#twilight bc

𐙚 being in a relationship with edward

he knew before you did.

edward fell in love with you slowly. not all at once like the stories say, but painfully, excruciatingly slow.

over long looks and accidental touches, over the way you smiled without knowing what you did to him.

he tried to stay away. of course he did. but every time you said his name? he unraveled a little more.

“you shouldn’t look at me like that.”

“like what?”

“like you really see me… and you still want to stay.”

gentle, overwhelming protectiveness.

he’s always quietly placing himself between you and anything remotely dangerous, even if it’s just a fast-moving car in the school parking lot or someone walking too close to you on the sidewalk.

his hand will ghost over your lower back or hover near yours, ready to pull you close. you’re never out of his reach.

“i know I’m being ridiculous,” he’ll whisper, forehead pressed to yours, “but i’d rather be overprotective than ever risk losing you.”

he memorizes everything about you.

the sound of your footsteps. the way you breathe when you’re nervous. the rhythm of your heartbeat when you’re happy, and when you’re lying.

he knows the titles off your favorite books and the way you stir your tea without looking.

he notices it all and it makes him impossibly soft.

“that sweater,” he murmurs one day, eyes on your collar, “you wore it the first time you let me hold your hand.”

he writes you lullabies on the piano.

there’s one piece he only plays when you’re in the room. you don’t realize it’s yours until he finally admits it one rainy evening, fingers lingering on the keys.

“i wrote it the night i realized i couldn’t imagine eternity without you.”

if you’re his bloodsinger? oh god.

it’s unbearable at first. he’s a wreck.

he disappears from school. then he comes back, tense and haunted, trying to talk himself out of needing you. but it only makes him more obsessive.

he doesn’t trust himself, and yet he’s drawn to you like nothing else.

“you don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says, voice raw. “i’d burn the whole world down just to keep you safe. that’s not love. it’s something far more dangerous.”

he gets jealous… and hates himself for it.

he’s old-fashioned, so he won’t say anything right away, but if someone flirts with you, it shows. his jaw tenses. his posture goes rigid.

and if you so much as laugh at another guy’s joke?

“was he… important to you?” he’ll ask later, eyes lowered.

you have to take his face in your hands and promise there’s no one else you’d rather have eternally holding you in the moonlight.

he’s always giving you his coat.

even when it’s not that cold. even when you have a jacket. he just likes seeing you in it. and the way it hangs off your shoulders? yeah. he’s not immune.

“i could’ve worn my own, you know.”

“i know,” he says, barely hiding a smile. “but mine looks better on you.”

he absolutely struggles with texting.

this man is 100+ years old. texting is not his thing. he’s formal and overly proper. no abbreviations. full punctuation. and he apologizes for sending “too many messages” even if it’s only two.

you: “miss u”

edward: “i miss you more than language can express. eternally yours, —e.”

he loves the sound of your heartbeat when you sleep.

edward doesn’t sleep, but he’ll sit beside your bed every night, listening to the steady rhythm of your heart like it’s the only thing tethering him to this world. if you ever wake up and catch him?

“don’t be afraid,” he whispers. “i just needed to be close to you.”

he’s terrified of hurting you.

even after you’ve been together for a while, that fear never fully fades.

he’s constantly restraining himself. always making sure you’re okay, pulling back when you get too close, kissing you with trembling reverence like he’s scared to want you too much.

“you don’t understand what it takes for me to hold you like this and not lose control.”

you take walks together at night, his favorite time.

he listens as you talk, asking you soft questions, stopping only to kiss your knuckles or tuck a flower behind your ear.

he’s absolutely in love with the way you talk about human things like stargazing and campfires and hot chocolate like they’re sacred.

“you make this world feel so… alive,” he tells you one night. “even to me.”

he wants forever.

eventually, he starts dropping hints about forever. eternity. a future that doesn’t end.

he’s scared of what it means, scared of what you’d lose… but his voice nearly breaks when he imagines a life without you.

“i’ve lived a hundred years without you,” he says, brushing your hair from your face. “i’m begging you, don’t ask me to do it again.”

synopsis: the wolfpack boy’s type, including both physical and personality traits.

a/n: this is not 100% accurate and it’s not intended to be. i just wrote a general idea considering their personalities and traits. do not take this seriously.

pairing/s: paul lahote, jacob black, embry call, quil ateara, jared cameron, seth clearwater, sam uley, leah clearwater

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paul lahote

vibe: hotheaded and feral but down so bad for his girl.

physical type: intimidated by literally no one. he lowkey loves a short girl he can toss around, but bold girls? strong girls? a girl who looks like she knows exactly what she wants or can fight with words? he’s obsessed. he wants someone who walks into a room and knows her power.

personality type: sarcastic, bold, mouthy. he’s into the type who won’t put up with his temper, someone who throws it right back. he needs a girl with fire, but also someone who softens around him, just him. the contrast ruins him.

why: because paul’s spent most of his life feeling like a weapon. he wants to feel wanted, not feared. he needs someone who chooses him even when he’s rough around the edges.

“i don’t care if you yell at me. just don’t walk away. not you.”

jacob black

vibe: golden retriever energy meets his person.

physical type: loves girls with expressive eyes, soft features, and a warm smile. whether you’re tall or short, curvy or petite, it doesn’t matter, as long as you feel like home. he has a soft spot for messy hair and bare faces.

personality type: loyal, passionate, a little stubborn. he falls hard for the girl who challenges him, who doesn’t baby him, and who tells him to quit sulking and get back up. he’s attracted to warmth and playfulness, but also someone who can call him out when he’s too hung up on the past.

why: jacob has spent so much of his life trying to be enough for people who look the other way. so when someone sees him clearly, chooses him, and doesn’t just fall into his arms, he’s hooked.

“you’re the first person who looked at me like i wasn’t just the backup plan.”

embry call

vibe: golden boy, underrated sweetheart, shy wolf energy.

physical type: has a weakness for bright eyes and dimples, especially if you don’t even realize you have them. he notices the way your cheeks flush, the way your sleeves are too long, the way you smile when no one’s watching.

personality type: gentle, kind, emotionally intuitive, maybe a little quirky. he falls for the quiet strength, the girl who loves deeply but doesn’t need to be loud about it. bonus points if you’re a little nerdy or artsy.

why: because embry feels things deeply. he wants someone he can be soft with. he craves stability, gentlenes. he’d worship a soft-hearted girl like she hung the moon.

“you looked at me once and i haven’t been the same since.”

jared cameron

vibe: class clown with a flirty streak.

physical type: loves expressive girls. someone who talks with her hands, has dramatic eye rolls, or has a big laugh. he’s super into curves, but honestly? if you can pull off oversized hoodies and messy buns, he’s done for.

personality type: outgoing, witty, and someone who can keep up with his fast-paced brain. he’s drawn to confidence but secretly adores when you get shy and flustered because of him.

why: because jared thrives on connection and laughter. he wants someone who feels like sunshine in human form and who never lets life get too heavy.

“you’re my favorite person, i’d choose you every damn day.”

seth clearwater

vibe: cinnamon roll with a warrior’s heart.

physical type: seth has zero “type” physically. he’s all about the energy. but he blushes like hell over cute girls who smile at him. dimples, freckles, glasses? he’s toast.

personality type: kind, genuine, and hopeful. he falls for the girl who believes in people. someone who’s kind to animals and old people, who cries over movies and is passionate about weird little things.

why: because seth is the best of them all, honestly. he needs someone who reminds him of everything worth protecting.

“i didn’t know i could love someone this much until you laughed at my dumb joke.”

quil ateara

vibe: loyal to the core, a bit of a dork.

physical type: cuteness overload. he’s into girls who feel comfortable. comfy sweaters, cozy scents, soft hands. he doesn’t care about body type, he cares about how you feel when he hugs you.

personality type: bubbly, giggly, playful. quil falls for the “best friend” type. someone who teases him, shares inside jokes, isn’t afraid to get messy. he loves a playful girl who knows how to be serious when it counts. a little chaotic? sure. a little clingy? even better.

why: because he’s looking for his forever person, someone who can make a tuesday feel like magic just by being next to him.

“every good thing reminds me of you now. that’s how i know.”

sam uley

vibe: old-soul energy, loyal to a fault, carries silent guilt.

physical type: sam is drawn to subtle beauty, he notices things others overlook. the curve of your neck when your hair is tied up. the way your hands move when you’re focused. he’s not flashy or superficial; he’s mesmerized by grace.

personality type: calm, mature, deeply rooted. sam falls hard for the girl with quiet strength who speaks gently but never backs down when it counts. he needs someone who sees through the calm exterior to the storm underneath and stays anyway. bonus if she’s a little stubborn, it keeps him grounded.

why: because sam has spent years putting others first and protecting everyone else that he forgot what it feels like to be cared for without expectations. he needs someone who’s a safe place, a reminder that he’s allowed to be more than just “the alpha.”

“i can carry the world, but you make me want to come home.”

leah clearwater

vibe: sharp-tongued, battle-scarred, untouchable. until she’s not.

physical type: leah’s always pretending she doesn’t care. but deep down? she melts for girls who wear too much eyeliner or none at all, who wear rings on every finger. there’s something magnetic about someone who carries herself with pride.

personality type: she loves someone calm. steady. soft-spoken. a girl who isn’t afraid of her sharp edges but doesn’t try to fix her either. someone who listens. someone who stays.

why: because leah has lost too much. she wants someone who chooses her. not despite her pain, but because of how she survived it.

“i don’t need saving. i just… i want you to stay.”

sam comforts you when you get overstimulated.

𝒯he imprint hit sam like a force of nature. a calm, grounding kind of storm. he never expected it to feel so instinctive. of course, he’d been warned it was intense, overwhelming even but when his eyes landed on you, curled up in the back of the bookstore, your headphones on, your energy withdrawn but intense, every ounce of tension in his body melted into that singular, quiet certainty, he knew: you were it.

he felt it before you even said a word. he didn’t need words.

and then he noticed how overwhelmed you looked.

you’d been having a bad sensory day. the wind had been too loud, people had been too close, and you were already retreating into yourself when sam caught your gaze. it was like an emotional collision. too much. way too much.

sam noticed immediately. he didn’t speak, didn’t rush. he just stood a few feet away, tilted his head slightly, and waited. calm. grounded. like he knew without needing an explanation that you needed space and stillness.

from the very beginning, the imprint made sam hyper-aware of your emotional state. he couldn’t feel what you were feeling, not exactly, but he knew when your breathing shifted. when the air around you got too thick. when your shoulders curled in like you were shrinking.

he always noticed. and he never made you feel bad for it.

it took sam a little while to fully understand you. not because you were difficult to love, but because he was used to dealing in direct, verbal communication. but you? your world was different. you got quiet when things got too loud. you didn’t always have the energy or clarity to explain what was happening inside your head, because the feelings were too much. sometimes you just shut down.

and sam, instead of pushing, he learned.

sam became fluent in your silences.

he learned your tells. the way your breathing changed when the world was too much. how your eyes would dart, trying to find something to hold onto. the way your fingers would clench at the hem of your sleeves or the strap of your bag.

the silence that wasn’t peaceful but loud, vibrating with everything you couldn’t say.

and when it happened? when you went nonverbal, when the sensory world spun too fast or too sharp? he didn’t ask questions.

he just acted.

sam becomes so protective of your peace. he’s a quiet guardian of your comfort. if the room gets too loud at a bonfire, you’ll feel his hand gently brush your lower back, a subtle “let’s go.” no questions, no explanations needed.

sam’s house became a sanctuary.

he swapped out every harsh bulb for soft, amber lights. he bought blackout curtains and weighted blankets, soft clothes without tags, switching from harsh cleaning sprays to neutral-scented products, without saying a word. not because you asked. just because he wanted to do it for you.

his favorite thing? coming home to find you wrapped in his hoodie, curled up on the couch, your favorite stim toy in hand, and a hot drink waiting on the table because sam always made sure it was there.

during sensory overloads, sam goes into protector mode.

he kneels beside you slowly, gently, always keeping his movements fluid and predictable. he doesn’t touch you unless you reach for him first. but the second you do? he melts into you.

his arms around you are a shield.

his voice is a low hum in your ear. gentle grounding phrases like, “you’re safe,” “i’ve got you,” or even just your name on repeat like a mantra.

he’ll tuck your head into his chest, let you feel his heartbeat, steady and slow, syncing yours to his.

sometimes, he just sits in silence with you. no pressure. no expectations. just presence. you never have to perform for sam. you can just be.

the wolf inside him is fiercely protective of you.

when you’re overwhelmed in public, say, at the grocery store or during a pack bonfire. the moment sam notices your distress, his entire demeanor shifts. he goes from laid-back alpha to hyper-alert, hyper-present mate.

he’ll gently guide you out of the space, wrap his jacket around your shoulders even if it’s not cold, like he’s giving you a barrier from the world.

if you’re ever touched without consent during a sensory-overloaded moment, like someone clapping your shoulder or brushing against you, sam is instantly tense. protective. but never aggressive. just a quiet shift of his body in front of yours, a calm but firm:

“don’t touch them.”

he’s silently furious with anyone who makes you feel unsafe. but with you? he’s always soft. always careful. always yours.

sam’s love language during your nonverbal spells is presence. he doesn’t panic or get frustrated. he doesn’t pressure you to speak. he just exists next to you. warm, steady and safe.

he’ll sit on the floor with you if you need grounding. cross-legged, back against the wall, one of his hands open-faced beside yours, waiting for you to reach for it. when you do, his fingers curl gently around yours. that’s all. no words. just here.

if you’re shaking or crying from the emotional overload, sam pulls you in so gently it almost feels like you’re floating. one of his hands will cradle the back of your head, thumb rubbing slow, rhythmic circles into your scalp. “i’m right here. just you and me.”

he learns how to read your signs. the deep breaths, the shoulder stiffening, the blank stares when you start slipping into shutdown mode. he’s already in motion before you realize you’re fading out. a soft blanket, a cool glass of water, dimmed lights.

sometimes, you tap his wrist twice. your subtle way of asking for silence. he always honors it. he’ll just nod and stay close, letting you have quiet without loneliness.

he knows your cues. if someone asks you a question and you freeze, sam steps in effortlessly, like it’s a dance you both practiced a thousand times. he never makes a show of it. never infantilizes you, never pities you. he’s there to remind you you’re allowed to need space and calm, and you never have to explain.

he’s obsessed with giving you little signals of safety. a soft brush of his knuckles against your arm. a slow, grounding inhale when you start to spiral. always reminding you, you’re not alone in this.

he encourages alternative communication.

he buys you whiteboards, fidget gadgets, sticky notes in your favorite colors, little keychain cards with emotion icons. he loves your little journal where you write things down for him when you can’t say them out loud.

his favorite page is one where you scribbled, “it’s not always easy to say i love you. but i always do.”

he carries it in his wallet.

when he’s in wolf form and senses your distress, he runs.

he doesn’t care where he is. he runs through the trees, faster than wind, heart hammering with one thought only: you need him.

when he arrives, fur damp from the forest, breath wild, he lets you bury your face into his side and cry if you need. he’ll stay there all night. guarding you. letting you be small and silent beside something that’s never, ever afraid of your bigness.

sometimes, when you can’t speak, sam will phase into his wolf form.

you’ll lay next to his giant warm body, fingers threaded into his fur, and just breathe. he’s grounding like earth. solid. steady. he’ll rest his huge head on your lap, a low rumble in his chest like he’s telling you: i’m here. no matter what. i’m not going anywhere.

when the words come back, sam listens like they’re holy.

he never rushes you. never finishes your sentences. never makes you feel bad for needing time or space. he’ll wait hours, days, if that’s what you need. and when you finally whisper, “thank you for not pushing me,” sam always gives the same answer:

“you don’t have to speak for me to hear you.”

sam always says, “you don’t need to explain yourself to me.” and he means it. he knows emotions can get too big to put into words. you don’t owe him eloquence, you just owe yourself rest. and he’s there to give you both.

sam uley loves you in silence, in softness, in shelter. to him, it’s never “too much”. it’s you. and loving you, all of you, is the easiest thing sam uley’s ever done.