“You’re doing so good.” Alice praises to you, holding onto you as your eyes roll back. She keeps her legs over yours so you can’t close them as Jasper pushes the rest of himself into you. “Almost there, just- hold on.” Jasper say, closing his eyes and taking in a breath he knew he didn’t need. But he needed to compose himself or else he could risk hurting you. “It’s alright, Jas, you won’t hurt her.” Alice says as she takes her attention off of you for a moment to look at Jasper. With those words, he pushes himself into you completely without any warning. He watched you cry out and arch your back, clinging onto Alice’s arm for support. For a moment he thought he hurt you, until he felt the pure bliss you were in.
For Kinktober: anything with Jasper Whitlock, but preferably size kink (short reader), voice kink, hand kink, and some on top of the clothes action / sex in the clothes. Choose all of it or one, I don't care, just having a brainrot about him: my ovaries explode every time I see this gif
(A/n: Kinktober Day 6/15! I wanted to keep all of this year's kinktober fics below 2.5k, but this one got away from me ;v;)
Word Count: 3,842
Summary- Well, you HAVE to take on his challenge -I mean, experiment. It's only the responisble thing to do as his study partner.
Warnings: Strip game, Fingering, PIV, Creampie, Cocky! Jasper, Not proofread
Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI
Jasper Whitlock x Fem! Reader: Study Buddy
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"Did you know that predators have front-facing eyes, but prey normally have eyes on the side of their faces?" You ask Jasper as you scan your textbook. He had agreed to help you study for an upcoming test. "It's because the prey has to be able to look out for danger."
Not only is evolutionary bio not your strongest subject, but your professor is an asshat so you really can't afford to fail this test.
"I did," he mumbles as he highlights a section that he thinks you should go through again. "Did you know that when two animals make eye contact, the first to look away is the submissive?" Jasper asks back.
"That's gotta be BS, right? What if one just doesn't want to look at the other's ugly mug?" Your retort is weak, but your tone has the confidence of a straight, cis, white man who's telling you what your own name means.
Jasper lets out a small, huffed laugh and finally looks up at you, warm gold meeting e/c. "I don't think animals think that way, darlin'."
"Are you an animal whisperer?" You snark, crossing your arms with a cocked eyebrow.
"Do you really think it's not real?" He gets back on topic. When you shake your head, he turns his chair towards you before doing the same to your own so you both face each other. "Really? Then, let's test that theory, hm? You seem pretty confident in yourself, so what's the harm?"
"I seem pretty confident because I am pretty confident." You mark your place and shut the textbook.
He chuckles with a small shake of the head. Leaning back in his chair with one arm thrown over the back, Jasper says, "Let's play a game."
"We're supposed to be studyin-" "It's a science experiment."
When you fall back against your seat, he continues. "We'll make eye contact, we'll stare at each other, and the first to look away loses. And if you lose..." he smirks a little, "you lose a piece of clothing. Best out of five wins."
You chew on your lip as you mull it over. You're confident that you can keep eye contact. And the submissive thing is bullshit, anyway, so it's not like your pride will take a hit. "So, strip poker but with a staring contest?" He nods.
"Exactly."
"...okay."
You meet Jasper's warm golden gaze, determination etched on your face. There's no way you're going to lose this little game of his.
"I know what's going to happen. You're going to give in; you can't take the pressure." You ignore him, zeroing on a small fleck of dark gold in his eyes to ground your thoughts.
As the seconds tick by, you resist the urge to look away, focused solely on holding Jasper's stare. His voice, low and smooth, sends shivers down your spine. "That's a good girl, keeping those pretty eyes on me."
Your breath catches at the sudden praise, your lips parting in a small, silent gasp. You won't let him distract you that easily, though. You're in it to win it.
Jasper's long, slender fingers drum lightly against his jean-clad thigh, drawing your gaze for just a moment before you force yourself to look back into his eyes. His lips curve into a knowing smirk.
It takes you a second to realize. "...fuck!"
"That's my round, darlin'." He goads.
With a small grumble and more force than necessary, you all but rip your socks off and throw them at his head. He catches them before they even get close. You're less coordinated in your attempt to dodge them, and all you can do is grumble more when they hit you square in the middle of your face.
"Stop looking so smug - there's still plenty of time for me to whoop your ass." You can't decide if you want to wipe that dumb-ass, unfairly charming smirk off his equally handsome face or if you want to pull him in and kiss him silly. Probably both... Yeah, both is good.
Jasper's eyes gleam with amusement as he watches your continued huffing and puffing. He leans back in his chair, his fingers still tapping against his leg.
"Don't be so sour, darlin'," he grins, his voice low and velvety smooth. "The game's just getting started."
You narrow your eyes at him, determined not to let his distracting voice and looks throw you off this time. "Just shut up and start the next round, Whitlock."
He chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he holds your gaze. The air crackles with tension as you both refuse to back down, each daring the other to be the first to look away.
The seconds tick by, the only sound the quiet rhythm of your breathing. You can feel the weight of Jasper's stare, intense and captivating, drawing you in. Your pulse quickens, palms growing sweaty, but you refuse to lose again.
Just when you think you might actually win this round, Jasper's lips curve into a slow, predatory smile. "You know you want to look away. You want to give in, to submit; it's in your DNA. C'mon... Just look away, prove what we both already know: that when it comes down to it, you'd do nothing but roll over and show your belly..."
You roll your eyes in a subconscious attempt to ignore how his words, no matter how much they were shit talking, made your heart leap into your throat. With a triumphant smirk, Jasper declares, "My round again."
"That's not fair! You shouldn't be able to annoy me into losing!" You lie through your teeth about the true effect he's having on you.
Barking out a laugh, he says, "The only rule was that we can't look away. We never decided talking or touching were off limits. You lost fair and square, sugar, so lose an item."
"But-" "Three seconds before i decide which one," he interrupts with a cheeky grin. "and you might not like what I choose... Three. Two-" You let out a frustrated groan, quickly removing your shirt and tossing it to the side. His laughter only serves to further stoke the flames of your competitive spirit. "There we go! Good girl."
"I thought we're supposed to be studying." You try to feign nonchalance as you sit there, bra exposed and with only three items left. Technically, you're tied in terms of clothing remaining, but it's also not lost on you that it's currently 0-2 in Jasper's favor.
"We are studying; this is a science experiment, remember? Unless you're ready to admit that you're wrong AND that you're submissive. That would be quite the win on my end." Well, shit. Now you can't back out. You'll be damned if you let him have something to hang over your head.
"Just you wait, Whitlock," you snap, trying to regain your focus for the next round. "I'm just getting warmed up."
You narrow your eyes at Jasper, determined not to let him fluster you again. The stakes are higher now, but you've got this.
Taking a deep breath, you meet his gaze once again. The tension in the air is palpable as you both refuse to back down.
Jasper's lips curl into a challenging smirk, his long fingers still tapping a steady rhythm against his thigh. You force yourself to focus solely on his eyes, blocking out everything else.
Seconds turn to minutes as you hold his stare, your heartbeat thundering in your ears but you refuse to waver.
Just when you think you're finding a groove and might stand a chance at winning, Jasper leans forward, his voice low and sultry. "You're doing so well, darlin'. But I can see it in your eyes - you're starting to crack."
A shiver runs down your spine at his words, but you grit your teeth and push on. You will not lose this round, no matter what underhanded tactics he tries.
The room fills with an intensity that almost makes it hard to breath as you continue your silent battle of wills. Jasper's gaze is unwavering, a predatory gleam in his eyes that makes your breath catch and waver.
Jasper's hand suddenly moves, his fingers slowly inching up your thigh. Your eyes widen and your pulse quickens but you refuse to look away.
"Good girl," Jasper acknowledges, his cool touch burning through the fabric of your jeans. "Just keep your eyes on me."
His fingers continue their slow, tantalizing trek up your thigh, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. His gaze is electric, drawing you in despite your best efforts to maintain composure. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, but you refuse to break eye contact, stubbornly holding his molten stare.
"Jasper…" you breathe, unable to keep the quiver out of your voice. His lips curve into a knowing smile, fingers inching higher.
"That's it, darlin'," his voice is low and velvety smooth. "Just focus on me. Don't look away. It should be easy for you, right? You're a strong, dominant girl, after all."
The temptation to give in, to let your eyes slip shut, is nearly overwhelming. But you dig deep, summoning every ounce of willpower to maintain the intense eye contact.
Jasper's hand reaches the waist of your jeans, his fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin just above. Your pulse quickens and a shiver runs down your spine.
"J-Jasper…" you stammer, grip tightening on the arms of your chair.
His eyes shine with a predatory gleam as he watches you. "C'mon, sugar. Just a little bit longer… You can do it. Keep those pretty eyes on me.
"Or you can look away, let me take these pants off." he adds with a self-satisfied smirk.
You know you're teetering on the edge, your resolve rapidly crumbling under the onslaught of his touch and his words.
The seconds stretch on, the tension in the room palpable. Jasper's fingers continue their torturously slow ascent, and you find yourself struggling to keep your focus on his eyes.
His fingers dance along the underwire of your bra, "And after that, I'll pull those panties off of you with my teeth; maybe dive right in and see if that pussy tastes as good as I think it does." Your eyes flutter shut as a white-hot spike of arousal shoots straight to your core. He pulls his hand away and when you reopen your eyes, you see a triumphant grin has spread across Jasper's face. "That's my girl." Your eyes widen as you realize - you've lost. Again.
"You've got two chances left. Still think you're going to win?" Jasper asks. "I'm sure you can do it. Right? You can turn it around. Round 4."
As you settle in for yet another round, he gets in another jab. "You're gonna break. You're going to and it's going to be really fast."
His hand returns to your thigh; this time it only takes a second for him to reach the hem of your panties, his fingers dancing along the elastic. You swallow harshly, but keep his gaze. "You're not even trying to fight it; you're just letting me touch you."
"You're gonna keep looking me in the eyes when I move your panties to the side and slide my fingers in, aren't you?" Your breath hitches. "No, don't lose yet. Come on, look at me. Don't look away, I don't want you to look away." It's hard to fight against the urge to hide your face but you manage. You can feel how hot your cheeks are, and you can only imagine the expression on your face.
"Good girl," Jasper murmurs. "Don't look away. Don't you dare look away." You start to squirm a little, clenching your thighs desperate for some friction. "Why are you turned on?" He teases, his fingers still threatening to dip under the thin fabric. "Is it because you're submissive and you like losing? There's fight and flight, but you... you freeze. And you're gonna let me take what I want."
He finally tugs your panties aside and dips two fingers into you. your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you try to focus. You're so wet you swear you can feel it dripping down towards your ass. Fuck this is embarrassing but you realize you'd rather die than stop now; you want this. You want to just let go and let him take and take and take.
You crave his touch, crave to be used by him.
Jasper's fingers crook up into a spot that has stars dancing in your vision. Somehow you manage to just barely keep your eyes on him.
"C'mon, don't lose. I only have three pieces of clothing; you can still win this..." he taunts. "Don't look away, don't look away. Don't look away. Don't lose. Come on, look at me in my eyes. Good girl- don't look away."
"There it is..." He muses, pressing his fingers into your g spot as your back arches away from your chair and a debauched moan rips from your throat. "You lose again, darlin'." He brings his hand up to his mouth to clean your arousal off his fingers.
You let out a frustrated whine, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Jasper's smug grin only infuriates you further - he's clearly enjoying this power he has over you.
"That's not fair," you pant, your body still tingling from his touch. "You're cheating."
Jasper chuckles, leaning back in his chair as he examines you hungrily. "Darlin', I don't need to cheat to make you submit to me. You want this just as badly as I do. Like I said earlier- we never agreed 'no touching'."
You can only glare half-heartedly at him, knowing he's right.
"Hey," Jasper ducks his head to catch your eyes as you look at the ground to avoid his gaze. "You got one more. It's the last round. You're still in this; you can still win. You've got to get at least one piece from me. you can't lose every time - that would just be pathetic..." You go to smack his arm, but he avoids it.
With a resigned and frustrated sigh, you unhook your bra and let it fall to the floor. "Let's get this over with already." you grumble. you want this to end partly to stop the embarrassment of losing this badly, but mainly because the sooner this is over, the sooner you can fuck him.
As the final round starts, Jasper reaches up to grab your chin, tilting your head up to barely brush his lips against yours. His eyes never leave yours as he asks, "Why don't you just look away on purpose so I can take these off and fuck you?"
His other hand reaches down to press his thumb against your clit, causing your eyes to shut as you let loose a shaky moan. "Oh- you lost..." The grin he gives you can only be described as devilish.
Faster than you can process, he is picking you up by the thighs and setting you on the table.
True to his word, he drops to his knees between your legs and. after pressing a few possessive kisses along your belly and the apex of your thighs, he takes your panties between his teeth and starts to slide them off of you.
You shudder with anticipation as Jasper's cool breath ghosts over your most intimate area. With painstaking slowness, he tugs your panties down, revealing your glistening cunt. His eyes never leave yours, molten gold boring into your very soul.
A playful smirk graces his perfect lips as he tosses the flimsy fabric aside. Calloused hands caress the soft skin of your inner thighs, urging them to part further. You comply willingly, heart racing in excitement.
Jasper hums appreciatively, drinking in the sight of your exposed cunt. Leaning in, he trails feather-light kisses along your dripping folds, teasing you mercilessly. Just when you think you can't take the anticipation any longer, his talented tongue darts out, parting your swollen lips and delving deep.
An involuntary moan escapes your lips as pleasure courses through you. Jasper sets an agonizingly slow pace, savoring every twitch and tremble of your body. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he explores every inch of your most sensitive area. "Fuck, I knew you'd taste amazing..." His low groan vibrates against you and forces another small gasp to leave you.
Jasper's skilled tongue continues its agonizingly slow exploration, eliciting more breathless sighs and whimpers from you. His grip on your hips tightens as he senses your growing desperation for release.
With a low growl, he suddenly picks up the pace, licking and sucking with purpose. Your back arches as the coil of pleasure tightens, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
Just as you feel the first tremors of your impending climax, Jasper pulls away, leaving you panting and aching. He gazes up at you with hooded eyes, a smug expression on his face.
"Not yet, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice dripping with dark promise. "I have other plans for you."
Jasper's hands grip your hips firmly as he effortlessly maneuvers your body, guiding you to bend over the sturdy table. A gasp escapes your lips at the sudden change in position.
With your upper body pressed against the cool surface, you feel impossibly exposed and vulnerable. The long-forgotten books and scattered papers crinkle under your weight as Jasper's powerful frame looms over you, his presence radiating a primal dominance.
A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers trail along your spine, eliciting goosebumps in their wake. Leaning in close, he places a series of searing kisses along the back of your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin before pulling back and undressing.
Trembling with anticipation, you arch your back, silently begging for more of his touch. Jasper growls low in his throat, the primal sound sending a shiver down your spine. His large palms slide up your sides, calloused fingers caressing the curve of your waist.
You whimper, desperate for him to finally fuck you.
Jasper chuckles, the deep rumble of his voice sending sparks of desire through your body. "So impatient," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't worry, sugar, I'm just getting started."
Jasper's grip on your hips tightens as he slowly, teasingly, presses his body against yours. You can feel the hard lines of his muscles and you ache to have him inside you. His hands slide up your sides, caressing and exploring your body.
Finally, after what feels like ages, he lines his cock up with your sopping pussy and starts to press in.
You gasp, arching your back as the head of his cock teases your entrance. "Jasper!" You moan, shuddering with anticipation.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he slides into you, inch by delicious inch. You feel every millimeter of his legnth as he fills you up, stretching and claiming you. His grip on your hips tightens, and you can feel the way his forearms bulging as he struggles to maintain control.
"Fuck," he growls, finally bottoming out inside you. He holds still for a moment, his lips pressing against your neck as he regains his breath.
Then, without warning, he begins to move, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in with a force that takes your breath away. Over and over, he thrusts into you, his hips slapping against yours in a rhythm that is both primal and possessive.
You drop your head to the table, letting out a long, keening cry as you feel his cock hit your sweet spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "Jasper!" You cry out, your voice echoing in the room.
His hands move to your breasts, tweaking and pinching your nipples as he fucks into you harder and faster. You can feel the heat building between your legs, the sensation growing more intense with each passing moment.
"I knew you were a submissive little thing," he says between grunts. "We could've gotten here a lot quicker if you had just dropped the act earlier, darlin'." You can feel his shit eating grin against your shoulder.
"Really?" you gasp out, body sliding against the table with each thrust. "You want to argue about that now?"
His chuckle is low in your ear. "Just making a point, sugar." Jasper presses a kiss to the space just behind your ear before leaning back and fucking into you harder.
The rough wood of the table bites into your shoulders, but you don't care. All that matters is the feeling of him inside you, claiming you.
"Jasper," you moan, your voice filled with pleasure and desperation. "I need… I need you to cum inside me." You beg, your back arching impossibly more as he reaches around to toy with your clit.
He picks up the pace even more, slamming into you over and over again. "Almost there, doll," he says, his voice rough with lust. "Just wait for it."
You clench around him, trying to draw him deeper inside you. The sensation is almost too much to bear, but you're so, so close.
You feel your body tense and then release in a wave of pure pleasure. Your muscles clench around Jasper's cock, milking him as you experience your orgasm. A loud moan escapes your lips, and your hips buck against the table unconsciously. Sweat beads on your forehead, and your skin feels flushed with heat.
As your climax subsides, you feel a cool rush between your legs. Jasper's release. He groans deeply, his body shuddering against yours.
After a minute of him staying plastered to your back, keeping you bent over the table, you feel him slowly pull out of you, and you can't help but whimper in disappointment.
"Don't give me any of that, doll," Jasper gently chides. He scoops you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest. You wrap your legs around him, holding onto him tightly. The chill of his skin against your heated sex is comforting, soothing the ache.
He carries you to the couch, setting you down gently before standing up and pulling his boxers on and heading into the kitchen. While he's gone, you take the opportunity to catch your breath and compose yourself. When he returns, he has a damp cloth. He gently cleans between them, his touch soft and careful as he wipes up the remnants of your tryst. Neither of you speak as he cares for you, reveling in the comfortable silence that blankets the both of you.
Once your cleaned up, he helps you redress; he helps you pull your panties back on along with his shirt. He scoops you up into his arms again as he lays on the couch. As you curl against him once more, he kisses the top of your head. "There's my good girl," he whispers. "I've got you."
a little jasper hale x reader blurb before I go to bed :)
12:38 AM the clock reads, as it sits slightly illuminating my nightstand. A yawn creeps up my throat but I push it back down. No, I’m not tired yet. Not yet…but that reminds me.
“Does it ever get annoying? Y‘know, not sleeping.” I ask while tilting my head up towards him a bit, not too much so I can still rest it on his shoulder comfortably.
Jasper shakes his head, “No, actually quite the opposite. All the commotion during the day stops at night, for eight hours of peace.” His golden eyes peer down at me, a smile fighting its way onto his face. “Plus, eight uninterrupted hours with you, doll.”
I roll my eyes, though I know he can feel that I’m not really annoyed. Flattered really.
“Doesn’t really count, does it? I mean, I'm asleep so it's not like we’re chatting up a storm at night.”
He chuckles slightly, shaking his head, “No, but I’m still here with you, right? Counts in my book.” The arm he has wrapped around me begins to rub small circles in my waist. Not sleeping, not yet. “But it's rather enjoyable for me too, other than being in your presence, of course. I can feel everything you’re feeling, all your emotions while you’re experiencing a dream. It’s quite soothing, almost like I'm resting right with you.”
The murmur of the tv in front of us is all that fills the room for a moment as his words sink in, but then he continues.
“I miss dreams. Used to love having them, all the different places they could take you. Some good, some bad. Some soothing, some exciting. It was always a surprise, something new. I don't have that escape anymore.” My arm tightens around him as I listen, feelings of sadness seep out. He notices, like always.
“Don’t be sad for me, sugar. See, even though I miss all that, it's okay. I have a new escape now, you. When I lay here with you each night, and feel what you’re feeling, that’s my escape. Being with you is an escape from everything, all the danger that surrounds us suddenly disappears when I see you. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”
My smile grows impossibly bigger, “I love you so much, Jasper.”
He laughs, that smooth sound I love so much. “I love you too, honey.” I watch as his arm leaves me for a second to grab the blanket beside us, dragging it over our bodies. “Now sleep, I know you’re tired.”
The drawl of his voice slowly lured me towards sleep much faster than I had realized. My eyelids are threatening to close for good, but I choose not to fight them.
Fine. We will continue this conversation tomorrow, after I sleep of course.
*Trigger warning* mentions of eating disorders, purging, misunderstanding of mental health struggles, being followed, invasion of privacy, emotional manipulation, suspicion, secrecy, supernatural themes, mild angst, tension
Forks High School had never been good at keeping secrets, mostly because there were too few people inside it and too much rain outside it, so gossip had a way of growing in the damp, spreading through hallways and cafeteria tables and parking lot clusters until everyone knew who had broken up, who had failed biology, who had cried in the bathroom after third period, who had gotten too drunk at someone’s house in Port Angeles and blamed it on bad pizza.
And yet, somehow, you had made yourself impossible to know.
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.
And for the first time, he suspected you had wanted him to know.
Requests are open, but for anything I write for but Riverdale, I’m not feeling much inspo for that right now! <3 Have a nice day/night
Jasper Hale x Fem!Human!Reader
Word count: 3238
Warnings: SMUT!!
Y/N: Your Name
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The rain was soft and persistently drumming against the windowpane, which made my bedroom feel less like a room and more like a cocoon. Mama and Daddy had taken the truck up to Port Angeles for the weekend, some antique auction Daddy swore would be “worth the drive, sugar,” and I had the house to myself since Friday afternoon. Three days of quiet. Well, mostly quiet.
Jasper’s leaning against the doorframe of my bedroom, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with that unhurried, knowing expression he wore like a second skin. He came through the window twenty minutes ago, the same way he always did when my parents weren’t home: silent, graceful, smelling of pine, rain, and something cold that clung to his skin no matter the season. I was sprawled across my bed, homework abandoned in a heap on the floor, my old quilt bunched up under my elbows. The lamp on my nightstand cast everything in a warm glow, painting shadows across his sharp cheekbones and the hard line of his jaw. And I was staring, couldn’t help it.
He was wearing that grey Henley with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and the way the fabric pulled across his shoulders did things to my concentration that should’ve been illegal. His hair was tousled from the wind outside, a few honey-blond strands falling across his forehead, and his eyes, that liquid gold that shifted in low light, were fixed on me with an intensity that made my pulse flutter at the base of my throat. I bit my bottom lip. Jasper’s smile tugged crookedly.
“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” He drawled, his accent curling around the words slower than usual, deliberate and warm like molasses.
“and I’m gonna start thinkin’ you want somethin’.” The way he said it, low, teasing, edged with something darker underneath, sent a shiver down my spine that had absolutely nothing to do with the chill coming through the open window.
I should’ve blushed. Maybe ducked my head and laughed it off the way a proper Southern girl might’ve. But we’ve been doing this dance for a year now, Jasper and me, and I learned a thing or two about what happened when I stopped pretending I didn’t know exactly what I was asking for. So I lifted my chin and met his gaze straight on.
“Maybe I do.”
The words hung in the air between us, soft but steady. Jasper’s expression changed instantly. The amusement didn’t vanish, it sharpened. His smile faded into something leaner, hungrier, and his posture shifted by degrees: shoulders squaring, hands uncrossing, finger curling loose at his sides. The air in the room thickened, pressing against my skin, and I felt the weight of his attention like a physical thing. He didn’t move from the doorway, but suddenly he seemed closer.
“Careful now, sweetheart.” His voice dropped, rougher than before, the Texas in his accent bleeding through stronger.
“Don’t tease unless you’re ready for me to do somethin’ about it.”
My heart kicked hard against my ribs. The old floorboards creaked as I sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I was wearing cutoff shorts and one of his shirts, a faded flannel he left behind weeks ago that I claimed and never gave back. It hung loose off one shoulder, and his gaze tracked the exposed skin like a physical touch.
“Who says I’m teasin’?” I asked, and my voice came out steadier than I felt.
“You’ve been standin’ in that doorway for five minutes, Jasper Hale, lookin’ at me like you’re fixin’ to devour me whole. So quit actin’ like I’m the only one who wants somethin’.”
A sound rumbled low in his chest, not quite a laugh. Then he moved. One moment, he was across the room, the next he was in front of me, close enough that I could feel the cold radiating off his skin, smell the rain still clinging to his hair. His hands settled on either side of my hips on the mattress, caging me in, and he leaned down until his lips hovered just above my ear.
“Been wantin’ you since I walked through that window.” He murmured, each word a brush of cool breath against my skin.
“Can feel it comin’ off you, too. That heat. That ache.” His nose traced the curve of my jaw, feather-light.
“You think I can’t taste it in the air, darlin’? Every time your heart skips, every time you bite that pretty lip of yours, I know.”
My hands came up without thinking, fisting the front of his Henley, and the fabric was cold and damp beneath my fingers.
“Then do somethin’ about it.” I whispered.
He kissed me. Not gently, not tentative. Jasper kissed like he’s been holding himself back for hours, days, maybe longer, and the restraint had finally snapped. His mouth covered mine hard, his cool lips parting, and when his tongue swept against my bottom lip I made a sound I didn’t recognize. My fingers twisted tighter in his shirt. His hand slid up my spine, palm flat and cold through the flannel, pressing me closer until my chest was flush against his. The shock of temperature, his body cool through the fabric, mine burning, drew a gasp from my throat that he swallowed whole. He pulled back just enough to drag the flannel off my shoulder, baring skin, and his mouth followed the newly exposed path. Lips trailing down my neck. Tongue tracing my collarbone. Teeth grazing the curve where my shoulder met my throat, not hard enough to hurt but enough to draw another sharp, desperate sound.
“Jasper-”
“Shh.” His breath fanned cool against the damp spot his mouth had left.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
His hands found the hem of the shirt and pulled. I lifted my arms, let him strip it over my head, and the air hit my bare skin in a rush. I wasn’t wearing a bra. His gaze dropped, and the sound he made was somewhere between a groan and a growl.
“God, Y/N.”
He lowered me back onto the quilt slowly, deliberately, like he was savoring every inch of the journey. The old fabric was soft and worn beneath my back. Jasper braced himself above me, one hand beside my head, the other tracing down my sternum with excruciating gentleness. His fingers circled my left breast, and when his thumb brushed my nipple, I arched off the mattress.
“So responsive.” The words were barely audible, more breath than sound, and his eyes had gone dark, the gold swallowed up by something deeper.
“Been dreamin’ about havin’ you like this. Spread out under me. Just us. No one comin’ home for hours.”
He bent his head and took my nipple into his mouth. Cold. Hot. The contrast was dizzying, his tongue working slow circles while his hand slid lower, palm skimming my stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of my cutoff. I bucked against him, and he hummed against my breast, the vibration shooting straight down between my legs. He moved to the other side, giving it the same unhurried attention, and my fingers tangled in his thick, silk hair, catching on the ends that curled slightly from the damp.
“Please…” I heard myself say.
Jasper lifted his head. “Please what, darlin’?”
“Touch me.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, lazy and wicked. “I am touchin’ you.”
“You know what I mean.”
His hand slid fully into my shorts, fingers pressing against me through the thin cotton of my underwear. I was soaked through, had been since the moment he stepped through the window, and the pressure of his touch made my hips roll automatically, seeking more friction.
“This what you wanted?” He asked, voice rough as gravel, and his fingers traced the outline of me through the fabric with agonizing precision.
“Been standin’ in that doorway thinkin’ about how wet you’d be for me. How warm. How soft.”
I couldn’t form words anymore. My head pressed back into the quilt, my breath coming in short, ragged pulls, and he hadn’t even… His fingers hooked the waistband of my underwear and tugged. I lifted my hips, letting him peel them down my legs alongside my shorts, and then I was bare beneath him, nothing but the quilt, the lamplight, and his body hovering over mine. He sat back on his heels, still fully clothed, and looked at me. Just… looked. The way he stared made my skin prickle, made my thighs twitch with the urge to close, but his hands caught my knees and held them apart.
“Don’t.” He said, and it wasn’t a request. “I wanna see you.”
His thumb traced the inside of my thigh, slow and deliberate, and when his gaze met mine again, it was almost reverent.
“Beautiful…” He murmured. “So damn beautiful, Y/N.”
Then his thumb slid higher, found my clit, and pressed. The sound I made wasn’t polite. Wasn’t ladylike. It was raw and broken and his name all tangled together, and Jasper’s smile sharpened into something predatory.
“Let me hear you, sweetheart. Just like that.” He breathed.
His thumb circled, slow and steady, and I was already trembling, already wound so tight from all the anticipation that even that small touch felt like too much and not enough all at once. He watched my face, reading every reaction, every flutter of my lashes, every gasp. He knew exactly what he was doing. He always did. A finger pressed inside me, then two, curling upward, and my vision went white at the edges.
“Look at you.” His voice was strained now, the control he wore like armor starting to crack.
“So warm. So tight around my fingers. You have no idea what you do to me.”
My hips moved against his hand, desperate and unashamed, chasing the pressure building low in my belly. His thumb kept circling, and his fingers kept stroking that spot inside me that made my whole body clench, and I was right there, right on the edge…
He stopped.
I made a noise of pure frustration, my eyes flying open. Jasper was looking down at me with an expression that made my breath catch.
“Not yet.” He said, and his voice was dark as thunder.
“When you come for me, darlin’, I wanna be inside you.”
He pulled his shirt over his head, and I watched the muscles in his stomach flex, watched the lamplight trace the hard planes of his chest, his arms, the trail of pale hair that disappeared beneath his jeans. His hand found the button of his jeans, and he paused.
“Tell me you want this.”
“I want this.” I said, and the words came fast and sure. “I want you. Jasper, please…”
He lowered himself over me, skin to skin, and the shock of his cool body against my flushed one made us both groan. His forehead pressed to mine, and for a moment, we just breathed together. Then he shifted, and I felt him, hard and ready, pressing against my entrance.
“Hold on to me.” He whispered.
My arms wrapped around his shoulders. He pushed inside, slow and deep, filling me inch by inch until there was nothing left between us, no space, no air, just Jasper and the stretch and the perfect, aching fullness of him. He stayed buried inside me, his weight braced on his forearms, and I could feel every inch of him. The cool, smooth, and stretching me in a way that blurred the line between pleasure and ache. My body was still adjusting, still fluttering around him in small, involuntary pulses that made his jaw tighten, and his breath come shallower.
Jasper’s forehead pressed to mine. His eyes were closed. I’ve never seen him like this. Usually, he was so controlled, so deliberate, every movement calculated like he was solving a puzzle only he could see. But right now his shoulders were trembling under my palms, and the muscles in his back were corded tight beneath my fingers, and his lips were parted just enough that I could hear the faint, ragged pull of air he didn’t technically need.
“Y/N…” My name came out hoarse, broken at the edges.
“Give me a second, darlin’. Just… just a second.”
My legs were wrapped around his hips, my heels pressed into the small of his back, and every tiny shift of my body made him shudder. I could feel it, the way his restraint was fraying, the way his control was held together by threads. So I did what any sensible girl would do. I clenched around him. Deliberately. His eyes flew open, and the gold was nearly gone, swallowed by black.
“Did you just-”
“Maybe.”
The growl that rumbled through his chest vibrated straight into me. His hips jerked, pressing deeper, and the sudden movement dragged a cry from my throat that I muffled against his shoulder.
“You’re playin’ with fire, sweetheart.” His voice had dropped to something barely recognizable, rough as gravel, thick as honey, all Texas and hunger and barely leashed want.
“Thought I told you not to tease.”
“Thought you said you were gonna do somethin’ about it.” I dragged my nail down his back, and his whole body tensed.
“So do somethin’ Jazz.”
He pulled out, slow, so slow I could feel every ridge and vein dragging against my inner walls, and then he thrust back in, hard enough that the headboard knocked against the wall. I gasped. He did it again. And again. Each thrust deliberate, measured, like he was relearning the shape of me from the inside. My hands fisted in the quilt beneath me, my back arching off the mattress, and he caught my hips with one hand, holding me steady while he set a rhythm that was slow, deep, and devastating.
“You feel-” He broke off, his head dropping to the curve of my neck.
“God, Y/N. You’re so warm. So tight around me. I can feel every heartbeat. Every flutter.”
His mouth found my throat, cool lips pressing against my pulse point, and I knew he could feel it, the way my blood was racing, the way my heart was hammering against my ribs like a wild thing trying to escape. He groaned against my skin, and the vibration traveled down my spine, settled somewhere low and electric.
“Jasper, please-”
“Please what?” His hips kept moving, that relentless rhythm, and his thumb found my clit again, circling with maddening precision.
“Please faster? Please harder? Or do you want me to keep you right here, on the edge, for an hour?” The thought made my inner muscles clench violently around him. He hissed.
“Faster.” I managed, the word barely coherent. “Please, faster.”
He obliged. The headboard hammered against the wall in a steady, urgent beat, and the sound of it, the creak of the bedframe, the slap of skin against skin, my breathless cries tangled with his low groans, filled the room until there was nothing else. No rain. No wind. No world outside this bed. Just Jasper.
Just the way he moved inside me, the way his hand gripped my hip hard enough to bruise, the way his eyes stayed fixed on my face like he was memorizing every expression, every sound, every second.
“Look at you.” His voice cracked. “Falling apart on my cock. So pretty, Y/N. So goddamn pretty.”
The words did something to me. Something that made my vision tunnel, my thighs shake, and my nails dig into his shoulders as the pressure inside me coiled tighter and tighter, winding like a spring.
“I’m close.” The warning came out as a sob. “Jazz, I’m… don’t stop, please don’t stop-”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His thumb pressed harder against my clit, his thrusts turning rougher, losing their careful rhythm.
“Wanna feel you come around me. Want to feel you squeeze me so tight I can’t think. Can you do that for me, darlin’? Can you let go?” His mouth moved to my ear, his breath cold against the shell of it.
“Cum for me, Y/N. Now.” The command shattered something inside me.
My climax hit like a thunderclap, sudden, violent, and all-consuming. My back bowed off the mattress, my mouth opened on a scream I couldn’t hear, and my body clenched around him in waves that didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. Just kept rolling through me, one after another, until I was nothing but sensation, heat, and the sound of Jasper’s name breaking from my lips.
Through the haze, I felt him stiffen above me. Heard his groan, low, rough, and utterly wrecked, as my climax triggered his own. His hips drove deep, holding still, and the cool rush of his release flooded inside me, marking me, filling me.
For a long, suspended moment, we stayed like that. Locked together. Breathless. Trembling. Then Jasper collapsed, his weight settling on top of me in a way that should’ve been crushing but wasn’t, it was grounding, steadying, a cold anchor in the storm of sensation still rippling through my body. His face pressed into the hollow of my throat, and I could feel his lips moving against my skin, murmuring words I was too dazed to catch.
My fingers found his hair. Stroked through the tangled strands. Somewhere outside, the rain kept falling. I don’t know how long we lay there before he stirred. Before he lifted his head and looked at me with eyes that had softened back to gold, warm, lazy, and satisfied.
“You alright?” The drawl was back, slow and easy. One corner of his mouth curved up.
“Didn’t break you, did I?”
A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest, breathless, giddy, and completely unleadylike.
“M’not that fragile, Jasper Hale.”
“No.” His thumb traced my cheekbone, feather-light.
“No, you’re not. You’re a hell of a lot stronger than you look, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Before I could answer, he eased out of me, careful, gentle, and the sudden emptiness made me wince. Made me ache. He noticed, of course. He noticed everything. His expression flicked with something almost like guilt.
“Stay here.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
“I’ll be right back.”
He moved off the bed with that unsettling vampire grace, all lean muscle and pale skin in the lamplight, and disappeared through my bedroom door. A few seconds later, I heard the bathroom faucet run. When he returned, he was carrying a warm, damp washcloth.
I should’ve been embarrassed. A proper Southern girl would’ve blushed, stammered, and tried to do it herself. But the tenderness in his expression, the careful way he cleaned between my thighs, the reverent brush of his knuckles against my oversensitive skin, stole the breath from my lungs and the protest from my tongue. He tossed the washcloth into the hamper, then climbed back onto the bed, pulling me against his chest. He tucked the quilt around us both.
“You’re stayin’?” The question came out smaller than I meant it to.
His arms tightened around my waist. “Try makin’ me leave.”
I pressed my smile into his collarbone. The cold of his skin had stopped feeling strange months ago. Now it just felt like home.
“Besides,” He added, and I could hear the grin in his voice. “your parents ain’t back ‘til Sunday. We’ve got time.”
summary – a billiards game with the cullens is never boring, but you are not easily impressed.
warnings – southern!reader, swearing, public displays of affection (and vampirism, if you squint)
word count – 1.5k
note – love the details in this request — thank you so much, anon! i’m not from the south, nor do i know any folks from there, so apologies in advance if this feels stereotypical (it’s heavily based on media and google) or not southern enough.
───∙∘☽༓☾∘∙───
The sound of your cue stick hitting the cue ball echoes through the nearly-empty pub. You straighten up, already grinning, as the eight-ball sinks clean into the top left pocket just as you meant it to.
“Well shit, I reckon that’s the third straight win for us,” you drawl, propping your cue stick up and tucking it against your body. “Lemme know if y’all are ready to lose again.”
“That’s what I’m fucking talking about!” Emmett calls out as he swings his hulking form over the corner of the billiards table with ease. He gives you a high five with enough force that even with your vampiric strength, you fight to hold your ground.
“You’re in public, baby,” Rosalie croons. She stands next to you, a wingless angel more than a little out of place in the bar you and your family have decided to haunt for the night. “Careful with your showing off.”
“Aw c’mon, sugar,” you say, nudging the blonde. “We just beat those duds again. We can celebrate a lil bit, don’tcha think?”
Rosalie shakes her head in disbelief, muttering something about the importance of discretion. Even with her face twisted in annoyance, she’s beautiful, the type of perfection that no one can hold a candle to.
Emmett, likely thinking the same thing, comes over and picks his mate up, twirling her around in the wake of your victory. Rosalie shrieks, but she’s laughing, her smile radiant and mirroring Emmett’s own.
“Now that there’s a fuckin’ celebration,” you note, grinning and raising an imaginary glass to the happy couple.
Satisfaction must be rolling off all three of you in waves because across from you, your mate rolls his eyes.
Jasper stands with his cue stick slung across the top of his shoulders and behind his neck, his hands keeping it in place. He’s half in shadow, the dingy lamp hanging overhead casting his face into sharp edges and dark hollows.
Unlike his ‘twin sister,’ your mate looks right at home in the darkness of the pub. He’s the kind of stranger that catches someone’s eye when they’ve had too many drinks, and promises to take them home; danger clings to the air around him though and one might wonder if– no, one might hope that he doesn’t follow through.
The victory singing in your body hums more loudly; the thought that someone so alluring to others will be yours forever is a triumph in and of itself.
The high of your win dulls suddenly and you raise an eyebrow at Jasper. “Can’t just let me have my moment, can ya?’
“I know how you get when you win, darlin’,” Jasper replies, a smile playing across his lips. “Can’t have all that smugness distracting me next round.”
Beside him, Edward chuckles at the barrage of swear words bouncing around your head. “You shouldn’t antagonize her, Jasper. Now she’ll never go easy on us.”
“She never does.” Bella materializes by her mate’s side, as beautiful and graceful as the rest of you. Despite having been a vampire for many years, she still wears immortality like a novelty, humanity clinging to her softest gestures. “She never has, not even when she was supposed to be trying to win us over.”
“Y’all didn’t deserve it,” you counter. “Go easy on y’all? The legendary Olympic coven? Bless your heart.”
With a slight shake of your head, you pick up a piece of chalk and start rubbing it against the cue stick in your hand.
Emmett, always in sync with you, rightfully takes this as a sign to start setting up a new game. He and Rosalie are quick to retrieve the solid and striped balls from the pockets—perhaps too quick, though your perfect vision picks up their movements easily.
To human eyes, they must look like phantoms. Blurred, appearing in and out of focus, here one moment and there the next.
You eye the pub’s remaining patrons.
An older gentleman in the corner, his table covered in empty mugs. Two young women at the bar who can’t keep their hands—or lips—off each other, both of them reeking of marijuana and liquor. And finally, an underage boy trying, and failing, to flirt with the bartender.
All of them are seemingly oblivious to your uncanny group of immortals, or perhaps they are simply too inebriated to care about whoever is hogging the pub’s lone billiards table.
You turn your attention back to the conversation at hand. Your family members watch as you position yourself at the head of the table, varying shades of amusement written across their faces.
“C’mon,” you continue, twirling your cue stick around with ease despite it almost being your height. Your voice is mischievous, playful, when you say, “What was I s’posed to find so special ’bout y’all anyway? Bunch of vegetarian vampires, cozyin’ up to some humans, doing jackshit with their immortality.”
Edward hears your next comment before the rest of them do; he chuckles, so loud and sudden that he has to turn his head and bury the sound into Bella’s hair.
You bite your lip, holding back a giggle of your own, before continuing, “Last I checked, only one o’y’all was a doctor; the rest of ya just keep repeatin’ school.”
“That’s a ridiculous oversimplification of things, sweetheart,” Jasper cuts in before his siblings can. His mouth turns up in that crooked half-smile, the only thing about him that has ever caught you off guard. “Imagine the complications if all of us were to start practicin’ medicine in the same small town. Don’tcha reckon that’ll raise some eyebrows?”
“Would still be more useful than hangin’ ’round teenagers,” you retort, but your tone is light, unserious. This particular dispute is one you’re used to having with the Cullen family. Though always done in jest, you’re sure Carlisle’s children get one step closer to refusing to enroll in high school again every time you have the nerve to bring it up.
Emmett cackles. “Tushy or whatever it is the French say.”
“Touché, love,” Rosalie corrects, before turning to you. A raise of her eyebrow, then: “Last I checked, you married into our family anyway, so I reckon you were still somewhat impressed.”
You raise your hands in mock surrender, letting your cue stick fall against the table. “Oh honey, ya know I only married Jas so you could be my sister.”
Though Rosalie rolls her eyes, the slight curl of her lips betrays her susceptibility to flattery.
“It’s not very nice to lie, ya know.” Jasper has come up behind you, quiet and sneaky even for a vampire. His lips brush the shell of your ear as he mumbles, “I know I won you over fair and square, sweetheart.”
“I reckon you bamboozled me into it,” you say as your mate’s hands wrap around your waist and pull you to him, “with that silly lil ability o’ yours.”
“If I manipulated you into this, you’d know,” Jasper answers. You can feel him smiling against your ear, can picture the crescent-moon grin that did win you over fair and square. “You’d still be tryna fight it, I’m sure, feisty gal that you are.”
“You two gonna stop flirting so we can start the game or what?” Emmett calls out. He has one hand wrapped around Rosalie, while the other twirls a cue stick that looks more feeble than usual in his grip.
You silently hope that he doesn’t break it again and you hear Edward chuckle at the thought.
“Yeah, we’re ready to win again,” Rosalie taunts, tapping her cue stick against the billiards table in impatience.
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Bella says. She purses her lips, her focus and intention evident in the set of her brows.
Maybe this game will finally be a challenge.
“Gimme some sugar for luck,” you say, ignoring all their comments and twisting in your mate’s arms.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jasper tilts his head to catch your lips as you rise up to meet him. You kiss him, slow and deliberate, one hand finding its way into his soft, blond locks. Jasper’s mouth falls open, dragging your lips with him, breathing you in, as his hands tighten on your hips.
“The game’s supposed to start today,” Rosalie huffs.
Knowing it will make her more irritated, you kiss Jasper again, once, twice, before pulling away.
“Maybe I’ll go easy on y’all this time,” you say, grinning.
“I doubt that,” Jasper replies. The confidence you exude must be overloading his emotional ability, but even then, he mirrors your smile.
You bend over then, nudging your ass against him as you take aim and position your cue stick. You eye one of the coloured balls in the top half of the rack, more than a little distracted given Jasper has stilled, pressed against you.
Emmett whistles at the scandalous display, but the sound is cut off by the crack of your cue stick— then the cue ball against the others. The rack splits apart, sharp and quick.
The solid yellow ball in the top corner flies into the corner pocket.
summary: Jasper attempts to make a romantic dinner for his human partner, but as someone who hasn’t eaten in over 100 years, he doesn’t do a very good job. When the reader gets home and discovers the mess Jasper made, they decide to start over and cook dinner together. Or, in other words, Jasper gets a romantic, at-home cooking class brought to him by his loving partner.
a/n: Just a little something I found in the drafts. Working on quite a few fics rn, so hopefully this holds y’all over.
Jasper sighs, staring down at the mess he’s made. The pans he used are now covered with char and inedible bits of food. He hasn’t had to eat human food since he was, well, human, but even then, he was rarely the one cooking it. He thought it wouldn’t be difficult; Esme and Edward had cooked for Bella before, but clearly he didn’t have much of a talent for it. He gathered all of the dirty dishes, thinking he might be able to wash them before you got home.
As he began running the water, his head involuntarily perked up. He could smell you coming closer. He frantically scrubbed the dishes, but he knew he wouldn’t have time to finish cleaning before you walked through the door. Usually, he could make quick work of such a simple task, but these dishes might be beyond repair.
He jumped at the sound of the door handle jiggling. Ironic considering he was the dangerous one. The dim, comfortable lighting of your apartment was broken up by the sun shining through the doorway.
“Jas, is that you?” You call nervously, not expecting him to be in your house.
“Yeah, darlin’,” he calls out from the kitchen, shutting the water off. You follow the sound of his voice to find him awkwardly standing by the sink. When you left, the kitchen was spotless, but now the sink is piled with dirty dishes, most of which have burnt food on them. You don’t mind, knowing Cullen money could (and would) buy you a thousand of the best pots and pans on the market as a replacement.
“Jasper, were you…cooking?” you ask with a laugh, moving closer to him. He’s wearing a black hoodie and bootcut jeans -- an outfit that makes him appear much younger than he is (which is part of the reason you secretly love it).
“Yes,” he says, embarrassed. “Turns out I’m not very good at it. Never really had to be, y’know?” He hangs his head, staring at the floor in guilt. You notice he’s wearing the bat socks you got him as a gag gift last Halloween.
“What were you trying to make?” you ask, inspecting the black char that coats the dishes.
“Pasta,” he replies, casting a thousand-yard stare in your general direction. His voice is full of shame.
“Maybe we could make some together?” you offer. Jasper’s body relaxes. He agrees, clearly relieved about your reaction. You grab your last two clean pots from the cabinet as Jasper collects the ingredients.
“I’m sure you know the basic steps: turn on the stove, boil the water, pour in the pasta,” you say as you begin to do exactly that. Jasper nods along, passing you the pasta as it’s time to pour it in. “Do you want to start cutting those tomatoes for me?” you ask, gently placing a kiss on his cold cheek.
“Why of course,” he says, laying the southern charm on thick. Jasper gives you a small wink before cutting the tomatoes. He gets it done quickly- quicker than any human could- and pours them into the empty pan on the stove.
“Now, let me show you how to make pasta sauce,” you say, standing in front of the stove, all of the herbs and spices lined up next to it.
“First, the garlic,” you say, adding it into the pan as Jasper wraps his arms around your waist from behind. He gently rests his head on your shoulder, taking in the pleasant scent of your body spray. “You don’t mind garlic, do you?” you ask playfully.
“I ain’t that kinda vampire, sweetheart,” he replies, making you laugh. He can’t help but squeeze your waist, tightly holding onto the one thing he can’t bear to lose. You. “So, what’s next?” he hums, loosening his grip on you, but not losing his smile. He watches as you meticulously stir the sauce, mixing in the garlic. Everything you do completely enraptures him.
“Basil,” you hum, adding it in. “And oregano.” He kisses your neck softly, making sure not to get too out of hand. He always holds back in fear that he’ll accidentally hurt you, even when you promise you trust him.
“Smells good,” he whispers in your ear. His deep voice sends a chill down your spine.
“The only thing that smells good to you is blood,” you joke, trying not to let your attraction derail the night. He pouts, pretending to be offended in response, but you can tell he’s hiding a smirk.
“I’m just tryin’ to be polite,” he says defensively, lightly kissing your neck again. He can never get enough of your warm skin against his body.
“Well,” you say, getting him back on track, “now we can strain the pasta.” Jasper takes a step back, giving you space to pour the pasta into a colander over the sink. He watches in awe as you narrowly avoid getting hit by boiling water. “Grab me a bowl, Jas?” you ask, and he does exactly that. You scoop a healthy serving of pasta into the bowl. Instinctively, Jasper grabs the pot with the sauce. He pours a generous amount into the bowl.
“Perfect,” he says, kissing you on the cheek. You feel his icy skin brush against yours, and in the blink of an eye, he’s holding a forkful of pasta up to you.
“Say ah,” he jokes, moving the fork closer to your mouth. You laugh, allowing him to feed you the bite of food. He anxiously anticipates your response, worried you might hate the food he’s helped you prepare.
“Delicious,” you tell him, making him grin from ear to ear.
“Sorry I burnt it the first time,” he says bashfully.
“It’s okay,” you comfort him, “It was more fun to make it with you anyway.”
“I have to agree,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind again. “I’ll go put a movie on and we can eat on the couch.” Before you can say anything, he’s already gone. You laugh under your breath, thinking of how you’ll never get used to his superspeed.
You carefully carry the serving of pasta to the couch as he sets up the DVD player. By the time you’re in the room, he’s already sitting on the sofa with one arm outstretched. Happily, you sit next to him and he wraps his arm around your shoulder as the movie starts.
“You’ll like this one,” he whispers into your ear as the opening credits finish. You continue to eat the pasta as Jasper sits right next to you, comfortably still. The two of you could spend forever like this, with every day calm and peaceful. Learning from each other just as much as you love each other.
Pairing: Jasper Hale x human!reader (Blood Singer)
Warnings: injury, swearing, intent to kill, angst
Blood singer - Series Masterlist
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Begging was never part of her plan.
If death were to come, she’d imagined she’d face it with her chin up, spine straight, a final breath drawn with dignity.
But she never imagined Death would have eyes like molten gold and a voice that melted into her skin like a curse.
Death, she realizes now, is beautiful. Terrifyingly so.
And he’s looking at her like he’s starving.
She stumbles back, heart trashing wildly in her chest seeking a way to break through and hide from the one who seeks to stop its beat. “Don’t,” she breathes, voice cracking.
“You smell so…” A sadistic smirk spreads across his face as he appears mere inches before her at an inconceivable speed. “…divine.” He’s close enough for her to breathe him in, and he smells like the forest in spring, just after it rains.
Her blood runs cold, chin trembling. “Please,” she croaks as he presses her into the wall. Her entire body is shaking, no sign of bravery she hoped she’d muster up, because there’s no avoiding it – she will die, alone and afraid in a dark alley…Such a cliché.
He laughs, low and wicked and she flinches as sharp needles trail across the soft skin of her neck, not kissing or biting. He’s taking his time, breathing her in like a man on the verge of ruin, as a shiver runs up her spine.
“I’ve never understood it before,” he murmurs, and the accent is subtle, southern silk laced with pain. He tilts his head, eyes glazed with hunger.
Her eyes fly open as his fingers gently tilt her chin. The contact sears like ice, but she can’t pull away.
“They spoke of the way it sings,” he whispers, voice trembling with dark wonder. “Of the mouthwatering smell.”
Her lips parts. “What are you?”
The words falter. She’s looking into his eyes, those golden, haunted eyes, and for a horrifying moment, she forgets to be afraid.
He’s beautiful.
Dangerous.
Deadly.
“You need to run,” he chokes out, suddenly, his jaw clenched. His body shudders like it’s tearing itself apart. “NOW.”
With a ragged gasp, he throws himself back, away from her, as if it physically hurts to let her go.
She doesn't wait for a second warning. She bolts. Heart screaming. Lungs burning. Blood singing.
If there’s anywhere she’ll be safe now, it’s next to Chief Swan. She’s almost there, just a few more minutes and she’ll be safe. She’ll have escaped certain death.
A small smile makes its way to her lips as she speeds up. She laughs breathlesly as her hand touches the police car, breathing heavily.
But the world spins.
A blur.
A hand like iron wraps around her waist, and she’s gone.
Crying out as her back hits something solid, she falls to the ground with a grunt. Heaving, she instinctively grabs onto the left side of her ribcage. Inhaling sharply, her eyes dart around the darkness surrounding her, realizing she’s in the forest, far from the safe haven she believed she’d reach in time.
“Owh,” she grimaces, trying to pull herself up.
Turning around, she finds she’s alone. She can’t trust it. Not when she’s seen Death moves faster than her, than anything human.
She’s not alone.
She never was.
“I know you’re there,” she rasps. “Show yourself.”
He does.
Perched on a rock beneath the twisted branches, pale and perfect and fractured by guilt, he watches her. His chest rises and falls, though she knows he doesn’t need to breathe.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m trying so hard to control it, but this is…a test I’m not sure I can pass.”
Frowning, she licks her trembling bottom lip. “I don’t understand,” she huffs. The pain in her ribs is blinding, but she forces herself to stand despite the agony. “It’s not too late to walk away. I didn’t see your face properly. You can still make the right choice.”
He chuckles, a sound so otherworldly, she can’t help but wonder what this creature is. He’s certainly not human and if he were Death he’d have taken her by now.
“You did,” he says softly. “You just don’t know what you saw.”
He stands, stalking forward like a panther, every movement measured, unnatural. She backs up instinctively, but it’s useless, he reaches her in an instant, fingers ghosting over her cheek with an intimacy that ignites something she never felt before.
“You’re a drug and I’m not sure I want to resist.”
Daring to touch him, her fingers graze his icy cold jaw and she holds her breath. His hair is longer, wavy and almost down to his shoulders. It seems as golden as his eyes do, glowing faintly in the moonlight. He’s towering over her, his smile is hypnotizing. She had the good sense to run before, yet she’s studying him now.
“What are you?” she whispers
“I’m someone you never want to know. Someone you shouldn’t love.”
She blinks. Love?
Nodding, she reaches out again, cupping his cheek as he’s done to her. His skin isn’t only cold, but impossibly hard – alike stone.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“I,” He falters, eyes flickering with pain. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t I deserve to know the truth about you, then? If I’m to die…Bury me with the truth.”
Silence. And then he speaks.
“Ever heard of vampires?”
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. “You’re going to drain me dry? Is that it?”
He flinches, and it almost looks like shame. “It’s not that simple,” he sighs. “You blood…it sings to me. It’s like you were made for me. Like the song it sings is written for me alone”
“What?”
“I haven’t fed on humans in a long time,” he admits, “but you’re incredibly hard to resist.”
“Me specifically?”
“Yes,” he says through gritted teeth, his lips inching closer to her face and she struggles to maintain her composure.
“What makes me different from others?”
“I don’t know. No one does,” his nose brushes hers and he seems to be holding his breath as well. “Fate, some would say.” He forces a smile, “Bad luck, I’d say.”
Her heart aches with the knowledge that this kiss might be the last thing she ever feels, and yet she craves it. She’d choose it to be her end.
Before his lips touch upon hers, he’s gone.
She barely has time to scream before golden eyes flash in the dark. “Are you hurt?”
Instead of answering, she looks around wildly for traces of the vampire who nearly gave her the kiss of death.
“ARE YOU HURT?!” It’s a girl’s voice repeating the question.
“Yes,” she gasps, “my ribs.”
“Fuck,” the girl turns to someone Y/N can’t properly see in the dark. “She’s going to need Carlisle.”
“We can’t,” the male answers grimly.
“She already knows.”
“I don’t! What do I know?!” Y/N shrieks, panic taking over. And yet… she wasn’t scared before. Not like this. Not when he held her, so close she could feel his restraint bleeding through his every breath.
Now she feels truly hunted.
“We’ll help you, but once we do you will leave and never looks for us. Understand?”
She frowns, “You’re like him.”
Her words are ignored. “We will take you to the hospital, but once you’re cleared you will leave this town and never look back.”
“I live here!” she snaps.
The girl remarks coldly, “Not anymore.”
Shaking her head, Y/N bites her lower lip. “I know you.”
“You don’t.” The girls begins to lead her away from the scene of the crime.
“I know you,” Y/N grits out. “Chief Swan’s daughter. You married the Cullen boy.”
Tightening her hold on Y/N’s wrist, she pulls her closer and lowers her voice. “You will forget all of this and leave. You finished college, right? You went to Columbia, from what I remember. Go back to New York and stay there. Never come here again and if you hear of the name Cullen, run as far as you can.”
Trying to yank her wrist out of Bella’s hold, the grip on her wrist tightens, then cracks.
Agony explodes.
She collapses, but she feels it again. That presence. His presence. Like calm slipping into her bones.
She knows he’s here before she even sees him.
In seconds, the familiar calm settles in her chest and she knows…He’s here and he is the reason she wasn’t afraid before.
Her vision is blurry, the aftermath of pain in her wrist as well as in her ribs, but she’s certain he’s there.
Two men hold him back, Edward and Emmett, but his eyes burn only for her.
“I remember now,” she whispers, almost laughing through the pain. “Edward,” her eyes flicker to the other man, “Emmett,” before her gaze finds him. “And Jasper.”
“I’m sorry it’s come to this,” Jasper breathes. “If I had better control, if I were stronger… we could’ve been what Alice said we’d be. But now…” his voice cracks. “I don’t trust myself to stop.”
Alice steps forward, her eyes shimmering like starlight. “The future is set,” she reminds him. “For you both. It doesn’t change, even with this choice.”
Shrugging meekly, his eyes never leave Y/N. “Do it,” Jasper says, voice heavy with sorrow, and her eyes narrow in confusion. “Now.”
Edward nods, letting Alice take his place. Moving toward Y/N, Edward kneels. “I haven’t done this much,” he sighs. “I’ve only recently realized I can do it at all.”
“What?” She tries to peer over his shoulder to see Jasper better, but Edward blocks her view immediately.
“I can make you forget.”
“No.” Her voice is weak, desperate.
“You’ll forget any of this happened.”
No.
“I’ll forget any of this happened.” She repeats, unable to fight the alluring tone he’s commanding her with.
“You fell,” he whispers. “That is how you’ve injured yourself.”
Lies.
“I fell,” she repeats blankly.
“When you feel well, you will leave Forks.”
Stop this!
“I will leave Forks.”
Sighing contently, Edward exchanges a look with Bella before adding one more command. “Now sleep.”
The world fades. But before everything disappears, she hears it, soft, aching, and full of things left unsaid:
“May we never cross paths again, my beautiful Siren.”
