Pairing: Paul Lahote x Reader
Summary: When you, Edward Cullen's scorned ex lover, return to Forks to answer a desperate cry for help, you don't expect fate to be easy on you. However, you certainly didn't expect to find your mate or to find that your mate is a 6'5 hunk of mortal enemy.
Part 2
For someone in your situation, you really should've been far more unpleasant than you were.
You were 104 years old. You were born in (hometown), which was very, very far from where you were now. And at this point in your life, you wandered around aimlessly, sight seeing beautiful things (many of which you'd already seen), hunting to quench a thirst you wished would just die out, and hurting.
You were hurt. You were angry. The only reason you hadn't taken to the Volturi to end yourself was because they'd want your abilities and would force you into the Guard.
You had a lover up until around two years ago.
Edward and his coven were incredible. They were the type of family you so badly wanted to be a part of. They perfectly understood each other -- protecting, cherishing, and loving each and every person in the family. You were part of it for decades, the one person to fully understand the most complex of the group.
When you'd met Edward, you were a nomad. Your bleached skin sparkled in the sunlight of the mountain top, basking in it, enjoying the warmth as it heated up the porcelain surface. But someone was near. The scent was pungent in the middle of the forest.
Linen. Old books. A faint touch of cedar. Your nostrils flared, your red eyes darting around to find the source.
He revealed himself when he was ready to.
A beautiful man with golden eyes. Bronze hair. A curious yet tense look on his face.
For a long, breathless moment, neither of you moved. The forest was silent around you, save for the occasional whisper of the wind.
"You shouldn't be here," Edward said finally, his voice low, cautious but not unkind.
You tilted your head, studying him with equal curiosity. "Is this claimed territory?"
The man analyzed your red eyes, clearly finding that your carnivorous habits differed from his own (based on his bloodless, golden eyes.)
The man analyzed your red eyes, clearly finding that your carnivorous habits differed from his own (based on his bloodless, golden eyes).
"Not claimed," he said carefully, "but protected."
You let the words sink in, weighing his meaning. Protected. By him? By others like him?
"And you're the protector?" you asked, your voice light but edged with curiosity.
A faint smile ghosted across his face, almost reluctant. "One of them."
You hopped up onto a tree, sitting on the limb. Your booted feet swung as you studied him. You were silent for a few moments, just taking him in. Trying to make sense of him.
"If you're protecting a little town in Washington, your diet must be a bit unorthodox." You finally commented, picking at a piece of bark on the tree. "However, I already knew that. Your eyes." You noted.
Edward chuckled under his breath — a low, almost musical sound. "You're observant."
You shrugged lazily. "I have to be. Survival depends on it."
For the first time, a genuine smile broke through on his face. It was faint, but it softened him, made him look less like the wary protector and more like someone... lonely. Someone who might understand you in ways you had long ago given up hoping for.
Humming, you hopped down from the tree, slowly and curiously approaching the man. He simply looked down at you, his height greater than yours.
Extending a hand, your lips stretched over glinting teeth.
"Well, protector, I'm Name. And you are?"
For a second, he just stared at your hand — as if he wasn't used to such easy gestures, as if he didn't trust it. Then, almost hesitantly, he reached out and clasped your hand in his. His skin was like marble: cool, impossibly smooth, yet not unpleasant. Same as yours.
"Edward," he said, his voice soft but sure.
A jolt of something electric and sharp traveled up your arm at the contact — a feeling you hadn't felt in decades, maybe since you were human. Judging by the slight darkening of Edward’s eyes, he had felt it too.
You didn't pull away. Neither did he.
"Edward," you repeated, tasting the name. Your smirk deepened. "Fitting for a knight in shining armor, don't you think?"
That earned you another one of those almost-smiles — shy, fleeting, precious.
"I'm hardly a knight," he said under his breath, almost like he didn't mean for you to hear it.
You cocked your head, still not letting go of his hand. "No? And here I thought you were protecting the poor defenseless humans of Forks."
Softly letting his hand go, you stepped away.
"Alright," you cleared your throat unnecessarily. "I hardly like to intrude on other people's territory. I'll be on my way, Edward."
For a moment, he looked conflicted — as if some part of him warred against letting you leave. His golden eyes flickered, studying you with an intensity that made the cool air between you feel somehow heavier.
"You don't have to," he said suddenly, the words slipping out quicker than he seemed to intend.
You paused, brows lifting slightly in surprise.
Edward shifted his weight, almost awkwardly, a hand raking through his bronze hair. "I mean... you're not a threat. Not to us. Carlisle would want me to at least offer you... a place to rest. To be safe. If you need it."
You blinked at him, trying to read between the lines. Caution. Kindness. Curiosity. Loneliness. It was all there, laid bare even in his tightly controlled voice.
"You don't even know me," you said, your tone gentler now.
He smiled — truly smiled this time, though it was still small. "Not yet."
Your heart — what was left of it — twisted painfully in your chest. For the first time in a very long time, you felt something other than loneliness clawing at your ribs.
Hope.
And damn it, it scared you.
You forced a smirk back onto your face to mask the storm inside you. "Alright then, protector," you said, your voice light and teasing as you turned slightly, giving him a look over your shoulder. "Lead the way."
Edward hesitated for just a heartbeat — then he followed.
You and Edward were passionate. Happy. It was almost enough to ignore the fact that the love between the two of you wasn't a mating bond, and you both still had someone out there that wasn't each other.
You became a part of the family. You moved in to the house, got enrolled in school, curved your diet. For years, you had a life with the Cullen coven. You had a life with Edward.
Until the arrival of a new student. Until the arrival of her. The human pet.
The difference in his behavior was immediately evident. After the first day, he literally fled from Forks, declining your offer to join him. The first red flag.
After that, you slowly grew apart, until he finally broke your heart.
You had seen it coming. You weren’t blind.
But still — nothing could’ve prepared you for the way it shattered you.
Edward didn't say much when he ended things. He barely looked you in the eye. And when he did, you saw it — the guilt, the confusion, the pull toward someone that wasn't you. It wasn't rage you felt when he left you standing there in the woods, empty and alone. It was something quieter. Colder. A grief so deep it hollowed you out from the inside.
You didn’t beg. You didn’t cry. You simply stood there, the mist curling around your ankles, and let it happen.
Let him go.
Because if you were anything, you were proud. And no matter how much you loved him, you would not fight for a heart that was already lost to someone else.
You packed your things the next night, not saying a word to the others — not even Alice, who had tried so desperately to reach you through the swirling storm inside you.
And you left Forks.
You wandered again, like you had before. Only this time, the world was duller. Colder. Not even the most beautiful sunsets or bustling cities could stitch together the broken pieces inside of you.
Two years passed.
Two years of wandering, of surviving, of refusing to fall completely apart. Until one day, a call came. A desperate plea from Carlisle.
A threat bigger than any before. An urgent need for help.
And despite everything — despite the way your chest still ached at the thought of that house, that family, that boy with the bronze hair and golden eyes — you answered.
Why was your help so important to the Cullens?
You were powerful. You had an ability, as Alice, Edward, and Jasper did.
The Volturi called it the "empathic flame." It was incredibly rare — in fact, the Kings were certain that you were the only vampire alive today that had it. That's what made you so valuable to anybody, let alone the Cullens.
You had the rare ability to manipulate and amplify another's emotions to the point where they physically manifested as flames. If focused enough, they could scorch an enemy, burning through skin and eventually destroying them. The fire wasn't just a byproduct of their anger, their hatred, or their fear — it was a direct result of your control. A unique and terrifying weapon.
At first, the power had been uncontrollable, like a spark that you couldn't quite quench. When you'd first discovered it, you'd learned the hard way: emotions weren't just fleeting feelings — they were forces you could bend, twist, and manipulate, sometimes with deadly consequences.
But it took years to learn to temper it, to refine it. Now, you could do things with it that most vampires couldn't fathom. You could turn a vampire's ferocity against them, suffocating their reckless aggression in a blanket of overwhelming fear. Or, you could use it on your own side — amplifying the calm in a battle-hardened vampire, focusing their clarity to make them nearly unstoppable.
The Cullen family had come to rely on you in ways they never expected.
You were the shield and the sword — a counterbalance to their strengths. Alice’s foresight, Edward’s reading of minds, and Jasper’s emotional control were a force to be reckoned with, but you were the wild card. A weapon that could end the battle before it even started.
Even when the Volturi had gotten wind of your ability — and they had, long before you ever left Italy — they understood just how rare you were. And just how dangerous.
That was why you had to be careful. Careful about when you used it, careful about how you used it, and careful about who you trusted. The Volturi would take your ability in an instant if they thought they could harness it for their own purposes. You knew that. You’d seen what they did to others who were "too valuable" to let go.
Stepping back into Forks felt like going against every shred of pride you had. If you weren't so empathetic, you wouldn't have. You hated it there. You hated the reminder of what had happened, how lonely you were. You hated the scent of human blood, which you'd been struggling not to turn back to.
You preferred somewhere rural. Somewhere that no one else would find you.
Of course, Carlisle had searched for you. He wouldn’t give up. He never had, and you should’ve known he wouldn’t now. The Cullens always had their way of worming their way back into your life, even when you wanted to stay gone.
But what made it worse? What made it more unbearable? The fact that you couldn’t kill Carlisle’s son. You hated him — or at least, you used to — but there was a reason why your heart still clenched when you thought about him. And that, that was the weakness you couldn’t rid yourself of.
Turning the corner onto the familiar road that led toward the house that had once been home, your thoughts drifted, unwillingly, to Edward. You could still hear the sound of his voice in your mind — the way he said your name so softly, how his lips always brushed against yours, almost too gently, as if you were something breakable.
And that... that was why you had left. Because you couldn’t stay in the same room as him. Not when everything about him made you ache with longing and resentment.
Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders. The Cullens needed your help now. An enemy was rising, and even with your power, you weren't sure what the outcome would be. But there was no backing out. Not now.
You made it to the door and raised your arm to knock. Before you could even manage, the door opened. Arms were thrown around your frame, pulling you into a crushing hug.
You immediately recognized the scent. Alice. You smiled, rolling your eyes.
"Hello to you too, Al."
Alice squeezed you tighter, her voice a melodic giggle as she pulled away just enough to look you over. "I knew you’d come back eventually," she said with that same knowing smile she always wore. "Though I didn't think it would take this long."
You rolled your eyes again, though there was a soft warmth behind it. Alice had always been the persistent one, and despite your best efforts, you had never been able to completely escape her.
"I didn't have much of a choice, did I?" you teased, your voice more playful than you'd intended. The tight knot in your chest from being back here — back in their world — loosened just slightly. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all going to be more complicated than you wanted.
Alice's grin widened, her eyes flicking to the side briefly. "Nope. But I’m so glad you’re here," she said as she stepped back, pulling you further inside.
As you crossed the threshold, the familiar smell of the Cullen house hit you — a mix of human and vampire, a blend that once felt like home. It was both comforting and suffocating.
"How’s everyone else?" you asked, trying to push down the inevitable tension that lurked beneath your calm demeanor. You couldn't ignore the pull to search for Edward, to see if he was here, to see if he’d even acknowledge your presence.
“Carlisle and Esme are in the kitchen, working out the details of the newborn army," Alice said, a flicker of concern crossing her face before it was quickly replaced with a smile. "And Edward... well, he’s been trying to act casual, but I think we both know that’s not happening.”
You fought the instinctive wince.
"Great," you muttered, your hand resting against the doorframe as your mind raced. "So, the world’s about to end and they need me, huh?"
"More or less," Alice said with a small chuckle, her eyes shining with excitement despite the gravity of the situation. "But we could really use your help. I know you’re hesitant, but..." She looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time in a long while, her gaze softened with understanding. "We need you, you. Not just your power."
You swallowed hard, your heart clenching. "I’m not sure I can give that to you," you whispered, the words feeling like they were torn from your chest. “I’m not the person I used to be.”
Alice’s expression softened, her voice quiet. “I know. But that doesn’t mean you can’t help us. We’re all just trying to do what’s right. And... I think you’re still part of this family, whether you want to admit it or not.”
You looked at her, really looked at her, and in that moment, something deep inside you cracked. Maybe she was right. Maybe you were still a part of this strange, mismatched family, even after everything. Even with the wounds you hadn’t allowed to heal.
"Fine," you said with a sigh, the words heavy on your tongue. "I’ll help. But I can’t promise anything."
Alice beamed, her enthusiasm almost infectious. “That’s all we can ask for!” She gestured for you to follow her. "Come on, Carlisle’s been dying to see you. And... I think someone else might want to talk to you too."
Your stomach flipped. You knew exactly who she meant.
You were dragged through the house and into the kitchen, where everyone now stood.
You had to admit, the tension in your chest was loosening, if only just a little. But you were about to face them all—Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie, Emmett, Jasper, and Edward.
Carlisle was the first to spot you, his face breaking into that calm, warm smile you remembered so well. "Welcome back," he said softly, his voice kind but serious. You could see the concern in his eyes, a gentle reminder of why you were here.
You nodded, trying to keep your composure. “Thanks,” you said, meeting his gaze with a quiet understanding. You both knew why you were here, and that made things just a little more difficult.
Esme came next, her arms open wide. You didn’t hesitate this time, accepting the embrace. Her scent was familiar, like the comfort of a mother’s love that you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. "It’s so good to see you," Esme said, her voice filled with warmth. "You’ve been gone too long."
You pulled away, giving her a faint smile. "I wasn’t planning on being gone this long, but..." You trailed off, not wanting to get into the reasons why you'd stayed away. Not now. Not yet.
Rosalie, standing next to Emmett, was next to approach. Her golden eyes softened slightly when she met your gaze. “You look exactly the same,” she said, her voice steady, but there was an unmistakable warmth there. You'd always had a special connection with Rosalie. She was one of the few who understood the weight of your past, the loneliness of it all.
Before you could respond, Rosalie pulled you into a hug, her arms strong but somehow comforting. "It’s been way too long, you know?" she added, her voice muffled against your shoulder. "Alice has been driving us all insane talking about you coming back."
You chuckled softly, pulling away as Rosalie smirked at you. “Typical Alice,” you said, glancing over at the pixie who was already looking smug.
Alice bounced on her toes. “I told you, she’d come back,” she said, her grin wide and mischievous.
You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Yeah, yeah,” you muttered. "I’m here."
Emmett stepped forward then, clapping you on the back with enough force to make you stumble slightly. You hadn’t forgotten his playful nature. "Finally! I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist our charm." He grinned at you, that familiar twinkle in his eyes. “It’s good to see you again, seriously. We’ve missed you.”
You chuckled, steadying yourself. “I’m sure you have, Emmett. It’s hard to miss this much muscle, after all. You missed me giving you a run for your money?” You said, flexing your arm.
Emmett gave a mock offended look, but it was clear from his laugh that he didn’t mind. “You’ve got jokes, huh? I’ll remember that.”
Jasper stepped forward next, his expression calm but his eyes full of understanding. You knew better than to expect a grand display of affection from him—he was always more reserved, especially with emotions like these. Still, his presence alone felt grounding, a reminder that some things hadn't changed.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly, his voice carrying an unspoken message of support. He didn't have to say more. His presence spoke volumes.
You smiled back at him. You and Jasper had always had an understanding. Both empaths, but one could use it a bit.. differently than the other.
Finally, you caught his scent before you saw him. He came down the stairs, his golden eyes immediately zeroing in on you. You looked back at him, a frown slowly forming on your face involuntarily.
Edward.
He spoke first.
"Hello, Name." He said, testing the words. He hadn't said them in years.
"Edward." You responded, your words clipped.
Then, another scent. Strong. It made venom fill your mouth, your fangs growing, touching the inside of your cheeks. You stiffened, cutting off your air flow.
That must have been Bella. Just as you suspected, she meekly stumbled down the stairs behind Edward, coming to his side. You'd never met the girl that ended your 11 year relationship, but you couldn't say you ever wished to.
Now, you had no choice.
Edward noticed immediately, his eyes flicking to you with a sharp intensity, and then back to Bella. The connection between you two was always like this —i ntuitive. But there was no time to address it now, not when Bella stood there, her presence suddenly undeniable.
Bella shuffled closer to Edward, her eyes flicking nervously between you and the others. You could see the slight tension in her posture, the uncertainty radiating off her. She had to know that you weren’t just anyone. You were him, Edward's past, and that was not something easily forgotten.
"Um... Hi," Bella’s voice was soft, hesitant. She wasn’t as bold as you'd expected, and it only made the whole situation worse. She looked at you with wide, uncertain eyes, clearly aware of the sharp tension in the room.
You cleared your throat, stepping away slightly.
"You smell very strong." You said, your voice heavy with thirst.
Bella flinched, her eyes widening at your words. The tension between you both thickened, and you could feel the weight of the room shift. Edward’s jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing on you, but you didn’t care. The thirst was there, pulsing in your veins, clawing at the back of your throat.
Bella, clearly uncomfortable, took a small step back, her eyes darting nervously toward Edward. She didn’t fully understand, not yet. But she could feel the weight of the unspoken words between you and Edward, the history, the pain. And now, the thirst.
"Sorry," Bella mumbled, her voice quiet and unsure. "I didn’t mean to—"
"No," you cut her off, your voice low, the irritation in your words unmistakable. "It’s not your fault. It’s.. Natural." You took another slow breath, the scent of her blood tantalizing, but you forced yourself to look away. The control was there, barely. But you wouldn’t lose it. Not here. Not now.
"You're.. Name." She addressed. "I'm Bella."
You managed a small smile. The little human.. She had a clear bravery. To address you meant that she must have known the story. Your story. Edward wasn't one to lie, but he was one to brood and feel guilty. You had no doubt that he told her, though no one in the room would address it.
You couldn't believe she introduced herself first. She must have known that you wanted to rip her head off. And Edward's. In one swoop.
"I am. It's nice to meet you, Bella." You said politely, nodding your head towards her.
Bella smiled nervously, though there was a hint of something else behind her eyes. She wasn’t naive. She knew exactly what you were, and what your presence meant. But she wasn’t backing down, either. She wasn’t running from the reality of this world, even if it scared her.
"Uh, it's... nice to meet you too," she said, her voice trembling slightly, but there was a steady determination in her gaze. It was clear she wasn’t backing down either. And that, if anything, was a small relief.
Edward shifted uncomfortably beside her, his eyes flickering between you and Bella. His silence was loud. You could feel it—his guilt, his helplessness. It was suffocating. And it made you want to scream. But you didn’t. Not yet.
You looked at him for just a moment, eyes narrowing. "So," you said, breaking the silence, "newborn vampires? Do you know who organizes them? What they're here for?" Your voice held an edge to it, but it wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. You could feel the tension in the room already, thick and sharp like a storm just waiting to crack open.
Edward’s jaw tightened, and he shifted on his feet, as if uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was heading. Bella, still standing slightly behind him, looked from you to Edward, her expression a mixture of confusion and concern.
"They're organized by someone we’ve... encountered before," Edward replied slowly, his voice measured. "Victoria. She’s been working behind the scenes, creating an army of newborns to take us down."
You felt your teeth clench at the mention of her name. Victoria. The fiery-haired vampire who had been nothing but trouble from the start. You'd never encountered her, but you knew about her through letters exchanged between you and Rosalie.
"And what’s her game?" you asked, forcing your voice to remain steady. "What does she want with you all?"
Edward’s eyes flickered briefly to Bella, before looking back at you. "She wants revenge. For her mate, who I killed. And she’s using the newborns as pawns."
A flash of annoyance flickered through you at the mention of James. That whole situation had left scars on the entire family.
"You’re not worried about Victoria," you said, your gaze never leaving Edward. "It’s the newborns that concern you."
The thought of an army of them—powerful, uncontrollable, and bloodthirsty—sent a dangerous ripple of anticipation through you. It wasn’t just the Cullens who had to face them. No, you knew your abilities were vital in keeping everyone safe. If things got too out of control, you would have to step in.
Edward’s eyes darkened, a flicker of his old protective nature flashing through them. "We have a plan. Carlisle and the others have been training the werewolves to help us, but we may need your power."
Werewolves.
Your jaw dropped.
"You're working with dogs?" You hissed.
Edward’s expression shifted, a mix of amusement and defensiveness crossing his features. "They’re not just dogs," he said, a slight edge to his voice. "They’re allies. We’ve been working together for a long time now."
You couldn’t hide the disbelief on your face. "Allies?" you repeated, your voice tinged with sarcasm. "You expect me to work alongside them?"
There was no mistaking the tension in the air. The idea of working with werewolves — creatures you had never particularly seen eye to eye with — was almost laughable. The last thing you wanted to do was ally yourself with something that was, essentially, a natural enemy.
It was even worse than you were suddenly hit with the smell.
"Play nice, leech. We will in return."
You spun around at the sound of the voice, your fangs barely hidden, eyes narrowing immediately at the sight of the newcomer. A tall, russet-skinned man, his posture brimming with arrogance. His scent hit you instantly — wet fur, earth, and something raw, primal. It was unmistakable.
Jacob Black. You knew him too. You'd known him since he was just a child, clinging to the police chief's pant leg and pushing his father's wheelchair around.
You didn’t hide the distaste on your face. "So this is one of them," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "A werewolf."
Jacob’s lips quirked into a smirk, his eyes locking onto yours with a fire that felt almost challenging. "I’m not just a werewolf, sweetheart. I’m the one who’ll keep your precious Cullen family safe while you try not to bite someone’s head off."
You didn’t flinch. Instead, you stood taller, narrowing your eyes at him. "Don’t get too cocky," you shot back, the venom in your words as sharp as ever. "Just because you’re a ‘protector’ now doesn’t mean I won’t burn you to a crisp if you get in my way."
The air crackled between you two. The tension was palpable. You could practically hear Edward’s teeth grinding, his usual calm composure strained. But you didn’t care. You weren’t here to play nice.
Jacob took a step closer, not backing down in the slightest. "I’m not afraid of you, bloodsucker," he growled. "I’ve got bigger things to worry about than your little flame trick."
Your lips curled into a grin, your eyes glowing with a flicker of dangerous amusement. "You should be," you said softly, the words carrying a weight that made his eyes flicker. "Because one wrong move, and I’ll show you exactly how much heat my flames can carry. And trust me, you don’t want to test that."
Jacob didn’t flinch, though you could see the tension building in his shoulders. He seemed to consider your words for a moment, then chuckled, a low, mocking sound. "You're a real piece of work, aren’t you?" He took another step forward, his eyes never leaving yours. "I get it. You don’t like us. We’re not your kind. But the enemy isn’t here to pick sides. We’re all in this together now. Whether you like it or not."
You held his gaze, unblinking, but something in his words —his confidence— shifted something in you. Maybe it was the way he wasn’t backing down. Maybe it was the fact that you were both in the same damn situation. Either way, it was frustrating.
"I’ll tolerate you," you said, your voice low and dangerous, "because I have to. But don’t get comfortable, dog."
Jacob’s smirk didn’t fade. "Likewise, leech."
-
The next day, it was time to train. Though you could feel the nerves on the rest of the Cullen family, you were eerily calm. You knew you could handle this. After all, you'd singe anyone that had an issue.
The vampires arrived in the clearing first, the rain falling in misty waves. Your jacket was soaked. You all waited in silence for the rest of the Pack to arrive.
It made you want to puke, if that were possible anymore. Werewolves. You were expected to work with fucking werewolves. It was obvious that whatever class Edward once had was gone, if this were his idea. Your golden eyes glared at the rustling woodline, the scent of wet dog filling your nostrils once again. At least you were outside this time and not confined in a kitchen.
You crossed your arms, the dampness of your jacket doing nothing to quell the fire inside you. It wasn’t just the scent of the werewolves that had you on edge — it was the fact that you were about to be forced into working with them, cooperating with creatures that were the very opposite of you. A natural predator.
The rain continued to fall, a soft, persistent drizzle that only added to your growing frustration. Your thoughts turned dark, your gaze unwavering as you waited for the Pack to show up. It was almost too easy to imagine the worst-case scenario. Werewolves had a certain...wildness about them that made it impossible to predict their next move. And you? You were nothing if not calculated. Every move, every decision, was meant to ensure you came out on top.
Edward was standing slightly behind you, his expression unreadable as he too scanned the woods, likely picking up on your agitation. The tension between you both was palpable. Despite your control, your anger simmered beneath the surface. He had been a fool to think that working with them would be easy for you.
Finally, the rustling in the trees grew louder, signaling their arrival. You stiffened instinctively, but forced yourself to take a deep breath, calming your volatile thoughts before the rest of the Pack stepped into the clearing.
You didn’t look back. You didn’t need to. The Pack was here.
Jacob was the first to emerge from the trees, his large frame cutting through the mist. His eyes locked onto yours immediately, and there was that familiar, ever-present cockiness in his grin. Then, the rest.
Only some felt comfortable enough to come out of their natural wolf form.
This one was smaller than Jacob, but still imposing in his own right. His dark hair was messy and tousled, the light rain soaking through his shirt. He had an easy, almost laid-back aura, one that contrasted sharply with the energy around him.
You studied him, noting the slight, unintentional bounce in his step, as if he was a bit more at ease than everyone else in the clearing.
He caught your eye, giving you a small but friendly wave, though you didn’t return the gesture. You could tell he wasn’t as confrontational as Jacob or the others. He seemed almost... curious, his expression open but not entirely without caution.
"I'm Embry."
You stared at him for a moment, trying to piece together what exactly you were dealing with. Another werewolf? You could feel the heat radiating off him, the telltale scent of wet dog mingling with the unmistakable tinge of wolf.
"You're a kid. Don't you think you're too young to be fighting in a war?" you said, keeping your tone cool and neutral. You didn’t bother to fake any interest — but curiosity flickered in your chest. Who was this one?
Embry didn't seem to take offense to your words. In fact, he chuckled softly, the sound warm and easy, though there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. He didn’t look like the type to back down, not even from your cold tone.
"I’m not a kid," he said, his voice calm but with an edge of determination. "I’m older than I look."
You raised an eyebrow, still not fully convinced. His youthful appearance, that carefree attitude, didn’t fit the usual profile of someone ready to fight in a battle like this.
"I can handle myself," Embry continued, his gaze steady on you. "And besides, war doesn’t really ask if you're ready, does it?"
You frowned at that, the reality of the situation settling in. War didn’t care. But that didn’t mean you had to like the idea of a werewolf —especially a younger one — joining the fray. The tension between the Cullens and the wolves had always been a delicate one, and the thought of working alongside one of them made your stomach churn.
"Fair enough." You said shortly, turning back to the Cullens.
Or that was until you felt another presence.
The moment the rustling from the trees caught your attention, you knew someone else was approaching. Embry turned slightly, a playful smirk crossing his face as he watched the new arrival, and then, without missing a beat, the two were engaged in a rough, friendly scuffle—tussling with the kind of ease only two werewolves could manage.
You watched them for a second, your golden eyes flicking between them with growing annoyance. They were too casual for a situation like this. Too... careless. You hated the way they didn’t acknowledge the danger that loomed.
The tall, broad-shouldered figure had that unmistakable arrogance in his stride, the sort of cocky swagger that made it clear he thought very highly of himself.
But before you could even fully register his presence, the most bizarre thing happened. He locked eyes with you.
The air shifted. His movements faltered, and for the first time since he'd arrived, his attention was fully focused on you. The playful fight with Embry stopped. The playful energy, the jokes—all of it faded as Paul’s gaze hardened, his eyes flashing an intense, golden brown. You felt the air around you thicken, and a strange energy pulsed between you two.
"Paul?" Embry asked in confusion.
You didn’t know what was happening at first, but you felt it in the pit of your stomach—a magnetic pull, like gravity itself had shifted. Your breath caught in your throat, and before you could even process what was happening, Paul’s entire demeanor changed. His lips parted slightly, his fists clenching.
And then it hit you. He was imprinted on you.
You froze.
The shock on his face was instant. His expression darkened with anger, confusion, and disbelief all at once. His body stiffened, as though he were fighting some invisible force that had latched onto him. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and his eyes flicked over your face, searching for something — anything — that would explain this absurdity.
"No," he growled under his breath, his voice barely audible but thick with the kind of rage you’d only seen in werewolves. "No fucking way."
He stumbled back as if he’d been hit, shaking his head violently, his muscles tensing as though the very idea of imprinting on a vampire — on you — was something he couldn’t bear.
Before anyone could say a word, Paul’s body spasmed with pain. The shift was sudden, violent. His body rippled and contorted, muscles bulging, bones snapping as he phased into his wolf form right before your eyes. He howled in frustration, a guttural, enraged sound that echoed through the clearing and into the trees, sending shivers down your spine.
The others reacted immediately — Jasper tensing, Edward’s gaze following Paul’s every movement — but no one dared to move. It was as if the entire forest had held its breath, waiting for Paul to do what he was so clearly struggling to do.
Paul didn’t look at anyone else as he ran, his massive wolf form bounding through the trees with a final, ferocious howl, the sound of his angry cries fading with every passing second.
Embry’s wide eyes met yours, his mouth slightly agape, but the words didn’t come. No one knew what to say. It wasn’t just shocking — it was unprecedented.
"He… He imprinted on her?" Embry’s voice finally broke the silence, his tone incredulous, still processing the absurdity of it all.
But the rest of the pack was still too stunned to speak. The Cullens stood in eerie silence, only their eyes darting between you, Paul’s retreating form, and each other.
The tension in the air was thick — raw. And you couldn’t help but feel it too. You weren’t sure whether to be irritated, confused, or... relieved. Relieved that you were finally set free from Edward.
Whatever it was, you didn’t know how to handle the fact that Paul Lahote — a wolf — had imprinted on you. A vampire.
Omega Prince Stiles who always keeps his claws out and walks around in nothing but this...
He's a complete power bottom badass
Anytime someone fucks with him and his, he claws them without a second thought. They don't even get a fighting chance because he always goes for the jugular and never misses.
It happens often enough that when stories are told of him people often mistake the diamonds on his claws as rubies, for they are likely covered in blood.
And the blood's not just from the kills but also from his nights with Derek.
Derek always leaves Stiles' room with claw marks up and down his body from their very rigorous activities the night before.
When the king(the sheriff) wants to pass on the crown to Stiles there's outrage amongst the nobles because having an omega for a king is unheard of. They only quell their anger when they hear that Stiles and Derek will officially mate afterwards.
Since Derek comes from a well known alpha line and was previously an unsurpassed general they believe that he would make a fine king and are all for it.
They are viciously upset when Derek's position stays the same and Stiles is crowned king instead.
Some of them try to usurp him using his step brother Scott. They abhor his humble upbringing as a peasant but overlook that in the face of his true alpha status.
They corner him and try to manipulate him into going along with their plan, they are practically giddy when he agrees to it.
They're all called into the throne room the next day and believe that their plan has worked and that Scott was going to be crowned king.
It's only when they get there and see Stiles, alive and well, sitting on the throne with his brother standing beside him, that they realize they were screwed.
They just barely register exactly how screwed they are when they see, the lady Lydia Martin, the best strategist the kingdom of Beacon has seen in centuries.
Though the fear only really creeps in when they see Derek and his best knights, Lahey, Reyes, Boyd, Tate, and Whittemore, standing to the side with their swords already drawn but pointed towards the floor.
They know they won't make it out of this room alive. The last thing they see is Stiles, staring stone faced at them, with his head held high, surrounded by people loyal only to him. Their only thought before the world fades is, oh how wrong we were.
something about how Fitz always trusts his witbond partners to Beloved and how in turn those witbond partners tend to form extremely intimate and involved relationships with Beloved so implicitly gets me and I think it speaks soooooo heavily to the overall trust Fitz has for Beloved above all others.
The Fool takes care of Smithy for Fitz for MONTHS! Months!! He even helps give Smithy his name. For all that time, he was the only consistent face Smithy saw that wasn't Fitz's. He doted on that puppy on page, and even offered to care for him because he knew it would get Fitz where he wanted Fitz to be and he knew Smithy was important enough that Fitz would alter plans for him. He literally played pet sitter for Fitz's Old Blood companion lol. Petsitting for the prophecy!!
Beloved and Nighteyes cultivate the sort of deep and abiding friendship that saw the wolf sleeping on the prophet's rug and eating cakes from his hand and warming his back when he was sick and speaking to him through Fitz and Beloved's Skill bond. When Fitz is parted from Beloved and Nighteyes at the stones during FE, both of them are willing to die for each other, and try to. Beloved protects Nighteyes the entire time Fitz is away. Nighteyes recognizes the truth about Beloved that Fitz won't, that Beloved is the missing element in their triumvirate that makes them whole, and he advocates for Beloved's inclusion consistently. They're extraordinarily close friends up until the very end. Beloved burns a piece of hair for him alongside Fitz's, in observation of a tradition meant to send one's soul on with the deceased.
And then comes Motley, who is literally named by Beloved, and functions more as a wit partner to them both than to merely Fitz alone, which is astonishing considering Beloved has absolutely no such Wit magic on his own, only what residually exists from merging into one being with Fitz at the market square. Motley serves not just as Fitz's (extremely resistant) second chance at attempting a bond, but also as yet another of Fitz's bond mates who recognizes immediately and inherently the deep, deep connection Fitz and Beloved share and thus, treats him accordingly.
It's Beloved who Motley fetches to return to the quarry when Fitz begins carving, and it's Nighteyes who urges Fitz to invite Beloved to join them. Fitz can't hide his heart from his Wit partners. They see what he won't and they act accordingly. And in this case, the Prophet is in the Catalyst's heart, and always has been, throughout their whole lives and in the eyes of three separate bond partners. I just think about that sometimes. The Wit partners Fitz felt he needed to hide and protect from everyone in his life recognized another being he did the exact same thing to, and they accepted what Fitz could/would not. Makes one think many thoughts.
