalty, terror, and love with such force that humanity had become less a memory than a language he had once spoken fluently and now only understood in pieces.

But standing there, watching the shape of you through the spaces between trees, he felt sympathy move through him with an almost painful pull.

Not because you were fragile.

Because you were hiding.

And he knew hiding.

That evening, he found Carlisle in his study, where the yellow lamplight warmed shelves of books old enough to smell like dust and leather, and he stood in the doorway longer than necessary while Carlisle looked up from a medical journal with the patience of someone who had been waiting for him to decide whether he wanted to speak.

“I need to ask you something,” Jasper said.

Carlisle closed the journal.

Jasper hated how clumsy the words felt. “At school, there’s a girl. She’s been leaving after lunch. I followed her today.”

Carlisle’s expression did not change, but his attention sharpened. “Is she a threat?”

“I don’t know.” Jasper looked at the floor, at the dark grain of wood beneath his boots. “She was making herself sick.”

Carlisle was silent for a moment, not with judgment, but with care. “You believe she may be struggling with an eating disorder?”

“I don’t know what I believe,” Jasper admitted, and that was the closest he had come to the truth all day. “She seems human. Edward says her thoughts are human. Bella touched her hand. She’s warm. Her heart beats. She breathes. But something feels wrong.”

“Wrong how?”

“Too controlled.”

Carlisle studied him. “And you want to help her?”

The question should have been simple.

It was not.

Jasper thought of you on your knees in the woods, too quiet even in shame, too careful even in pain, and something tightened beneath his ribs, useless and old, where his human heart had once been.

“I want to understand,” he said.

Carlisle rose and crossed to one of the lower shelves, drawing out two books and then a third, his movements thoughtful rather than hurried. “Then begin carefully. If she is human, confrontation could do more harm than good. If she isn’t, compassion may still tell you more than suspicion will.”

Jasper took the books.

The next day, he waited until after history.

You were at your locker, balancing a notebook against your hip while Lauren Mallory complained beside you about an assignment neither of you seemed interested in finishing. You smiled at the right places. Nodded at the right times. Laughed once, soft and bright enough to be believed.

Then Lauren left.

Jasper stepped closer.

Your fingers paused on the spine of a textbook.

For one second, your face emptied.

Then you turned, human again.

“Jasper,” you said, and his name sounded strangely old in your mouth, not accented exactly, but handled with a care most modern people did not give to names. “Can I help you?”

He held out the books.

Your gaze dropped to them.

There were three.

One about disordered eating. One about trauma and secrecy. One about adolescent mental health, borrowed from Carlisle’s collection and disguised under a plain brown cover because Jasper had thought, too late, that carrying such a thing openly through school might embarrass you.

Your heartbeat continued its steady little rhythm.

Your face did not.

The change was small, but it was there, and because Jasper had been watching you too closely for weeks, he saw it. The soft widening of your eyes. The stillness around your mouth. The way your hand, when you lifted it, trembled just enough to seem involuntary.

A flawless performance of being caught.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said quietly.

The hallway moved around them, students passing in wet jackets and squeaking shoes, laughter echoing off lockers, someone shouting about a biology quiz, life pressing in from all sides, loud and oblivious.

You took the books from him slowly.

“I don’t know what you think you saw.”

His jaw tightened. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“Then why give me these?”

“Because someone should.”

That struck something.

He felt it before he saw it.

Not emotion, not in the way he expected. Not shame, not fear, not the hot pulse of humiliation he had prepared himself to soften. There should have been embarrassment rising off you, sour and sharp, or anger, or panic, or denial, something human enough for him to meet with his gift and ease at the edges.

Instead, when he reached toward you with a careful thread of calm, offering comfort without force, your eyes flicked to his.

And something answered.

Cold.

Not cruelty. Not emptiness.

Calm.

A deep, still, ancient calm that did not receive his influence so much as recognize it, touch it, and set it aside.

For the first time since he had seen you, Jasper forgot to pretend to breathe.

Your fingers tightened around the books.

Then your lashes lowered, and the shame returned to your face like a curtain dropping.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “That’s… kind of you.”

Kind.

The word sat between you like a blade wrapped in silk.

Jasper watched you turn and walk away, your steps quick but not too quick, your shoulders drawn inward with just enough mortification to satisfy anyone watching, and every human in the hallway saw a girl embarrassed by unwanted concern.

Jasper saw something else.

He saw a mask adjusting.

That night, the Cullens gathered in the living room, though no one called it a meeting at first, because calling it one would have made Emmett insufferable and Rosalie more irritated than she already was.

Bella sat beside Edward on the sofa, her hands folded tightly in her lap, human enough still to look uneasy even among people who loved her. Edward stood behind her with one hand on her shoulder, his expression strained in the way it became when a thought had too many missing pieces. Rosalie leaned against the far wall, beautiful and cold and angry without needing a reason. Emmett occupied half an armchair, trying and failing not to look entertained by the tension. Carlisle stood near the fireplace, and Jasper remained by the window, watching rain stripe the glass black.

“She’s not human,” Rosalie said.

Bella frowned. “We don’t know that.”

“She’s too pretty, too controlled, too convenient, and she avoids us like she knows exactly what we are.”

“So does half the school,” Emmett said. “In fairness, Rose, you do look like you’re deciding who deserves to live whenever someone breathes too loudly.”

Rosalie shot him a look.

He grinned.

Edward ignored them both. “Her thoughts are still human. If she knows, she isn’t thinking about it.”

“Could she be shielding herself?” Carlisle asked.

Edward’s eyes shifted toward Jasper. “Possibly. But I’ve never heard thoughts like hers. They aren’t silent. They’re simply… normal.”

“Rehearsed,” Jasper said.

Everyone turned to him.

He did not look away from the window. “She reacts correctly, but not naturally. Today, when I tried to calm her, she felt it.”

Edward’s expression sharpened. “She felt your gift?”

“She answered it.”

The room changed.

Not visibly, perhaps, not to anyone outside their family, but Jasper felt it in the sudden stillness of them, in the hard spike of Rosalie’s suspicion, the bright flare of Emmett’s interest, the anxious twist of Bella’s worry, the thoughtful narrowing of Carlisle’s concern.

“What does that mean?” Bella asked.

“I don’t know,” Jasper said. “But humans don’t do that.”

Rosalie pushed off the wall. “Then we confront her.”

“No,” Edward and Jasper said at the same time.

Rosalie’s mouth tightened. “Of course. We’ll just let the unknown creature wander around school because we’re worried about being impolite.”

“If she’s just a strange human, we expose ourselves,” Bella said softly. “And if she isn’t human, cornering her in public could be worse.”

Emmett leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “We could push a little. Nothing dramatic. Just make it harder for her to keep dodging us. Ask weird questions. See if she slips.”

Jasper shook his head. “She won’t.”

“You sound pretty sure.”

“She knew I followed her.”

Edward’s head turned sharply. “You didn’t mention that.”

“She chose not to acknowledge it.”

Emmett whistled low. “Okay. That’s not human.”

“Or she’s perceptive,” Carlisle said, though he did not sound convinced by his own mercy.

Rosalie’s eyes flashed. “Carlisle.”

“I’m not dismissing the danger,” he said. “I’m reminding all of us that we don’t yet understand it.”

Jasper finally turned from the window.

He could feel the shape of the room like weather, all their emotions moving against his skin, familiar and loud, but beneath them, beneath memory, there was still the echo of your cold calm touching his gift and refusing to be moved.

“She wants us uncertain,” he said. “That’s the point. She has built herself to be almost human, almost harmless, almost ordinary. Enough that confronting her makes us the threat. Enough that leaving her alone feels irresponsible.”

Bella looked down at her hands. “Why would anyone need to hide like that?”

Jasper did not answer immediately.

He thought of war.

Of newborns.

Of creatures made into weapons before they understood they had once been people.

Of himself, standing in too many rooms with blood on his hands and orders in his ears, learning how to become whatever kept him alive.

“Because something taught her she had to,” he said.

The room went quiet.

Rosalie’s anger cooled at the edges, though it did not disappear.

Edward looked toward Jasper with something unreadable in his face. “You feel something for her.”

Jasper’s expression hardened.

Emmett, wisely, said nothing.

Bella glanced between them, confused at first and then careful, as if the silence itself had given something away.

“It’s not like that,” Jasper said.

But the lie tasted weak even to him.

He did not know you. That was the problem. He did not know what you were, where you came from, what you wanted, whether your smiles were harmless or practiced weapons, whether the heartbeat in your chest belonged to a miracle or a trap. He did not know if the warmth in your skin was borrowed, stolen, created, or imagined. He did not know if you could bleed.

He only knew that when he had handed you those books, expecting human shame, he had found something old looking back at him.

Something that had recognized him.

Something that had understood exactly what he was doing and let him live with the belief that he had been kind.

“Pressure could reveal the enemy in her,” Jasper said, choosing his words carefully. “If she is one. But if she comes forward on her own, we learn more than we would by forcing her hand.”

Rosalie crossed her arms again. “And if she hurts someone before then?”

“She won’t,” Jasper said.

Edward’s brow furrowed. “You can’t know that.”

No.

He could not.

But he remembered the forest. The way you had removed every trace of the food before returning to school. Not because you were sick in the way he had feared, but because vampires could not digest human food, because it sat useless and wrong until forced out again, because the performance of humanity demanded ugly details no one else ever saw.

He remembered the control.

The patience.

The loneliness of it.

“She’s hiding among humans,” Jasper said, “not hunting them.”

Carlisle watched him for a long moment. “Then we observe. Carefully. No confrontation without cause.”

Rosalie did not look pleased.

Emmett looked like he was already planning how to test the word carefully.

Edward looked troubled.

Bella looked sad.

Jasper looked back out the window, past his own reflection, past the warm lights of a house full of monsters trying to be good, and into the dark line of the trees beyond the glass.

The next morning, you were at school before them.

You stood beneath the overhang near the entrance, sharing an umbrella with Angela, your cheeks colored by the cold, your breath fogging softly in the air, the books Jasper had given you held against your chest as if you had actually spent the night reading them.

When his car pulled into the lot, you looked up.

Not at Edward.

Not at Bella.

Not at Rosalie or Emmett.

At him.

For a moment, through the rain and the gray and the stream of human students rushing between them, Jasper felt the world narrow to the distance between your eyes and his.

Then you smiled.

Small.

Grateful.

Human.

And beneath it, where no one else could see, something colder smiled too.

Jasper stepped out of the car, rain settling in his hair, his shoulders still, his expression unreadable as he watched you turn back to Angela and say something that made her laugh.

Could he get behind your secret?

Not yet.

But for the first time, he understood there was a secret to get behind.

“Okay…” you whispered, coaching yourself, concentrating on keeping your next breath steady. “You’re just gonna start by knocking on the door.”

After that? Who knew what would happen. You wanted to yell at him for abandoning you — don’t think of that word- You wanted to cry and pound your fists against his chest because he knew what doing this would mean to you, he knew-

But more than anything, you wanted to understand. You wanted to grab his face and make him look into your eyes and tell you what was going on. You knew he was worried recently, scared of the looks he was getting from Sam, Paul, all the boys who used to be his friends before they changed. Did they get to him when you weren’t around? Did they force him to change, too?

Would the Jake inside that house right now be the Jake you remembered? The one who held you together when he caused you to fall apart?

Would he still be the Jake you needed?

The thought conjured a tempest in your mind. It’s not fair! It’s not fair! The words spun around your head at hurricane-speed and tore your heart to pieces, the fury stronger than any emotion you’d felt in months.

Face flushed, hands shaking, you killed the engine and propelled yourself into the cold, loudly slamming the door behind you, temporarily breaking the peaceful patter of rainfall on the soft earth. The icy drops felt like pinpricks on your overheated skin as you marched up to the front door.

Your knuckles rapped sharply on the old wood. Rudely, you peered through the glass at the top of the door, searching for any sign of movement in the low-lit front room.

It took a minute, but soon you saw Billy approaching the door. He cracked it an inch, just enough for you to see him.

He greeted you by name, then said, “He’s not here right now. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

“Interesting,” you replied. Your barely-concealed pain caused your voice to shake. “I don’t think I believe you.”

Billy’s mouth pulled into a thin, sad line. “I’m sorry. I’ll let him know you came to see him. Okay?”

You hesitated for one second, two, then you pushed the door open wide and stomped deeper into the house.

“Jacob!” you shouted as you made a line toward his bedroom door. You shoved it open, your eyes darting to his bed to find-

It was empty. Mused, blankets and pillows hanging off the edges of the mattress, but empty.

You turned and marched back down the hall to find Billy making his way toward you, saying something, his voice full of apology. You felt your face crumple into a terrible, heartbroken expression, his words washing over you without really sinking in.

If you couldn’t lay your eyes on Jake soon… you didn’t know if your bruised and battered heart could take it.

“I’m sorry, Billy, I have to find him,” you choked, brushing past him again to break through the front room and trip back out into the cold Washington air.

Your shoes squelched in the mud as you rounded the house, half-running to the garage. You were considering whether you should peek through the windows or just unceremoniously rip open the door when suddenly the choice no longer mattered.

The garage door flew up, revealing the boy you’d been searching for, the boy who held your fragile heart in his hands, whether he wanted it or not. And he looked…

You stopped midway to him, letting your widened eyes understand what they were seeing.

Beyond the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt or shoes in the dead of winter, he was noticeably broader and taller since the last time you saw him. Like he’d gained several years on you in that time. Slowly, he walked toward you, his face pulled into a scowl, his dark eyes unreadable.

“You- you cut your hair. You got a tattoo. And you’re so… Have you been hitting the gym instead of calling me back?” Your voice was too thin and wobbly to let the joke land the right way. You blinked at him, your eyelashes heavy with water, unable to make sense of him.

It was as you feared it would be: the Jake in front of you was intimidating, unfamiliar. Changed.

“Talk to me! I know you heard me pull up, you were just gonna ignore me?”

“What are you doing here?” His voice was sharp and cold like the winter rain on your skin. “You should’ve never come.”

You flinched, body aching. “Why are you avoiding me?”

Rather than answering your question, he stopped only inches away from you. You could feel the heat pouring off of his body, and you swayed closer to him as if pulled by gravity. His gaze roved over you before he reached up and held your face in his hands. You shuddered, shocked by the difference in temperature between the two of you.

“Your lips are turning blue,” he murmured. “You need to go home. You can’t be here anymore. It’s not safe.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that, but I know I’m safe with you.”

He shook his head. “You have to leave. I’m not good for you anymore.”

No no no no no no no no no no

Your brain parried his words, and your vision flashed white, erasing his face and all the pity you saw there. All the resignation.

But you wouldn’t let this happen to you again.

Your hands moved of their own accord to find his face and pull him to you. Your mouth sealed over his, your teeth clanking with the force of your kiss. You drank in his surprised gasp; when his arms wrapped around you, the ice encasing your heart melted away. You didn’t notice your wet clothes sticking to your skin anymore, and the sound of the downpour striking the earth might as well have been the pounding of your heart, an all-encompassing roar.

His lips moved against yours with fervor, his warmth soothing your shivers, even though your body ached. You met each of his kisses with a smile, which grew and grew as time slipped away from you.

It had been too long since you felt this good.

His mouth broke from yours, only to laugh against your lips, “I need to get you inside. You’ll catch your death out here.”

Shuddering, you replied, “I’ll be alright,” but when he leaned away from your next kiss, you huffed, “Fine, but you have to explain to me what’s going on.”

His brow wrinkled, worry clouding over his features.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised, and he took your hand and led you toward the garage.

Your stomach clenched at the thought of what might come next, but you knew you had the strength to face it, as long as he was close enough to touch — as long as you could squeeze his hand, and you could feel him squeeze back.

⎯ divider by strangergraphics ⊹⠀ ﾟ ˖