Summary: jasper was stressed out so the reader tries helping him by getting hot and heavy, then jasper loses control and the major comes out and just starts pounding inside her, stopping for nothing.
Request: @jasperhaleswifesworld
Warnings: smut, major Jasper, rough vampire sex, bed breaking, smut with no plot, slight chocking, hair pulling, Multiple orgasms, overstimulation?, shower aftercare turns into round 2, Not edited.
MasterList
Forks was quiet tonight. The clouds were thick, low-hanging, and painted in shades of steel. The kind of night where tension lingered in the air like a storm that never broke. Jasper had been pacing in his and y/n's room for hours - every step weighted, every twitch in his jaw another silent scream.
Y/n knew the look. Knew it too well. He hadn’t fed in a while. The Volturi were sniffing around again, and Carlisle had sent him on a run to smooth tensions in Alaska. But the real reason he was on edge wasn’t blood lust - it was control. That old ghost. That beast under the surface.
Y/n found him in his room, shirtless, standing in front of the window with his hands braced on the frame, shoulders tense like a coiled spring. She didn’t need her enhanced senses to feel the strain vibrating off him like heat. He was losing it - holding on by a fraying thread.
“Jas…” she murmured gently as she stepped inside.
“I’m fine,” he said without looking at you. Voice low. Dangerous. A lie.
Y/n padded toward him slowly, trailing fingers across his bare back. He flinched. “No, you’re not,” she whispered, pressing against him. “Let me help”
His jaw clenched. “That ain’t a good idea right now, darlin'”
Which only made her press harder. Y/n kissed the curve of his shoulder, her lips cold and soft against his skin. Her hand slid around his waist, then lower - her fingers brushing over the growing bulge in his jeans.
“You’re shaking,” y/n whispered, voice sultry, a purr against his neck. “Let me take it from you”
And that’s when he snapped. He turned so fast she would have barely seen it if she was human, lips crashing to hers in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and dominance. He grabbed the back of her neck and slammed her into the nearest wall, kissing you like a man starved. No finesse. No sweet nothings. This wasn’t Jasper.
This was the Major.
“Mine,” he snarled against her mouth, voice guttural and rough with his Southern drawl. His hands ripped her clothes like tissue, fangs bared, eyes pitch black with lust and hunger.
Y/n gasped, moaned as he spun her and shoved her onto the bed. She barely hit the mattress before he was on her, between her legs, slamming inside her without warning. No prep, no hesitation - just pure, desperate need.
“Fuck, Jas- ” y/n choked, nails digging into his back as he started to move. Hard.
There was no rhythm - just raw, punishing thrusts, one after another, relentless. The bed creaked under his weight, the frame straining with every violent slam of his hips into hers.
“Shouldn’t’ve touched me like that,” he growled, his hand gripping her throat just tight enough to make her head spin, his pace brutal. “Now you’re gonna take all of it.”
Y/n wasn't scared. God, no. She was soaked. She moaned louder, wrapping her legs around him, dragging him deeper, daring him to go harder. Challenging the monster inside him.
“Then give it to me,” y/n hissed through gritted teeth. “fuck me, I can take it.”
That did it. He let out a feral snarl and flipped her over in a blur, yanking her hips up, slamming back into her from behind. One hand on her hip, the other gripping her hair, pulling hard.
The sound of skin slapping skin was drowned out by her screams and his growls - animalistic, unhinged. The bed cracked with every thrust until...
CRACK.
The frame gave out beneath the both of them, collapsing in a crash of splinters and fabric.
He didn’t stop. He fucked y/n through the wreckage, grunting, relentless, pounding into her with no end in sight. She came again and again, body writhing under his as he chased the high like a beast off his leash.
And finally - with one last shuddering growl and a sharp bite to her shoulder, he spilled inside her with a curse, rutting through the aftershocks like he needed to carve himself into her.
Silence followed.
Heavy breathing. A ruined bed. Broken furniture. Y/n - limp, dazed, satisfied beyond reason.
Jasper blinked, the black in his eyes fading. The Major was gone. Only her mate remained - wide-eyed, breathing ragged, hands shaking. “I-I’m sorry, sugar,” he whispered, guilt flashing in his gold eyes as he looked down at her bruised body.
Y/n gave him a lazy, wrecked smile. “Don’t be,” you breathed. “I like it when he comes out to play”
~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~
The bed was totaled. Y/n was still catching her breath in the ruins of it - naked, limbs tangled in torn sheets, her body humming with aftershocks. She didn’t even know what time it was. Her throat was raw from screaming. Her thighs trembled from the force of how hard he’d taken her.
Jasper sat beside her, chest heaving, the guilt still flickering in his eyes. “I lost it,” he murmured, brushing her hair from her face. “Didn’t mean to be so rough”
Y/n smirked up at him, pupils blown wide. “The fact that we collapsed the bed should tell you I’m not complaining”
His lips twitched, just barely. Still, he stood, offering hr his hand. “Come on. Let me clean you up”
Y/n followed him into the bathroom, her legs unsteady, Jasper’s hands on her waist guiding her with a tenderness that contrasted how he’d just ravaged her minutes ago.
The water was already steaming by the time he pulled her under the spray. His hands found their way to her body immediately, fingers trailing down her arms, across her hips, lingering over the fresh marks he’d left on her thighs, her breasts, her throat.
She leaned into him with a content sigh - only for his fingers to suddenly slip between her legs again.
Y/n gasped, spine arching against the tile. “Jasper- ”
“You’re still dripping,” he murmured against her ear, voice low and dark again, something primal edging back in. “Still tight. Still mine.”
And before she could say anything else, he spun her around and pinned her to the shower wall. She let out a choked moan as the water poured over her skin, his hand sliding down her stomach to her core - already sensitive, already aching.
“You’re insane” y/n panted, but her hips bucked forward on instinct.
“No,” he whispered, dragging the blunt head of his cock against her entrance. “Just starving for you”
Then he pushed in. Slow. At first. Just enough to make you whimper and claw at the wet tile. She wasn't ready and he knew that. Which made it so much worse. So much better. Y/n clenched around him as he bottomed out, her entire body lighting up like lightning had struck her spine. Every nerve was raw, burning from the intensity of round one, but he gave her no room to settle.
He started moving. Hard again. Controlled but punishing. The water scalded around them both, fogging up the glass, steam clinging to their bodies as Jasper fucked her into the wall. Her moans echoed off the tiles, drowning beneath the slap of skin and the growl in his throat.
Y/n's knees nearly buckled - he caught her with a firm grip under her thigh, lifting one leg and driving deeper. “Jas - Jasper, I’m - fuck, I’m so close again”
“Then come,” he hissed, lips at her ear. “Come for me like the good girl you are”
He bit her as she came. Not deep, Just sharp enough to tip her over the edge, trembling violently in his arms as the orgasm ripped through her. He wasn’t far behind - he cursed, pulled her flush against him, and thrust hard one last time as he came again, spilling inside her with a hiss, holding her like he’d never let go.
They both stayed there for a moment, tangled, shaking, the water still running.
When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers.
“lemme put it in baby, c’mon.” paul’s lips brush over the sensitive skin of your neck with every word. he mouths hotly against your pulse, as if he’s struggling not to sink his canines into your flesh. he feels like such a fucking leech. every instinct in his shapeshifting body is telling him to claim, claim, claim.
he pants like a mutt when he grinds his bulge against you. the only thing stopping him from slipping inside being his cargo shorts and your cotton panties. he can smell your essence, your arousal, your sweet fucking slick. yet you’re still teasing him. denying him of what he wants, what he needs. his whole body aches for you.
his body hovers above you. his visibly strong arms supporting him, so he doesn’t crush you with his weight. your legs are wrapped loosely around his hips, giving him access to your sweet heat. his supernatural warmth encompasses your half naked body, the worn t-shirt and underwear starting to feel like too many layers.
when you teasingly roll your hips back into his, he lets out a full body shudder. he full on moans into your neck, the sound going straight into your ear. his hand clenches your sheets into a fist so hard, you can hear the fabric rip on the corners of the bed. it’s like a new wave of desperation washes over him.
“c’mon pretty,” paul pants against your jaw. the hardness of his boner presses on your cloth-covered clit deliciously when he gives another roll of his hips. despite feeling good, the friction isn’t enough. he trails kisses up to your lips and huffs like he’s already fucking you.
“you want me.” he says it like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. his lips brush yours as he speaks in a mumbly tone, “please, baby. just say yes. lemme make you feel good..”
he shifts so his knees support his weight and he can grope at your body freely with his large hands. they slide under the hem of your baggy, sleep shirt, and immediately find purchase on your waist. his calloused palms tickle your skin as they slide up and down your torso, occasionally squeezing at your curves. he loves your body. healthy and warm. all his. his to protect and love and worship. his mate.
his hands slide up to your chest, groping eagerly at your bare breasts from under your sleep-shirt. he leans down so his front is covering yours once more and collides your mouths together. soft, needy sounds travel from his mouth to yours, as the kiss progressively gets more and more heated. he needs you. why are you teasing him like this?
“c’mon, c’mon..” he whispers into the kiss. his lips part desperately against yours while you kiss him back with just as much fervor. he swipes his thumbs over your nipples, while his hot tongue dances around with yours. he’s trying to do anything to convince you.
by the time the kiss breaks, paul is panting hotly against your lips. his eyes are lidded with need, and he’s rock hard against your core.
“please?” he pleads once more. there’s broken tone to his voice and his brows are furrowed with desperation. he nudges his nose against yours affectionately, his heart beating a mile a minute. all it takes is one single nod of your head, to have paul flipping you over onto your hands and knees. he practically rips your cotton underwear off, with promises to please his mate.
↳ ahh this is so ooc, sorry 😞 this is my first time writing something other than headcannons, plus i haven’t written anything since october last year. pls excuse the bad quality :( and remember requests are always open!
The Cullen house had sat empty for the last six months.
It’d felt longer than it sounded. Days seemed to turn into years when you were trapped in a small town that’d just lost the only family worth gossiping about, hours into centuries after the only practicing doctor abandoned Fork’s sole hospital without so much as two weeks’ notice – leaving you and the other nurses in a desperate scramble to pick up the slack while looking for a half-decent replacement. Their house seemed to reflect your skewed perception of time, the weeds that’d usurped their garden having grown just a little too tall, the dense forest that pressed in from all sides having encroached just a little too far. Time had never really seemed to pass for the Cullens, whether it was their collective marble-statue beauty or the way they seemed to float above the rest of you, never fully making contact. Now that they were gone, it seemed to come flooding in all at once.
Even the building itself seemed to have stagnated to the point of agelessness, its many windows reflecting a darkness so thick and so impenetrable, you could only imagine that it had been eons since light had ever graced its halls. It was ancient and unchanged. A lifeless husk, made immortal through the preservation of its corpse.
Your grip tightened around your flashlight, your shoes scuffing against the driveway. You wanted to turn around. You wanted to get back in your car and go home, to your trashy reality television and fleece blankets and locked doors. You wanted to laugh at yourself for driving all the way out here and nearly (key word, nearly) breaking into your old coworker’s previous home. You wanted to do anything but go through with it, and yet…
And yet.
They’d left the front door unlocked. With your sleeve pulled over your hand, you eased the door open, sweeping your flashlight once, twice over the entryway before stepping inside.
You’d had the misfortune of visiting twice before they left town – once when Carlisle asked you to drop off a patient’s file and again on a personal errand, to request that he stop sending flower bouquets and baked goods to your apartment. The first, you’d been unlucky enough to run into him, to be forced to answer his questions about your admittedly poor off-the-clock habits. The second, one of his college-aged daughters had answered the door, and had told you with the brightest smile and the easiest confidence that even if she did relay your message, it wasn’t going to stop. You’d taken her word for it.
Both visits had been brief, but as far as you could tell, they’d left everything behind. Framed pictures and frustratingly abstract art still hung from the blindly white walls, their agonizingly post-modernist furniture standing tall and unaffected by the absence of its users. A fruit bowl reigned proudly on their dining room table, its contents unnaturally fresh. Plastic, you discovered as you stole an apple off the top, turning it over in your palm. At least they had the decency not to leave rotting produce out for the next tenant.
You gravitated toward the kitchen on instinct, running your fingertips over the dustless countertop and opening cabinets at random. This had always been what Carlisle tried to draw you in with – the idea of domesticity, a warm meal after a long shift. Let me treat you to something, and then, when you reminded him that he was a married man, Don’t worry. My wife would love to have you for dinner.
Something caught in the back of your throat, anger and fear and humiliation boiling over all at once. You caught the handle of a drawer and tore it out of its socket, letting silverware clatter to the floor. The island was next, a knife block and baking tray and stack of forgotten paperback books, all swept to the ground before you could think better of it. You grabbed for the first heavy thing you saw – some decorative porcelain monstrosity, misshapen and heavy in your hand. It didn’t take long to find the nearest window, to line up your shot and—
Something wrapped around your wrist, cold stone against warm flesh. You startled, dropping the figurine and cringing into yourself as it broke into more pieces than you could ever hope to count. There was a slight hum, a disappointed click of the tongue. “That’s too bad,” he sighed, letting go of your wrist. Instantly, you could picture him clear as day – shaking his head, a faint smile tugging at pale lips. “That was one of Esme’s favorites. Brought it all the way from Spain. I’m sure she’ll forgive you, though.”
Clotted, choking silence followed dull ring of his voice. It took a moment for you to realize you were supposed to respond, and another to remember how to speak. “Dr. Cullen, I—”
“Carlisle, dear. You know that.” And then, less exasperated, more amused, “Aren’t you going to turn around?”
You shouldn’t have. You needed to get out of here. You needed to run. Fuck going home – you needed to get in your car and drive until you hit the border.
But, you didn’t. And honestly, you should’ve known you were never going to.
Fighting not to trip over your own feet, you did as you were told and turned to face him. You knew what you were going to find – Carlisle, pale blonde hair ever so slightly disheveled, expression sympathetic and unnervingly golden eyes so condescendingly soft.
The only part that caught you off-guard was the smudge of red at the corner of his lips, dark and still wet. Well, that, and the fact that he was naked. Naked and hard. You tried not to look, but it was hard to ignore.
You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, staring at him as the seconds crawled by. Carlisle didn’t seem to be in a rush, bringing a hand to your face and running his thumb over your cheek. His skin was deathly cold. You wished he would stop touching you. You wished you knew how to ask him to.
Eventually, something else caught his attention. He glanced over his shoulder as if someone had called his name, letting out a thin sigh as he took you by the wrist. “Children can be so impatient. I’m sure you know.” He tugged you forward gently. “Come. Please, excuse the mess – we’re usually much more civil.”
Without a word, you let him guide you deeper into the house, to a door underneath their staircase and down, down the largest cellar you’d ever seen. Like the rest of their terrible house, their basement seemed to have taken equal inspiration from overly manicured luxury real estate listings and the worst, most uncanny nightmare you’d ever had. The walls were lined with a deep red velvet, the furniture a mix of dark leather and cruel titanium. The only source of lighting came from a few lit torches mounted on each wall, all burnt too low to be helpful. That might explain why it took you so long to notice the rest of the Cullens.
Dotted around the room, divided yet so obviously part of the same whole, the same pack. Assigning names to faces was difficult, but not impossible. You recognized Jasper near the bottom of the staircase, kneeling in front of a metal pole with his hands cuffed behind it. A wire muzzle covered the lower half of his face, a chain-link slip leash wrapped taut around his neck. The other end was held by Alice, lying on her stomach in front of him, cheek resting against his thigh. Esme was lingering nearby, tending to a large crystal bowl sitting on a podium that’d been decisively placed in the center of the room, mixing herbs into its dark contents – a tray of which were politely being held by a towering Emmett. Finally, in the darkest corner, was Rosalie, wearing a floor-length black robe and keeping her arms crossed over her chest, all pursed lips and hunched shoulders. She might’ve looked bored, had those golden eyes not been so intensely focused on you.
…they were all looking at you, actually. Alice and Esme were smiling. Somehow, that didn’t make you feel any better.
Carlisle brought you to the bottom of the staircase, keeping one hand curled around your wrist and bringing the other to the small of your back. Alice was the first one to react, all-but floating to her feet and approaching her adoptive father. “I told you she would come.” She caught your arm, pointed nails digging into flesh. “Can we play with her, daddy? Please?”
Esme sent you an apologetic look. Emmett laughed and spoke up. “Don’t break the poor girl’s heart, daddy.”
You felt Carlisle’s hand flex against your back. He hesitated, but not for very long. “You’re sure it’s safe?”
“It’s all I’ve been watching for.” She tried to keep her voice even, but her over-eagerness betrayed her, lilting the edges of her tone into a melodic whine. “We won’t leave a scratch, I promise.”
“Fine. But be careful.”
“When are we ever not?” And then, without so much as glancing away from you, “Jasper, honey – fetch.”
There was a low, guttural sound, followed immediately by the sound of metal links being wrenched apart. Carlisle stepped away from you a moment before two arms wrapped around your waist.
It was the strangest thing. You were aware of your chest hitting the velvet-lined floor, of Jasper’s too-solid body on top of yours, but you weren’t scared. Dull confusion played underneath a thick curtain of placid curiosity and mild annoyance. You could only grimace as his wire muzzle pressed into your shoulder, then your spine, his tongue lapping over what his teeth couldn’t reach. He was draped over your back, hips bucking frantically into your thigh with enough force to draw out a pitchy, frustrated whine from somewhere deep in his throat. You were aware, distantly, that you ought to be clawing at him, that you ought to be terrified. The most you could manage to make yourself feel was pity, if only at seeing such a beautiful creature in such a sorry state.
“Dr. Cullen, I—” Jasper’s hands shot for your neck at the sound of your voice, but shoved into the floor at the last possible second. Something seemed to buckle beneath you – concrete shattering under unthinkable force. “I think I need to leave.”
Carlisle didn’t answer. Instead, there was a feather-light giggle, a hand suddenly petting through your hair. Alice. “But we’ve been waiting so long for this. Jazz, especially. Had to promise we wouldn’t let him take a bite out of you.” She straightened, eyes darting away. “Esme, could you bring over the—”
Rosalie cut in. “No. That’s too dangerous.”
“Don’t be a killjoy.” And then, a pleading lisp to her tone. “Please?”
There was a shuffle of movement, a silent acquiescence. Already, you could tell that what Alice wanted, she tended to get.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Esme kneel at your free side, a bronze goblet in her hand. She handed it to Alice, tapped Jasper’s cheek affectionately, then smiled at you. “It’s very fresh,” she said, like you were supposed to know what she was talking about. Like you were supposed to find it comforting. “You’ll get used to the taste, with time.”
You didn’t get a chance to ask what she meant. She was already retreating, joining her husband on the far side of the room. Even worse, Alice was already downing the goblet and, with just as much care, crashing her mouth into yours.
Heady iron and bitter herbs overwhelmed your senses. There was too much of it and it was too warm and whatever fugue state you were in broke open as soon as her tongue laved over yours, razor-sharp teeth gazing over your bottom lip and threatening to break skin. Her hand found the back of your head, keeping you pinned against her while its twin danced over your chest, your body, a single nail catching the collar of your skirt and tearing downward.
Cold air fanned over your skin, made worse by the trails of thick blood that escaped the corners of your mouth - staining your chin, your throat. You felt Jasper growl into your skin, his muzzle slotting awkwardly between your jaw and your shoulder. He was grabbing the rags your clothes had been reduced to, tearing them away in less of an effort to undress you and more of a pursuit to reach what he seemed to think he needed – a wolf, tearing at the entrails of an elk. You tried to shut your legs, to thrash underneath him, but Jasper’s body was stone, unwilling to give and impossible to move. It wasn’t long before you felt his cock press into your ass, something cold dripping onto your skin. You screamed, but the sound was swallowed up by Alice, still grinning against your lips. When she did draw back, it was only to string her thighs over your shoulders and force your head—
Her hands were torn away from you, her body disappearing a second later. When you thought to look up, you found Emmett standing above you, hands hooked underneath Alice’s arms. She pouted, but he held strong. “Nuh-uh. Me and Jasper have the first call.”
“But you picked a luck-based game, it wasn’t fair.”
“Life’s not fair.” He set Alice down at a measured distance. “Go keep Rose company.”
There were a few more grumbled complaints, but Alice eventually retreated to lick her wounds. Jasper bared his teeth, but Emmett only flicked his forehead. “Keep it in your pants.” And then, to you, “You ever been to Paris, baby?”
You hadn’t. Slowly, more confused than anything, you shook your head. Emmett’s laugh was nearly deafening.
It wasn’t until he started to kneel in front of you that you realized what he meant. The repulsion was quick and hot and reflexive, your body rejecting what your mind couldn’t seem to grasp. You opened your mouth, ready to scream, to beg, but Rosalie’s voice cut through the cellar before you had a chance to say anything at all.
“Not like that.”
Alice sighed. “It’s not going to take, Rose.”
“I didn’t ask,” she snapped. “Emmett, Jasper – switch.”
There was no protest from Emmett. Jasper bristled, his anger wordless and ferine, but Emmett was able to wrestle him into place, and you were only granted a few precious moments to brace yourself before Emmett’s hulking body settled between your thighs and Jasper fell to his knees in front of you, shaking hands tentatively latching on to your shoulders. Despite everything, you were grateful for the trade off. Jasper was incoherent – unable to talk, let alone think about your comfort, your pleasure. Emmett, as terrifying as he was, seemed more willing to drag this out, to rub a few teasing circles into your clit with a calloused thumb, to slip two thick fingers into you and smile when your body proved willing to give.
Something was wrong. A lot of things were wrong, really, but something was wrong with you. Blood coated the roof of your mouth, more viscous than it should’ve been. Your body felt too hot, your skin too thin, your head too full. You didn’t want this. You would’ve given anything to make it stop, and yet, as his fingers curled inside of you, you found yourself jolting back against him, a pained whimper bubbling up from your chest. You were wet. You could feel it dripping down your thighs, hear it was he pumped lazily into you. There was sound of padded footsteps, then something being laid down next to you. Alice, on her back, grinning up at Rosalie, now straddling her thigh – their cunts messily slotted together. Emmett didn’t so much as glance up, his gaze meeting yours as he pulled out of you and offered his slick-soaked fingers to Rosalie. Without a word, she took them into her mouth, eyes falling shut as she savored the taste.
“What do you think, babe? Is she ready?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions.”
“I love it when she gets mean,” Emmett sighed. His hand found its way to your hip, holding you steady as he aligned himself with your entrance. “You’ll learn to like it, too.”
Again, you made the mistake of opening your mouth, of trying to spit something out. At the same time, Emmett thrust into you, and a pained cry replaced anything you might’ve said.
In some sick way, you were almost glad for Rosalie’s interference. You were sure that, if Emmett hadn’t been trying to pound a hole in your cervix, he most definitely would have succeeded in breaking your jaw.
There was too much of him in too many places. Your legs gave out immediately, but he caught you – a broad arm wrapping around your midriff and hauling you against his chest. You gasped, but that only gave Jasper a chance to surge forward, to plant a palm next to your head and shove his cock past your lips, your teeth. The blunt head hit the back of your throat with more force than should’ve been possible, his shaft weighing cold and heavy against your tongue. You were tempted to, but you didn’t try to bite down. You had a feeling that the only thing you would manage to hurt was yourself.
They were both unbearable. Jasper, rutting against your face, chasing warmth that wasn’t his, and Emmett behind you, hips constantly flush to your ass, his smug grin pressed into the back of your shoulder as he did his best to tear you open from the inside out. Distantly, you could hear Alice and Rosalie next to you, a few pained whimpers as the latter curled her hands around her partner’s neck, but you couldn’t bring yourself to worry about what they might be doing to each other. All your pity was saved for yourself. It was humiliating – just how quickly your body gave out, just how many terrible, half-smothered noises they were able to force out of you. You felt yourself clench around Emmett’s unforgiving length, heard him curse and buckle against you. His mouth seemed to find the blood still dripping down your chin on instinct, and there was the faintest ghost of unnaturally pointed teeth before he jerked away, one hand finding your waist while the other planted itself on the back of your head, forcing Jasper that much deeper into your throat.
Abruptly, you remembered something another nurse had said to you not long after the Cullen’s first came to town, following Rosalie and Emmett’s first visit to the hospital during one of his less eventful shifts. She’d pulled you aside and admitted that, when Rosalie had first stepped into the lobby, your coworker had somehow mistaken her for a wildcat, nearly pressed the panic button before taking another look. When you asked her if she’d made the same mistake with the boy, all hulking muscle and eat-you-alive intensity, her smile had faltered.
“No,” she’d said, slowly. “That one’s obviously a bear.”
…
There was probably a reason Carlisle had liked you, looking back on it. You were always the last to run from danger.
His pace changed, sped up. Your back arched as he railed into you, Jasper grinding into your mouth with just as much ferocity. Jasper slipped first – something too chilling and too sweet to have ever come from anything human flooded over your tongue, down your throat, mingling with blood and spit where you failed to choke it down. Cruelly, Emmett chose that exact moment to let a hand fall to your clit, to tip you over the ledge you were clinging to so desperately. You came around him as he pumped you full of the same terrible, ice-cold venom. You could practically hear Rosalie purring in delight.
Emmett didn’t pull out. You felt his palm against the back of your neck, his body brace above yours as he pinned you down and started to—
“That’s enough, son.”
Emmett didn’t whine, didn’t protest. He remained silent, still, and Alice groaned next to you. “But we haven’t even—”
“Patience, Alice.” Jasper and Emmett drew back, letting Carlisle pull you into his arms. You weren’t proud of the way you clung to him, but you didn’t have another choice. When your only other option was a pack of wild animals, even a hunter could seem like a comfort. “You’ll get what you’ve asked for.”
You hid your face in his shoulders as he carried you to a velveteen lounge, Esme perched delicately on the arm. She stroked the side of your face gingerly as Carlisle sat down. “I do worry, sometimes,” he sighed, rearranging you to better straddle his lap. “They can be so careless.”
“They have good hearts,” Esme countered. Behind you, Rosalie’s hold on Alice’s neck tightened until her skin splintered, cracks spreading in all directions like fractured stone. “And they love so fiercely.”
The blunt head of his cock pressed into your entrance. With a painstaking sort of tenderness, he guided you downward, spearing you on his length. There was no attempt at resistance on your part. Only a miserable whimper, dampened by his skin, and your nails driven into his back. “I want to go home.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you will.” Esme’s voice was soft, sweet. You would’ve given anything for the strength to scream loud enough to drown it out. “The boys built such a lovely cottage. It’s only a few minutes away, and you’ll just adore the—”
“I think she can worry about that tomorrow, dear.” You felt him pulse inside of you, his smile settling against the dip of your shoulder.
꒰🐺 ꒱ 𝒸w: paul being intense, temper mentions, imprinting, soft possessiveness
𝒫aul 𝓛ahote is not the soft, sweet, whispering-poetry type of boyfriend. He is warm hands, sharp jaw, bad temper, and standing a little too close because he genuinely cannot help himself.
He loves hard. Like embarrassingly hard. Like if he imprints on you, everybody knows within two days because Paul is suddenly hovering like a guard dog with a personal grudge against the entire planet.
୨୧ He acts like he is not clingy, but he absolutely is.
Not in a “baby please text me back” way. More like he just appears wherever you are. Sitting beside you at Emily’s. Leaning against your truck. Walking you home even if you told him you were fine.
He will say something like, “I was going this way anyway,” and everyone knows he was not.
୨୧ Paul’s love language is physical touch, but he would rather die than say that out loud.
His hand on your lower back when you walk through a crowd. Fingers brushing your hair or your sleeve. His knee pressed against yours under the table. His arm thrown over the back of your chair, like he is trying to look casual but also making it very clear you are with him.
He is not delicate with affection at first. He has to learn how to be gentle. But once he does? It ruins him a little.
୨୧ He gets jealous fast, but he tries to play it off.
Paul is not subtle. If some guy looks at you too long, his whole face changes. Jaw tight. Eyes narrowed. Shoulders stiff.
And if you ask him what is wrong, he will definitely say, “Nothing.”
Which means everything is wrong and he is currently fighting demons in silence.
୨୧ He is protective in a very Paul way.
He does not fuss over you sweetly. He checks your tires. Walks on the road side of the sidewalk. Stares down anyone who makes you uncomfortable. Tells you to call him when you get home, then pretends he was not waiting with his phone in his hand.
If you get hurt, even a little, he gets quiet. That is how you know he is really scared.
୨୧ He has a temper, but he would try so hard not to scare you.
Paul is canonically hotheaded. That does not just disappear because he loves someone. But with you, he learns restraint and control
Sometimes he has to walk away. Sometimes he has to phase and run until the anger burns off. Sometimes he comes back looking ashamed, like he hates that part of himself more than anyone else ever could.
He would not want you afraid of him. That would destroy him.
୨୧ He is secretly proud when you wear his clothes.
He acts smug, obviously. That is Paul. But deep down, seeing you in his hoodie or shirt makes his chest feel too full.
He likes that you smell like him. He likes that everybody can see it. He likes that you look comfortable in something that belongs to him.
He will tease you for stealing it, then never ask for it back.
୨୧ At Emily’s house, he is always watching you.
Not in a creepy way. More like he is constantly aware of you. Where you are sitting. If you ate enough. If you are cold. If someone made you laugh.
He pretends he is listening to Jared or Embry, but his eyes keep sliding back to you anyway.
And if you catch him staring, he does not even look embarrassed. He just lifts his eyebrows like, what about it?
୨୧ Paul would be awful at apologizing at first.
Not because he does not care. Because caring makes him feel exposed.
His first apologies are probably stiff and awkward. “I shouldn’t have said that.” “I was being stupid.” “I didn’t mean it like that.”
But later, once he trusts you more, he gets better. Quieter. More honest.
“I got mad because I was scared. That’s not an excuse.”
୨୧ He is not the type to say “I love you” every five seconds.
But when he says it, it hits.
Paul’s “I love you” would come out low, serious, maybe when you are half asleep or after an argument or when he thinks you are not really listening. Or when you’re asleep, dead to the world.
And if you say it back, he goes still for half a second before pulling you closer.
୨୧ He likes when you mess with him.
Paul needs someone who can push back a little. Someone who rolls their eyes when he is being dramatic. Someone who can call him out without making him feel small.
If you tease him, he acts annoyed, but he loves it.
Especially if you make him laugh when he is trying very hard to stay mad.
୨୧ He is warmer than a blanket, no blankets needed when you’re around Paul.
Literally. Being around him is dangerous because once he holds you, you are not getting up. He runs hot from the shifting, so cuddling him feels unfairly good.
He would definitely complain if you put your cold hands on him, but he would still let you.
He would grumble, “You’re freezing,” while pulling your hands under his shirt to warm them up.
୨୧ He would struggle with the imprint at first.
Not because he does not want you. Because wanting you that much scares him.
Paul is used to reacting first and thinking later. The imprint would force him to feel everything at once. Need, fear, love, loyalty, panic.
He would hate how obvious it makes him. Hate that everyone can see exactly where his heart went.
But once he accepts it, that is it. He is yours.
୨୧ He loves in a way that feels almost too intense sometimes.
Paul is not casual. He does not know how to be casual with someone he loves.
He memorizes your moods. Your voice. The way you go quiet when something is wrong. The little things you do when you are nervous.
He notices more than people think he does.
୨୧ He would absolutely get softer when nobody is looking.
Around the pack, Paul is all attitude. Loud mouth, sharp grin, quick temper.
But alone with you? He gets quieter. He lets his guard drop. He presses his face into your neck and just breathes for a second, like being near you resets something in him.
_
I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS!! I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!! AND IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND TO LEAVE A COMMENT 🦌
Characters & Pairings: Carlisle Cullen x female!vampire!reader (romantic), Bella Swan x Edward Cullen, Edward Cullen x reader (platonic)
Content warnings: fluff, light angst, suggestive themes right at the end | female reader (she/her) | wc: 3.5k
requested 📥 yes/no
Premise: When Edward introduces Bella to his family after weeks of avoiding the inevitable, there was no telling how it was going to go down. Of course, what does one expect when they bring their girlfriend over for the first time…. except it's to a family of animal blood-sucking vampires who's lives each deserve a biography of their own. Bella felt the pressure of making a great impression, but the nerves seemed to heighten in regard to meeting the woman responsible for raising Edward throughout his undead life. The woman whose soul was bonded to none other than the Cullen patriarch.
--------------------------
Over a hundred years walking the Earth and Edward still experienced the universal feeling of cringe and embarrassment. This time, at the hands of none other than his family as he introduced him to the girl who’d captured his undead heart and made it hard for Edward to stay away.
“Alright, um,” he swallowed, placing a gentle hand on Bella’s back to nudge her in the direction of the staircase. Away from the prying eyes of his siblings and Carlisle after Alice had to say, ‘Oh, you do smell good,’ and Jasper was literally fighting for his life to keep it together. “Where’s Y/n?”
“In her studio,” Carlisle replied with a smile, the mention of his wife bringing a warmth to his chest. “She’s working on a project and can definitely use a break. She’s been excited to meet Bella since you mentioned bringing her over.”
Bella blushed, the nerves resurfacing at meeting another member of the Cullen family. The matriarch at that. Edward’s adoptive mother and Carlisle’s wife.
“Thanks,” Edward turned on his heel, leading Bella in the opposite direction. Mumbling a short goodbye, she followed the vampire down the corridor, past the staircase and a living space before stopping in front of a wooden door.
Before he knocked, Edward put a comforting hand on Bella’s shoulder, “Calm down,” his teeth sparkled against the light, eyes teasing. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”
“Sorry,” she flushed again, cursing at herself. She didn’t understand why she was so nervous to meet Y/n. More so than the rest of his family. Maybe it was because Edward spoke so highly of her. Maybe it was because she saw the way Carlisle lit up at the mere mention of her name. Or how the townspeople praised Y/n, even if they only had one interaction.
Edward went to knock, but this time was interrupted by a voice calling out from the other side, “Come in!” Smiling, he pushed open the door, revealing a large room in what only could be described as an organized disarray.
Bella’s jaw slightly dropped, taking in the scene before her. Eyes first darting to the high ceilings with a drop-down chandelier. Though it wasn’t on, thanks to the natural light provided by the left side of the room with floor to ceiling windows where a wall should’ve been. A beautiful, perfect view of the forest surrounding the home.
The walls were painted a rusted burnt red, the kind you see in art museums. Floors made of the finest dark wood, with one area covered by plastic reserved for protecting it by the paint cans laying on top, beside an easel holding a large canvas. A very large, vintage clock took the center of the wall connected to the window, surrounded by pieces ranging from old signs to shelves holding books and plants.
On the main wall parallel to the windows, a map of the world hung, flanked by art pieces. Portraits, landscape. Various mediums of pencil, oils, and acrylic. A phone straight from the 1930s mounted above a small table covered by messy stacks of paper. Bella’s eyes drew to a woven basket that came probably to her waist, filled with pieces of rolled parchment. A few laid on the ground. A foot away from it was a cart holding art supplies.
Finally, Bella’s gaze landed on the figure in the center of the room. Y/n sat on a wooden stool, her posture perfect, hand scribbling across a large piece of parchment placed on the wooden desk facing the windows. The desk was the type that propped up, a lamp attached to the corner, and side table. Something an artist or engineer invested in.
“I thought I heard the raging pump of a heartbeat approaching.” Bella squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment, letting out a small groan. Opening them when she heard the skid of the stool against the floor.
“Y/n,” Edward scolded, tone playful.
“Apologies, I couldn’t help myself,” Y/n chuckled, approaching the two with a wide smile. Bella held her breath, admiring the woman before her. Alice may have been the fashion girlie of the family, but there was no denying who she must’ve gotten it from.
Y/n made even the simplest of clothing look ethereal. White blouse tucked into beige trousers, brown belt with hints of gold, paired with stunning white heeled boots. The necklaces she wore were layered, the longest of which had several charms making them clink together, bracelets covering her wrists, three rings on each hand, and gold hoops. A multicolor scarf consisting of warm tones like red, orange, and yellow tied around her hair. Then of course, her eyes were melting gold.
She was the picture of an artist.
Upon closer inspection, Bella had to hold back a whistle at the ring reserved for her left ring finger. Carlisle sure had taste and made sure his lady got what she deserved. That was no ring. That was a rock.
“You must be the famous Bella,” Y/n’s hand shot out, Bella hesitating a moment before taking it. Y/n’s handshake was soft yet firm at the same time. Bringing a chill to Bella as their skin met. “It is truly a pleasure to meet you,” letting go of her hand, Y/n brought both of hers up to make a gesture. “I have been begging Edward to bring you around for weeks. I don’t know why it’s taken him so long,” a playful glare was directed at him.
Edward rolled his eyes, then put an arm around Bella. “Bella, this is Y/n. My mother for all intents and purposes. Artist, architect, and occasional therapist to all of us emotionally stunted immortal teenagers.”
“You said it, not me,” Y/n smirked, hands raised again.
Bella laughed, comforted by Edwards touch as she regarded Y/n. “It’s really nice to meet you, Y/n. Edward talks about you all the time.”
“Good things, correct?”
“Of course,” Bella assured, nudging Edward who had scoffed. “He mentioned you designed this house--it’s absolutely beautiful. And this--,” motioning to the space, Bella was again in awe of Y/n’s studio. It’s like she was walking through an exhibit in the Louvre. “Wow.”
“When I made the blueprints for this house, I wanted everyone to have a place--plus everyone was vocal about what they wanted,” she teases with a grin. “Carlisle has his study, Alice her closets, Rosalie wished for a garage, Jasper desired a library, Emmett a game room, Edward got his music room. And me,” a hand waves to the room with pride. “My studio.”
Bella raised an intrigued brow, aimed at Edward, “you have a music room?”
Had he been human, Edward would have blushed. He brushed it off with a shrug, “Yeah, it’s just where I keep a few instruments. I’ll show you as we go through the house.”
“A few,” Y/n lightly scoffed, earning a small glare from the boy.
“Carlisle said you’re working on a project,” he changed the subject, nudging his head toward the desk. Catching sight of the blueprints that were in the early draft stages.
“The high school plans to renovate the library, so they’ve asked me to go over some plans and designs. They were pleased with my work for the gym last year.”
Edward turns to Bella, “Y/n has the magic touch for designing and constructing. And because we’ve had the time to redo college over and over again….” They share a laugh, “she’s got degrees in art, engineering, design, and business on top of her architecture education.”
The woman simply shrugs, “I like to keep busy. Who wouldn't want to take advantage of obtaining all the world’s knowledge when you have eternity.” If she saw the pointed look Edward was giving her, Y/n ignored it.
“Anyway,” He sighed, returning his attention to Bella, “The town comes to her for consultations. And, in most cases than often, she designs and oversees the build.”
“Wow, that’s amazing,” Bella awed, past Edward’s shoulder she spotted the white construction worker's hat. Propped beside a coat hanger possessing a pair of overalls, scarves, and painters' boots. “Did you-,” her finger pointed to the display of artwork, “paint all those?”
“Several, yes,” Y/n motioned them to follow her, moving closer to the wall. “This one you might have guessed is the view of the forest from this room. The first one I did when we moved here. But not all are recent, some I did in the 90s--,” she pointed to a canvas framed with gold trimming near the top. Depicting an image of inside a medical tent, “That one is from when I volunteered for the Army Nurses Corps.”
Bella’s eyes bulged, glancing between Y/n and Edward. “You--you served during the War?”
Y/n nodded, expression now solemn, “First World War. We were living in Virginia at the time and therefore injured soldiers coming back from Europe docked at the bases there first. Carlisle was the trauma surgeon, and I was a nurse.” Her boots echoed against the wood as they strolled down. “We stayed there the duration of the war before settling in Chicago….”
“How long before he wakes up?”
“Not long,” Carlisle kept his eyes on the unconscious boy while his wife paced behind him. Had they been able to sweat they would’ve been drenched. “The venom transferred from his neck. The closest I could get to his heart--it should take less than a day.”
Y/n ran a hand through her neatly styled hair in distress. They’d only been in Chicago a few months. Arriving when the War ended and immediately joining the effort to combat the Spanish Influenza spreading through the population. With their current predicament, there was no way they could stay.
Ripping the nurses cap off, she asked, “What’s our next move then? We can’t stay here. This city is an endless potluck of people, and we don’t know how strong his urges will be,” she stopped pacing, coming beside her husband with a pleading gaze. “I know you said his parents are dead, but that doesn't mean he may not have family who’ll come looking for him. What kind of people are we to rip him from the ones who love him?” Upon the look she received, Y/n dropped her head, “Unless you mean to fake his death.”
Carlisle placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “The boy had the influenza. They saw his condition--it was deteriorating. They’ll believe it took him in the night and his body was sent to the incinerators. Just like the others.”
Y/n sniffed, eyes welling with unshed tears. “I know, but…” she trailed off, “He’s a kid, Carlisle. We agreed that when it came time for us to save someone from death, it would not mean robbing them of their life--.”
“He was dying, Y/n,” his tone was firm, yet gentle. “I promised his mother we’d look after him.” Eyes flicker to Edward, then back to Y/n. While Carlisle hated himself for what he’d done, there was no going back now. “He’s our responsibility now. We’ve to teach him the ways of this life and make sure he copes with it. Not succumb to the darkness like we did.”
Another sound left her, Y/n taking a moment to process before nodding. “Okay,” she whispered, keeping her voice steady. “We take this day-by-day.”
“Day-by-day.”
“That’s when Edward….” Bella trailed, biting her lip when she realized it wasn’t the best idea to bring it up. Yet, she was surprised both the vampires nodded, understanding her implication. Instead, she said, “He mentioned you’ve been with Carlisle the longest….”
Like earlier with the doctor, Y/n visibly brightened at each time his name was said. “Will be two hundred years this fall.”
“Two--two hundred??” The human spluttered. Edward had failed to tell her that information. Only saying the two had been together long before Carlisle saved him.
Chuckling at Bella’s reaction, Y/n tucked a piece of stray hair back in its place. “The vampire who bit me didn’t stick around. Abandoning me. A few days later of endless wonder and unable to control my newfound appetite, Carlisle found me.” Her smile was so wide, bright white teeth bouncing off light. “It’s been quite a life ever since.”
They spent the next few minutes learning about the history of each painting. From the oil masterpiece of the New York Skyline to the charcoal portrait of Joan of Arc. Bella took time to admire the watercolor image of Carlisle. Donned in his white coat, hair and posture perfect.
“Ah yes,” Y/n hummed, beaming up at the canvas. “My personal favorite. Though I’m a little biased given the muse of this piece happens to be the muse of my soul.”
“Stay still.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re not,” Y/n berated, dipping the brush back into the golden color before continuing to paint Carlisle’s hair. “I know this is time consuming, darling, but it’s not like you haven’t done it before.”
“In my defense,” his hand raised, quickly putting it back in his lap when she groaned, “I’ve never technically sat for a portrait. The ones from Volterra were done while I wasn’t aware they were being painted.” A grimace took his features, remembering his time with the Volturi. “Aro preferred moments to be captured as they were happening in real time.”
Y/n threw him a look, shaking her head in the process. “Yeah, he seems like the type.”
“First and last time he got to play model,” she laughed at the memory. “Thanks to the creation of the camera I could develop a photograph and wallah!” her hands made a gesture, “A still image to use as reference. And now with cell phones….I don’t even have to put in the work to develop the photo. It’s right there!”
Initially Bella found her reaction to a camera phone a little odd. But then remembered Y/n was a 200+ year old vampire and literally witnessed the development and advancement of technology.
“But I don’t always create,” Y/n winked, stopping in front of a stunning work of a lily pond. “Sometimes I collect.”
Stepping closer, Bella inspected the art, finger on her lip as her brows furrowed in concentration. She’d seen it before. The familiarity of it was driving her brain into overdrive. Then it hit her, breath hitching, “Is that…A Monet?” Her confirmation nod made Bella nearly choke on her saliva. “How--?”
“Being alive 226 years and getting the privilege of traveling anywhere means I’ve had the pleasure of meeting interesting people,” her smirk was the type a movie villain showed that made the audience fall in love with them and brush away the fact they were a villain. A captivating sight. “One of those people happened to be Claude Monet during our time in France. Our shared love for art and nature brought a great friendship. I was actually with him when he painted this,” she casually said, aware of Bella’s astonished reaction despite her eyes trained on the canvas. “Unfortunately, Carlisle and I left before I got to see him finish. After he died several of his paintings went to museums or auctioned off. I made sure to acquire this one--took me about three years to find.”
After a moment of gawking, Bella gathered herself and moved onto the next piece. It really felt like they were in an art museum. Soon they came to the end of the gallery.
“You’re incredibly talented,” Bella praised, unable to take her attention off the marble sculpture enclosed in a glass case by the small bookshelf.
“Thank you. It’s nice to finally have someone to show this all too. Instead of just me admiring it daily.” Y/n put her hands in pockets, “Now I hate to kick you out, but if you’ll excuse me, I have a deadline to beat,” Y/n led them to the door, “and I’ll let you get back to your tour of the house. It was lovely to meet you, Bella, and please don’t be a stranger. Our door is always open for you.”
“I really appreciate it,” Bella smiled, standing beside Edward in the doorway, “It was great meeting you too.” A wave of a goodbye and promise to visit again, Y/n watched Edward escort his girlfriend up the staircase to the second floor. Leaning against the side, Y/n touched a finger to her lips, not bothering to hide the giant grin surfacing.
“I know that look.”
Despite speaking after Bella and Edward disappeared, Y/n felt Carlisle’s presence the second he breached the corridor. Not to mention the tingling sensation at the base of her spine.
Slowly turning to face him, her smile widened, and Carlisle saw the way her golden hues sparkled when he approached. “And what exactly is that look?”
“The one where you’re overcome with happiness unable to be measured with how much it consumes you.”
Hands took hold of her shoulders, gently brushing down until they reached her own, Y/n leaning into his touch, voice teasing, “What mother would I be to not be overjoyed for her son and the wonderful girlfriend he’s brought home?”
Carlisle chuckled, tilting his head down to place a kiss on her forehead. The floral aroma of her Marc Jacobs perfume amplified her already sweet scent. Oh, how addicted he was to her scent. It was like walking through a garden of the most beautiful flowers on Earth.
“You didn’t embarrass him, did you?”
Y/n rolled her eyes, tapping his chest to scold him, “Not much more than you lot. He was practically dragging Bella out of the kitchen.” Carlisle raised his hands in defense, making her raise a brow.
“That was all the kids. I’m innocent, my dear, you must believe me.”
She tsked, “Well, at least you didn’t scare the poor girl like Rosalie and Jasper. And as much as I love Alice’s excitement, you might want to tell her to take it down a notch,” Y/n made a face, “I thought we all agreed last night not to bring up Bella’s scent.”
She was met with a sigh, her sculptured-God of a husband dropping his head onto her shoulder in defeat. “What was I supposed to do? You left me to fend for myself.”
Laughing, Y/n reached her arms around his shoulders, encasing him in an embrace to which he greatly accepted. “I’m sorry, my love. Will you forgive me? I promise to find you the finest stag in all of Washington for you to feast upon.” Instantly his head shot up, moving it so their noses brushed against each other.
“That’ll do.” Their lips met, igniting fireworks throughout their bodies as it always had for 200 years. Never once losing the feeling.
They’d seen everything in the course of their century's long life. Several wars. Epidemics. The fall of countries and rise of new ones. Medicine advancing, technology overtaking man. The race to space and the rebirth of the Olympic Games.
Met people who’d changed the world. Witnessed humanity evolve--and sometimes wondered how the hell it could be so stupid. But overall, they were the stagnant figures in their plane of existence. Time moving, they remained still.
And yet, somehow, they were able to find a family after all.
When they pulled apart, their expressions of love remained. “God,” she hummed, “That never gets old.”
“Just like the first time?” He chafed, gold eyes glimmering.
Y/n pretending to think, lips pouting, “Less nervous,” a squeal escaped her at the feeling of his fingers tickling her ribcage. Shoving him away, the woman chided, “Get back to the hospital old man. There are patients to be seen, and I have a deadline to finish.” The gasp that left him made her grin.
“Old?! I’ll have you know that if I’m old then that means you are---.”
“Don’t you finish that sentence,” her finger pointed at his chest, “otherwise you’re sleeping on the couch.” Carlisle smirked, entering her personal space once again.
“I can’t sleep. Neither can you.”
“Damn,” she exhaled, feigning defeat when really, she was becoming more invested with their little game. “You’re right.” Then her eyes turned dark, sinister. Face consorting to a look that made Carlisle shudder.
A look he’d seen hundreds of times, and not once did not bring a chill to his already cold body. Enough to bring his heart back to life. Enough to send the frozen blood down to his spine.
“Guess we’ll have to find another way to pass the time.”
description: hey!! i was wondering if u would write a request for paul with a reader who’s soft spoken and like the complete opposite of him sharing a sweet moment or two. i love your blog btw!!!
requested by: anon
warnings: none
thank you sm!!! i hope you enjoy!! :)
the pan in front of her sizzled as she placed another piece of chicken in it to cook. the air was filled with delicious aromas as she continued preparing dinner for her and her imprint, paul lahote. paul’s imprint loved cooking, having spent a lot of her time in the kitchen with her mother when she was little.
paul was due home from his patrol at anytime. it took some getting used to - finding out that he was a shifter and that he had to split his time between her and the pack - but now his imprint was well adversed to her new lifestyle. she loved the pack and the other imprintees.
when the rest of the pack met paul’s imprint, they were all surprised to say the least. compared to paul, his imprint was much quieter, soft spoken and slow to anger. she often liked to sit back and soak in the conversations around her, only piping in quietly here or there. paul, on the other hand, was rowdy. he had a short temper, a great sense of humor and was always ready to throw out a quick quip to another pack member.
she enjoyed being around them all - really, she did - but nothing compared to the quiet moments her and paul shared.
as she flipped the chicken around in the pan, she could hear the quiet click of the front door. she smiled to herself, knowing that paul was finally home with her again. his warm arms wrapped around her middle just a moment later and he nuzzled his face into her neck, pressing small kisses against her skin as he did. “hello beautiful. smells good in here.”
“hello, thanks.” she murmured back at him, placing the fork back on the plate beside her before turning in paul’s arms and wrapping her own arms around his neck. she rolled on her tiptoes, pressing a small kiss to his lips before dropping back down. “how was your day?”
“long, uneventful.” he huffed before his lips curved into a wicked smirk. “but much better now that i’m here with you.”
she couldn’t help but giggle as he leaned forward to pepper kisses all over her face and neck. “always such a flirt, paul.”
“only for you.” he teased back, finally ending his assault to look over her shoulder. “dinner almost done?”
“yeah, just. have to finish the sauce and throw it all together.”
paul hummed, leaning forward to press another, lingering kiss to his imprint’s lips. “i’m gonna go shower. i’ll be quick, then i’m yours for the rest of the night.”
“sounds perfect.” she grinned back, squeezing paul once more before letting him pull away. she watched him go, swatting at his back and laughing at his offended cry before she turned back around to finish their dinner.
Paul with the quiet reader who’s got a mouth (and is his imprint)
He was not happy to see you in the orange truck, with the one person who knew how to mess with the peace that’s been present for years
He hasn’t spoken to you in YEARS but that doesn’t change the fact that he remembers what it’s like to be scared
He didn’t like when you followed her out of the truck or when you nearly stepped in front of her to protect her from Jake
Or when you stood in front of him and pushed the two behind you
He hated the fact that you were there at all because you’re so- so-
Shit
You were more than confused and pissed off when Sam told him to go as he and Jake ran off to fight
You were definitely not going to follow them in the house
You tried to leave before anything else WEIRD could happen but you know, that didn’t work when the two stood by the truck as you were having a moral dilemma (stay or steal Bella’s truck, kindly return it, offer yourself up for your crime, and face the punishment from her father)
Bella was not going to deal with this alone and ran out, all but shoving you into the direction of the house while all the boys watched amused
You briskly walked into the house, leaving them all behind and stood awkwardly near the kitchen counter until Emily slid a muffin to you
You said nothing throughout the entire ordeal and hung back
Paul was the one to approach you (with his nerves FRIED)
“Oh, now you want to stop being a dick and talk to me?”
Everyone starts cackling, even Sam.
“I could honestly care less about whatever is going on so you can leave me alone and I would love a signed copy of your cookbook,” you said, turning to Emily for the last part.
“I don’t have a cookbook.”
“You need to make one and I want a signed copy because I can’t even get the warmth you poured into this.”
Bella tried kicking you out (jelly of everyone talking to you, even Jake)
You chucked her keys out the window in retaliation
Everyone learned to take it easy with you (as to not become a victim of your words)
Embry and Jared left pouting after you call the puppies (“pussy puppies” because they p couldn't kill a bug for Emily while Sam was out)
Quill almost started crying after you bullied him in scrabble
Jake nearly fell down the stairs as you barked at him for acting like a “love sick puppy”
Sam ran to Emily’s arms as you judged him for his dramatic walk in the rain after shifting one late night
Emily nearly cut her hand on an apple after you shamed her bed head (due to... stuff)
Paul always swoons when you're sassy (not that he'd ever say so)
You barely acknowledge Paul as is and him you despite his wanting to be near you all the time
Que Bella drama, you being dragged around, and almost dying for Paul to confess everything
You two take over a year before going out on an actual date BUT that makes it better and means more to the two of you
The power of friends to strangers to enemies to friends to lovers makes it worth it
“He was too much of a baby to ask me out.”
He pouts, “I was not.”
You smile and squeeze his hand. “It's okay. You're still my tough, big, bad wolf.”
“I feel the opposite.”
You roll your eyes. “Excuse me for trying to boost your ego squirrel brain.”
* Embry loves waking up before you because it means he can quietly enjoy listening to your heartbeat while you peacefully sleep
* He always wants to tell you about the latest comic book he read or the newest sci-fi show he’s obsessed with. Including you in his hobbies makes him happy because he knows you won’t judge him.
* Embry’s usually quiet around groups of people but the second you’re alone he won’t stop talking. He’s loud and funny and animated, you bring out the light in his eyes and he can’t help but be excited when he’s with you.
* He knows you love him, but he gets jealous easily. When he sees another guy showing interest in you, he’ll go quiet and watch the interaction. He’s not the kind to blow up or get angry - he’s the type that gets stuck in his thoughts and worries he isn’t enough for you. Later he’ll ask about it and try his best not to sound jealous when you know he is. Cuddles and kisses always make him feel better though.
* When the boys hound on him for being whipped over you, he just shrugs them off and blushes. They don’t see the way you hold him after a rough night of patrolling, or the way you kiss him until there’s no breath left in his lungs.
* “You guys don’t get it” he’d say, drifting back to a daydream of your pretty lips
[i’ve finished the last chapter of ‘hands of fate’ just want to do some finishing touches then it’ll be out tmrw i swear x]
