Jasper Hale imagine requested by anon. “Could you do a Jasper imagine, where your his human mate who just learned about vampires and you still haven’t seen one in the sunlight yet. So you ask Jasper to show you.
” Hope you like it!
In a way, you were willingly signing yourself up for what was certain to be an excruciating death sequence. As you left your home, you found yourself forcing your mind away from finalities. This was likely the last time you locked your front door, yes, but it could very well be one of many more fumbles, just another search for the gleam of brass in the shrubbery. You were quite literally risking your life today, and for what? To answer with love would be a tad too drastic; you’d only known the man for a few months, and the time you’d spent in the know had been an even smaller amount. No, it was not for love, but for something else entirely you couldn’t assign a word to. It was fiercer than curiosity, stronger willed than desire, choked by something close to fear (a cousin, maybe), fueled by an undying urge to see. It was about vision. It was about trust. As you found yourself walking away from your childhood home, you couldn’t help but catch your breath in your throat. The familiar concrete of the path connecting your doorstep to the sidewalk… would you ever see this again? Would you ever scrape your knees on the porous material after one too many ambitious tests of an icy sheen? Would you ever return for the holidays with your family? Would you teach your child how to walk on the very same plain you had learned? Death was a high-ranking probability, but the unnamed emotions driving you onward overwhelmed any lust for a thought as tedious as self-preservation. You needed to see it.
He wasn’t waiting with a car, which you had expected. He wasn’t exactly on board with the idea of being in a cramped, confined space with nothing but the beating of your pulse and the delectable (nay, irresistible) aroma of your blood warming the cabin of the vehicle. He didn’t bring his motorcycle at your request; your parents were likely to blow gaskets if they so much as hard the sound of a Harley’s pipes moments after you left the house. It would be a similar reaction if you had told them you were about to lope off into the forest with a vampire, only slightly worse if you were to mention that said vampire was the most unstable vampire within a ten-mile radius. You had to give him credit; if he was willing to be alone with you, he must consider himself in control… and he really was trying. Jasper was standing beneath the expansive shade of the forest’s edge, his hands clasped behind his back. He couldn’t quite shake the military, could he? His smile was strained, as it usually was, to be in such close proximity with his natural food source, but his butterscotch eyes were brighter than you’d ever seen them. He nodded in your direction, smirking as he dissected your face.
“You’re nervous,” he observed, rooting around through your brain, tasting your emotional atmosphere. You inhaled the scent of the forest, exhaling slowly, your eyes on his. He must have hunted recently. His eyes were as golden as they’d ever been, but there was a vibrancy to his irises that you’d never witnessed. The bruises beneath his eyes were barely visible. He almost looked… well, no one as inhumanely beautiful as Jasper would ever come close to looking human again, but he looked healthier, happier. His charming southern voice crept forward from between his lips, quieter than you had expected. “Y/n, we don’t have to do this today. Perhaps if you’d rather wait…?” You shook your head, dismissing his recommendation the moment he spoke the words.
“No, Jasper, really. I’m good. I’m… I’m excited.” His brow furrowed slightly, his head turning as if to hear you better.
“More so than you are afraid?” He inquired, his voice lilting somewhere between fascination, humour, and regretful understanding. He was aware of the risks he presented; he was the newest vegetarian, that much you knew, and being alone in a secluded location far from town was as close to a perfect recipe for a slaughtering as you cared to imagine. Regardless of the danger, you wouldn’t live your life without having seen this strange feat Jasper’s family had inherited alongside their immortality. If you didn’t go, you’d regret it for the rest of your life. Even if you died today, you’d have fulfilled a gaping curiosity festering in the pit of your stomach.
“Way more. I’m ready to go when you are.” You were glad to hear the strength in your voice. Surely, Jasper could sense a falter in your composure, but he declined to mention anything. The South raised their gentlemen well. He smiled, his eyes glimmering in what little sunlight shimmered through the cloud covering.
“We have twenty minutes before my sister Alice has promised a sun shower,” He lifted his eyes to the overcast skies, grinning to himself at the uncanny accuracy of his meteorologist sister’s precognition. His eyes returned to your face, glowing like evening sunbeams through a crystal jaw of amber honey. He shrugged his shoulders, peeling his rain jacket from his body, extending a rigid hand in your direction, offering you the coverage you’d forgotten. “You may need this. You may be… cold.” Again, he smirked. You rolled your eyes, accepting his offering, careful not to make contact with his icy skin. He would not be bothered by the weather; your touch, however, he may not be ready for. You donned Jasper’s coat, relishing in the chill the fabric carried, overwhelmed by the heady scent of him. You turned, as if in a daze, your eyes searching for your mode of transportation, your attention caught by the uncommonly smooth sound of Jasper clearing his throat. “We’re running, if that’s alright with you.” He extended his hand towards you, his jawline rigid, controlled. He wouldn’t hurt you. At least… well, it wouldn’t be intentional. You slipped your palm into his, watching his shoulders cease to move as your skin warmed the frozen alabaster of his callous-less hand. He had ceased to breathe. He moved, ever so slowly, calculating his every step, until you were a hair width away from his dazzling eyes. He smiled briefly before spinning you in his arms, cradling you to his chest with ease. He lifted an eyebrow, wordlessly asking permission to continue. You nodded him on. You had never regretted a decision more in your entire life.
By the time the forest stopped spinning around you, Jasper had been still for a good five minutes. Running with a vampire was not your favourite medium of travel, that much was certain. You weren’t prepared for the supernatural speed at which Jasper carried you through the wood, dodging tree limbs and fallen trunks at the last minute, seconds before you managed to see the threat. It was… dizzying, for lack of a better explanation. Jasper, however, was completely unfazed. He cuffed and rolled his sleeves, exposing the pale skin of his forearms, his eyes raking the skies as they began to clear. Sure enough, the peaceful sound of splattering rain against the waxy leaves above began trickling to your ears, wrenching you back to reality. He stood a fair distance away, though not quite far enough to ice you out of the picture. He was respectfully acknowledging that you were so very human, and that standing too close might, at the moment, have meant an end to your human life. He was cautious, that was it. The rain began to fall evenly now, advancing from stray droplets to waves of water soaking down the tree bark around you, moistening the moss underfoot. Jasper eyed a river to your right, walking out from beneath the protective cover of leaves you shared, strolling into the open air. His clothing began to darken as the water struck the cloth. His hair suspended raindrops like gemstones among his golden curls. He was absolutely beautiful. He shot you a wary, almost testing gaze, likely attempting to read your scattered brain for any scrap of fear. He didn’t have much time to search, and you didn’t have much time to compose yourself before the sun peeked out from behind the heavy gray clouds. A sun shower, just as Alice had predicted.
All at once, the vampire changed. His skin, which you had thought of as marble, alabaster, could only have been crafted from diamonds. His every pore was faceted like a jewel, refracting light and colour as if he were made of some precious stone unknown to mankind. The rain fell on, continuing to soak through his clothing, the form-fitting cotton shirt he’d worn stained a much darker blue than before, clinging loosely to his carved physique. His eyes fluttered closed, his palms turned upwards as the sun drenched his body in light. You watched on in mystified awe as he glimmered, what little remained of the colouring beneath his eyes erasing entirely. In fact, he seemed to flush beneath the sun’s rays, like there was blood coursing through his veins once more, flooding his cheeks with the palest of rosy colour. He was far more beautiful than you could have anticipated. Quite honestly, to have this creature end your life would have been a blessing. To perish at the hands of an angel rang with promises of Heaven. Jasper tilted his face to meet the rain as it plummeted from the clouds above, his shimmering skin reflecting different light as he moved. He seemed to sigh, contented, basking in the warmth of the sun.
You lifted yourself, slowly at first, from the mossy forest floor, watching Jasper’s eyes flash open as your scent stirred in the air. The guilt you felt for disturbing such a magnificent creature was disregarded instantly, overpowered by your desire to stand beside him beneath the sun. You walked forward, abandoning the promise of drier land as you stepped beyond the reach of the trees, striding closer to the river, to Jasper. He tensed slightly, following your every move with his eyes, his face immobile as he read your emotional state. What he must have found there… the wonder, the awe, the delight… surely it had some impact on him. You trusted him completely, and in sensing that strength within you, he began to trust himself, if only by a fraction. You were standing before him, not quite as close as before he’d pulled you into his arms, but not as far as your greeting earlier in the day. His skin was even more glorious at a close range, if such a feat was possible. Slowly, cautiously, you began to raise your hand, allowing Jasper plenty of time to prepare for what you had planned. He didn’t flinch away, didn’t relocate, didn’t warn you against the movement; he wanted this experience, either to test himself or to test you. Something in him still wondered why you had agreed to come at all, and now was the last place he’d risk scaring you off. Your eyes left his, following your fingertips as they made contact with his dazzling cheekbone. He closed his eyes, sighing into your touch, his face tilting ever so slightly in the direction of your hand. You trailed your fingers to his jaw, encountering unseen ridges there. His eyelids fluttered open momentarily, watching as your brow smoothed out and you continued downward. As you traced along the patterns the sun created on his sparkling skin, you discovered many similar ridges, but Jasper didn’t seem to mind them. Your hand fell to his chest, your palm placed over his heart. Part of you waited for a heartbeat. Part of you waited for death. All that happened was that Jasper overstepped the boundaries he had set for himself, surprising you. His hand closed over your own, holding you to his chest. He inched your hand upward until you were once more cradling his face, this time more completely. He inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering closed again.
“This is wonderful,” he whispered, more so to himself than to you. You smiled, practically exuding happiness. Even without his abilities, Jasper would have picked up on your joy. His eyes opened, burning low with calm enjoyment, his lips pulling upwards at the corners, lifting his features from the stoic you were used to. “Y/n, words cannot express…” his voice trailed off, his unoccupied hand reaching to your waist, his palm smoothing over your hip. “I hope you can understand me when I tell you that I haven’t felt this human in a very long time.” He paused, drifting closer to you, his chest resting against yours. How strange, this proximity was. You weren’t complaining, of course, but to see Jasper so… uninhibited, so free, it was something foreign to you. He hadn’t been this close to you, even when he shot through the forest with you in his arms. No, he was restrained, pulling away from you, if subtly. Now, however, he was close enough to breath you in, to count your eyelashes, to snap your neck, maybe, but more importantly, he may be close enough to kiss you. His voice filtered through the mayhem that was your mind, his smile tainting his tone with a lightweight dye, granting feathers to his tone and flight to his words. “It has been too long since I’ve last allowed myself…” he trailed off, shaking his head in wonder, his smile growing. “And to feel what you’re feeling! Y/n, you can’t imagine how I feel. I could sing.” At this, you laughed, a motion that brought you closer to him, somehow. Perhaps he had pulled you in, you couldn’t tell, but he was accepting of your shift.
“Yes, I’m sure that’d be quite the performance, Jas-” His thumb pressed against your lips, silencing your speech. The unimaginable smoothness of his skin stroked over your lower lip as his fingers tangled in your hair, his body pressing more securely against your own. Your heart raced in your chest, colour rushing to paint your cheeks. He smiled, his eyes closing as he read the erratic rate of your heartbeat, nodding his head slowly.
“I could think of much better things to do with my time. For example…” He ducked his face to yours, resting his forehead against your own, pausing for a moment a mere second away from your lips. His jaw clenched once before the sweet perfume of his steady exhale billowed over your face, enveloping you in indescribable scents. You scarcely had time to decipher exactly what Jasper smelled of before his marble lips were moving against your own. He was careful in his movements, reminding you without words of the precautions you had to take when you recalled enough sense to return his kiss. He angled his face to better mold to yours as his hands tilted your lips to his mouth, securing your body to his as fully as he dared explore. Your mind was absorbed in all things Jasper, from the pinpoints of light that continued to dance from his skin and shone through the darkness of your eyelids, the delectable cologne of his body, the way his height sheltered you from the rain. It was glorious, it was heavenly, and it was over far too soon for your liking. Jasper detached himself, taking a few steps backward, applying that familiar distance once more. The sun disappeared behind a darker, murkier cloud, and the diamonds of Jasper’s complexion went back into hiding. He smiled, warming you despite the chill of his open palm. “Now you know why we can’t go to school on days like this,” he joked, his voice lifting effortlessly as he laughed. You joined him, lacing your fingers through his, your hands suspended between you as you walked back beneath the trees. Your heart was singing, even if Jasper wouldn’t. You’d never been happier than you were in that moment.
You hadn’t known it when you left, but you could have very well gone with Jasper out of love. After all, time meant nothing to an immortal.
Warnings: Werewolves behaving like children, fighting and violence
Summary: You get caught in the middle of one of the pack’s arguments.
hear them arguing all the way up Sam’s driveway. Paul’s voice was especially
loud above the other, and you stopped to listen to him as you reached the door.
saying, that’s a load of crap! I could take any of you in a fight!”
sighed, irritated. The pack had been fighting over this for at least a week
now, and it was starting to get on your last nerve. No one apart from them
really cared about who would beat who if it came to a fight.
was Jacob’s voice, and you could almost hear his grin. “Whatever you wanna
believe, Lahote.” Someone, you assumed it was Paul, gave a low growl in
A/N: Warning: Dominant Partner, Jealousy, Fighting (I over trigger warn to cover all the bases, just in case…. you never know.)
Emmett, you could tell, was not going to hold back. In fact, his posture suggested the very opposite. He was going to show off as much as he could to impress Rosalie, and hopefully help him score tonight. And you nearly rolled your eyes at his antics. Jasper was the opposite, knowing that him showing some gentlemanly behavior would give him some brownie points.
Not my gif. Gif credit goes to the amazing creators!
Based On: Could I get a Sam uley imagine where your feeling sick so Sam takes care of you and it’s full of cuddles and kisses? By the way you are a amazing girl
A/N: Of course you can, my lovely! Sorry for the long wait for your imagine to be posted. Thanks for being a patient, though! I love this idea, it’s super cute; however, I decided to make it a ficlet or fanfic instead of an imagine, is that okay? Please don’t be offended! Thank you sooo much for your request, I hope that you enjoy what I’ve come up with, sweetheart. (:
Type of Piece: Ficlet.
Pairing(s): Sam Uley x Reader.
Word Count: 716.
Warning’s: A slightly sick reader and intense fluff! (Let me know if I’ve forgot anything.)
Disclaimer: I do not own Sam Uley, but Stephanie Meyer does!
Although your sick figure quivered under the colossal mountain of blankets; Sam still saw you in the highest light possible: Beautiful and radiant. Radiant? If sweaty sheen skin, a snuffled nose and gasping for breath like a fish suffocating out of water, counted as radiant… You would take it with gleeful open arms.
Your (e/c) of orbs traced over his perfect muscles as he fetched yet another blanket. “How you’re cold right now is beyond my comprehension!” He exclaimed, rummaging through the disordered small closet to the far left of your bedroom. “Any average human would be panting and ripping those covers off…” He trailed off with a twerked simper upon his lips.
“It isn’t my fault that my sweat is like a sheet of frost covering my freaking skin!” You croak out, a failed attempt at a mewled whimper of irritation. “Besides, i’m constantly surrounded by werewolves, shapeshifter’s, - whatever you wanna call yourselves-, I was bound to catch something from you all.” You groan out, curling up further into yourself, hoping the icy sweat would somehow evaporate and leave you feeling the hot summer air beyond your bedroom window.
A deep rumbled chortle fled from Sam’s mouth, tumbling chaotically into your ear drums, causing you to wince meekly at the noise. “We never get sick and i doubt you caught anything from us, (Y/N): Actually, I can’t say that confidently… Who knows where or what Paul’s been doing when he phases…”
“I don’t need to think of that!” You screech, voice hoarse, exhaustion peering out of your tone like a mischievous and inquisitive nimble child.
Paul Lahote imagine requested by anon! “I hear you need more wolf pack :) I came to deliver. Can I request one where you’re Paul’s imprint but Bella’s bestfriend and she doesn’t approve. You tend to listen to her judgement but he makes it very hard to stay away from him (bonus points if he enlists Jacob’s help lol)” Hope you like it!
“You’re kidding. Paul Lahote? I’ll-fight-anything-with-a-pulse Paul Lahote? You’re kidding, Y/n. I thought I told you he was out of his mind! And you’ve only known him for, what, a week?” Bella was handling your scenario just about as swimmingly as you had predicted, which is to say she wasn’t handling it. She’d given you speeches of the same subject many times before, but never to this magnitude. If only she knew how severe the situation was… but you’d been indirectly sworn to secrecy on the matter of Paul’s affections. There wasn’t a loophole big enough for Bella to shove you through this time. You were signed-on for life, if everything went well… which it was, until you told Bella. Now, you found yourself cross-legged on her bedspread, watching her pull at the hair around her temples, pacing back and forth between her aged lace curtains and her bedroom door, reprimanding you as if you’d broken a valuable antique. This behavior was expected from someone as rational and old-souled as her, but you couldn’t place why she was focusing her maternal distrust on Paul. Well, from what you’d been recently inducted into, you could fathom a thousand reasons why she’d be upset, but she was oblivious to Paul’s trade secrets. “Y/n, come on, you’re really considering dating him? Paul Lahote?” She growled, her gravelly tone hiking in pitch as she chewed his name. You inhaled slowly, grinding your teeth in preparation for the verbal Novocaine you hoped would knock her blood pressure down a few notches.
“Yeah, I’ve considered it. I’ve come to the conclusion that I really want to be with him, Bells,” she opened her mouth to speak, her eyes wide and livid, fear polluting the perfect storm of fury in her dark irises. You held your hand up to halt her oncoming rant, struggling to sedate her long enough to calm her opinion on Paul. This would be no easy task. Most of the reasoning you’d collected to prove to her why Paul was a viable option was prohibited, by pack law, to be spoken to an outsider. You’d be running circles around your sentences, stopping and starting yourself when you edged too close to a risky argument. “Look, I’m not going to ask you why you care, because I know why you care, but seriously, Bella, why are you making such a big deal out of this? He’s really not that bad! He’s been really nice, Bella, and warm and friendly and sweet. He’s not as immature as you described. He must have changed since you last saw him.” Bella snorted, her eyes rolling towards the ceiling, one of her hands dropping to her hip (a comical stance, if not for the cause), the other gripping tight to masses of hair at the crown of her head, recalling her last encounter with the subject of her anger.
“Oh, I’m sure. The last time I saw Paul, he was going for Jacob’s-” her voice was cut-short by the ringing of her cell phone, her gaze dropping quickly to the smudged screen. She exhaled sharply, clearly irritated by whomever she saw was calling, raising the device to her ear as her teeth ground against each other. “I don’t have time right now, Jake. I’ll call you later” she spat, her tone unchanged by the call of her best friend. She must hate Paul more than you thought she did. Her eyes darted to your face, her brow pinched. “Yes, she’s here. Why do you ask?” She turned her back on you, walking with rigid steps towards her wall, her arm crossing over her chest as she spoke. “No, I don’t want to hear it, Jake.” There was a short pause, during which Jacob Black’s voice could be heard stammering mechanically through the receiver. Hopefully, he was acting as savior to both you and Paul. “Oh really? Try me,” Bella replied, her voice reaching higher and higher as her level of agitation skyrocketed. She waited while he spoke, her teeth wearing audibly as he spat explanations at her, likely in Paul’s defense. The wolf pack was pretty tight, from what you’d heard of it. Their relationship was closer to a brotherhood than anything, as Paul described it. If Jacob was talking sense, you had a better chance of convincing Bella of Paul’s worth; Jake had been dodging the werewolf subject longer than you had. Bella sighed loudly, sucking her teeth in frustration. “I don’t care if he imprinted on her! Tell him to leave her alone!” She hung up her phone, leaning her forehead against her bedroom wall. Your heart skipped a beat, hearing the now-familiar word leave her lips with so little surprise. Her lips formed the word as if she was as accustomed to speaking it as Sam or Quil.
“Bella, how do you know that word?” you whispered, your voice too weak to speak at a higher volume. She turned to face you, her cheeks flushed in sudden realization of her mistake. “You knew about the wolves?” Her cheeks were inflamed, burning rosy under your scrutiny. “Bella, what the Hell? How long have you known about them? Who told you? Oh, God, did one of them… you know, did someone imprint on you? Was it Jacob? Bella-” your words fluttered about in the stagnant air of her bedroom, her hands shaking to stop your words, her fingers batting them from her face.
“Okay, okay, enough! No one imprinted on me, I just… I figured it out. Jake told me a story, I pieced it together after he phased.” You could feel your open jaw collecting air, drying the saliva on your tongue as she explained just how extensive her knowledge on the Quileute pack was. According to her timeline, she’d been around since before Quil had even phased. She’s been there from, almost, the beginning of the pack. “And I’m freaking out because I’ve seen how volatile Paul is, how easy he is to phase. The last time I saw Paul, he went for Jacob’s throat. Dragged him into a fight, all teeth and claws. He isn’t in control, Y/n, and he could hurt you if you push him. It could be so simple, so quick, and you could be like…” her voice trailed off into silence, the unspoken end to her sentence lingering in the air like a death sentence: Like Emily.
“Jared already told me about his anger issues. He said he’s getting them under control, and that he was working on it before he imprinted. Now, he’s working harder. And, I mean, if you know about imprinting, you should know that just telling Paul to leave me alone isn’t going to make a dent in his determination to see me. I trust what you’re saying, I really do, but you just have to trust my judgement this time. I know how dangerous it is, but you’ve been hanging with Jacob since you found out he’s a wolf. I mean, Bells, if that isn’t danger-seeking, I don’t know what is!” She wouldn’t counter after that. The evening progressed as it normally did, only the conversations you held carried a rigid formality beneath years of cordiality. Bella was clearly upset about your decision to stay with Paul, but you weren’t giving him up.
She hadn’t offered to drive you home as she usually did, which would have betrayed how upset she was if you hadn’t already caught on. The girl was about as subtle as a shotgun was quiet, and you’d been around her long enough to know when she was irritated. Her decision wasn’t cruel, though. She wasn’t abandoning you to a ten-mile hike through the forest, Bella was too kind for that sort of ill-treatment. You didn’t live too far away to make commute on foot impossible, and though the sun was setting, you had enough time to walk home before the night settled in. By the time you reached your door, the evening was only just fading from amber skies to the shadow of dusk. Your porch light was on, casting a honey glow on the expanse of your lawn. An unfamiliar car was parked in your driveway, an alarming sight if not for the body propped-up against the driver’s side door. At the sound of your approach, Paul turned his head, a smile breaking through his neutral demeanor, white teeth gleaming in the dying light cascading from your front steps. Though you were mildly weary from your unexpected journey home, you found your pace increasing easily at the promise of Paul’s warm embrace. You stepped into his waiting arms, heat enveloping your body like a wave, his face burying itself in your hair, his arms constricting around your back. You’d never felt so secure, never so loved as when you were being held by him. It was as if you’d snapped an accessory onto your heart to allow for more love to flood your core, fitting like a puzzle piece into your organ’s anatomy. He was as much your home as the house behind him. He pressed his lips to the side of your head, his hands ghosting upwards along your back until they had reached your cheeks. His soft brown eyes fell on yours, analyzing your features, his thumbs working circles over your cheekbones.
“Jacob called me after he called Bella, said you were hanging at her house, that she sounded angry. Are you alright?” Oh. He’d been watching you for signs of a cracking facade, waiting for the waterworks. Thankfully, you were in better shape than he had expected. You nodded your head, leaning your face against his palm. You sighed, expelling the negativity of the day with your breath.
“Yeah, she just… she wasn’t thrilled when I told her I’d started seeing you. I didn’t even drop the “i” word, and she knew. I had no idea she knew, and… I mean, she was just worried. She’s my best friend. Her intentions were good. She doesn’t want to see me get hurt.” Paul’s lips pressed together, his forehead furrowing as you spoke. He pulled you into his chest once again, his embrace stronger, somehow, his arms motionless on your back.
“The last thing I want is to see you get hurt, Y/n. I promise you, I won’t ever hurt you. I know I’m a bit unpredictable, but I’d never lose control with you. I’ve seen what can happen when… I don’t ever want to hurt you like that,” he whispered, his voice in your ear like a dirge, his voice flooding with emotion. His conviction was clear. You wrapped your arms around his spine, clutching to his heat, your face lowering onto the plane of his chest.
“You won’t,” you assured him, your breath releasing against his skin, your hands running along the ridges of his spine.
You couldn’t fathom how someone as warm and loving as Paul could have violent intentions, especially when he loved you as much as he did. “I know you won’t.” He lifted his head, his finger angling your chin upward, bringign your gaze to meet his. He lowered his lips to yours, voicing unspoken promises in ways words could never express. His lips moved against yours, spreading a warmth not unlike his unnatural body heat coursing through your veins, his hands tangling in your hair. All too soon, he broke away, resting his forehead on yours, his eyes sparkling with stolen light. He smiled his sideways grin, pressed his lips to yours once more, and stepped backwards towards his truck, his hands holding onto yours until his reach was expended.
Characters: Jacob x reader, Sam, Paul, Jared, Billy
Warnings: angst, breakup of relationship
Summary: After Jacob imprints on Renesmee, his long-term girlfriend makes a discovery about herself.
For once, it was a
sunny day in Forks. Really sunny, not weak sunlight straggling past clouds. You
were supposed to be at home studying, but you couldn’t pass up a day like this.
Especially not after your boyfriend turned up at your house at half past ten
and told you that he was taking you to the beach.
Jacob ran his
fingers through your hair gently as you lay in his lap. With everything that
had been going on with the Cullens recently, it felt like the two of you hadn’t
been spending enough time together. You didn’t resent him for it. You knew that
he wanted you safe more than anything else.
But you had missed
him like crazy.
Seth and Leah were taking care of watching the Cullens so that he could be with
you. Having a day like this one, when you could do nothing but lie on the beach
and tease each other and kiss, reminded you exactly why you’d fallen in love
with him in the first place. Werewolf or not (and you’d been pretty freaked
when you heard about that one), days like this assured you of just how much he
Alec Volturi and
Paul Lahote preference requested by anon! “Yoo hows my favorite blog?? I’m doin’ alright. Can i get a alec or paul imagine where they’re scared about reader leaving him. Due to alec being a vampire that likes human blood. Or if you do pauls about him being a hothead. Hopefully it makes sense” Hope you like it!
In truth, you’d never been wholly comfortable with the meal-plan served in the Italian villa, given your awkward position as would-be appetizer. Despite your position in this so strange, vampiric court, despite your knowledge of the binding law protecting you from intentional harm, your stomach continued to twist and knot in fear. This discomfort, this terror stemmed not from your relations within the Volturi; no, even Aro had been kind, welcoming even, whispering about how overjoyed he was that his darling Alec had found such a promising mate. It was clear that he had a handful of particularly advantageous plans when the sunrise of your immortality broke the horizon, and thus took an affectionate liking to you. The subject of your mortality was a bit of a taboo, especially considering the diet of choice your new companions favoured, but your never felt discriminated for the beating of your heart.
It was never about your pulse, your necessary breath, the blood flowing through your veins, protected only by a thin layer of vulnerable flesh. Politically, you were fine. You were practically one of the guards, your transformation date set for sometime in the summer. It was never about you. It was about the thirty tourists you saw enter the throne room every week, it was their screaming that haunted your dreams, their horror that plunged the knife into your abdomen, churning your insides until you were reduced to nothing. It was your mate’s participation, his willing participation, that struck fear into your still-beating heart. If you had wandered into the villa, expecting a tour of Italian architecture, a history lesson on pillars or portraits, would he have slaughtered you as he slaughtered the others? Would he have spared you a second thought?
You were doubtful.
You stood with your back facing the entrance to your bedchamber, your eyes dissecting the intricate carvings laid into the marble of the walls. Though you had been distanced from the heart of the Volturi’s society, you could hear the echos reverberating down the hall nonetheless. Alec had noticed your discomfort and suggested a change of scenery, though you understood that even his residence in Verona would carry the weight of Volterra’s infractions. You were chewing the edge of your fingernail (a nervous habit you hoped would be kicked, finally, when you were torn from your human life) when your ears picked up on the subtlest wisp of movement, announcing the presence of your silent lover. Soon after, his hands were cooling your elbows, folding over your crossed arms, his honeyed breath polluting the air you inhaled. His lips pressed to your neck, your mind jumping from affection to unease as you noted the placement of his kiss. His voice, so soft, so sweet for so experienced a killer, sang against your ear, his hair brushing against your cheek.
“Darling, you’re troubled,” he observed, his icy fingers ghosting over your hands, lacing his fingers through yours, a tender gesture you were not expecting to be accompanied by the surprising warmth his frozen fingers carried. He’d fed recently, more recently than you cared to dwell on. A stranger’s blood warmed his frigid tissues. You flinched away from his touch, untangling yourself from his fingers, avoiding contact with his violent eyes, his angel’s lips parted in wounded confusion. “Y/n, what’s wrong? Is something the matter?” He extended his hand, and you once more slunk away from his touch. He ducked his head, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks, exhaling lowly. When he spoke, his voice had changed drastically, harbouring an injury you had yet to notice on his physical form. “Aro warned me this would happen.” You did not speak on the matter, but recalled easily the moment you had departed from Volterra, your hand sliding from Aro’s papery skin, his eyes reading your most recent thoughts, likely painting vivid imagery to accompany your internalized terror. Of course he would mention this to Alec. Your inability to cope directly affected him. “This is about the blood.” His voice did not lilt in inquiry; there was no question, no confusion muddying his understanding. You lifted your face to address him, his eyes a blazing crimson, burning from within with the glow of his most recent meal. Your words clung to the insides of your throat, scratching their way downward, refusing to surface. Alec’s jaw clenched, his gaze lowering to the floor’s mosaic, his brow furrowing the silken plane of his forehead. It was almost inhumane to witness, to cause, distress in so beautiful a creature.
“If I could avoid… the way that I feed, I would do it for you,” he continued, his voice softer, quieter than before, his words dripping with sorrow like an open wound, his tone ringing with a melancholic tenor. “Once you’ve turned, I believe, I hope, that you will understand the difficulty we face. This is not a choice, the way that we feed. Our thirst is not a decision; it’s a compulsion. I have very little control of how I ensure your safety… If I were to refrain, I’m afraid I would be unable to keep myself from causing you harm.” Your breathing grew shallow as he explained to you the honest truths behind his so frequent feasting, his plump lips downturned at the corners, his eyes projecting a most uncommon weakness in one of the most powerful man you had the pleasure of knowing. He pursed his lips before exhaling a broken sigh, his chest heaving unnaturally. “If this is not something that you can live with… I’d understand.” His voice, usually so determined, so confident, now drifted into silence. The only sound available to your feeble ears was your steady pattern of breathing. You turned your face away, unable to hold his gaze any longer, your heart breaking for the angel you’d reduced to ash and cinder before you. After a moment, Alec broke his uncharacteristic silence, his voice illustrating a heart, an organ you knew no longer beat within the chiseled stone of his chest, breaking. If he was capable of producing tears, you had no doubt they would have fallen freely from his scarlet eyes, painting glimmering trails against the alabaster of his complexion. “Will you leave me?” You turned, shocked by his inquiry. How was he able to fathom a universe where you did not see yourself at his side? Had your affections fallen flat? Were you unable to illustrate to him the depth of your love? You crossed to him, your fingers angling his chin upward, forcing him to meet your eye, his irises blooming dangerously beneath a broken brow.
“I could not leave you if remaining by your side ensured the end of my life. To be parted from you would cause me unbearable pain. You are not what I despise, and your thirst… I can’t blame you for that. It’s the executions, Alec, that bother me. You’re herding people to their deaths by the hundreds every year. I can’t help but be bothered by the deaths. I’m only human, for now. If there is another way that you can live, tell me, and we can pursue that path. Together.” His eyes softened, his breath flowing over your face. Though his brow remained furrowed, his lips formed a cautious grin. He glanced at the position of the sun through your veiled window, his eyes returning to your face. He lifted his palm to cradle your cheeks, his face alight with the force of the words he spoke next.
“There is a coven in America, the Cullens. If we leave now, we could reach their home by tomorrow. I never thought I would say this…” His thumbs stroked over your cheekbones, the weight of his decision weighing heavily on his shoulders. “I believe they may be able to help us.”
You had been warned of this very scenario from the moment Paul’s realities had been revealed to you, the moment you became involved in the fiery universe that he was so ingrained in. You’d seen the evidence of a destructive temper on Emily’s face, scarring her for life, a warning sign to the other members of Sam’s pack: don’t get too close. You hadn’t had any issues as far as trust went; Paul was relatively calm when you were around, incredibly cautious to the point of over-protectiveness, and as kind and loving as the day you’d met him. He was well-prepared to prevent injuries similar to Emily’s, or worse, and handled his rage better than he had before you stumbled into him. According to his pack, he’d been a bit of a loose canon before imprinting, but your presence acted as a sedative to his usual rowdy, unpredictable nature. You’d been assured that his mannerisms, specifically his impulse to phase, had been quieted after he imprinted, but his actions spoke to combat the promises his brothers made.
Their observations had not been entirely false; Paul was, without doubt, a changed man, but he carried with him a fire that even you could not put out. While he wasn’t explosive, his fuse was relatively short. You hadn’t had the chance to argue, given the amount of time you’d known him, but you’d be witness to his quick temper. You’d never felt threatened in any way other than the typical back-away-if-he-starts-shaking, but that applied to any of the wolves. They all had off-days, but Paul was never someone to be feared, never someone to be wary of. He treated you with the utmost respect and care, but even he couldn’t put a stopper on the floodgates when you’d been approached by a group of men on First Beach. Their salutations had been more insult than greeting, their words slipping like an oil slick from between their unwashed teeth, their faces gleaming with a drunken sweat you could smell radiating from their bodies as you passed them by. Paul, of course, was not about to stand for this ill-treatment. You’d felt the vibrations rolling from his body through the hand that held his, heard his laboured breathing by your ear. You had enough time to extract your hand from his and press a palm to his chest before turning to the trio of vulgar men, warning them to leave before someone (here meaning them, but you couldn’t help but wonder if you also spoke in your own defense) was hurt. One look at Paul was enough to seal your threat in concrete. There was no question about his anger, and his bare torso was promise enough that any retribution would be undeniably painful. They fled, joining a throng of townspeople vacating the beach. Your eyes locked on his, his lips curling over his teeth. You’d attempted to whisper a few calming words before realizing how far gone he truly was. You backed away from his trembling form, every visible muscle tensing on his body as he too backed away from you.
“Y/n,” he snarled, his eyes flitting around as his convulsions intensified, watching the last of the beach’s crowd fade into the night. His unspoken plea was clear: run. You turned your back on him and joined the masses abandoning the darkness of the waters, their voices nearly masking the tear of clothing as Paul exploded from his skin. You turned in time to watch his tail disappear into the tree line. You headed for Emily’s place, hoping to find Sam or Jared holed-up in her kitchen. One of them must be willing to talk Paul down from his heated precipice. You knew they’d all done it before. Your trek was short-lived, and the harmonies reaching from Emily’s open windows carried promises of aid in the form of two, possibly three werewolves. You helped yourself in, your eyes finding Sam’s in the crowd surrounding Emily’s table. His face, lightened by Emily’s company, went dark when he met your gaze. It seemed he already knew. You cleared your throat, running a hand through your hair, watching as Jared, Quil, and Emily focused their attention on you.
“Anyone willing to track my boyfriend for me?” Jared cursed aloud, damning Paul to Hell as he dropped his half-eaten muffin onto his plate, clearly irritated with his friend’s lack of control. Quil offered an apologetic grimace, clapping you on the shoulder as he made his way to the door with Jared nipping at his heels. Sam said nothing outside of asking for Paul’s last-known location, departing with a a final glance at Emily, his fists balled around a pair of jean shorts. Emily’s hands fluttered about her table, sweeping crumbs from the surface, her eyes on your face. She nodded you over, inviting you to sit as she prepared her dinner, promising you that Paul’s episodes never lasted more than half an hour, and that was before you came along. She was almost certain he’d be back sooner. You chatted with her for the next fifteen minutes, your mind preoccupied, replaying the fading image of Paul ducking into the woods on the blank expanse of your eyelids. It wasn’t until Emily offered you a cup of tea that you noticed your hands were trembling. “Maybe I’m a wolf too,” you whispered, your voice failing your attempt at humour, Emily’s arms wrapping around your back as your body shuddered. She, of all people, knew the fear that now pooled in your stomach. Another ten minutes passed before you heard their approach, the sound of footsteps crunching against soil paired with Sam’s low, angry whispers. The three members of Paul’s rescue party had returned, and all three entered without a word, sitting at the table in absolute silence. Emily’s eyes focused on the doorway before finding yours, shooting you a sisterly glance you understood to be cautionary.
“Y/n,” your name was soft on his lips, a gentle tone meant to exhibit his level of calmness. You turned in your seat, abandoning your tea, your eyes falling on his form, propped-up against the open doorway. He gestured for you to join him outside, his hand running through his shorn hair. They did not tremble. You excused yourself and followed him onto Emily’s lawn, watching his shoulders heave with as he sighed, his back gleaming beneath the light of the moon. His hands were swinging at his sides, his muscles tensing and releasing as he paced. When he stopped, you were a good distance away from the house, out of earshot, you assumed, and away from any scrutiny. He turned, slowly, his every movement calculated, the effort behind his actions obvious. He was going out of his way to eliminate any perception you could have of him being a threat to your safety. He kept his distance, addressing you in a whisper from a handful of feet away, his bare feet digging into the earth as he spoke. “Y/n, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. That was… I put you at risk, and I’m so, so sorry.” His eyes lifted to the stars, his head shaking with frustration. “And, you know, I can’t even promise that it won’t happen again. I’m not in control, not like that. This can happen again, and that…” his voice dropped off, his sentence hanging open, fluttering in the breeze. When his eyes returned to yours, his face was broken, his lips pursed to keep them from quivering. “I mean, I’d understand if it’s too much. As much as it kills me, I can understand if you need to go.” He raised his hands, surrendering. “I want you safe, that’s all. I can’t promise you’ll be safe around me. I can’t.” You shook your head, closing the distance between you, continuing even after he mirrored your first few steps, eager to keep you out of harm’s way.
“Paul, if anything, you went out of your way to keep me safe tonight. You warned me that you were losing control, and you backed up, and you gave me time to step back.” He opened his mouth to speak, but you refused to let berate himself further. “You are not a threat to me, and I’m not going anywhere.” He exhaled deeply, relieved, and closed his arms around your back, pulling you to the warmth of his chest.
Characters: Paul x reader, Jared, Sam, Emily, the rest of Sam’s pack
Warnings: mentions of asshole parents, reader cutting herself off, reference to Paul’s anger management issues
Summary: After Paul imprints on you, he changes your attitude to the world.
The summer job in
Forks was only supposed to be a temporary stop-off. After you graduated and
your parents kicked you out, you’d taken off on a trip across America. Where
you could, you picked up jobs to covers the costs of fuel and food and
somewhere to stay, and coasting along by yourself suited you just fine. It was
more peaceful that way.
You had no doubt
that, if Paul hadn’t walked into your life, you may well have spent the rest of
it living that way.
As it was, though,
you’d been working at a supermarket checkout when you looked up to see one of
the most muscular men you’d ever seen staring down at you. He was hot, but that
wasn’t why you’d kept looking back.
In that moment, it
felt like everything else had ceased to exist. There was an expression of
wonder in the stranger’s face as he looked at you, and you’d felt drawn to him
in a way you’d never felt about anyone else. It was intense, and it was scary.
Then he grinned,
still looking wonderstruck, and held out his hand. “Paul Lahote.”
Had a request to do a little drabble of Rose/Jasper interaction. I guess this would take place shortly before Bella visits the Cullen house for the first time.
“Want me to ease the tension?”
“No,” Rosalie said. “It’s not going to help. Feeling better about it doesn’t change what is happening.”
Jasper leaned against the doorframe of the garage, arms crossed over his chest. “Need me to hand you a wrench or anything?”
“What I need,” Rosalie grumbled as she tinkered with the innards of Emmett’s jeep, “is for Edward and your wife to stop treating me like a pariah because I’m not head-over-heels in love with Edward’s little human.”
So… what you’re telling me is… Stephanie Meyer wrote a fanfiction of her own damn book that was published, sold and made onto a film, to rival the fanfiction that EL James wrote about that very book, but then changed names to fit a new book of her own design, which in doing so she effectively wrote a fanfiction of her own fanfiction that was eventually published, sold, made into a film? Not forgetting that Twilight was ripped from a short story LJ Smith wrote a good 10 years before Mayer started writing. So… really… Twilight was a fanfiction too.
Seth Clearwater imagine requested by anon! “Seth Clearwater one shot where the reader is madly in love with him? They’re imprints and she just loves him so much, and when he gets hurt she freaks out?” Disclaimer, it hurt me to write this. Hope you like it!
The day began as any other would have, save two important details. One, you were in La Push for reasons that would not normally confine you to the reservation, creating an atmospheric cell to cage you into the town, your skin crawling with uncomfortable chills so foreign to this environment. Second, you were without your usual companion, given his preoccupation somewhere too many miles north to fathom, running around on four legs as he pursued one of the chalky beasts from the depths of your darkest nightmares. La Push without its wolves was a strange and empty place indeed. The wind whistled through the trees, as if to illustrate through sound the vacancy you felt like a cavern in your chest, your very bones aching with the absence of your lover. All you could do was wait for his return; there wasn’t a word or promise you could make that would have kept him away from this hunt. This was the leech he’d caught a whiff of while running to your home, the vampire that had stopped at your front door before becoming distracted, they think, by the scent of blood in a house down the street. Seth wasn’t giving up on a chance to rip the monster limb from limb. He put himself in danger and held himself responsible for your close-call with venom-coated fangs.
“He must have smelled me, Y/n, there’s no other reason why he’d stop at your house. I asked Carlisle, he said you didn’t smell particularly appetizing, you’ve got too much of my scent on you to haul anyone to your house. He’s never come our way before, he’s never smelled one of us until now. He must have been curious. He could have killed you because of me,” he concluded, his cheekbones blazing in the afternoon sun, his pack mates calling to him from the edge of the woods, all of them removing their shoes in preparation to phase. A hunting party of seven: Sam, Jared, Jacob, Paul, Embry, Quil, and your Seth. This vamp was serious business, no matter how nonchalantly Seth handled the ordeal. Sam wouldn’t have called for so many participants if he didn’t think it was necessary. “C’mon, we do this all the time. I was born for this, babe. Trust me, I’ll be fine. Just gotta go rip someone’s head off. Stretch the legs, you know? It’s been a while,” at this, he laughed, his brows raised at the memory of his last hunt. He’d been with Edward Cullen at the time. He’d gotten hurt. “It’s going to be fine. Emily will be with you the whole time, and we’ve got Colin and Brady on watch. You’ll be alright.” You rolled your eyes, your fingers clinging to the hem of his shirt, attempting to anchor him to your side to prohibit him from leaving. He smirked at your feeble attempt, his hands covering yours, fingers intertwining. You didn’t miss that this action removed your hold on his clothing.
“Yeah, Seth, I’ll be fine, but you’re going tooth to tooth with something that could kill you. I’m not okay with that. Look, there’s seven of you going. You can afford to sit one out, right? It’s just the one vampire. Stay,” you pleaded, your voice dripping with emotion. He shook his head slowly, his eyes on the sky above, watching the clouds roil overhead. He sighed, his gaze falling to your face, his answer clear in his honest eyes. Damn it.
“I can’t. This is too personal. He was on your doorstep, Y/n. I’m involved when you are. Besides, I kind of want to see the look on his face when he catches my scent.” He paused, his brow furrowing in contemplation. “Is that sadistic?” You shook your head, exhaling until your lungs were deflated entirely. Seth was going, whether you liked it or not. You couldn’t help but fear for his safety, despite the cushion his pack provided. You’d heard of worse destruction from greater hunting parties. You didn’t want to see him broken on his brothers’ shoulders. His index finger tilted your face to meet his, his eyes soft, his lips upturned in a gentle smile. God, he looked so innocent like that. It wasn’t helping his case. “Hey, look at me. I’m going to be fine. I’ll be back before you know it… might even make it for dinner.” He grinned, his thumb brushing over your jawline, his lips lowering to yours. He cradled your face as his lips moved against yours, separating only when Jacob called from beyond the trees, requesting he hurry up. Seth grinned, winking as he walked backwards towards the woods, his hand holding yours until the distance was too great to maintain contact. “Time me, if you want. I’ll be back so soon you won’t even have time to miss me.” Likely, you thought, your mind’s voice leaking sarcasm like a busted shower head, I’m already worried sick. Seth’s hand raised in parting, calling a quick “I love you!” before disappearing beyond the treeline, kicking his shoes off as he went. Fine. If he wanted you to time him, you would.
That was three hours ago.
You were wondering the roads until Emily had finished her cooking. You never could stand to stay in her house when Seth was away, despite her warming company. There was nothing she could do to ease your nerves, no sweet songs she could hum, no offers to taste-test her creations, no amount of friendly conversation that could’ve quelled the rampaging pangs of dread pooling in your stomach like acid before a bout of the stomach flu. The sky’s light was beginning to fade, the clouds overhead promising rain within the hour, laden as they were with water. How appropriate. Rain to further dampen your mood. You had no choice but to return to Emily’s place if you had intentions of staying dry. If your turned back now, you could probably make it back before the worst of the rain came pouring down. You pivoted, setting back towards the nook in the woods that held Emily’s little ranch, your eyes on the pavement as you walked, your mind on Seth. There was no way of knowing if he was alright, if he was on his way back or if the situation had grown complicated. You couldn’t call him, and he couldn’t pick up the phone without opposable thumbs. You were left to linger in the silent middle-land of the waiting widow, unsure if her lover would return from battle or not.
Part of your mind kept assuring the rest that everything was going to be okay, that Seth was an experienced fighter with six of his pack mates by his side to help him dismember the vampire. He’d done it before a hundred times, and he’d continue to hunt after he returned home. He’d been born and bred to fight vampires, why shouldn’t he be okay? Because he was taking this hunt personally. He could be over-confident, he could get cocky, he could risk a maneuver if it meant being the one to remove the bloodsucker’s head. You had no grasp of how level-headed he was going to be, even with Sam and Jacob keeping him in line. He was the youngest in the pack, and his head was clouded with obscene thoughts of protecting you from a threat that never truly revealed itself to you. He just had to keep him from returning. Your feet stumbled against the rocky path down Emily’s forgotten street, passing trees too large to share the sky and countless paw prints marking the soil on the pavement’s edge. They didn’t look fresh enough to be the returning hunting party… they must have been Sam’s. A raindrop splattered against the earth, flooding the imprint momentarily before being absorbed by the thirsting soil. You lifted your face to the skies and you were instantly struck by a splattering of rain. The clouds had opened above you sooner than you had expected, weeping a heavy rain onto the ground below, muddying the road leading to Emily’s house. You broke into a run, ducking your head in a instinctual, fruitless attempt to avoid getting wet, your feet sinking into the mossy bank shielding Emily’s home from view, jumping down onto the muddy lawn, dark water splashing onto your calves. You raced to her front door, shaking your shirt as you stepped inside. She was waiting with a towel, which she draped over your shoulders, pecking a maternal kiss to the rain-slick crown of your head.
No sooner had you settled at the table that the frantic voices were heard beyond the walls of Emily’s kitchen, shouting over the rolling thunder. A dish dropped into the sudsy water of the sink as Emily sprinted to the door, her hand fluttering to her mouth to conceal the gaping shock that now adorned her lips. Your heart dropped into the acid your stomach had been storing, boiling your organ until your pulse had to actively fight to be heard over the panic in your mind. You leapt from the table, but Emily’s hand held you back, pressing against your abdomen firmly, her eyes wide on yours.
“Y/n, I need you to stay back, give them room. Stay away from the door,” she commanded you, her voice soft and stern like that of a mother, though the lilt carried in her words betrayed her terror. You struggled against her hand, rushing to the door in time to watch three faceless boys carry another on their shoulders, with Sam in the lead. You mind was alight with a single word of denial, repeated over and over again, bloating to flood your brain entirely until you could think of nothing else. No. Sam ran to hold the door, shouting for Emily to dial Doctor Cullen’s number from the kitchen before moving to secure both of your shoulders in his hands. His body blocked the scene beyond the door from view, but his figure could not silence the shrieks of pain that erupted from the boy’s mouth. Sam’s voice was loud in your ears as he walked you away from the door, Emily’s voice a quiet but strained cry in the background as she spluttered details you could not decipher into her phone.
“Y/n, look at me,” Sam advised, his brow furrowed, his gaze demanding. You cringed with the next peal of agony, closer now. Your eyes flitted to the door, but Sam’s hand held your chin in place, locking your gaze on his. “Look at me. I need you to listen to me carefully now, alright? Seth got hurt. Carlisle’s on his way. I need you to- Y/n!” You struggled free of his grasp, worming your way towards the door, Seth’s name on your lips. The boys hauled him into the kitchen, his arm and legs dangling unnaturally over their shoulders, his face twisted in unthinkable pain. You screamed wordlessly, fighting against Sam’s hold, his hands pinning yours behind your back. Jacob, Jared, and Paul set Seth onto Emily’s kitchen table, his body too long for the expanse of wood, the hand of his one good limb clutching to his right shoulder. Quil let the door slam behind him before rushing to take Jacob’s place by Seth’s side, the former werewolf approaching you, his hands on your shoulders.
“He’s going to be okay, Y/n, trust us. He got grabbed at a wrong angle. It happened to me, and I’m fine. He’s going to be-” Jacob’s words were cut-off by another ear-splitting cry coming from the table. You squirmed against Sam’s hold, barely noticing the look Jacob shot his former leader as his grip loosened enough to free you from his grasp. You rushed to the table, your hands fluttering over Seth’s body, unable to find a plot of skin that did not look ready to burst with the edges of broken bones. He choked, spluttering your name. You wound around the table until you reached his head, his eyes rolling in their sockets before somehow, miraculously, focusing on your face. He whispered your name, his voice weakened and hoarse from screaming, his face drenched in raindrops and shining with sweat. He lifted his hand, reaching outwards to you, your own hand holding tight to his palm. His fingers curled around your hand weakly, his eyes closing and opening slowly, as if even the simple action of blinking was labourious.
“Y/n,” he spluttered, his voice like gravel, almost impossible to hear over the thunder outside. Emily gave a warning of the minutes until Carlisle’s arrival, but you could focus on nothing but Seth’s face, his eyes swimming with tears. Despite his obvious pain, he managed to crack the ghost of a grin across his lips. “I got him. Told you… I would.” With those words, his eyes closed, his eyes rolling from behind his lids. Your breathing was ragged as the wolves cleared the kitchen for the doctor’s supplies, shouting order to call the other pack members, filling them in as they arrived: first Embry, then Colin, and finally Brady. Moments after Brady had stepped through the door, the atmosphere in the kitchen shifted. A frigid hand ushered yours from Seth’s, moving his working limb to cross his bare chest. You stared up into the golden eyes of Carlisle Cullen, who assured you that he would tend to Seth. With one telling glance at Jacob, you were escorted from the house, too far away to hear the sound of breaking bones, but close enough to listen to Seth’s screaming.
When you returned, Seth was asleep on Emily’s bed, his body bandaged and cast in plaster, his hand hanging limply over the edge of the bed, waiting for yours. When he finally woke from his morphine-induced slumber, you gave him no time to adjust. You fired your questions at him as soon as you saw the sparkle in his irises: how could he have been so reckless? How badly was he hurt? Why did he go? He smiled, rubbing his thumb over the backside of your palm, his words slurred by the amount of painkillers in his system, but clear enough for you to understand.
“Had to make sure you were safe. He came after you. I’m involved when you are.” You pressed your lips to his hand, watching his smile grow through the salted haze of your tears. “And I love you. There’s that too.”
Characters: Carlisle x reader, other characters in background
Warnings: Mentions of fighting and death, angsty
Summary: You see something which makes you leave your family.
Later, you would be grateful that you were
alone when the vision hit.
You were already on your way to the room
you and Carlisle shared when you felt it coming. If you still had a heartbeat,
you would have compared it to blood rushing to your head. The floor seemed to
shudder beneath you. Your eyes wouldn’t focus.
It took all your concentration to make it
into the room and lock the door behind you before you collapsed onto the bed.
When you could see again, you were on the
mountain above the field where you and your family played baseball. Everything
was quiet, like it always was in your visions. There was snow on the ground- so
it would be a few weeks at least before whatever you were seeing came to pass.