#Jasper whitlock x reader

[iconicstoner]

I read your love bites and apologies story and I was thinking something similar but opposite!! Reader loves the hickeys and can't get enough of them! Like reader is always covered in hickeys!!! Maybe there's a situation with reader's parents or something, and reader uses it as a way to rebel or something! Idk! Just do whatever you want!!!

If you don't want to write this, that's totally cool!

💖💖💖

a/n: Thank you so much for this request! It was so fun to write and I hope you like what I came up with lol. I also am really glad you enjoyed one of my other stories!

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marked up

gn!reader x jasper hale (smut)

words: 910

summary: you decide to rebel against your parents by letting Jasper mark you all over, but it quickly turns to even more than that.

“Woah darlin’, calm down now,” Jasper tells you, keeping one hand in your hair. Your mouth is on his icy cold neck, leaving kisses everywhere. He doesn’t have blood, so he can’t get hickeys, but if he could then he would’ve been covered by now. He tried again to tell you to calm down, but all he could focus on was your warm breathe on his neck.

“You always cover me in hickeys, so maybe it’s my turn,” you tell him with a smirk. You’re sitting in his lap, the two of you on his bed, and despite the fact you’re looking down at him, he’s in full control.

  “You don’t like when I leave marks on you?” he asks, already knowing the answer. He gives that perfect smile that’s been burned into your memory. 

“I love it,” you whisper sensually in his ear. You hear a low moan in the back of his throat as he grabs you by the waist. He lifts you up and roughly places you down on the mattress below him. 

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna leave you covered by the time we’re done here. Everyone will know you’re mine,” he tells you. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” you respond. 

“Why’s that?” he asks with a grin. You think back to the fight with your parents you’d had before you’d left home. You fell asleep without a shirt on, your parents noticed one of the hickeys on your chest, and they were not pleased. You assured them that it was fine. You still had amazing grades, great relationships with your friends, and your own hobbies, but they hated the idea you were having sex, especially not with someone they didn’t trust, like Jasper.

Jasper lifts up your chin, kissing you your jaw, bringing you back into reality.

“My parents and I are fighting about you again,” you say between breathy moans, “they think you’re a bad influence.”

“I am,” he said while slipping his hand under your shirt. You wanted to listen to his thick southern accent forever, hearing him call out your name in it. You tugged at his shirt, lifting it up. He quickly took it off, and you did the same with your own. Your chest was now exposed and he began kissing you all over. He left hickeys up and down your chest, your waist, your neck, everywhere. Anywhere he could reach your soft, warm skin he pressed his tongue to it. He knew neither of you would be satisfied until you were fully covered in hickeys.

He pulled away from you, slowly unbuckling his pants just to tease you. He unbottoned your pants next and pulled them off you, leaving kisses along your hips. He pulled down your undewear just enough to expose you and began to kiss you there. He licked your bare skin slowly, causing you to buck your hips with excitement. 

He moved back up to your neck, kissing and leaving hickies there again, but he kept a firm grip on your hips. His mouth trailed down to your collarbones, and left more marks there. You knew he was trying to tease you. As he pulled away to let you gasp for air you looked noticed a tent in his boxers, and you knew you craved him. He began to slowly grind against you, his hard pressing up against you in the most satisfying way, causing you to beg for him.

“Please Jasper, I need you,” you moaned out. He began to kiss and suck one of your nipples. You jumped in pleasure as he put one of his cold hands between your thighs, roughly spreading them open. He stopped kissing your chest, and began to kiss you. His tongue was in your mouth, his hard cock was rubbing against you, and you were in pure bliss. He pulled away from the kiss and pushed a few strands of hair out of your face.

“Oh darlin’, I’m not even done with my tongue yet,” he told you before moving back down between your thighs. He grabbed you by the hips and began to tease you with his tongue. He traced it along your inner thighs, causing your hips to jump again.

“Please, Jas,” you begged. You saw him smile up at you before begining to give you head. His tongue moved in the most perfect ways. He kissed and licked you everywhere, and you had never felt more pleasure. His hands were firmly gripped on your thighs, and his tongue moved swiftly. You let out shaky mones as your got closer to your climax, but his movements never faltered. Before you could even register the thought, you had already came. Your legs were shaking from the pleasure.

He sat up, brushing more hair out of your face. He wiped some sweat off of your face before gently kissing your forehead. It was hard to tell if you liked him more gentle and sweet or rough and dominating. You sat up, resting in his arms. The two of you peacfully laid there, skin to skin, for what could’ve been forever. He shifted and got out of bed, having to force himself to let go of your hand. 

“It’s getting late,” he told you as he gathered both of your clothes. “You should get home before it’s dark, or else I might have to punish you next time,” he whispered seductively as he left a final hickey on your neck. 

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Blood singer, part 15

Summary: Receiving a call from home, Jasper realizes he has to move faster than he intended, and while his mate is annoyed he's keeping secrets from her, she's letting him off the hook...for now.

Warnings (be mindful of your triggers): injury, blood and death, angst, fluff, grief, swearing, sexual content, mentions of mental health struggles, alcohol, eating disorder, mentions of a period

Pairing: Jasper Hale x human!reader (blood singer), Paul Lahote x human!reader

Word count: 17.0k

Blood singer - Series Masterlist

Y/N wakes up to cold sheets.

She blinks against the soft morning light filtering through the window, her limbs still heavy with sleep. Reaching out blindly, her fingers stretch across the mattress, grasping onto nothing but the air; there’s no sign of him, no weight, just the faint imprint of where he used to be.

She pushes herself up with a quiet groan, hair sticking to one side of her face. Her feet hit the floor with a soft thud as she drags herself out of the bedroom and down the hall.

The kitchen is empty. She frowns, rubbing at her eyes as she peers around. No Jasper or his cheeky smile. She believed they were fine, that they’d put to bed what happened, but finding herself alone felt disheartening.

And then, she hears him; his voice, distant but clear enough to draw her attention. She follows it, her steps slow and uncertain as she pads toward the porch, the screen door creaking slightly as she pushes it open.

He’s on the beach, standing barefoot in the sand, phone pressed to his ear. It’s the first time she’s seen him use it since they arrived.

She stops just outside, arms wrapping around her chest against the slight chill in the air, her gaze narrowing on him.

He doesn’t see her, or pretends not to.

But she sees him. The tension in his shoulders. The way his hand grips the phone like he might crush it. His jaw ticks once, then again, and he runs a hand through his curls in that way he always does when he’s trying not to lose it.

His voice isn’t loud, but it’s sharp and frustration lingers, impossible to ignore. She can’t make out what he’s saying, but it’s clear that he’s not having a casual chat.

Then something changes.

He noticed her.

She knows he did. His body stills, his eyes flicker briefly in her direction without turning all the way. And then his voice drops, softer now, low enough she can’t pick out a single word.

Typical. God forbid he lets her in on whatever disaster is looming now. Every time something happens, she has to pry it out of him by force and it’s getting really tiresome to have to beg for information that greatly affects her life.

She rolls her eyes and exhales through her nose, defeated. Watching him from the porch won’t get her any closer to the truth. It’s too early to argue and too late to pretend she didn’t notice. So she turns around and heads back inside.

In the kitchen, she sets the kettle on the stove and unwraps her bandaged finger with slow, careful movements. The cut is healing. A scab’s formed, dry and neat, no sign of infection. She lets out a slow breath, a little lighter now that she knows it won’t complicate things further.

The kettle starts to whistle.

She moves to grab it, but before her hand even reaches the handle, he’s there. Jasper takes it from her like he’s done it a thousand times, like he’s been standing behind her this whole time.

He doesn’t say anything, pours the hot water over the tea bag she left in the cup, and then tops off the rest over a bowl of store-bought oatmeal.

Her throat tightens a little. Not from fear, but from how easily he slips back into being him; quiet, helpful, always paying attention. It would be easy to forget all the questions that are still there, pressing at the edges of her mind. So easy to just let it go and enjoy the morning with her fiancé like any girl might do. But her relationship isn’t normal and for the life of her, she cannot ignore any of it.

She watches him as he sets the kettle back down, like maybe the answers will be in the way his eyes crinkle, or in how he avoids meeting hers.

But she doesn’t speak.

Not yet.

In the blink of an eye, breakfast is ready.

Jasper pulls out a chair for her like a gentleman. He’s grinning at her, charming as always, infuriatingly composed.

She narrows her eyes at him, gnawing lightly at the inside of her cheek. He just raises his eyebrows, silently daring her to say something, his eyes trailing after her with warmth she can feel even before she sits.

Her braid is loose today, a few strands falling into her face, and he finds himself staring again, like always. She looks like a dream. Half put together, half undone. So entirely divine that he wonders how it’s even possible for her to still take his breath away after all this time.

And he knows it’ll be different once she changes.

Better, maybe. Stronger. Faster. But he’ll miss her softness. The glow in her skin, the softness in her heartbeat, the color of her eyes, the ones he loves more than any painting he’s ever seen. Crimson will come first. That’s the part he dreads. A blur of red in place of the gaze he’s memorized. And even though it won’t last forever, he knows it’ll gut him when it comes. Once they’re golden, he’ll mourn their true color, but it’s a small price to pay for eternity spent together.

She drops into the chair with a sigh and rests back, eyes on him, arms loosely crossed as she waits. The oatmeal is still too hot to eat. So is the tea. And she’s too smart to push just yet, but too observant to miss the way he’s holding something back.

He knows it. She knows it.

So he breaks first.

“It was Edward,” Jasper says, voice low.

She tilts her head.

“Alec and Demetri have left.”

“But?”

He looks away again and she holds her breath, waiting for him to continue. If he could, he’d tell her a half-truth, one that would satisfy her, but she doesn’t buy it anymore. She never just accepts the surface.

He smiles, faintly. It’s automatic now, how easily she sees through him. No tricks. No misdirection. She’s learned the map of his soul like she’s been studying it her whole life. She reads him like a book she’s halfway through and already knows how it ends. There’s no pretending with her.

And maybe that’s what scares him most.

Because she’s gotten close, closer than anyone ever has.

No one, not even Alice, got that close before. He made sure of it. He kept walls up his whole existence and she slipped through them like they were never built in the first place. There was no stopping Y/N and he didn’t want to. He let her in.

Worse, he wanted her there.

And she doesn’t even flinch when the cracks start to show.

He looks back up at her slowly.

“Carlisle kept a vial of the blood donor they used when you were in the hospital.”

She freezes.

“What? Why?!”

“Scientific purposes,” Jasper says quickly, almost too quickly, like he’s repeating someone else’s words. “Point is, they found that out and have reported it to their leaders.”

Her stomach tightens, twisting her insides. “What does that mean for us?”

Jasper doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches for her hand, slow and careful like touching her might break them both. His fingers wrap around hers gently. He doesn’t squeeze. He just holds on, like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. He keeps his gaze on her, watching her like she’s an angel, his saving grace equally as she is his ruin.

“How would you like to marry me today?”

She blinks, stunned. “Today?”

He nods once.

“Here?” she asks, her voice quieter now.

Another nod.

“Without your family present?”

He swallows hard. “Yes.”

“Jasper���” Her brows pull together. “How bad is it? Why are you rushing this?”

He forces a smile, the kind that’s meant to calm her, but she sees right through it. It doesn’t reach his eyes. It only makes her heart ache.

“It can become very, very bad,” he admits softly. “I’d like to get ahead of things.”

She pulls her hand away.

“Then, no.”

The word lands like a slap, not because of its harshness, but because it’s said so calmly, so clearly. She doesn’t raise her voice. Doesn’t shout. But her whole body is tense now, and Jasper can feel it, like her spine’s locked into place just to keep herself from shaking.

Her jaw clenches as she sits up straighter. “I’m not willing to marry you today.”

He feels it - the hurt, sink deeper than he expects. Not because she doesn’t want him. But because she thinks this is only about fear. How can she be so willing to break his heart and assume he’d ever do anything if he didn’t truly want it? If she, the one who knows him best, cannot see the truth, how will anyone else?

“Why not?” he asks, more quietly than he intends.

She doesn’t look away. Doesn’t soften. “Because I’m not getting married to you while you’re staring down the barrel of a gun.”

Her voice doesn’t crack. If anything, it’s stronger now. “You want to marry me today because you’re afraid,” she says. “And I get it, I do. But that’s not the reason I want to walk down the aisle. Not with you. Not like this. It’s not exactly the best foundation to base a marriage on.”

Raising his brows, Jasper shakes his head slowly. He doesn’t let go of her hand, if anything, his grip tightens just a little, warm and steady, reminding her he’s with her and he is absolutely smitten. Without a word, he rises from his chair only to drop to his knees beside her. Looking up at her, he smiles, soft and hopeful, like a man offering his whole heart…and he is.

She tries not to smile back.

Tries and fails.

“Yes, darlin’, I am afraid. That’s not why I want to marry you.”

“Then -”

“Let me finish,” he interjects gently, voice low but firm.

His eyes never leave hers, and there’s raw emotion behind them. Something that makes her chest ache even before he speaks again.

“I want to marry you because I have spent my entire life trying to find the meaning of all that’s happened to me. Because I used to believe I was cursed, due to something nobody even remembers now. I’ve been so angry and in so much pain, forced into this life. I’ve been searching for somewhere I belong, and I believed I found it with the Cullens, but it’s never been a place…I learned that when I met you. You’re the northern star I’ve been following, long before you were even born.”

“Jas -“ she starts, her voice unsteady.

“No, please,” he cuts in again, inching a little closer, his knees pressing to the floor, shoulders hunched toward her in open vulnerability. “I was so afraid of feeling all I do now, because I didn’t understand it. I’m a deeply flawed person, broken beyond belief, but I am mending. You are mending me.”

His free hand lifts, hovering near her face, not touching, just close enough to let her feel his love, and how he trembles before her.

“Even if you taste like madness, you’re under my skin and you’ve colonized my thoughts and my poor, unsuspecting heart desires to beat once more just so it can scream your name. But since it can’t, I will say it. I love you Y/N Y/L/N. I will love you for the rest of eternity, if you’ll let me. I am scared. I admit it. But I am more scared of losing you. Of having to face this never-ending life without you by my side.”

“I understand, but -“

“No buts,” he breathes. His eyes plead with hers. “If you understand, marry me. I want you. I want us. I want it all and I don’t care what it costs; I will fight for our future. I wasn’t ready for you, but there you were in the ocean, and there I was, diving headfirst to save a stranger without knowing what it would lead me to. And here we are now. I am on my knees, and I am begging you to be my wife.”

Her body slides off the chair and onto the floor beside him in one smooth motion. She climbs into his lap without hesitation, wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. His hands instinctively find her hips, steadying her there.

“And I want to be your wife! I do!” she says, forehead pressed to his. “But how can I be your wife when you can barely touch me?”

He tenses, just slightly, and her fingers thread through the back of his hair.

“Jasper, I don’t want to marry you just to have a piece of paper proving that. I want more than you can offer me now. Don’t you understand that?”

“I wouldn’t be making you my wife if I wasn’t ready to take that step,” he says, voice low, grounding.

Her eyes widen slightly. “You mean -”

“Yes, darlin’.” His hands slide slowly up her back, anchoring her in place. “If you’ll have me, I’d like to marry you today, or tomorrow, if you need more time to wrap your mind around it. But once I put a ring on your hand…”

He leans in, his breath warm against her cheek.

“I would like to take you to bed and make love to you until you forget your own name… and all you can do is pant mine.”

Blushing furiously at the mental image his words paint across her mind, Y/N nods once, then again, quicker, heat crawling up her neck all the way to her ears. She can't bring herself to say anything.

It’s the first time Jasper’s managed to leave her completely speechless, and he knows it. He lets out a low, victorious chuckle, tilting his head slightly as if to take in the sight of her flushed and flustered.

Leaning in close, he brushes a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. His lips ghost against her skin, his breath warm.

“I can’t wait to watch you come undone under me,” he murmurs, voice barely a whisper, meant for her ears only. “Time and time again. In the bed. In the kitchen. On the porch. The beach. The ocean. The jungle. Every inch of this island. As a human… and as a vampire.”

Her breath catches. She blinks fast, stunned into stillness for a beat before she pulls back just enough to see his face, really see it. His golden eyes are steady, sure. Not a flicker of hesitation.

“You’ll change me?” she asks, voice soft, hope brimming at the edges.

“Yes.” His answer is firm. “If you still want to.”

She nods without pause, her hands flying up to cup his cheeks, her palms pressing against his cold skin. “Only after we do what you just promised.”

He snickers, low and full of mischief, and leans in to kiss her; no hesitation, no gentleness this time. It’s bold, hungry, certain. His hands grip her hips as he pulls her even closer into his lap.

But underneath the playful grin, she feels it in the way he kisses her…he means it. Every word.

Jasper isn’t just saying this to calm her down. He intends to marry her. He intends to love her fully, without fear or distance. He’s ready to take her in every way she’s dreamed of and every way she’s longed for.

And even though she doesn’t ask, the question lingers in her mind…what about the risk of pregnancy?

But she doesn’t bring it up, because a small, secret part of her wants that risk. Wants every possibility of a future with him, even the impossible ones.

She knows the greater risk is whether they’ll be able to make it that far, whether Jasper can let go without losing control. But she believes in him. Just like she did last night. And they’ll figure it out.

Together.

“I’ll make a few calls,” he whispers against her lips, brushing another soft kiss across them before reluctantly pulling back. “I’ll get us someone to officiate the wedding, a witness… and a beautiful dress for you.”

She raises her brows, giving him her best pout. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Have breakfast,” he says simply, kissing her forehead with a smile before vanishing from the room in a blink.

She stays there for a moment, hands still suspended in the air where he’d been, lips tingling. She turns toward the table, heart racing. She never expected this, not yet. She imagined it happening in a million ways ever since she embraced her feelings for Jasper, but it’s no longer a figment of her imagination.

Today. We’re getting married today.

--

Jasper stands just outside the house, phone pressed to his ear, pacing the same patch of soft grass as if motion will help him settle the fire burning under his skin. His fingers twitch at his side. He fought countless battles, led armies, and none of them ever made him feel this way before. His heart, if he still had one, feels like it’s beating hard enough to break the confines of the marble cage it's been in ever since his eyes turned crimson.

She said yes.

It’s on a loop in his mind. A string of words more powerful than any victory he’s claimed before.

His phone rings again, breaking his focus, and Alice’s voice hums into his ear.

“Well,” she says cheerfully, “it’s about time you found the courage to take the final step, cowboy.”

Jasper huffs a laugh, letting his eyes close for a moment. “I didn’t even tell anyone yet.”

“You didn’t have to,” she replies simply, and he can hear the smile in her voice.

There’s a pause, just long enough to feel the weight of their past settle on both ends of the line. In all their time together, they’ve exchanged plenty of vows themselves. Vows he planned to keep. Vows she always knew were going to amount to absolutely nothing. He’s spent years being angry at her for leaving him over something he didn’t believe would come to pass. In his mind, Alice was his mate and nothing anyone said could have changed that.

And he was right…words didn’t change anything. The sound of Y/N’s heartbeat did. He’s had the flutter of her ventricles perfectly preserved in memory since the very first night he cornered her in that alley. In the night he nearly took what’s most precious to him and broke it irreparably. Alice and Edward saved him that night, for if he had been given free rein, Jasper wouldn’t want to live another day of his misery. And it hurt to be away from her, pretending he didn’t care and didn’t want to seek her out, but he did it. He would have done it for an eternity if it meant keeping her happy and safe.

He never thought she’d be happy and safe with him by her side. What a beautiful twist of fate that’s been.

So, he shakes off the nostalgia. “You saw it?” he asks, more gently now.

“I saw everything,” Alice says. “Which is why, in approximately ten minutes, someone will show up at your door with a gorgeous dress, a proper suit, and the makings of a very charming floral arch.”

Jasper stops pacing.

“I thought I’d let you do the asking yourself,” she continues, softer now. “But I’ve had the rest planned for a while. Just in case you took your sweet time.”

He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “Thanks, Pixie.”

“I also suggest you get married at the edge of the jungle, the shaded part with the tropical flowers. You’ll be hidden from the sun, and so will Y/N. Less risk of sparkling and drawing attention from wandering animals or the humans helping us organize the entire thing.”

He looks toward the trees in the distance, already imagining the sunlight catching the flowers around them, how the breeze will carry Y/N’s hair, how she’ll look walking toward him with nothing but joy in her eyes.

He swallows hard. “Alice,” he starts, then hesitates. There’s so much he could say. So much that doesn’t need to be spoken. She already knows.

“You’re wondering if I’m okay,” she says gently.

His hand lifts to the back of his neck, eyes fixed on the trees. “Yeah.”

She’s quiet for a breath, then says, “I am.”

He waits. No rush. Just her voice through the phone, soft and knowing.

“I’ve known for a long time that we were meant to walk each other to our real futures,” she adds. “You gave me peace when I needed it most, Jasper. You were never a mistake. But she’s the one who makes you whole.”

His eyes sting and he squeezes them shut, chest tight.

“I’m happy for you,” she finishes. “Truly. This is your beginning.”

He exhales slowly, a wave of emotion pressing through him. Gratitude. Relief. Love. Not romantic love, not anymore, but something deeply rooted in him, unshakeable.

“I love you, Alice.”

“I love you, too,” she says, no hesitation. “Now go get married. A few of our friends will serve as your witnesses and photographers, so the only humans during the ceremony will be the official marrying you and your lovely bride. And tell her she’s wearing something blueish. I picked it out myself.”

A soft smile breaks across his face as he hangs up, fingers still wrapped around the phone like it might hold everything together.

He turns back toward the house.

She’s waiting.

And for the first time in over a century, Jasper feels ready for whatever life has in store for him.

--

Y/N stands barefoot on the cool tile floor, sipping the last of her tea, when a soft knock taps at the door.

She opens it slowly. Two women smile at her warmly, offering two elegant garment bags and a square white box tied with a satin ribbon. One of them gently hands her an envelope with her name written in Alice’s tiny, perfect handwriting.

“For you,” she reads it aloud.

Y/N nods, murmurs her thanks, and watches them disappear down the path without another word. The moment the door clicks shut behind her, she exhales, the nerves and excitement clashing in her chest like a skipped heartbeat.

She opens the envelope first.

Alice’s note is short and sharp, just like her:

“Don’t freak out, I know it’s not completely traditional. But it’s you. You’re going to take his breath away. – A.”

Y/N raises a brow, already grinning, and unzips the first garment bag.

And then she just stares. The dress isn’t white. In fact, it’s entirely blue. Baby blue. Inhaling deeply, she presses it to her chest, rushing to the mirror in the bedroom. Approaching the mirror, sunlight wraps around her.

That’s when she sees it; the dress shimmers silvery white beneath the sunshine, and she gasps. Taking a step back and away from the light, the blue returns. Smiling, she then lifts the dress and turns it toward the sunlight pouring in through the windows and she understands; the color shifts. Pale blue dances through the folds, light as seafoam in shade but unmistakably becomes white in sunlight.

The entire gown moves like water, every layer of the full skirt flowing as if it remembers the ocean it was made to mirror. The bodice is wrapped in delicate layers of gossamer tulle that criss-cross like they were woven by hand. The off-the-shoulder straps look like clouds, gentle wisps of fabric that barely kiss her skin.

She twirls slowly with it in hand, watching the colors dance across the fabric. It’s magic.

“I can’t believe she got me this,” she breathes.

And then she notices the second garment bag still hanging from the hook. Curious, she unzips it and her cheeks flame immediately.

Inside hangs a piece of red lingerie, deep crimson lace and silk, bold and utterly sinful. There’s a little sticky note pinned to the strap, written in Bella’s quick scrawl.

“If you’re going to seduce a vampire, you may as well wear his favorite color. – B.”

Y/N lets out a half-choked laugh, covering her mouth. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Still laughing, she touches the delicate fabric. It’s bold. A little daring. She has no idea how Bella knows Jasper’s favorite color, and while she wishes it was Edward who told her, something tells her it was Alice. Shaking the thought away, she lets out a huff.

She looks back at the dress laid out on the bed, the dreamlike swirl of white and blue still catching the light like it was sewn from fairy dust and moonlight.

It’s happening. Jasper is in love with her, enough to risk everything and claim her in every possible way she can be claimed, just as she asked and whether she likes it or not, he has a past. A longstanding past with Alice and she can’t agonize over it forever. After all, Jasper was rather graceful when it came to her own past. When they met, she still had Paul’s marks on her skin and Jasper never threw it back in her face.

It’s time she finds some grace as well.

She places the red lingerie back carefully, saving it for later. Right now, she has a wedding to get ready for.

--

The jungle sings around him; birds calling softly from the canopy, leaves rustling in the warm island breeze. The humans Alice hired work quickly, their faces flushed from heat and nerves. They don’t speak much, especially not to him, and when they do it’s in clipped, efficient tones. He can feel their unease like under his skin, but he doesn’t blame them. Few people ever stand this close to a predator and pretend to work like it’s just another Thursday afternoon.

Jasper stays still, respectful of the distance they put between them. Still, he can’t help but feel the urge to soothe them, to soften his posture and keep his movements slow, non-threatening. It doesn’t matter how kind his smile is; he knows what he looks like to them. Their eyes stay down, focused on the flower arch they’re almost done with.

And it’s… stunning.

It rises at the entrance of the shaded jungle path like it grew there on its own, made of wild tropical blooms in shades of cream, coral, and soft blush. Twisting vines and delicate hanging petals catch the breeze, and for a moment, it looks like something out of a long-forgotten dream. He doesn’t remember ever imagining his wedding before, not as a human and not as a vampire. Whatever ceremonies he and Alice had were never in the official capacity, rather a small, intimate exchange away from prying eyes. He never thought of a wedding as something necessary; he hated the thought.

Until now.

He swallows, eyes flickering toward the house in the distance.

He catches a glimpse of her through the sheer curtain as she walks across the bedroom. She’s dressed; he can see the way the soft shape of the gown floats behind her, but the curtain obscures the full view.

Still, the air leaves his lungs anyway. It’s worth breathing now, because losing his breath over her is his favorite pastime.

God, he wants to see her. Even if it’s just for a second. Even if tradition says he shouldn’t.

He looks down at himself, white linen pants and a button-down shirt, rolled up to his elbows. A few buttons are undone, his hair combed back in the way she once said made her want to kiss him senseless. He was going for relaxed but groomed, after all, it’s meant to be a beach wedding… but now he just hopes he looks good enough to deserve her. The flowers behind him are done. The workers pack up silently and head down the winding path to the dock, leaving the arch swaying in the shade.

Jasper doesn’t waste another second. He blurs across the sand, then up the back steps of the house. Stopping just shy of the open back door, he leans against the frame, one hand bracing the wood, the other resting on his hip.

He doesn’t look inside.

Not yet.

His voice is soft but carries through the stillness like a quiet prayer.

“Darlin’…” he says gently. “Can I come in?”

There’s a pause. Just long enough for Jasper to think she might pretend she didn’t hear him.

Then her voice drifts out through the open back door, light but laced with warning. “You can’t come in here.”

Jasper huffs a laugh, tilting his head toward the sound of her. “Why not?”

“Because,” she explains, “you’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding.”

“I’ve seen the bride a thousand times,” he counters, amusement tugging at his lips. “In pajamas. In oversized hoodies. In that little red number you used to drive me to madness…”

“That’s different and you know it!” she says, flustered.

“I don’t know,” he drawls, grinning. “I think I’ve already been blessed beyond what any superstition could ruin.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just a man in love.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ll let you peek.”

He smiles, bracing both hands on the doorframe now, imagining the way she must look right now, standing just out of view, arms crossed, maybe biting her bottom lip the way she does when she’s trying not to smile. The thought alone is enough to make him shift on his feet.

“I don’t need to see the whole dress,” he says, voice softer now. “Just a glimpse. One second. I’ll take the memory with me when I stand at that arch and pretend I’m not losing my damn mind.”

“That's the point, Jasper,” she groans. “You're supposed to lose your mind when I walk down that aisle. It’s like... the law.”

He chuckles. “Sweetheart, I’m already insane for you. One glimpse won’t change that.”

Her laugh filters out, full of fondness, and she sighs dramatically. “What if it jinxes the whole ceremony?”

“I died in the Civil War and now I sparkle in the sunlight,” he deadpans. “I think tradition and I stopped seeing eye to eye a long time ago.”

She snorts, and he hears the soft shuffle of her moving closer to the doorway. Still hidden, but not far.

“That’s not how that works.”

“Well then,” he says, leaning a little closer, “educate me.”

“You want me to teach you wedding traditions?” she teases. “What happened to you being a Southern charmer? Gentlemanly and honorable?”

“Thought I’d trade in the charm for something more sinful,” he murmurs. “Just for today.”

She groans. “You are such a menace.”

“You picked me.”

“Because you were sweet! You fooled me.”

“I did not,” he says, clearly delighted. “I smiled once and you practically melted.”

“You smirked. There’s a difference.”

“Still worked.”

“Ugh.” But she’s smiling now. He can hear it in the way she exhales. “I’m serious. If I let you in and you see me in this dress before I’m walking toward you, I will haunt you forever.”

“That a promise?”

“Jasper.”

“Alright,” he laughs, raising his hands in surrender even though she can’t see it. “No peeking. You win.”

“Damn right I do.”

He grins and lets his head rest against the wall just beside the door, listening to the faint rustle of her moving around the room again.

“Don’t take too long, alright?” he adds quietly.

After a moment of silence, he hears her again. “Are you nervous?” she asks.

He doesn’t answer right away. “Not about marrying you. Never that.”

Her voice softens. “Then what?”

“I’m just... impatient.”

“For?”

“You,” he says. “Always you.”

She doesn’t respond right away, but he hears the quiet sound of her breath stopping in her throat, resting for a moment before passing her lips. He leaves with a smile upon his lips, happy he can leave her just as breathless as she leaves him.

--

Her fingers tremble as she smooths the final strand of hair into place, twisting it into a loose, messy bun. A few wisps fall at her temples, curling gently with the island humidity, but she doesn’t bother taming them. Jasper always liked it when she looked soft around the edges, and still a little undone, like she just woke up tangled in his arms.

She leans closer to the mirror, dabbing a finger under her eye to fix a smudge of mascara. Her makeup is light, a little shimmer at the corners of her eyes, a sweep of gold across her lids with barely any eyeliner, just enough blush to look sun-kissed. But her lips… she takes her time with those.

A deep, romantic red.

The kind that makes her feel bolder than she is.

The kind that would leave stains on Jasper’s neck if he let her kiss him the way she wants to. She grins at the thought, pulling back slightly to admire the effect.

The dress flows around her as she steps back. In the soft, filtered light of the bedroom, it shimmers white in sunlit areas while the shaded parts glow blue, like ocean foam before the tide pulls in. The off-the-shoulder sleeves flutter with every movement, light and ethereal, and when she spins a little in place, the color brightens, white overtaking the blue like sunlight on snow.

She breathes in sharply.

The dress is perfect. Not just because it fits her like a second skin, but because it feels like her. Like Alice saw the version of her heart she couldn’t put into words and stitched it together with silk and magic. She doesn’t even glance at the shoes in the corner. There’s no need. The gown skims the floor just enough without overwhelming her. And anyway, she’ll be walking barefoot down the beach, through the sand, into the jungle where he waits.

The jungle. It hits her then; he’s never taken her into it. Of all the places on the island they’ve explored together, the jungle entrance remained untouched. Off-limits, whether intentional or not. Maybe it was to protect her, maybe he was saving it for this.

Maybe it’s both.

Her heart pounds lightly in her chest as she picks up her phone and hits Jasper’s name.

He answers immediately. “Darlin’?”

“Is it time?” she asks, her voice breathier than she expected, like she’s caught in the moment already.

His smile travels through the phone like a warm breeze. “Only if you’re ready. I’ve been waitin’ on you all my life.”

Her heart flips over. She doesn’t say anything, just exhales softly, her fingers curling around the phone like she might hold that feeling in place forever.

“I’ll see you soon,” he adds gently.

She nods, even though he can’t see it. “Yeah. You will.”

She hangs up, the silence suddenly sweet instead of still. Setting the phone on the dresser, she catches her reflection one last time. The shimmer of her chest, shoulders, and collarbone from the glitter spray makes her glow, and it only adds to the wonder she’s still swimming in.

And then she giggles; honest and surprised, like she’s not sure how any of this is real. Like she’s about to marry a vampire on a hidden island in a gown that changes color depending on where the sun hits. Like she’s about to vow forever to a man who once believed he’d never deserve it.

One last breath. One final look in the mirror.

And then she opens the door.

The warm sand slips between her toes as she walks along the shore, the skirt of her dress swaying gently with every step. The air is sweet with salt and sun, and even though she’s alone right now, she doesn’t feel lonely. She waited for so long, and now she walks the path she longed for.

Her fingers lightly brush along the soft tulle layers of her gown. In the morning light, the dress glows a delicate shade of ivory with the faintest hue of baby blue clinging to the shadows that gather beneath each ripple of fabric. It changes with every shift of her body. Sunlight catches the glitter on her skin, and it sparkles just slightly, enough to make her smile to herself. One day soon she won’t need glitter to shine like this; her skin will be as beautiful as Jasper’s.

As she nears the tree line, she can see the path has been cleared. The arch stands proud and wild at the jungle’s entrance, woven with lush green vines and the pink and white tropical flowers she couldn’t name even if she tried. It’s like something out of a storybook.

Her pace slows. Her heart doesn’t, not when her eyes search for her soon to be husband.

And then she sees him.

He’s standing just in front of the arch, hands in his pockets, trying to look composed. But anyone who truly knows him could see right through the act. His jaw tightens. His fingers twitch. And he’s been swallowing dryly for the past ten minutes.

He’s never wanted anything this badly.

And when she appears, his breath hitches in awe of her.

She walks barefoot, each step somehow shy and radiant all at once. Her dress is unlike anything he imagined; light as a dream, moving like wind and water wrapped around her figure. The color shifts every few moments, white here, blue there, and he realizes Alice must’ve planned even this. Of course she did.

The sunlight kisses her skin and the glitter she dusted over her collarbones and shoulders makes her glow like a secret only he gets to keep.

He watches her approach, every step slow and certain, and his hands curl into fists to keep from going to her too soon. But when she reaches the start of the arch, her eyes lock on his and the whole world softens.

His jaw relaxes.

She’s smiling. Nervous, maybe, but soft and sure.

And he can’t stop himself. He takes one step forward, then another and then he’s there, right in front of her.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’ve seen a lot, Darlin’.”

She smiles up at him, tears brimming. “And this is only the start,” she says, like it’s a warning and a promise.

He chuckles quietly, eyes shining. “I’m ready to be ruined by you.”

He offers his arm, and she takes it. They step under the arch together, fingers linked.

The sunlight pours through the canopy in long golden stripes, filtering through the leaves and dappling her skin in a way that nearly sends Jasper to his knees. The flowers around them shift gently in the breeze, filling the air with a soft perfume. Behind them, two vampires Alice entrusted are quietly positioned, camera flashes going off one by one, capturing this moment, freezing it in time.

She looks up at him, blinking back the glimmer in her eyes. He’s already looking at her like she’s the reason for his entire existence, like she’s his whole world. She knows he is hers.

His gaze roams her slowly, over the soft swell of her shoulders, hungry, in a manner far too human. And then her lips part in a quiet smile, because she sees it too, his hair styled just the way she likes, the shirt crisp and unbuttoned just enough to tease her with the edge of his chest. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, his arms sculpted from years of discipline, strength, and grace. He’s barefoot too, toes brushing the grass beside hers.

God, he looks good.

The officiator clears his throat, barely heard over the thrum of their hearts.

“Are you both ready?”

They don’t hesitate. Both nod.

They should be paying attention, but neither of them hears much. The officiator’s voice fades into the soft hush of the jungle, a hum they stand inside together, waiting for only two words.

Their names.

The words slip through the air: “Jasper Whitlock…”

Her head lifts slightly, startled.

Not Hale. Not Cullen.

Whitlock.

She hadn’t asked him which name he would use. She didn’t think to. But he chose that one. The one that belonged to him before everything changed. Before the venom and the blood and the wars. Before the guilt and the hunger and the endless years.

He chose his name. She hoped he would. There was no doubt she’d take whatever name he decided on, but this is a part of him he didn’t show to many. She appreciated having it more than she could say.

She trembles as he speaks.

“I do.”

Simple. Firm. Full of meaning.

Her throat tightens, and her fingers squeeze his.

And then it’s her turn.

“Y/N Y/L/N…” the officiator begins.

“I do!” she blurts, grinning, breathless with emotion.

There’s laughter around them. Even the officiator chuckles softly.

“I now pronounce you—”

But he doesn’t finish, because Jasper’s already pulling her forward, and she’s already rising on her toes. Their lips meet with a softness that still carries all the weight of the vows they didn’t have to speak aloud. It’s not just a kiss. It’s an answer to every question they’ve ever had.

Yes.

Yes to love.

Yes to eternity.

Yes to all of it.

The kiss deepens just a second too long. Someone in the background clears their throat. Another flash goes off. But neither of them pulls away until Y/N’s lungs remind them they should.

She laughs, breath shaky as she presses her forehead to his.

“We’re married.”

“Damn right we are,” he whispers.

She leans in again, and he’s more than happy to meet her halfway.

--

They sign the papers with shaking hands and smiling lips. There are photos, so many photos of stolen glances and laughter that comes from the kind of joy that settles in your bones. Someone brings out a small, elegant wedding cake, and they cut into it side by side, arms brushing. She pretends to be polite about the first bite, carefully lifting the fork to his lips… before dragging a generous smear of frosting down his cheek.

Jasper freezes.

“Oh no, darlin’,” he growls, mock-offended as she squeals and backs away laughing. “You dare…”

He lunges.

And in seconds, they’re both laughing uncontrollably, frosting on her nose, her fingers tangled in his curls as a camera flashes again behind them. They dance on the sand while the sun lowers, the warm orange glow melting into pinks and purples around them, a few final photos capturing them tangled in each other’s arms, dancing barefoot and breathless in the last light of day.

By the time they wave off the vampire guests, the sun has dipped below the horizon, leaving only the twinkle of fairy lights stretched between palm trees and across the beach. The entire shoreline glows.

She exhales as the silence settles in, peaceful and real.

They’re alone.

At last.

Jasper appears at her side with two glasses and a bottle of champagne. The bubbling glass sparkles under the lights as he hands one to her and keeps the other for himself.

She lifts an eyebrow. “You’re drinking?”

He shrugs, casual but amused. “Won’t bother me much.”

She takes a sip, eyes glancing down at her hand.

The wedding ring gleams on her finger, catching the light in a way that draws even her own breath for a second. Jasper follows her gaze and chuckles, lifting his own hand to admire the band resting there.

“We almost forgot to exchange these,” he laughs, the memory bringing a blush to her cheeks.

“We were... a little preoccupied,” she teases.

He smiles, watching her for a moment, and then, without a word, he disappears, gone in a blink. Her brow furrows, heart skipping once as she wonders where he went… until the first notes of music drift through the air.

It’s coming from inside the house, loud enough to spill onto the beach. A familiar tune. A familiar warmth.

She gasps quietly.

Can’t Help Falling in Love.

It’s their song. Their first dance, back when everything between them was still new and unsure and tender.

She turns and there he is. Jasper stands a few feet away, backlit by the lights, hands loose at his sides, his shirt still unbuttoned just enough to drive her wild, curls tousled perfectly like he’s spent all day trying to look this effortless.

He extends a hand toward her, smiling gently.

“Care to share a proper first dance, wife?”

Her stomach flips. She pads barefoot toward him, lips curving. “I love it when you call me wife.”

“And I quite love when you say it back,” he murmurs as she places her hand in his.

“Husband,” she breathes, tasting the word.

He twirls her once, then pulls her close, settling one hand at her waist and curling the other around her fingers.

“You never had a nickname for me this entire time,” he says playfully.

“That’s because nothing ever fit right,” she says, eyes glinting. “Until now.”

“Oh yeah?”

She grins, biting her lip. “Husband.”

He lets out a laugh that vibrates in his chest. “God, I love you.”

They sway together, feet moving slowly in the sand, notes of the song wrapping around them like a melodic promise. Her fingers graze his neck, curling there, and her body melts against his with the ease of someone who belongs exactly where she is.

She tips her chin up, watching the way his eyes soften, the way his mouth twitches with a hidden smile.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs.

“You’re pretty,” she says bluntly. “I have no self-control.”

Jasper laughs again, dropping his forehead to hers. “You’re a siren, you know that?”

“Mmm,” she hums, kissing the corner of his jaw, “you’ve mentioned.”

“If I were human,” he says, voice lower now, “I’d be a blushing mess by now.”

“Good thing you’re not,” she whispers, brushing her lips over his ear, “because I haven’t even started yet.”

He groans softly, tensing as she flattens a hand over his chest. “You trying to kill me, Mrs. Whitlock?”

“I’m trying to dance with my husband, Mr. Whitlock,” she smirks. “Anything else is entirely your problem.”

He just shakes his head, pulling her in tighter as they continue to dance, the music fading into the sound of the waves and nothing else but the beat of their joined hearts.

With her left temple resting against his chest and her arms wrapped gently around his neck, they sway together to the soft hum of music for a while longer. Jasper keeps his hand at the small of her back, his other cradling her waist, but not because she’s breakable, because she’s his and because this moment is theirs, and he wants to remember every second of it.

Her breathing is calm, her heartbeat steady. She’s relaxed in his arms, and he knows she feels safe. He can feel it in the way her body melts into him, the way her fingers occasionally shift like they want to hold him closer, even when there's no space left between them.

His lips curve into a small smile. She’s at peace. And for him, that means everything.

He dares to breathe her in, slowly, carefully. If he’s going to keep his promise to her, he has to get used to this. Her scent. Her warmth. The sweet, heady pull of her so close to him. He let himself believe he was past it once, that he'd won the battle, but relaxing almost cost them more than he could bear to think about.

So he doesn’t look away from it now. He faces it.

He draws her in with a slow inhale. Not too deep. Just enough to feel the spark of it. He pauses, lets it settle, then tries again. His jaw tightens slightly, his grip never changes. She doesn’t notice, she’s too lost in him, in the song, in the quiet bliss of being in his arms.

She smells like wildflowers and old books. Like cotton candy and sunlight. Like the forest after rain he used to run through when he needed silence, like his mother’s spring soup he could never erase from his mind. She smells like home, like his wildest dreams all wrapped in one, and it calls to something in him that still stirs too easily. It sings to him, her blood draws him in, and the rush of venom in his mouth frightens him. Familiar. Unwelcome. But not stronger than he is. Not anymore.

He breathes again, this time slower. He’s got everything he’s ever wanted, right here in his arms.

“Darlin’,” he whispers, voice low.

She hums softly, eyes still closed, her cheek resting over his heart. She’s not ready to move, not even a little. This warmth, this quiet bubble of happiness, feels too good to let go of.

“You should eat something,” he murmurs.

A smirk tugs at her lips. “I’ll have you for dinner.”

Jasper groans under his breath, the sound melting into a quiet laugh as he stills them mid-sway. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Her lashes flutter open, eyes gleaming as she pulls back to meet his gaze. “I see dinner and dessert standing right in front of me.”

He swallows thickly, and his lips twitch in the corner.

“I have every intention of taking you to that bed and making love to you,” he says evenly, voice husky. “But I am not a quick lover. Darlin', fuel up or you won't have the stamina to follow my lead.”

Her cheeks flush so quickly she forgets how to blink. “The audacity of assuming you’ll be the one leading!”

He leans in, their noses nearly brushing. “It’s not a guess. It’s a fact.”

She’s still gaping as he grins and grabs her hand, tugging her gently back toward the house. His pace is slow, teasing, his thumb brushing over her knuckles like he’s reminding her with every step that she’s his for the night, for eternity.

Inside, he guides her to a chair, and before she can even ask, he sets a plate down in front of her.

Her eyes follow him across the kitchen, a dreamy look settling over her expression. “You know,” she says, picking up her fork, “I’d appreciate it if you’d slow down when doing husbandly things. I need time to properly admire the view.”

He glances back at her with a smirk that does dangerous things to her heart. “Maybe next time. When I’m not trying to survive the urge to ravage my wife.”

Her fork clinks against the plate as she stares, jaw slightly dropped. “I created a monster.”

Jasper crosses the room, dropping to her level and brushing his lips over the shell of her ear. “Indeed, you have my Darlin’ wife. And now I’m off my leash.”

She groans, sinking a little in her seat, thighs pressing together instinctively. “How am I supposed to eat now?!”

He just laughs, the sound light and wicked as he presses a kiss to her temple. He feels her frustration crawling around his heart. “I want that plate cleared before you even think about stepping into the bedroom.”

Then he’s gone, his chuckle trailing down the hall.

She’s still frozen, blinking at the food, the only witness to what just happened.

“God, help me,” she mutters, shaking her head with a dazed smile. And then she digs in, because she’ll need all the energy she can get.

--

She hurries down the hall, the hem of her dress gathered in both hands, bare feet padding lightly against the floor. Her heart beats faster, not from the rush, but from what waits for her behind the bedroom door.

The moment she steps inside, she stops short.

The room is glowing.

Fairy lights are strung overhead, warm and soft like candlelight, casting golden reflections across the white gauzy curtains. Flowers, fresh and vivid, are everywhere. Some in vases, some draped across the dresser and windowsill, others sprinkled carefully across the bed and floor in a trail of rose petals leading to the foot of the mattress. She hates roses. Hated. There’s nothing as beautiful as those petals, nothing can compare, nothing comes even close.

Her throat tightens at the sight.

Every color seems to come alive in the warm light, and the air smells faintly of wild roses and vanilla. It’s like stepping into a dream. Their dream.

And there, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her like he has all the time in the world, is Jasper.

His sleeves are still rolled, his posture relaxed, hands resting between his knees, but his eyes are on her; focused and full of warmth. When their gazes lock, something changes in the air between them. It isn’t heavy, it’s homecoming, the moment everything clicks into place.

He drinks her in slowly, committing every detail of her to memory: the way her lips part slightly as she breathes, the shimmer dusted across her collarbone, the soft fall of her hair gathered up but slightly messy from her rush. She’s glowing, and not just from the lights. From love. From nerves. From trust; in him, in his vows.

She moves toward him without a word, her steps quiet, the petals brushing against her dress as she walks.

When she reaches him, she rests her hands gently on his shoulders and lifts her right leg slightly, placing it on the edge of the bed beside him. She glances at her leg, then back to him with a small, knowing smirk. Her eyes dance with mischief, though a flicker of nerves still lingers behind them.

“It’s customary,” she murmurs. “To take off the garter with your teeth.”

Jasper lifts an eyebrow, smiling at her boldness, his voice a low murmur. “Is that so?”

Her breath hitches as his cool fingers graze her calf, gently wrapping around her leg. He moves slowly, carefully tracing the path upward with one hand while the other steadies her. His touch isn’t rushed or possessive; it’s deliberate, like he’s savoring the feel of her skin, learning every inch of her at his own pace.

She watches his face, her heart fluttering. His eyes never leave hers, not even as his hand slides further beneath her dress, easing it up slowly to reveal the garter nestled mid-thigh. She can feel the tension build in her chest, her nerves twisting into anticipation, and giddiness she never experienced before.

Then, his lips press gently to her knee. The kiss is tender, light as a breeze, followed by another a little higher. Her breath stutters, her thoughts tripping over themselves.

His mouth finds the edge of the garter, and he doesn’t break eye contact as he leans forward, a cheeky smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he disappears beneath the fabric of her dress.

She sways slightly, her fingers curling around his shoulders for balance, for grounding, for anything.

He’s slow, purposefully teasing her until she can’t form a single coherent thought. When he reemerges, the garter is looped between his teeth and his eyes are almost devilish, mischief dancing wildly in his golden hues. He grins, removing it carefully and holding it up like a trophy.

She laughs, half breathless, half in awe, and sinks onto his lap, arms slipping around his neck. Her forehead rests gently against his.

“You planned this,” she whispers.

His hands settle on her waist, thumbs brushing the soft fabric of her dress. “Maybe,” he replies coyly. “I’d do it all over again just to see that look on your face.”

She closes her eyes for a moment, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath hers. If she tries, she can almost trick herself he’s just a man, one that’s made his way into her heart. He didn’t even have to scale the walls she built to protect herself from pain, her heart opened the door wide, welcoming him inside.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” she says softly.

He kisses her cheek, then lower, along her jaw. “And you’re everything I didn’t think I deserved. But I’m never letting go.”

Jasper brushes his knuckles down her cheek, his thumb lightly grazing her lips before he reaches up to the twist of hair at the back of her head. His fingers are gentle, patient, undoing the pins one by one, carefully unraveling the bun she put together earlier.

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to,” he says softly, almost in a whisper.

She feels her hair fall slowly, strand by strand, the weight of it shifting until it spills freely down her shoulders. He rakes his fingers through it with such care she feels her skin tingle from the roots down. His eyes stay fixed on her as if every movement is meant to be immortalized.

“I love your hair like this,” he murmurs. “Wild and soft just for me.”

A playful smile creeps onto her lips, and she nudges his chest with her forehead. “You’re obsessed.”

“I’m married,” he says with a grin. “I’m allowed to be.”

Their laughter is soft, shared between breaths and a single heartbeat. Her fingers find the buttons of his shirt, toying with them absentmindedly, undoing a few.

Then his hand moves, slowly, deliberately settling at the small of her back. He finds the zipper of her dress, fingers brushing the fabric just enough for her to feel it, and she stills.

“Wait,” she breathes, her fingers stopping on the third button of his shirt.

Jasper freezes, immediately pulling back just enough to search her face. “Did I -?”

She shakes her head, touching his jaw. “No, no. I just… I had something I wanted to change into.” Her voice is soft, not unsure, just hesitant. “Something… special.”

He exhales slowly, the corners of his mouth twitching, but this time the smile fades before it forms fully. His expression shifts, and he reaches up to tilt her chin gently so her eyes meet his.

“Nothing,” he says quietly, “could ever compare to being the one who takes off your wedding dress.”

She opens her mouth to reply, but no sound comes out. The way he’s looking at her feels like he’s looking straight through all the rubble she’s been under her entire life, like someone finally sees all the colors of her soul.

She tries to joke her way out of the intensity, flicking open another button on his shirt, but he doesn’t look away. His eyes are serious. Steady.

“Y/N,” he murmurs. “You’ve let me see you nearly bare before, body and soul. Don’t hide from me now. There is nothing about you to be shy about.”

Her throat tightens. There’s nothing flirtatious in his tone now. He’s grounding her again, holding her in place not with force, but with love. The kind that doesn’t demand… It invites.

She nods once, heart fluttering like it’s about to fly out of her chest. Slowly, Jasper reaches for the zipper again. His fingers drag down gently, the sound quiet but unmistakable in the silence of the room. The fabric gives way, loosening around her.

He presses a kiss to her bare shoulder before speaking, voice low, firm. “I need you to know something.”

She turns to him, her eyes softer than ever before.

“I’m going to have to restrain myself tonight. More than I ever have before.” His thumb traces her shoulder blade with measured care. “I’ll take things slow. Gentle. But I need you to listen to me…obey every command. If I ask you to stop or shift, I need you to do exactly as I say.”

She nods again, her breath catching slightly. “Okay.”

“No,” he says gently, catching her gaze. “I need you to promise me.”

Her hand rises, curling around his wrist. “I promise,” she whispers.

His forehead leans into hers, his breath brushing over her lips as he closes his eyes.

“Thank you,” he breathes.

She lets the top of her dress fall the rest of the way, and in that quiet second, before anything else, they just hold each other. Breathing in the closeness, the stillness. Not rushing, not fumbling. Just being together.

The swell of her breasts rises and falls with each breath, her skin flushed lightly in anticipation. Her throat is bare, delicate and strong, pulsing softly with life, and it calls to him in a way he doesn’t dare answer. Her face is composed, her jaw slightly set, expression serious. Her eyes seem darker too.

Her lips, slightly parted, are smudged from earlier kisses, the red lipstick uneven, but still impossibly alluring. He aches to part them into a smile.

Her hair, now fully let down, spills in waves around her, glowing faintly in the dim light, plays with the shadows of her delicate collarbones. She is radiant, fearless, and the sight of her like this, his wife, his mate, makes his chest tighten.

His mouth comes down on hers hard, rough with emotion. His kiss is fast, almost desperate, nearly bruising. She gasps softly into him, caught off guard by the sudden heat, but she doesn’t pull away. She meets it. Welcomes it.

His hand comes to the side of her neck, fingers splayed along her jaw. Despite the hunger in his kiss, his grip is steady, protective, much kinder than his lips. In the next breath, he pulls back, carefully setting her back on her feet, pulling away before he lets himself get lost too quickly.

She’s still standing half-nude before him. He watches her with awe, every inch of her and she meets his gaze without flinching. No shyness, no shame.

With a smirk that teeters on challenge, her hands grip the sides of her dress and she steps fully out of it, letting it fall to the floor. Her white panties cling to the curves of her hips, impossibly soft-looking, and the sight draws a breath from Jasper’s lips as he stares at her in wonder; her full breasts, curvy waist, and round hips. Then he looks back at her face, her eyes blazing, and suddenly no power on earth can stop him from binding himself to this woman – heart, souls, bodies, in every possible life. He would bleed for her. He would burn for her.

His hands find her waist at last, firmly pulling her toward him. He leans in, his voice thick and quiet.

“You’re perfect,” he says.

She doesn’t hesitate. Her knees find space on either side of his hips, straddling him with confidence. The way she leans in, bold and certain, sends a thrill through his spine. Their mouths collide, lips sliding together in a kiss that starts tender and builds quickly into something far more demanding. His hands grip her hips, anchoring her as her fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck.

But she doesn't notice the change at first, how his muscles go rigid beneath her touch. And then, in a blink, Jasper flips them, swift and precise. One moment she's over him, the next she’s flat on her back in bed, his body above hers.

Her breath catches from the sudden shift, the cool weight of him holding her down without pressing into her; his elbows and forearms braced on either side of her head, like he’s built a cage only he can unlock. But he isn’t heavy. He’s careful. Always careful with her.

“New rule,” she pants, laughing breathlessly as her chest rises fast beneath his, “warn me when you want to do that!”

A low, genuine chuckle rumbles in his chest. He dips his head, burying it into the curve of her neck, and she stiffens slightly when she feels his nose nuzzle close to where her pulse pounds steadily under the skin. Her blood is singing. He hears it more clearly now, like music pressed against his senses. His control cracks, just for a moment, before he draws in a short breath and forces the hunger away. Finding the strength to gaze at her again, his smile grows as she leans up slightly, her lips brushing against the side of his cheek.

“I want your permission to influence you tonight,” he murmurs, voice low against her skin.

 She tenses beneath him, blinking up at him as her brows lift. “In what way?” she asks, lips brushing his.

“I want you to feel what I feel,” he says. “All of it. Can I share that with you?”

Her lips press together, tight, trembling slightly. She doesn’t want to cry, but he can already feel it in her, the way her emotions swirl too fast, overwhelmed. Her eyes shine too brightly, too suddenly, and he frowns.

“Hey,” he whispers, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”

“Nothing,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “Absolutely nothing. You’re allowed, Jasper. Fuck, you’re allowed to share your emotions with me. You never have to wonder, my answer is always going to be yes.”

Relief hits him so hard it almost makes him lean back. But he doesn't. He stays where he is, rooted above her, soaking in the warmth of her words.

She tastes his lips languidly, taking her time exploring every inch as if it’s the first time she’s been given the chance to feel them. Her hand finds his jaw, fingers tracing the sharp line up to his ear before curling around his neck. She slips her hand beneath his shirt, dragging her fingertips down the slope of his shoulder; his skin cold, hard, and trembling under her touch. And then he lets go. Just enough to give her a taste.

Passion bursts upon her mind, heart and senses like a hurricane. It rises from within him, from between them, pouring through her, deep, swirling emotion, a soul-stealing compulsion. It burns within her, consuming, filled with an ache that tightens her throat. Is this his thirst? Does it always bring him pain to be with her? These emotions are all his, pulsing between them now like a second heartbeat, wrapping around her tightly. He’s handing it to her without reservation.

She gasps into the kiss as it crashes through her; this brutal tenderness, this aching hunger…not just for her body, but for her soul. For her blood. It calls to him, it always has, and now with her skin bare and her heart racing, the scent is thick and impossible to ignore. He tries not to focus on it, tries not to inhale too deeply, but it’s there… Under her skin. Inside her mouth. Her throat. His body fights him, instincts screaming to feed, to bite, to take, but he holds it all in. For her. And she feels it now.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even pause. She arches into him, her body answering the need in his before her mind can catch up. On one heartbeat, she’s in control, kissing him with determination to devour him whole, on the next, he resumes command; his cold lips are kissing her harder, deeper, his body keeps her under him with no force, surrounding her; like a cage she never wishes to escape. She surrenders, gladly yielding; ravenously, he steals her very breath.

Y/N's heart is racing, and Jasper’s icy kisses send shivers down her spine. She feels his cool breath on her skin as his lips move from her mouth to her jaw, her throat, hovering there for a fraction of a second too long. She doesn’t stop him. She tips her head slightly, trusting him even when his mouth is just above the artery that tempts him most. She moans softly, unable to play coy as his hands roam over her body.

The monster inside him snarls, rattling its cage, and he bites down on his own tongue.

Not tonight. Not ever.

Her hand slides up into his hair, pulling his mind back to her, and she exhales his name like a prayer.

His lips trail along her collarbone, leaving slow kisses in his wake as his hand glides over her bare waist. The soft sigh that escapes her makes his own breath halt, the scent of her skin clouding his already thinning restraint. He’s drawn to every part of her, not just her body, but the way she trembles under his touch, the way her fingers twist in his hair reminds him she feels the same way about him.

She shifts beneath him, her hips lifting slightly in silent encouragement, and he groans softly against her throat. His hand slips along the curve of her thigh, fingers grazing sensitive skin, teasing rather than taking. Her back arches instinctively, and her eyes flutter closed, lost in the rush of sensation. She clutches at his shoulder, breathless, as though he’s the only thing keeping her sane.

His right hand busies itself exploring ways of getting her out of her panties. His fingers tug at the fabric at first, but his patience wears thin within seconds of failing. Lifting her hips, she helps him pull them down her ass before he rips them to pieces. They’re wrapped around her thighs as his hand makes its way back up her inner thigh. Moaning loudly as his frosty fingers brush her clit, Y/N pulls at his hair. Aware of his findings, Jasper doesn’t give her much reprieve as he finds her body contorting under him. Her walls are gone now, songs of pleasure filling the room, getting louder with every passing moment. She feels the heat building between her legs, the desire becoming almost too much to bear.

Jasper’s lips find hers again, and as the kiss deepens, she finds herself losing control, giving herself completely to the intensity of their passion. She wants him, needs him, and nothing else in the world matters. Their tongues entwine, exploring each other's mouths with wild abandon. The intensity of their passion grows stronger with each passing moment until it feels like they are both about to burst with desire.

Then, all at once, he stops and his fingers retreat much to Y/N’s dismay.

Jasper pulls back slowly, resting his forehead against hers, breathing her in, trying to collect himself. His golden eyes, darkened now with restrained hunger and love, search hers with visible conflict.

She blinks, dazed and flushed, her hands still cradling his jaw. “Why did you stop?”         

Pecking her nose, he sits up. Pulling her panties entirely down first, he sits back and removes his shirt, then unbuttons his pants.

“Jas –“

“Don’t move.”

Raising her brows, she bites her lower lip. “Is that a suggestion or an order?”

He lets his hands fall, tracing her sleek thighs before closing one hand above each knee.  Slowly, he slides his fingers upward, his thumbs drawing lazy circles along her inner thighs.

“Take it as you want, Darlin’,” he smirks.

Higher and higher, inch by inch, he enjoys as the muscles of her thighs tense, then lock, then quiver under his touch.

His voice is low and hoarse. “I want this to last. I want to remember every second of making you mine, and I won’t rush that. Not tonight.”

His thumb brushes her cheek as if she’s a dream he’ll wake up from if he dares apply any pressure, and to him, she is. The ache in her chest isn’t from being denied, but from how deeply he’s trying to honor her, how much he’s holding back even as everything in him screams to let go.

“I want you,” she whispers, eyes locked on his. “I’m not scared.”

“I know,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss her slowly. “But I need you to know that every time I touch you, it’s to prove to you I’ve not lost control. Because you’re not a weakness or a one way ticket to insanity. You’re my reason.”

While he lets his hands roam her body, his lips savor the taste of hers. Drawing back from their kiss, he watches her, waiting for her eyes to open again. When they do, his hand glides along her side, over her hip, and around to her lower back. She gasps softly as his fingers settle there, spreading across her skin like he’s claiming it. Her heart stumbles when his other hand moves lower, parting her thighs gently as his kiss becomes more demanding. She feels his hand shift; one long finger sliding into her, probing gently, then more deliberately. She breaks away with a small, startled gasp, chest rising as she tries to catch her breath.

Jasper’s eyes widen instantly. “I’m sorry -” he begins, already pulling back.

But she’s shaking her head, breathless and smiling. “No, no! I’m fine,” she reassures him, laughing softly. “Just… shocked me a little. The temperature difference. My skin is used to you. The rest of me… we’re still getting there.”

Relief floods his expression, and he exhales shakily. “I thought I hurt you.”

Reaching for his hand, she threads their fingers together, bringing them to her lips for a kiss. “Nothing you’ve done tonight has brought me anything but pleasure,” she whispers. “You’ve been everything I needed. More than that.”

He watches her carefully as she shifts, settling back into him. Tearing his pants off, he relieves himself of his briefs as well. Propping herself up on her elbows, Y/N’s eyes linger on his erection. It’s a good thing one of them has some ability to think rationally because she’s more than ready for him to bury himself between her legs.

“I have so many anatomy questions,” she giggles as he lowers himself over her, pressing her gently into the mattress.

Jasper chuckles, kissing the corner of her mouth. “It works the same as any human’s.”

“Sure,” she says, narrowing her eyes, “but when you finish, what exactly comes out?”

He pauses, lips quirking as he pulls back just a little. “Venom, most likely.”

Her brows lift, “And that won’t trigger my transition or something?”

Jasper shakes his head, brushing his knuckles along her jaw. “No. It doesn’t work that way. But… where venom touches human skin, it changes things. Have you never noticed your mouth feels different?”

She frowns. “No?”

Smirking, he nods. “I have. It’s more durable. I never meant to kiss you with tongue before, but it happened, and well…Damage is already done, so we might as well keep doing it.”

She gasps dramatically, then smacks his shoulder. “I am absolutely shocked by this revelation. We are definitely revisiting this conversation when I’m not literally about to lose my mind over very distracting twitching of your lovely dick against my thigh.”

He bursts out laughing, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. “Let me unravel your mind further then.”

With a muffled squeal, she tries to roll him beneath her, pushing at his chest. Jasper, amused and entirely willing, lets her flip them, his arms wrapping around her waist as she straddles him. Her hair spills over his chest, and for a long second, they don’t move. Just breathe, looking at one another.

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re beautiful when you’re curious.”

“And you’re very lucky I’m too horny to start interrogating you like a science teacher right now,” she mutters, grinning down at him.

“Don’t worry,” he says, hands slipping lower along her back. “I’ll still give you a full demonstration.”

He expects her to pause, and hesitation follows, but it lasts a split second. In the next, their lips meet and there’s no longer any distinction between him kissing her and her kissing him. Her hands explore his chest, greedy for every part of him. He ravages her mouth in return, groaning into her as her fingers grip him harder, pulling him close. His hands spread over her back, steadying her against him, easing the throbbing ache of his erection against her soft belly. She writhes with heat, eager and unrelenting. There’s no shyness in her now. She’s demanding, aggressive, intent on not just fraying his reins, but shredding them, deliberately invoking his desire, all the possessiveness in his soul.

When he gasps and breaks the kiss, it’s like surfacing moments before drowning.

“Slow down,” he pleads, voice rough.

Still caressing his chest, Y/N doesn’t even glance up. “I’ve waited long enough. Unless this is a direct order, I’m not stopping.”

“I shouldn’t have to order anything,” he says, voice lower now. “You should at least have some measure of self-preservation.” Intent on rushing toward her fate, she seems to have no concept of how badly he can hurt her. She doesn’t fully understand how his strength overshadows hers, of how much harder than her he truly is. But she’s reaching again, lower now, her fingertips tracing the ridges just above his hips. She’s learning him with single-minded focus, and he’s already at the edge.

His desire flares too fast, too strong, too dangerous. His hands reach to hold her by the arms, not rough, but firm. She takes his erection in her hands at the same moment, and a jolt of sensation steals his breath. His control splinters.

He sucks in a sharp breath, eyes narrowing. “Don’t.”

She tilts her head. “Is that an order?” The quiet of the room holds their tension like a breath caught in the lungs.

Jasper freezes. So does she, waiting.

Then her fingers curl gently around him again, studying the way he feels beneath her touch. He was right, anatomy may look the same, but it doesn’t feel it. He’s marble; cold, unyielding and powerful. But somehow also smooth, impossibly soft under her fingertips.

She looks into his eyes, watching them close shut, his expression graven. Carefully, she curls her fingers around his length, utterly fascinated by him.

Again, she touches the smoothly rounded head, and Jasper groans. He reaches down and closes his hand over hers, not to pull it away but to curl her fingers more tightly. Eagerly, she follows his unspoken instructions, happy he’s not pulling 'rank’ and ordering her to stop. He lets her caress him until he wonders if his jaw would break along with his control. Shaking his head, he pulls her hand away.

“Now it’s an order,” he says gruffly.

“I can give you a little bit of time to center yourself, and we can continue – “

With a low curse, Jasper catches both of her hands in his. In one swift, seamless motion, he rolls, pinning her beneath him. Her back sinks into the mattress as his weight settles fully on top of her. He keeps her wrists anchored above her head, his grip firm but never rough.

Then he kisses her. Deeply. Thoroughly. Again and again until there’s no breath left in her chest to argue, no strength to defy him, only the quiet, delicious surrender of her lips parting beneath his. The kiss grows, heady and consuming, pulling her under until her body melts into his.

When they pause, both panting softly into the space between them, she’s laid bare for him. Her thighs are spread, open and inviting, her skin flushed and warm. Her hips shift beneath him; wordless, pleading, baiting him. She’s ready. Waiting.

All he’d have to do is reach down, guide his throbbing erection to her heat, and press forward.

Simple.

Too simple.

Gritting his teeth, Jasper slowly releases her wrists. He draws back like it pains him, forcing distance where every instinct demands he give in. Knees spread, he settles back on his heels, breathing heavily. His golden eyes never leave hers as he extends both hands toward her, palms open.

“Come here,” he says, voice low and thick with restraint.

Her eyes widen, searching his face, his eyes. He’s still breathing heavily, chest rising and falling with measured precision. His hands are open, waiting for her, trembling just slightly at the edges.

She blinks, heart skipping. There’s no rush now, no teasing smile tugging at her lips. She’s breathless not from effort, but awe.

He looks like something out of a dream. Bathed in the soft golden light that spills from the fairy lights above them, he sits still and steady, strong thighs spread wide, his erection hard and proud. The muscles of his arms flex as he waits, his chest bare and perfect, each shallow breath only highlighting the tension simmering just beneath the surface. His jaw clenches. His eyes blaze.

Her heart drums in her ears. Is this what it means to be chosen? To be wanted so deeply that it could unravel him?

She draws in a deep breath and slowly rises onto one elbow, steadying herself. Then she lifts to her knees and begins to move toward him, every inch closed between them fueled by trust.

He takes her hands when she’s close enough, and they’re cooler than hers but trembling less now. When he pulls her into his lap, she doesn’t resist, letting his hands slide around her waist and lift her like she weighs nothing. Gently, he settles her astride his thighs, her knees brushing the outside of his hips. Her skin meets his, hot against cool, soft against hard.

But her brows pull together the moment she’s fully seated on him.

“If you tell me we have to wait,” she warns, voice low and serious, “I’ll scream.”

His face is hard, every line tight, every muscle locked. The planes of him look harder than stone, but then she catches it: the faint twitch of his mouth.

“You’ll scream anyway,” he murmurs.

That earns him a glare. But her lips twitch too.

“With pleasure,” he adds.

 Her smile fades slightly when she catches the subtle furrow between his brows. His fingers twitch against her waist, thumbs brushing gentle circles into her skin.

“Jas,” she says softly.

“I feel like I’ve been rougher than I want to be,” he admits, his voice laced with hesitation, guilt dancing behind his words.

Her gaze softens. She cups his cheek, her thumb brushing just beneath his eye. He leans into the touch, savoring the sweetness.

“You’re doing well,” she promises, holding his gaze, letting him feel the truth in her heartbeat.

His lashes lower, only for a moment, as he breathes her in.

“Kiss me,” he says, not as a command, but a plea; desperate and quiet, a request from the man who loves her, not the vampire trying not to lose control.

She leans in without a word, her lips brushing his like a whisper before deepening the kiss slowly, deliberately. Not to taunt or tease, but to show him she means it. Every part of her means it.

He didn’t need to ask twice; willingly, she twines her arms around his neck and latches her lips to his. One hand at her back holding her upright, he deepens the kiss, skimming his other hand upward, over her abdomen, before closing it over her breast. The already heated flesh swells, firming, eliciting a moan as he touches her nipple. He draws back from the kiss; she lets her head fall back, the exposed curve of her throat an offering he doesn’t refuse. He trails hot kisses down the pulsing carotid; she inches closer, pressing her breast to his palm.

She can’t imagine a better way of proving her love for him, her trust in his ability to keep control, than this. She holds still, her breathing quickening. One long lick dampens one nipple. She gasps as his lips touch the peak, sucking lightly as he feels her melt in his arms. It will change too, just as her mouth did. She didn’t notice and truth be told, she couldn't care less. Soon enough, she will change entirely and spend an eternity doing this very thing with Jasper. She looks forward to that future.

He harbors no illusions over how difficult this night will be; for the first time in his lengthy life, he prays he’ll be strong enough to manage her and the passion she unleashed in him.

Head bent, he tortures one tightly budded nipple, then turns his attention to its mate. Grabbing onto his upper arms, Y/N gasps and sways. With her bones transmuted to warm chocolate, her weak grip, his hand at her back and the tantalizing tug of his lips are all that keep her upright. 

She aches to touch him, to send her hands searching, but doesn’t dare let go. With a long-drawn moan, she sways forward, into his kiss. He holds her still, anchoring her as his hands roam her body, engraving every inch in his mind. Every curve she possesses, he traces; every square inch of her skin is tingling, aching for more. Her back, her sides, the curve of her stomach, the long muscles of her thighs, her arms, her bottom - none escape his attention. 

She kisses him with a fervor to match his own, reveling in the tension building between them. His hands instinctively go to her hips, digging his fingers into the soft tissue over the bone. His hands roam, as urgently demanding as his lips.

Still on her knees, her thighs lock on either side of his. With her hips pressed to his abdomen, she feels his hands curve and cup her bottom. One remains, holding her high, the other slides lower, long fingers questing. They find her heat and slide further, pressing between her thighs, probing the hot, slick folds. At first he’s caressing, then pressing deeper and deeper as she moans, but she doesn’t run from him now, embracing the coldness of his touch. His only response is to deepen their kiss, drinking in her moans, holding her captive and at his mercy.

His fingers stroke slowly, stretching her in preparation, building her up. Abruptly, Jasper draws back from their kiss. His fingers leave her as he cups her bottom with one hand, while lining himself up with her entrance with the other.

“No more teasing?” she asks, hopeful.

Pursing his lips, he doesn’t break eye contact, “Slide down.”

Y/N can hardly believe the strength of the compulsion that grips her, but she knows she needs him inside her more than she needs to breathe. Even so, just looking at his hardened length, she remembers how cold and hard it really is. And soft. So, so soft.

“Darlin’?” Jasper can feel the bubbling anxiety in her every heartbeat, his eyes searching hers. “We don’t have to. Okay? Say the word and we can cuddle or watch Harry Potter, or both?”

Smiling, she shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I’m going to make love to my husband. Harry Potter be damned!”

His hold tightens around her hips. “I love you.”

She draws in a deep breath, sinking lower, his hands guiding her. She feels the first touch of his cock, icy and hard, and stops. He slips his fingers between her thighs and opens her. She feels the first intimate intrusion of his body into hers. Catching her breath on a strangled gasp, she sinks lower and feels the head slip inside.

He feels large, much larger than she’d expected. She sucks in a breath; under the weight of his hands, she still sinks lower.

“You’re doing well,” he whispers in her ear, and she sighs, taking another inch.  “That’s right, Darlin’. You can take it. You can take all of it.”

She can feel his words within her; he is, if anything, even tenser than she is, rock-hard muscles flickering. He’s sharing his sensations with her. It’s soothing. To him, she’s warm and maddening, and the bloodlust from earlier is all but gone.

“You look so beautiful in my lap.”

Through the storm of emotions inside her; uncertainty, desire, and giddy need, laced with distant remnants of shyness, she gives into the most desperate longing she has ever known. Stubborn as always and determined to be brave, she sinks down entirely. Immediately, Jasper lifts her, not quite losing her clinging heat.

“Kiss me,” he demands.

She lifts her head immediately, swollen lips parted, eager for more. He takes her mouth vigorously, struggling to harness the wild passion that drives him, battling to remain in control long enough to avoid unnecessarily hurting her as she slides down his length again. He doesn’t want to bruise her, or worse, break something.

Focusing completely on her, waiting for her to be ready again, Jasper grimly denies his primal urge to lose himself in her heat, to pound into her mindlessly like he would if it were any other girl of his species. But no one can compare to the way the last remnants of his soul crave for her.

She tries to shift; his hands harden, holding her still.

“Wait.”

She obeys, as she promised. Until that moment, she didn’t appreciate how completely in his control he’s been. The hard, throbbing reality that had invaded her, intimately filling her, impinged fully on her mind. Vulnerability swept her, rippling through her.

She hears him groan. Blinking, she looks up; his eyes are shut, his features like stone. Under her hands, the muscles of his shoulders are locked in some phantom battle. Inside her, the steady throb of his warming cock reminds her they’re actually doing this. Jasper is inside her and she’s his to do as he pleases. 

With any other man, she’d shudder at the thought. It would terrify her to no end. Jasper’s different. She married him, after all.

“You’re okay,” she cups his cheeks. “I am okay,” she reminds him as he lifts her up from him again. “We can do this. We are already doing this.”

He nods, slowly opening his eyes. Allowing her to sink down on him once more. He watches her lips part as he fills her slowly until his hips press against her inner thighs completely.

“Are you okay?” His breathing is labored, just as hers is shuddering. He can’t stop looking at her softened face, her eyes closed in pleasure and her parted lips forming a contented smile. She’s grateful he’s allowing himself to act human, for breathing with her, trembling under her touch, for sharing his emotions without her having to ask.

“Never better.”

Resting his forehead against hers, he closes his eyes too. He catches her lips in a ravishing kiss and anchors her hips against him. He tumbles her back onto the pillows.

Jasper starts moving in and out slowly, refusing to risk her pain for a little more pleasure he’d find in speed and his untimely release. Instead, he’s using deep, slow strokes with a relentless care for the nerve bundle between her folds. Every passing second draws louder moans from her. She’s holding him so tightly to her body, so desperately as she unravels beneath him. She’s seeing flashes of light, fleeting images, as though she’s losing consciousness, her mind. Just as she thinks she can’t bear more, a flooding sensation overtakes her. A shiver runs down her spine as her legs shake.

His thrusts are met by her own hips moving on instinct. Grunts and moans fill the air, and become louder as he increases his pace. He feels himself getting closer, and by the expression of pure bliss and lust on her face, the pitch of her moans growing, and her clenching around him lets him know she’s not too far behind.

Inch by inch, he claims her; heated and slick, her body welcomes him, stretching to take him in. He watches her eyes widen, his once golden eyes darkened, almost black as he surges deeper. Staring up at his face, she sees the hardness in every line, sharp-edged with reined passion.  

“You’re so beautiful,” his hands flick her hair aside. He deepens their kiss, and her senses are spinning; his body moves on her, within her, his pleasure overflowing onto her.

She lets her body welcome him, holding him tight for a moment before reluctantly releasing him. Again and again, they form an intimate embrace; each time, each devastatingly thorough thrust pushes her higher, further, toward something she can’t even imagine. Their minds and senses merge, his lust and love are driving her to the brink of madness.

All she can do is feel him under her hands and know he’s with her, feel the almost warm cock that fills her and know she’s his, feel the emotion that rips through him, forging a love stronger than before, and know nothing on earth can ever change it.

Picking up pace, he finally loses control, jerking his hips to meet hers in a deep thrust, only to finish deep inside her. She jerks forward, a scream escaping her throat, from pain or pleasure? She couldn’t tell. More importantly, neither could Jasper.

His thumb moves to her clit, relentless, keeping its pace until she’s clenching around him, calling his name over and over like a prayer. And it feels good. She’s certain now and so is he. It feels so fucking good that Jasper desires her lips to speak his name in ecstasy more than the blood that sings to him.

He doesn’t move, opting to rest his forehead against hers, feeling her breath fan his face. He presses a couple of lazy kisses on her chest, resituating himself on her, planting his feet on the bed, but he doesn’t move, not yet. He buries his head in the crook of her neck, trailing kisses from her neck to her cheek. She giggles in response, turning her head to look at him before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. She can feel all her bones drifted apart to let him in fully, but a blissful smile remains on her face as he gets off and lies beside her.

She holds in a disappointed sigh, already missing his weight on top of her.

“That was amazing,” he sighs, pulling her into his side. He didn’t want to ruin the mood by panicking openly, but he didn’t plan on finishing inside her. In fact, he didn’t plan on finishing at all if possible. He’s terrified of the aftermath he’ll have to face tomorrow under the harsh morning light, of the bruises he definitely left, of the devastation he caused.

“I don’t think there’s a word to describe this night,” she nuzzles into him. Lazily tracing circles on his chest, she closes her eyes. Whatever pain she felt, she doesn’t remember anymore. If anything, she feels content, like she’s exactly where she’s meant to be.

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you,” she tells him. “You were in control the entire time. You didn’t falter, and I need you to know I felt safe. I felt loved and needed and I hope you felt the same way.”

“I did. Darlin’, I felt so lost in you and your emotions; they kept me sane and focused all night. You and your beautiful heart.”

Swallowing thickly, she rests her hand on his chest, across his frozen heart. Oh, how she wishes she could feel it beating, just once.

"You're mine now," he whispers. "In every way that counts."

“I was already yours,” she murmurs, voice shaking from the tenderness between them.

He smiles at that. Not the cocky grin he wears when he's teasing her, not the wolfish smirk she knows all too well. His thumbs stroke the sides of her waist, hoping the shadows he’s seeing aren’t bruises forming already.

She shifts slightly, feeling him press closer against her.

"You're shaking," he murmurs against her skin.

"Because I love you so much, it physically hurts," she admits with a nervous laugh.

That steals his peace of mind. She’s so small in his embrace now, and he can’t believe she managed to survive him. “I don’t deserve you.”

She tilts her head, holding his gaze captive. “You deserve the world. And I’m going to spend the rest of our eternity showing you that.”

His hand cups her face, his thumb brushing beneath her left eye as if he's trying to catch the tears that haven't yet fallen.

“You already have.”

A quiet minute passes. Her head rests on his shoulder, fingers lazily tracing lines along his chest. Then, “Will my nipples turn into vampire nipples now?”

Jasper jerks back slightly to look at her. His mouth opens, nothing coming out at first, just pure shock flickering across his face. She’s always had some out of pocket things to say, but he can’t imagine a day he’ll ever get used to any of it.

She tries to keep a straight face, but her lips twitch.

“What about my vagina and uterus?” she adds, eyes wide with faux innocence.

Jasper stares at her like she’s grown a second head. Then he breaks. A loud laugh bursts from his chest as he drops his head back on the pillow. “You’re irreparable.”

She grins proudly, stretching out like a satisfied cat beside him. “And you married me. Better get used to this.”

His arm curls around her waist, dragging her closer with ease. “I will. Nothing else I’d rather do.” He kisses her temple, lips lingering there a moment longer, smiling against her skin. “But I do have some questions about this… vampire nipple theory.”

She gasps dramatically. “It’s a valid concern!”

“Oh, absolutely,” he deadpans, now rolling to hover over her again. “We’ll have to conduct some thorough research. Immediate field study. Hands-on investigation.”

Her eyes sparkle. “You’re saying you want to inspect the goods?”

“Scientific purposes only,” he teases, already dropping a kiss to her collarbone. “Just making sure the transition is going smoothly. For… medical reasons.”

She laughs, warm and unguarded, and he leans into it, soaking up the sound like sunlight. She brushes his hair back from his face, gazing up at him with mock seriousness.

“I expect regular check-ins, Dr. Whitlock.”

“I take my job very seriously, Mrs. Whitlock.”

“Oh, that’s hot.” She bites her bottom lip, eyes roaming his face. “Say it again.”

“What, Mrs. Whitlock?” he murmurs, letting it roll off his tongue slowly, almost like a test.

She shivers slightly. “Yeah. That.”

His hand skims over her hip. “It suits you.”

“So do you,” she whispers, reaching up to kiss the tip of his nose.

He smiles, soft and real, and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “You know, you’re going to drive me insane, don’t you?”

She shrugs, feigning innocence. “It’s in the vows, I think.”

They both burst into laughter again, tangled together in the sheets, warm and teasing, absolutely certain of only one thing; their love that feels like it could hold up the entire world.

--

Emmett paces around the back porch, arms crossed tight over his broad chest, a pout plastered firmly on his face. Every now and then he kicks a pebble off the edge. He’s not trying to be dramatic. But he is.

Bella finds him exactly where she expected, brooding with all the subtlety of a bulldozer. “Wanna arm wrestle?” she offers, sidling up beside him with a teasing smile.

He doesn’t even glance at her, grimacing. “I can see right through your sorry attempt to distract me.”

She exhales, settling down beside him on the steps, her shoulder bumping his. “So dramatic.”

He shrugs, gaze fixed somewhere distant. “I’m just tired of it. All the isolation. Every time we get close to someone who’s not, you know... part of all this,” he gestures vaguely to himself, the house, the forest around them, “they either get scared off or...” His jaw tightens. “Y/N was different. She fit in so quickly. She was actually really cool. Funny, too. She laughed at my jokes, genuinely. Not like the fake pity-laughs I get from the rest of you losers.”

Bella smirks. “Hey, my pity laughs are top-tier.”

He side-eyes her, unimpressed. “It’s been a while. I miss her. And yeah, I’m pissed I’m not there today. I’m her best friend and he’s -”

“Pounding her into the mattress?” Bella interrupts sweetly.

Emmett recoils with an audible gasp, his face contorting in horror. “Why would you put that image in my head?!”

Before she can answer, Edward groans from behind them, dragging a hand over his face. “Our heads,” he mutters darkly. “Thanks for that.”

Bella stifles a laugh as Edward joins them on the steps. “You’re welcome.”

Edward sighs, his tone shifting. “Alice says Demetri and Alec are arriving in Volterra.”

Bella nods grimly, leaning into his side. “Any minute now…”

Emmett shakes his head. “Did Jasper tell Y/N?”

Edward hesitates. “I don’t know.”

Emmett frowns, his voice firm. “Would be a dick move not to.”

“Maybe,” Bella says carefully. “But then again… Y/N’s not stupid. The rushed wedding said enough without Jasper needing to say a word. She’s probably figured out something’s going on.”

“Still,” Emmett mutters, resting his arms on his knees. “If she walked into all this blind… that’s not love, that’s just reckless. He hasn’t even told her they met years before.”

Bella frowns. She almost forgot about that unfortunate encounter. She was a part of the way it all played out, even broke her wrist by accident. Y/N might never forgive her for any of it and she can’t exactly blame her. If she was in her shoes, she’d have trouble forgiving anyone involved. “He probably did. He wouldn’t start their marriage on lies.”

A new voice interrupts them.

“Aro has been informed.”

They all turn. Alice stands near the doorway, her face hardened, her eyes unfocused with a vision still lingering behind them. There’s a tension in her posture that silences the group immediately. It’s exactly as they feared. It comes down to a coin toss now; Aro will either disregard it, or he will take an interest.

Edward leans forward, watching her vision with a deep frown.

Bella sighs, “What do you see?”

-----------------------------------

Tags: @moonmark98 @formulas-bitch @ronniesreverie @anongirl007 @foxycrafterofgreenwood @lamelover @sl4t4darkling @megaprincesscakes @aj3684 @xnarixkimx @rhysology @piya-re @wolfndragonfly @redwitchbitch1 @smh-anon @yoosmekihyun @ittybittymagick @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @pinkpantheris @rinavarwen @eneywey @skagelynn @p34rlss @once-upon-a-storyy @thelastemzy @purplerose291 @nessaasstuff @lew444

A/N: This one took a while, I knowww. Life has been....like Murphy's law. Anywayn, hope you liked this one, but be ready for things to start heating up soon. Let me know what you think. If you want to be tagged, leave a comment under this post, but make sure your blog visibility is on and you're not shadowbanned by tumblr or they won't let me tag you.

[onlyblackorpheus]

𓂦﴾𝕵𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝕮𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖓 + 𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖑𝖊 + 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝖋𝖊𝖒 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗﴿ 𓂦

𓂦 ╋━ “ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔡𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱.” ━╋ 𓂦

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭

...

The sun had recently set, and the moon had finally risen, thus casting a light hue in the semi-dark late evening. After eating at the local diner, the two of you ventured off to the forest to sit down, talk, and enjoy each other's company. Thus, Jasper and you had settled down in a pleasant grassy field, sitting on a blanket, and savoring the other's presence.

The minutes had turned into hours, and what was once a sunny, warm day had turned into a chilly, dim evening.  It had also become quite breezy. The wind had picked up more, once the sun had set, and your body shivered slightly to the sudden blow of air. 

“Are you alright, darlin’?” Jasper asked, “You’re probably cold, especially wearing those clothes.”

Though you weren't that cold, Jasper was right. You felt the slight chill, especially wearing such light clothes. You were dressed in a cute gingham set, wearing capris that met at your knees, a matching shirt that passed right below your belly button, and a simple white knitted shrug. The outfit looked pretty on your plump figure, but it wasn't practical for the chilly weather.

“C’mere, Angel,” he uttered softly, urging you sit sit on his lap. However, before you even had that chance to move, Jasper had effortlessly lifted your body into his lap. You were plotted on his lap, your thick thighs straddling both sides of his hips. Jasper's thumb subconsciously rubbing on your thigh, a habit of his that he rarely seemed to notice.

 In case the warm weather turned cold, Jasper brought a jacket with him, unfortunately, it remained in the car. Jasper didn't want to leave you alone, yet he didn't want you to freeze either. Knowing your rather stubborn personality, he didn't want to decide for you, so he asked you in a soft, gentle voice.  ”I left my jacket in the car, I can go get it for you…that sounds good to you, darlin’?”

“No, I'm good," You respond stubbornly, both frustrated at the sudden weather change and not wishing for him to depart. "I'm not even that cold,"

“Angel, I can feel your body shivering”, he noted, his lips quirking up slightly in amusement. “You might not be shaking as hard as a leaf, but baby, I can feel that you’re cold.”

The slight twitch of a smirk on Jasper's lips annoyed you. Whether it was the weather's spontaneous change, or the subconscious desire to challenge him, you had, without thinking, said something that caused the sweet, playful atmosphere to break.

“Warm me up then,” you mumble.

There was a slight pause in Jasper's movement. His teasing gaze and slight smirk paused, as well as the thumb that caressed your thigh. A pacy tension had risen into the air, replacing the previous lighter mood.

That mutter of yours wasn't supposed to be heard. It was low, quiet, and was more of a quiet huff under your breath rather than an actual mumble. However, with Jasper’s keen senses, he heard that faint mutter of yours, as loud as he could hear a gunshot.

“You want me to warm you up?” 

His voice was almost as breathy as yours, however, there was an undertone of eagerness that wasn’t present in your own. The thumb that had previously rubbed on your thigh was replaced by his large hand that tightened a hold on your large, plush thigh. The other hand of his that previously layed lazily on the ground, fidgeting with the blanket underneath both of you, had moved to your waist. The hold was firm and anticipating.

“I can do that.” 

...

𝕿𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖚𝖊𝖉

╋━ 𝕮𝖍𝖊𝖈𝖐 𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖒𝖞 𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖐...

𓂦-𝕵𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝕳𝖆𝖑𝖊/𝕮𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖓

𓂦 - 𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

𓂦 - 𝕸𝖞 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

𓂦 - 𝕭𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕺𝖗𝖕𝖍𝖊𝖚𝖘 - 𓂦

[s9fti3]

“You’re doing so good.” Alice praises to you, holding onto you as your eyes roll back. She keeps her legs over yours so you can’t close them as Jasper pushes the rest of himself into you. “Almost there, just- hold on.” Jasper say, closing his eyes and taking in a breath he knew he didn’t need. But he needed to compose himself or else he could risk hurting you. “It’s alright, Jas, you won’t hurt her.” Alice says as she takes her attention off of you for a moment to look at Jasper. With those words, he pushes himself into you completely without any warning. He watched you cry out and arch your back, clinging onto Alice’s arm for support. For a moment he thought he hurt you, until he felt the pure bliss you were in.

[spencersmopbucket]

Sleight of Hand | Jasper Hale

Pairing: Jasper Hale x Reader Summary: Jasper is a southern gentleman. He hates showing any sort of aggression around you, flashing teeth or using his strength. But you're human and you're fragile -- and not everyone acknowledges it. Some people (or wolves), he just has to correct. Themes & Warnings: fluff, protective!Jasper, Eclipse era, slight violence, Jasper is such a sweetheart i love him <3

When you said you had the sweetest, most trusting husband in the world, it wasn't just a lie like other women told. You were serious. Jasper Hale was seriously the softest, cuddliest, most gentlemanly killing machine on earth.

Being the most protected woman in Washington or even in the world was a wonderful feeling. You never had any doubts in your husband, despite the horrible things you'd been through with him and his family. He treasured you, respected you, catered to all of your needs, and really was a perfect Southern gentleman, just like he'd told you he was the day you met him.

You'd just been married after being together for years. In fact, the plan was to turn you as soon as a solid window of time allowed. But, of course, danger and turbulence with Bella had disturbed your plans. You were still human and still fragile. You would've thought he was going to hover over you at all times, like Edward did Bella. But it was different. It helped that he could feel when you were scared or uncomfortable, but Jazz was comfortable at a distance, trusting you in your ability to identify a dangerous situation and be smart about needing help. And when you did need him, he eliminated the threat swiftly and effectively, reminding you and everyone else just how deadly he was.

The current threat was the newborn army. Most definitely organized by Victoria, it held a certain amount of weight, a palpable danger. Jasper had been tense lately -- he could feel the unease of everyone around him. And you, his human mate, were directly in danger, at risk of bloodthirsty newborns every time you were alone.

He'd recently decided that now, while things were so risky, you'd be by his side under constant protection. Knowing the threat and knowing Jasper's story, his experience with newborns, you didn't complain. You just followed your Major's orders.

Today, you were in the clearing, listening to your husband teach the family and the Pack about how to defense and offense. You couldn't lie, Jazz was dangerously hot like this.

Jasper Hale was never louder than necessary. He didn’t bark orders or boast about his skills. He simply moved and spoke with such controlled confidence that the entire clearing naturally stilled around him.

He stood at the center of the field, broad shoulders squared, golden eyes scanning everyone like a quiet commander taking stock. The tension in his jaw only made him look more dangerous. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, exposing pale, scar-marked skin that shimmered faintly in the weak light -- reminders that he'd lived through so much violence and survived.

His hair was windswept, messy from combat demos, strands falling over his forehead. Somehow, that only made him hotter.

When he moved, he was all precision: a blur of muscle and reflex, striking with the speed of someone who didn’t hesitate. He never wasted energy. Every movement was elegant, efficient.

There was something deeply attractive about the way he balanced that lethal force with his gentlemanly calm. He wasn’t showing off, he was teaching. Guiding. Protecting.

“Newborns don’t think. They react. You use that. Wait for them to lunge -- then redirect their momentum.”

“Don’t aim for the head first. You want the arms, the legs. Disable them. Then finish it.”

“Stay low, keep your center of gravity under control. Don’t rely on brute force if you don’t have to.”

“Speed isn't enough. You gotta predict. Anticipate. That’s how you outlast ‘em.”

“Rosalie, you’re telegraphing. I could see that from a mile off.” (a soft smirk, drawing a glare from Rosalie)

“Don’t swing wide, Emmett. This isn’t a bar fight. That move would’ve gotten you killed a hundred years ago.”

He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t need to. That Southern drawl carried low and smooth, just loud enough to demand attention. You could tell he was holding back, like every part of him was wired to snap, but he was too controlled, too good, to let it show.

Watching Jasper fight was like watching a storm gather in the distance: quiet, beautiful, and inevitable.

Could be anyone. Wolf or vampire. They were quickly and strategically disarmed, usually with one move. It was like Jasper could tell exactly what they were going to do before they did it -- because likely, he could. He could feel whether they were cool headed, overconfident, agitated, restless. He was truly formidable. It was incredibly sexy to you.

Every once in a while, Jasper could feel your stares. He could feel your feelings of.. affection.. too. He tried to stay focused, his eyes locked onto whoever he was speaking to or whoever was swinging at him, but you could tell he knew. A crooked lift of his lip in a slight smirk would expose him.

Now, he stood facing off with Paul.

You'd never liked Paul. He was temperamental, cocky, arrogant and out of line any time you'd talked to him or been around him. But he was part of the pack and needed to be trained, so he was here.

Jasper could immediately feel your discomfort. His golden eyes met yours knowingly, reassuringly, in an attempt to soothe you. You felt yourself calm down considerably before you leaned back against the log, sighing.

He turned back. Paul was already snarling, fur prickling up in confidence and aggression. He hated vampires, whether they were fighting for the same cause or not. He wouldn't take it easy on Jasper, not that it mattered. Jasper never needed anyone to be careful, never needed to take it easily. He was almost sure that if Paul could, he'd go for the kill.

You swooned at Jazz. His face was still calm, staring down at the beast with anticipating eyes. Relaxed stance. He nodded, curving a hand to show Paul that it was time.

“Give it your best.” He said, one final statement, before Paul growled.

Paul lunged, massive wolf body coiled with muscle and teeth.

Jasper shifted just enough to the side, one pale hand shooting out to catch Paul by the ruff of his neck. He used the wolf’s own momentum to slam him to the ground, pinning him with one knee between his shoulders.

His voice was low, unbothered: “Far too predictable. A newborn would've snapped your neck,” he said. “You need to think it through before making an attempt. You have to be better than them -- more patient, more measured.”

Paul snarled and bucked under him, forcing Jasper to release him. The wolf twisted, hackles raised, and launched again with a furious roar.

Jasper didn’t flinch. He waited, eyes cool, then sidestepped at the last second, hand flashing out to catch Paul’s foreleg mid-swipe. With a sharp jerk and a twist of his hips, he threw the massive wolf onto his back, sending him sliding into the treeline.

Jasper leaned in slightly, voice calm but firm.

“Again. But try learning this time.”

With a furious roar, Paul gave it one more shot.

He jumped into the air, not taking Jasper's advice, not thinking, but heading for the southern man full force. With an audible and disappointed "tsk," Jazz landed another blow, a final push, intended for teaching. The blow made contact, once again sending Paul towards the trees. He barreled into them, knocking two over.

Jasper turned around to the group, using it as a teaching example.

“That's why you have to think. Control yourself,” he explained, gesturing towards the direction he'd flung Paul. “They're stronger than you and far more excited to fight. Even more excited to kill. You can't be sloppy.”

While Jasper was explaining, Paul got angrier and angrier.

He hated being beaten. Hated being embarrassed. Hated being talked back to. And hated vampires.

You sat across the clearing, watching him get up from the trees. His teeth dripped with spit, a permanent snarl etched onto his glaring face. His paws were heavy in the dirt.

And the direction he stalked? It wasn't towards Jasper.

It was towards you.

He was angry, embarrassed, and wanted to teach Jasper a lesson by terrifying you. Of course, by pack law, he wasn't allowed to touch you. But scaring a vampire's mate seemed to be equal punishment for the embarrassment.

Your eyes widened as you straightened off the log. Paul got closer and closer, drool dribbling off his teeth and lips, looking positively murderous. He was now within five feet of you, paws crossing the grass in enormous strides.

Jasper’s voice faltered for half a second as he felt the shift in you -- the jolt of fear, sharp and cold.

His golden eyes flicked immediately to you, then the aggressive, snarling wolf right in front of your face. Less than five feet now, pushing you back, making you cower against the wood log.

Jacob spoke from behind Jasper first.

“Paul! Stop!”

It was too late. The damage had already been done. Jasper was angry now.

Jasper didn’t explode.

He didn’t shout, didn’t bare his teeth or make a scene.

He simply went silent.

So silent that even the wind seemed to still in the trees.

And in that breathless, deathly quiet, he moved.

One blink and he was no longer in front of the pack or your family. He was between you and Paul, standing nose-to-snout with the enormous wolf, whose growling abruptly cut short at the sudden presence of something far, far more dangerous.

Jasper’s hand shot out, not to strike, but to press, flat and firm, against Paul’s fur covered shoulder, holding him back like he weighed nothing at all. His voice came low and dark, quieter than anyone had ever heard it.

“Foolish dog.”

Paul snarled, tried to shove forward -- instinct, fury, shame. He didn’t make it an inch.

With one hand still on Paul’s shoulder, Jasper’s other came up in a blur -- grabbing the wolf by the scruff of the neck and slamming him into the earth with a crack of force that shook the ground.

Gasps, footsteps, and whining from the pack echoed behind you.

Jasper didn't look at anyone else.

“I gave you every chance,” he said, voice thick with venom now, words curling with Southern fire. “I trained you. I warned you.”

He leaned into the wolf's snarling face again, letting him snap and growl at him, unfazed. His eyes were deadly, but his face was relatively relaxed.

“You won't make it on the field if this is how you present yourself,” he hummed, squeezing tighter onto Paul's body. “I cared at first. But now?”

Paul growled and twisted. Jasper slammed him down.

“I'm almost certain this world could use one less insolent mutt.”

The threat in his words wasn’t shouted. It was drawled, cold and certain, landing heavier than any yell could have. Paul let out a strangled, furious snarl, thrashing harder beneath Jasper’s unyielding grip. Dirt and grass tore up under his claws.

Jasper didn’t even blink. His golden eyes stayed locked on the wolf’s, steady and unflinching.

“You think you’re ready to fight newborns?” he asked, tone dipping almost to pity -- almost. His fingers tightened just enough to make Paul yelp. “You can’t even manage your temper.”

He waited for the next lunge. When Paul tried to twist again, Jasper slammed him down harder, making the ground quake.

“You’re sloppy. Predictable. And worst of all?” Jasper dropped his voice to a harsh whisper.

“You’re willing to threaten something of mine to save your own pride.”

Paul went still beneath him at that. Breathing hard. Growling, but with a tremor that wasn’t all rage.

Behind them, the clearing had gone silent. The pack frozen. Cullens unmoving. Even the wind felt like it held its breath.

Jasper’s lip curled faintly, not quite a smile.

“Consider this your only warning.”

He held Paul down one second longer, driving the point home. Then he stood smoothly, brushing the dirt from his hands like he hadn’t just manhandled a half-ton predator into submission.

“If you ever step foot near her again,” he drawled, Southern lilt dark as pitch, “I’ll put you down myself.”

He let that promise hang in the frozen air.

Then he turned, utterly calm, and walked back toward you without another glance at the wolf.

His cold hands met your skin immediately, gently nudging you into a standing position and smoothing your clothes out. He searched you silently for injuries -- you prayed he didn't find a single scratch. Even if Paul hadn't done it, he'd still pay the price for it.

Jasper’s touch was careful, almost reverent, as though he feared he might hurt you just by being too rough. His cold fingers brushed along your arms, checking for any sign of bruising. He smoothed your hair back from your face, golden eyes scanning you with laser focus.

“Hold still for me, darlin',” he murmured, voice lower now -- gentler, but still taut with restrained fury.

You swallowed hard, letting him fuss over you. His thumb grazed your jaw, tilting your face toward the light to check for any marks.

Nothing. Not a scratch.

He exhaled, slow and shaky despite the careful control on his face.

“Good,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

His hands lingered at your waist, gripping you just enough to anchor himself. He didn’t look back at the pack, didn’t even acknowledge the others. For Jasper, in that moment, there was no one else but you.

As he felt you relax against him, Jasper’s hold softened even more. His thumbs brushed soothing circles at your waist, the cold of his skin forgotten in the warm hush between you.

“That’s it,” he murmured, southern lilt a low rumble only for your ears. “Easy now, sugar. I’ve got you.”

He dipped his head just low enough to press his lips gently to your forehead, leaving his lips there for a few seconds and letting his eyes flutter shut. Grounding himself. The tension bled out of him by slow degrees, like smothered coals on a fire being put out.

One of his hands drifted up to cup your cheek, wiping the startled tears from under your eyes.

“No more cryin’, sweet angel. He’s never gonna come near you again.”

Once you were sufficiently comforted, Jasper returned to the training session, but decided that he wasn’t going to do any demonstrations. For the rest of the day, you’d be by his side where he could focus on you.

However, Jasper was a practical and respectful man. A warning always came before he broke loose.

Jasper didn’t raise his voice or even turn fully away from you. He just lifted his head enough to look past you, eyes finding the pack’s leader with that glint of cold command still in them.

“Sam,” he called evenly.

Sam’s ears flicked forward in wolf form, body tense, watching every move. No one had much to say, just stared. Emmett and Edward watched cautiously, awaiting a fight to break out.

Jasper’s jaw flexed once before he spoke, his tone unyielding.

“You’ll be down a pup if you ever let one of yours so much as growl at her again,” he asserted, tone cutting through the air like a knife. “She’s human. If you’ve forgotten your rules, if you’ve forgotten the treaty, I can be your reminder.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Didn’t need one.

His gaze lingered on Sam another beat, making sure the threat was received in full, before he lowered his eyes back to you, all that deadly fire softening in an instant.

[im-ovulating]

For Kinktober: anything with Jasper Whitlock, but preferably size kink (short reader), voice kink, hand kink, and some on top of the clothes action / sex in the clothes. Choose all of it or one, I don't care, just having a brainrot about him: my ovaries explode every time I see this gif

(A/n: Kinktober Day 6/15! I wanted to keep all of this year's kinktober fics below 2.5k, but this one got away from me ;v;)

Word Count: 3,842

Summary- Well, you HAVE to take on his challenge -I mean, experiment. It's only the responisble thing to do as his study partner.

Warnings: Strip game, Fingering, PIV, Creampie, Cocky! Jasper, Not proofread

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Jasper Whitlock x Fem! Reader: Study Buddy

----------------------

"Did you know that predators have front-facing eyes, but prey normally have eyes on the side of their faces?" You ask Jasper as you scan your textbook. He had agreed to help you study for an upcoming test. "It's because the prey has to be able to look out for danger."

Not only is evolutionary bio not your strongest subject, but your professor is an asshat so you really can't afford to fail this test.

"I did," he mumbles as he highlights a section that he thinks you should go through again. "Did you know that when two animals make eye contact, the first to look away is the submissive?" Jasper asks back.

"That's gotta be BS, right? What if one just doesn't want to look at the other's ugly mug?" Your retort is weak, but your tone has the confidence of a straight, cis, white man who's telling you what your own name means.

Jasper lets out a small, huffed laugh and finally looks up at you, warm gold meeting e/c. "I don't think animals think that way, darlin'."

"Are you an animal whisperer?" You snark, crossing your arms with a cocked eyebrow.

"Do you really think it's not real?" He gets back on topic. When you shake your head, he turns his chair towards you before doing the same to your own so you both face each other. "Really? Then, let's test that theory, hm? You seem pretty confident in yourself, so what's the harm?"

"I seem pretty confident because I am pretty confident." You mark your place and shut the textbook.

He chuckles with a small shake of the head. Leaning back in his chair with one arm thrown over the back, Jasper says, "Let's play a game."

"We're supposed to be studyin-" "It's a science experiment."

When you fall back against your seat, he continues. "We'll make eye contact, we'll stare at each other, and the first to look away loses. And if you lose..." he smirks a little, "you lose a piece of clothing. Best out of five wins."

You chew on your lip as you mull it over. You're confident that you can keep eye contact. And the submissive thing is bullshit, anyway, so it's not like your pride will take a hit. "So, strip poker but with a staring contest?" He nods.

"Exactly."

"...okay."

You meet Jasper's warm golden gaze, determination etched on your face. There's no way you're going to lose this little game of his.

"I know what's going to happen. You're going to give in; you can't take the pressure." You ignore him, zeroing on a small fleck of dark gold in his eyes to ground your thoughts.

As the seconds tick by, you resist the urge to look away, focused solely on holding Jasper's stare. His voice, low and smooth, sends shivers down your spine. "That's a good girl, keeping those pretty eyes on me."

Your breath catches at the sudden praise, your lips parting in a small, silent gasp. You won't let him distract you that easily, though. You're in it to win it.

Jasper's long, slender fingers drum lightly against his jean-clad thigh, drawing your gaze for just a moment before you force yourself to look back into his eyes. His lips curve into a knowing smirk.

It takes you a second to realize. "...fuck!"

"That's my round, darlin'." He goads.

With a small grumble and more force than necessary, you all but rip your socks off and throw them at his head. He catches them before they even get close. You're less coordinated in your attempt to dodge them, and all you can do is grumble more when they hit you square in the middle of your face.

"Stop looking so smug - there's still plenty of time for me to whoop your ass." You can't decide if you want to wipe that dumb-ass, unfairly charming smirk off his equally handsome face or if you want to pull him in and kiss him silly. Probably both... Yeah, both is good.

Jasper's eyes gleam with amusement as he watches your continued huffing and puffing. He leans back in his chair, his fingers still tapping against his leg.

"Don't be so sour, darlin'," he grins, his voice low and velvety smooth. "The game's just getting started."

You narrow your eyes at him, determined not to let his distracting voice and looks throw you off this time. "Just shut up and start the next round, Whitlock."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he holds your gaze. The air crackles with tension as you both refuse to back down, each daring the other to be the first to look away.

The seconds tick by, the only sound the quiet rhythm of your breathing. You can feel the weight of Jasper's stare, intense and captivating, drawing you in. Your pulse quickens, palms growing sweaty, but you refuse to lose again.

Just when you think you might actually win this round, Jasper's lips curve into a slow, predatory smile. "You know you want to look away. You want to give in, to submit; it's in your DNA. C'mon... Just look away, prove what we both already know: that when it comes down to it, you'd do nothing but roll over and show your belly..."

You roll your eyes in a subconscious attempt to ignore how his words, no matter how much they were shit talking, made your heart leap into your throat. With a triumphant smirk, Jasper declares, "My round again."

"That's not fair! You shouldn't be able to annoy me into losing!" You lie through your teeth about the true effect he's having on you.

Barking out a laugh, he says, "The only rule was that we can't look away. We never decided talking or touching were off limits. You lost fair and square, sugar, so lose an item."

"But-" "Three seconds before i decide which one," he interrupts with a cheeky grin. "and you might not like what I choose... Three. Two-" You let out a frustrated groan, quickly removing your shirt and tossing it to the side. His laughter only serves to further stoke the flames of your competitive spirit. "There we go! Good girl."

"I thought we're supposed to be studying." You try to feign nonchalance as you sit there, bra exposed and with only three items left. Technically, you're tied in terms of clothing remaining, but it's also not lost on you that it's currently 0-2 in Jasper's favor.

"We are studying; this is a science experiment, remember? Unless you're ready to admit that you're wrong AND that you're submissive. That would be quite the win on my end." Well, shit. Now you can't back out. You'll be damned if you let him have something to hang over your head.

"Just you wait, Whitlock," you snap, trying to regain your focus for the next round. "I'm just getting warmed up."

You narrow your eyes at Jasper, determined not to let him fluster you again. The stakes are higher now, but you've got this.

Taking a deep breath, you meet his gaze once again. The tension in the air is palpable as you both refuse to back down.

Jasper's lips curl into a challenging smirk, his long fingers still tapping a steady rhythm against his thigh. You force yourself to focus solely on his eyes, blocking out everything else.

Seconds turn to minutes as you hold his stare, your heartbeat thundering in your ears but you refuse to waver.

Just when you think you're finding a groove and might stand a chance at winning, Jasper leans forward, his voice low and sultry. "You're doing so well, darlin'. But I can see it in your eyes - you're starting to crack."

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, but you grit your teeth and push on. You will not lose this round, no matter what underhanded tactics he tries.

The room fills with an intensity that almost makes it hard to breath as you continue your silent battle of wills. Jasper's gaze is unwavering, a predatory gleam in his eyes that makes your breath catch and waver.

Jasper's hand suddenly moves, his fingers slowly inching up your thigh. Your eyes widen and your pulse quickens but you refuse to look away.

"Good girl," Jasper acknowledges, his cool touch burning through the fabric of your jeans. "Just keep your eyes on me."

His fingers continue their slow, tantalizing trek up your thigh, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. His gaze is electric, drawing you in despite your best efforts to maintain composure. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, but you refuse to break eye contact, stubbornly holding his molten stare.

"Jasper…" you breathe, unable to keep the quiver out of your voice. His lips curve into a knowing smile, fingers inching higher.

"That's it, darlin'," his voice is low and velvety smooth. "Just focus on me. Don't look away. It should be easy for you, right? You're a strong, dominant girl, after all."

The temptation to give in, to let your eyes slip shut, is nearly overwhelming. But you dig deep, summoning every ounce of willpower to maintain the intense eye contact.

Jasper's hand reaches the waist of your jeans, his fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin just above. Your pulse quickens and a shiver runs down your spine.

"J-Jasper…" you stammer, grip tightening on the arms of your chair.

His eyes shine with a predatory gleam as he watches you. "C'mon, sugar. Just a little bit longer… You can do it. Keep those pretty eyes on me.

"Or you can look away, let me take these pants off." he adds with a self-satisfied smirk.

You know you're teetering on the edge, your resolve rapidly crumbling under the onslaught of his touch and his words.

The seconds stretch on, the tension in the room palpable. Jasper's fingers continue their torturously slow ascent, and you find yourself struggling to keep your focus on his eyes.

His fingers dance along the underwire of your bra, "And after that, I'll pull those panties off of you with my teeth; maybe dive right in and see if that pussy tastes as good as I think it does." Your eyes flutter shut as a white-hot spike of arousal shoots straight to your core. He pulls his hand away and when you reopen your eyes, you see a triumphant grin has spread across Jasper's face. "That's my girl." Your eyes widen as you realize - you've lost. Again.

"You've got two chances left. Still think you're going to win?" Jasper asks. "I'm sure you can do it. Right? You can turn it around. Round 4."

As you settle in for yet another round, he gets in another jab. "You're gonna break. You're going to and it's going to be really fast."

His hand returns to your thigh; this time it only takes a second for him to reach the hem of your panties, his fingers dancing along the elastic. You swallow harshly, but keep his gaze. "You're not even trying to fight it; you're just letting me touch you."

"You're gonna keep looking me in the eyes when I move your panties to the side and slide my fingers in, aren't you?" Your breath hitches. "No, don't lose yet. Come on, look at me. Don't look away, I don't want you to look away." It's hard to fight against the urge to hide your face but you manage. You can feel how hot your cheeks are, and you can only imagine the expression on your face.

"Good girl," Jasper murmurs. "Don't look away. Don't you dare look away." You start to squirm a little, clenching your thighs desperate for some friction. "Why are you turned on?" He teases, his fingers still threatening to dip under the thin fabric. "Is it because you're submissive and you like losing? There's fight and flight, but you... you freeze. And you're gonna let me take what I want."

He finally tugs your panties aside and dips two fingers into you. your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you try to focus. You're so wet you swear you can feel it dripping down towards your ass. Fuck this is embarrassing but you realize you'd rather die than stop now; you want this. You want to just let go and let him take and take and take.

You crave his touch, crave to be used by him.

Jasper's fingers crook up into a spot that has stars dancing in your vision. Somehow you manage to just barely keep your eyes on him.

"C'mon, don't lose. I only have three pieces of clothing; you can still win this..." he taunts. "Don't look away, don't look away. Don't look away. Don't lose. Come on, look at me in my eyes. Good girl- don't look away."

"There it is..." He muses, pressing his fingers into your g spot as your back arches away from your chair and a debauched moan rips from your throat. "You lose again, darlin'." He brings his hand up to his mouth to clean your arousal off his fingers.

You let out a frustrated whine, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Jasper's smug grin only infuriates you further - he's clearly enjoying this power he has over you.

"That's not fair," you pant, your body still tingling from his touch. "You're cheating."

Jasper chuckles, leaning back in his chair as he examines you hungrily. "Darlin', I don't need to cheat to make you submit to me. You want this just as badly as I do. Like I said earlier- we never agreed 'no touching'."

You can only glare half-heartedly at him, knowing he's right.

"Hey," Jasper ducks his head to catch your eyes as you look at the ground to avoid his gaze. "You got one more. It's the last round. You're still in this; you can still win. You've got to get at least one piece from me. you can't lose every time - that would just be pathetic..." You go to smack his arm, but he avoids it.

With a resigned and frustrated sigh, you unhook your bra and let it fall to the floor. "Let's get this over with already." you grumble. you want this to end partly to stop the embarrassment of losing this badly, but mainly because the sooner this is over, the sooner you can fuck him.

As the final round starts, Jasper reaches up to grab your chin, tilting your head up to barely brush his lips against yours. His eyes never leave yours as he asks, "Why don't you just look away on purpose so I can take these off and fuck you?"

His other hand reaches down to press his thumb against your clit, causing your eyes to shut as you let loose a shaky moan. "Oh- you lost..." The grin he gives you can only be described as devilish.

Faster than you can process, he is picking you up by the thighs and setting you on the table.

True to his word, he drops to his knees between your legs and. after pressing a few possessive kisses along your belly and the apex of your thighs, he takes your panties between his teeth and starts to slide them off of you.

You shudder with anticipation as Jasper's cool breath ghosts over your most intimate area. With painstaking slowness, he tugs your panties down, revealing your glistening cunt. His eyes never leave yours, molten gold boring into your very soul.

A playful smirk graces his perfect lips as he tosses the flimsy fabric aside. Calloused hands caress the soft skin of your inner thighs, urging them to part further. You comply willingly, heart racing in excitement.

Jasper hums appreciatively, drinking in the sight of your exposed cunt. Leaning in, he trails feather-light kisses along your dripping folds, teasing you mercilessly. Just when you think you can't take the anticipation any longer, his talented tongue darts out, parting your swollen lips and delving deep.

An involuntary moan escapes your lips as pleasure courses through you. Jasper sets an agonizingly slow pace, savoring every twitch and tremble of your body. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he explores every inch of your most sensitive area. "Fuck, I knew you'd taste amazing..." His low groan vibrates against you and forces another small gasp to leave you.

Jasper's skilled tongue continues its agonizingly slow exploration, eliciting more breathless sighs and whimpers from you. His grip on your hips tightens as he senses your growing desperation for release.

With a low growl, he suddenly picks up the pace, licking and sucking with purpose. Your back arches as the coil of pleasure tightens, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as you feel the first tremors of your impending climax, Jasper pulls away, leaving you panting and aching. He gazes up at you with hooded eyes, a smug expression on his face.

"Not yet, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice dripping with dark promise. "I have other plans for you."

Jasper's hands grip your hips firmly as he effortlessly maneuvers your body, guiding you to bend over the sturdy table. A gasp escapes your lips at the sudden change in position.

With your upper body pressed against the cool surface, you feel impossibly exposed and vulnerable. The long-forgotten books and scattered papers crinkle under your weight as Jasper's powerful frame looms over you, his presence radiating a primal dominance.

A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers trail along your spine, eliciting goosebumps in their wake. Leaning in close, he places a series of searing kisses along the back of your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin before pulling back and undressing.

Trembling with anticipation, you arch your back, silently begging for more of his touch. Jasper growls low in his throat, the primal sound sending a shiver down your spine. His large palms slide up your sides, calloused fingers caressing the curve of your waist.

You whimper, desperate for him to finally fuck you.

Jasper chuckles, the deep rumble of his voice sending sparks of desire through your body. "So impatient," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't worry, sugar, I'm just getting started."

Jasper's grip on your hips tightens as he slowly, teasingly, presses his body against yours. You can feel the hard lines of his muscles and you ache to have him inside you. His hands slide up your sides, caressing and exploring your body.

Finally, after what feels like ages, he lines his cock up with your sopping pussy and starts to press in.

You gasp, arching your back as the head of his cock teases your entrance. "Jasper!" You moan, shuddering with anticipation.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he slides into you, inch by delicious inch. You feel every millimeter of his legnth as he fills you up, stretching and claiming you. His grip on your hips tightens, and you can feel the way his forearms bulging as he struggles to maintain control.

"Fuck," he growls, finally bottoming out inside you. He holds still for a moment, his lips pressing against your neck as he regains his breath.

Then, without warning, he begins to move, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in with a force that takes your breath away. Over and over, he thrusts into you, his hips slapping against yours in a rhythm that is both primal and possessive.

You drop your head to the table, letting out a long, keening cry as you feel his cock hit your sweet spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "Jasper!" You cry out, your voice echoing in the room.

His hands move to your breasts, tweaking and pinching your nipples as he fucks into you harder and faster. You can feel the heat building between your legs, the sensation growing more intense with each passing moment.

"I knew you were a submissive little thing," he says between grunts. "We could've gotten here a lot quicker if you had just dropped the act earlier, darlin'." You can feel his shit eating grin against your shoulder.

"Really?" you gasp out, body sliding against the table with each thrust. "You want to argue about that now?"

His chuckle is low in your ear. "Just making a point, sugar." Jasper presses a kiss to the space just behind your ear before leaning back and fucking into you harder.

The rough wood of the table bites into your shoulders, but you don't care. All that matters is the feeling of him inside you, claiming you.

"Jasper," you moan, your voice filled with pleasure and desperation. "I need… I need you to cum inside me." You beg, your back arching impossibly more as he reaches around to toy with your clit.

He picks up the pace even more, slamming into you over and over again. "Almost there, doll," he says, his voice rough with lust. "Just wait for it."

You clench around him, trying to draw him deeper inside you. The sensation is almost too much to bear, but you're so, so close.

You feel your body tense and then release in a wave of pure pleasure. Your muscles clench around Jasper's cock, milking him as you experience your orgasm. A loud moan escapes your lips, and your hips buck against the table unconsciously. Sweat beads on your forehead, and your skin feels flushed with heat.

As your climax subsides, you feel a cool rush between your legs. Jasper's release. He groans deeply, his body shuddering against yours.

After a minute of him staying plastered to your back, keeping you bent over the table, you feel him slowly pull out of you, and you can't help but whimper in disappointment.

"Don't give me any of that, doll," Jasper gently chides. He scoops you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest. You wrap your legs around him, holding onto him tightly. The chill of his skin against your heated sex is comforting, soothing the ache.

He carries you to the couch, setting you down gently before standing up and pulling his boxers on and heading into the kitchen. While he's gone, you take the opportunity to catch your breath and compose yourself. When he returns, he has a damp cloth. He gently cleans between them, his touch soft and careful as he wipes up the remnants of your tryst. Neither of you speak as he cares for you, reveling in the comfortable silence that blankets the both of you.

Once your cleaned up, he helps you redress; he helps you pull your panties back on along with his shirt. He scoops you up into his arms again as he lays on the couch. As you curl against him once more, he kisses the top of your head. "There's my good girl," he whispers. "I've got you."

[nvmjccnluv]

My Escape

a little jasper hale x reader blurb before I go to bed :)

12:38 AM the clock reads, as it sits slightly illuminating my nightstand. A yawn creeps up my throat but I push it back down. No, I’m not tired yet. Not yet…but that reminds me.

“Does it ever get annoying? Y‘know, not sleeping.” I ask while tilting my head up towards him a bit, not too much so I can still rest it on his shoulder comfortably.

Jasper shakes his head, “No, actually quite the opposite. All the commotion during the day stops at night, for eight hours of peace.” His golden eyes peer down at me, a smile fighting its way onto his face. “Plus, eight uninterrupted hours with you, doll.”

I roll my eyes, though I know he can feel that I’m not really annoyed. Flattered really.

“Doesn’t really count, does it? I mean, I'm asleep so it's not like we’re chatting up a storm at night.”

He chuckles slightly, shaking his head, “No, but I’m still here with you, right? Counts in my book.” The arm he has wrapped around me begins to rub small circles in my waist. Not sleeping, not yet. “But it's rather enjoyable for me too, other than being in your presence, of course. I can feel everything you’re feeling, all your emotions while you’re experiencing a dream. It’s quite soothing, almost like I'm resting right with you.”

The murmur of the tv in front of us is all that fills the room for a moment as his words sink in, but then he continues.

“I miss dreams. Used to love having them, all the different places they could take you. Some good, some bad. Some soothing, some exciting. It was always a surprise, something new. I don't have that escape anymore.” My arm tightens around him as I listen, feelings of sadness seep out. He notices, like always.

“Don’t be sad for me, sugar. See, even though I miss all that, it's okay. I have a new escape now, you. When I lay here with you each night, and feel what you’re feeling, that’s my escape. Being with you is an escape from everything, all the danger that surrounds us suddenly disappears when I see you. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

My smile grows impossibly bigger, “I love you so much, Jasper.”

He laughs, that smooth sound I love so much. “I love you too, honey.” I watch as his arm leaves me for a second to grab the blanket beside us, dragging it over our bodies. “Now sleep, I know you’re tired.”

The drawl of his voice slowly lured me towards sleep much faster than I had realized. My eyelids are threatening to close for good, but I choose not to fight them.

Fine. We will continue this conversation tomorrow, after I sleep of course.

[ervotica]

Ik this isn’t part of the prompt but can u plz do a eclipse Jasper x human reader whenever she can feel her anxiety worsen or even a panic attack about to start Jasper uses his ability to calm her down (since he can manipulate emotions/moods) and he usually does it by talking to her and kissing her gently🥹😭

summary; jasper eases your anxiety and kisses away all your worries.

warnings; fem!reader, reader w anxiety, soft, soft!jasper, jasper uses his gift on reader but it’s sweet, pure fluff! no use of y/n

Jasper's rasping Southern lilt pulls you out of your haze; he can feel the rushing thrum of your pulse beneath your skin, the way you tense and burrow further into the comfort of the blanket that’s loosely draped over your shoulders. You're vacant, eyes glassy and unfocused despite the lively chatter of the Cullen house, the raucous booming of Emmett’s voice and Rosalie’s quiet scolding that follows as the rest of the family talk animatedly. This upcoming fight has everyone on edge and it’s evident in your stance, the way you curl up small on the couch and wring your fingers until they flush ruby.

"Hey, sugar," Jasper murmurs, a finger hooking over your cheek to draw your gaze to his own. It's a miracle he can stand to be so close to you now, almost desensitised to your scent, the warmth of your touch, the ravenous hunger that claws at his throat when you're close. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, carving lines into the soft skin when your eyes meet his.

"Hey, Jas."

His icy lips are on your cheek and you soak up his touch, resisting the urge to lean into it as you really want to, still cautious of overwhelming him. The sense of calm that washes over you feels artificial, the only indicator that the feeling isn’t quite your own, but rather the emotion that Jasper is weaving into your frazzled nerves as the anxiety untangles like yarn and dissipates. The crushing thunderstorm is reduced to small, sweeping waves that lap at the corners of your mind but no longer engulf it.

You accept the feeling regardless of its origin, your muscles uncoiling as Jasper strokes slow lines over your cheekbone. Your eyes track the swish of his blond tresses when his head dips further, the bridge of his nose pressed to your cheek, and one golden eye that watches you right back.

His mouth ventures to the corner of your lips and you feel the imprint of his smile as you giggle and your features scrunch with unbridled adoration. It’s a rare display of such emboldened affection from him and you’ll be damned if you don’t wring him for every ounce whilst he’s willing to offer it.

All background noise melts away when he catches your lips between his own. You gasp a sweet little noise into his mouth and he swallows it greedily; the feel of his cold fingers on your cheek brands you, leaving a lasting tingle that reminds you that you’re his and his only. He nips at your bottom lip, the ghost of a laugh echoing against your mouth when you whine and cant your body towards his, wanting, needing, to be close. His forehead stays anchored to your own when he draws himself away.

"You’re beautiful," he murmurs. "My beautiful girl."

The cadence of his voice alone is enough to have you going soft and pliant in his grasp, tired eyes watching his every move as he nudges your chin upwards and presses another gentle peck to your mouth.

"Everything’s gonna be jus’ fine, okay?" he coos, gathering you up and into his arms in a way that has you biting your lip to suppress a whimper. "And then we’ll have forever, my darlin’."

"You promise?" He almost laughs at your question, but he hears the warble in your voice, feels the tightening of your fingers against the sleeve of his shirt, and he knows you need the reassurance. Something white-hot lights in his chest, fondness and something deep and primal all mixed into one— the urge to protect you always, no matter the cost, even if the world burns to ashes. He’ll protect you always.

"I promise." He sits back until you’re tucked beneath his arm, pushing stray curls out of your face as you nestle into the crook of his armpit. "Why don’t you sleep for a little while? You need it."

Suddenly the ruckus of the Cullen house dulls in your ears, your only focus on the blond you’re tucked against, his fingers curling around the blanket to pull it flush to your frame. The last thing you register is his arms tightening around you as you doze, and an arm hiking you into his lap when you go limp against him.

[gaypirate420]

Relapse // Jasper W. Hale.

Jasper Whitlock-Hale x gn!reader.

Summary: Jasper has a little slip.

Angst. Graphic Violence. Jasper icon by @jasperhaleobsessed

It was late, dark.

Jasper walked mindlessly through the forest, he doesn't feel that well, he needs fresh air and be alone from all the emotions from his family and his own.

The vampire came to a stop.. He could hear it. Two voices he could make out near the freeway.

"Get out of my car!" The female voice shouted, Jasper got closer, still hidden in the trees. He could make out a man stepping out of a car. Both of the humans look angry.

"It was just a kiss, don't be such a bitch!" He shouted back. The girl just threw his phone into the pitch black forest. Jasper just saw it fly off, passing right by his side before landing between bushes.

The human male groaned before the girl took off with full velocity.

Jasper stood there, he doesn't really interact with humans, especially not in the middle of the night. So he just stood there, silent, almost like a ghost. Waiting for the human to go away so he can keep walking.

The man walks to the trees, cursing under his breath as he tries to find his phone in the darkness.

Then.

"Oh fuck!" He hisses in pain as he trips and falls. A cut on the palm of his hand, the male groans in annoyance as the cut stings and bleeds.

Jasper froze. It was like he suddenly felt cold. Everything stopped for him and before he could process it-

He lounged himself at the human who screamed in horror, Jasper pinned him down in the ground with extreme force, the human feel like a truck just hit him with how strong and heavy Jasper felt on top of him.

Jasper stared at him. His golden eyes wide and his chest rising and falling. The blonde was shaking. He wanted to ask if the human was okay and say he was sorry for tackling him.

But the vampire could also feel the emotions from the human, they were hitting him like a whip. The anxiety. The confusion.

The fear.

A growl.

A hiss.

Long and sharp fangs bury deep in the neck of the human like the sharpest of knives digging into his skin.

Jasper could quiet it down, making it feel like a small pinch at the neck without any fear, without any sort of emotion.

But it's been so long. So long since he felt it. The rush, the adrenaline, the thrill of it all.

The taste.

God, The Taste. Jasper holds the human tightly as the warm red liquid touches his lips, his tongue savoring the sweet nectar, down his throat like the most comforting food a child could have after eating something icky.

Jasper gulps, gulps and gulps. He drowns on the sweet liquid. The thing he's craved so much for so long.

The holy grain.

The forbidden fruit.

The vampire moans in extreme pleasure as the screams quiet down and the desperate attempts for escape lose force. So much force in the vampire's hold he hears the ribs breaking.

A heart that stops beating as Jasper feasts.

You could hear steps in your room, waking you from your slumber, it wasn't like you went to sleep hours ago.

"Jazz?" You called his name, who else would be walking in your room. You opened your eyes and there he is, standing near the window he came from. You could only make his golden locks in your sleepy state.

"I mean— a text would have been great, cowboy." You teased as you walked towards the light switch.

You smiled and turned on the light.

"Oh my god!" You screamed in horror as you saw Jasper. Standing still, mouth dripping with blood. His hands shaking, the pale skin tinted red.

Your scream makes him flinch, his now crimson eyes look directly at you. He tries to talk but what comes out of him is a deep animalistic growl.

You take a step back, you take a shaky breath as you look around. You're trapped, all alone in your home.

Like a child who falls into the lion's cage.

Jasper finally moves, into your direction.

You take a couple of steps back until you meet a wall. The vampire approaches you with heavy breathing. The blood is still dripping from his mouth like a drooling animal who's staking their next prey.

The loving gaze of those golden eyes is gone. Instead, predatory and piercing red eyes are slowly approaching you. You're shaking. You pray. You pray that Jasper, your Jasper, your boyfriend who swore to never hurt you, comes to his senses.

"Jasper." You called with a trembling voice. The vampire ignores your call, your plea. He just keeps stalking closer, like he's about to lounge at you.

Your hand found the handle of the door and you ran out of the room. Unknowingly to you that only triggered Jasper's hunting instincts.

You ran downstairs before you felt something heavy tackling you down.

"NO! JASPER! PLEASE!" You shouted with all your might as the vampire held you against the floor, pinning your arms up.

The cold and sticky blood from his mouth falling into your face. You cried with horror and disgust.

You just want to wake up, this has to be a nightmare. Your body shakes as you gasp for air, the tears start to pool and fall as you stare at Jasper, who seems completely unfazed by your tears.

Jasper's lips found their way against your neck, you could feel him sniffing you. He always did that, but now it feels disgusting and terrifying.

He drowned in your scent, in the feeling of your soft skin. The vampire was trembling as much as you were, you could feel him fighting with himself. To prevent himself from sinking his fans into you.

A low growl rumbles through his chest, his breath hitting against your neck.

The blonde was dizzy, lightheaded and could barely make out his surroundings but he knew you, your scent, your cries for him to stop.

He just couldn't stop.

"Jasper, my love, please." You whimper again between a sob, he releases your arms and holds you by the waist instead.

He hisses, the sound making your skin crawl and an audible cry leaves your throat.

And then he collapses, falling on top of you, you get short of breath for a second as his weight falls into you.

You stared at the ceiling. Taking deep breaths as your hands shake, you close your eyes, you feel the coldness of Jasper's supernatural body against yours.

"...I'm sorry..." Jasper can barely choke out the words. You let out a sigh of relief, he's back to himself.

"Darlin'- I'm sorry." He repeats over and over again, you take deeper breaths, trying to calm yourself down before your eyes meet his.

Oh.

His now bright red eyes are glazed over and he looks so confused. Your hand cups his cheek and he fully leans onto you, he's shaking terribly and looks traumatized.

You didn't know what to do, to say that 'it's okay' would be lying to him.

"I'm sorry..." The vampire mumbles like a broken record. You sigh and hold him close to your body, he leans in like a hurt animal, wanting to hide from the word.

"I'm sorry... darlin'... please." He whimpers against you, getting a little frustrated at your lack of response, you'll always say something, reassure him.

But you can't speak. You're frozen.

"I don't know that to say." You whispered. He shrinks at the hoarsely sound of your voice, horse from screaming so much.

You've never seen him so vulnerable. Scared even, the vampire is usually so calm and collected, in his worst days he's just silent, but he's shaking now, he's breathing heavily, his eyes are wide and afraid.

You stayed there for minutes. Perhaps hours. You could only make out Jasper's shaking form and the ticking of the clock in your living room.

You looked down, Jasper now seems empty. Unmoving like a statue.

Like a corpse.

The vampire's thoughts were a mess. He just felt you pull away, he didn't move. If you wanted to be away from him he couldn't blame you. He scared you. He's a monster. He doesn't deserve to be comforted after what he did.

"Jasper." You called, pulling him away from his thoughts, his eyes looking up into yours, you took his hands in yours.

"Let's get you cleaned." You speak softly, you truly don't know what to do. But your first instinct is to make sure he's alright.

The vampire stares blankly at you before nodding.

"Yes, he's right here." You speak through the phone as you stand by your window, the morning sun rising, a very worried Carlisle talking to you on the other side of the line. Your eyes fall on Jasper who's laying on your bed after a shower and a change of clothes.

He is completely immobile. He tried to run away from your house after he came into his senses fully. He wanted to hide from you, to leave you so he couldn't hurt you.

But your soft eyes won.

"No, I don't think he's okay. He...he's gone mute." You whisper but you know Jasper can hear you either way.

"Yes. I'll keep him here. I'll be okay, don't worry." You try to sound confident and reassuring but you're still a little scared that Jasper tries to make a run for it again. You end the call and walk towards Jasper. He stares at you, bright red eyes staring up.

You lean down and run your fingers through his hair, he closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

"Oh, cowboy..." You whispered. There's not a lot you can say, your fingers disappearing into the golden curls on his head. And he can't say anything either. He feels unable to, tired, exhausted, disappointed on himself.

Fifty years of progress. Just gone.

You laid down on the bed, coaxing him to hold you, he buries his face on your chest, listening to the soft beating of your heart.

It's comforting, he can't even think of yesterday where he found it enticing. When he wanted to rip you apart and consume you.

His thoughts are interrupted by a soft hummed tone.

"Thank you...for staying." Jasper whispers before the room falls into silence again.

A/N: hey Twilightrinas I'm back. I hope y'all like this, very heavy fic for my return I know, but I had this on the drafts for a lonnnnggg time. So thanks to everyone that waited. (Divider 1) (Divider 2)

[cece693]

Can We Kill Her? (Jasper Whitlock x M! Vamp Reader)

This is a short thing I wrote before focusing on the next parts of Velvet Ring. It's not my best work (in my opinion), but it's fun. Hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Jasper really needs to be given an award for not killing the human, Bella Swan, for encroaching on what's his.

tags: jealous Jasper, petty Jasper, Edward is dumb, Bella bashing, The Cullens are no help, Rosalie is cool, Bella is obsessed with the wrong brother

Jasper's hands clenched into fists, the tension rippling through his body like a coiled spring ready to snap. His amber eyes burned with a dark intensity as he stood by the car, watching Bella Swan hover around you like a fucking mosquito. The human girl had no idea what kind of fire she was playing with, and Jasper wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his composure.

"I’ll kill her, I swear I’ll fucking kill her." he muttered under his breath, his Southern drawl sharper than usual, laced with venom. His eyes narrowed into slits as Bella smiled shyly up at you. This wasn’t the first time, and it was becoming increasingly clear that she had no intention of giving up. She was delusional, Jasper thought. There was no other explanation for her behavior. The girl believed she had a chance with you. As if you would want an appetizer when you already had a whole ass buffet. (Rosalie was really rubbing off on the soldier; his confidence and bluntness even scared him sometimes.)

"Jasper," Talking about his 'twin', Rosalie wore a smug smirk, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against her arm as she leaned against the car, unbothered. "She’s not worth the effort. Do you really believe M/N would be unfateful, much less with her? I will kill him myself if that ever happens." Despite the playfulness in her words, Jasper knew she was being reassuring in her own way, showing that she cared about you both.

Alice, who usually would intervene whenever someone bad mouthed the human, remained silent. Her eyes were fixed on Bella, a rare flicker of disapproval crossing her face. The future she had seen didn’t include Bella vying for your affections, and it unnerved her to no end. But, honestly, whatever included Bella Swan was irritating in itself.

Edward, on the other hand, stood like a statue, glowering. He was seething—his plan to play the hero had spectacularly backfired. Saving Bella from being crushed by that van hadn’t worked as he’d hoped. Instead of falling into his arms, Bella had transferred all her admiration, her obsession, onto you. This caused quite a rift in your non-existent relationship: it wasn't your fault Bella thought you were better than him, that just spoke to how Edward should change himself to attract a mate.

"Bella, stop." Your voice caused the rest of the Cullen siblings to look in your direction. "I tried to be nice, but perhaps I need to be blunt. I don't like you that way. However, you know who does?—Edward. My obnoxious, melodramatic..."

“Is he really trying to be a wingman while insulting you, Edward?” Emmett’s booming voice interrupted with a chuckle, and he shot you a grin, clearly amused by the unexpected turn of events. “Damn, that’s harsh, but at least he’s being honest.”

“Emmett, shut up!” Edward’s hiss was sharp, his patience fraying by the second.

Bella looked at you as if you just revealed you killed her father; face downcast, eyes brimming with tears. You didn't like it one bit. It was as if she didn't listen to what you were saying. Was she deaf?—why did God curse him with these good looks and personality? "Okay, look. I'm sorry, but I had to get that out there. I hope you take my advice, though. Perhaps a dinner at our house might help you see Edward in a new light."

At your words, Bella's mood visibly brightened. Now it was up to your brother Edward to do the rest. Leaving the human standing there, you returned to your siblings, who all had a range of angry, amused, and jealous expressions. But none mattered more than Jasper, whose fury made you feel gooey inside. "Babe," you whispered, "Don't give me that face. I'm just helping Edward finally get his head out of his ass and make a move."

"Does that also include you being on that said date and fucking her because our dear virgin brother is scared? This is not helping, this is just pushing her delusion further." Jasper glared at you, crossing his arms so as not to allow you to wrap yourself around him.

"Jasper, I think you're overreacting—"

"Really?! You know what. Fine, go play hero. But no sex for a month." You stood there, stunned, as the words sank in. A whole month? Jasper wasn’t bluffing, and you knew it. His cold, distant gaze as he settled into the back seat made that abundantly clear. Emmett’s booming laughter only made it worse, the sound grating against your nerves.

“Jasper, wait.” you called, but he didn’t even turn his head. Instead, he closed the car door with a loud thud, shutting himself away in an impenetrable wall of silence.

“Man, he’s really pissed,” Emmett teased, giving you a friendly slap on the shoulder that nearly knocked you off balance. “A whole month, huh? That’s rough, dude. Should’ve just told Bella to take a hike.”

“Yeah, thanks for the advice, Emmett.” you muttered sarcastically, throwing him a dirty look as he continued to snicker. You didn’t need his commentary right now, not when Jasper’s anger was already weighing so heavily on your chest.

You took a deep breath, pushing down the swirl of frustration and anxiety. There was no turning back now. This whole mess was your own doing, and the only way out was to see it through to the end. With a sigh, you opened the car door and slid into the driver's seat, casting a sideways glance at Jasper, who sat stiffly in the back, his arms crossed and his expression resolutely turned away.

The drive home was painfully silent. Jasper didn’t say a word, didn’t even look at you. His silence was worse than any argument, every second dragging out like an eternity. When you finally pulled up to the house, he got out of the car, slammed the door behind him, and headed inside without waiting for you.

Bella didn't waste time inviting herself to their home the next day. Edward picked her up, leaving you to deal with the tension between you and Jasper. The silent treatment from your husband was torture. You thrived off attention and affection, so even if it seemed exaggerated to others, you did feel like you were dying...again.

When Bella arrived, dressed in that blue dress that looked far too formal for a simple dinner, you felt your unease grow. Her eyes were glued to you the second she stepped through the door, blatantly forgetting about Edward, who was beside her, helping place her sweater on the coat rack. “Bella,” you said, forcing a polite smile. “I’m glad you could make it.”

She smiled, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes as she stepped closer. “Thanks for inviting me, M/N. I’m really happy to be here.”

“Of course,” you replied, trying not to wince at the clear undertone in her words. She was still holding on to that fantasy, just as Jasper had feared. You needed to put an end to it—and quickly. "I hope Edward will continue with the house tour. After all, he's the most excited about your company."

Bella nodded furiously, but it was clear she was just agreeing with you for the sake of it. Sighing, you motioned for the couple to head to the kitchen where the rest of the Cullens were preparing dinner. Bella conversed amicably with Esme, who was all too eager to meet this human who managed to steal her son's heart, but Carlisle's greeting was clipped. It's clear who knew more about the current tension and disapproved of Edward's love interest.

"And finally, we have Jasper, M/N's fiance." Edward finished, sighing when Bella's face fell.

"But I thought—"

"Well, you thought wrong." Jasper hissed, eyes narrowed at the human as he pushed himself from the corner of the room. He stood beside M/N, his hand wrapping around the slightly (taller/shorter) man.

"Jasper." Esme sternly said.

"No, I'm tired of watching how she throws herself at my soon-to-be husband. M/N has been pretty clear that he's not interested, yet Bella continues to push. Have some fucking respect for yourself."

"But you two are so young to be getting married—" Was Bella's only response to Jasper's statement, causing half of the room to roll their eyes. Now it was just sad and pathetic.

"Bella, we've been together for some time now. Do you really believe we would be making such a decision if we weren't sure?" It was M/N who replied, snuggling the cold body of his husband. Oh, how he missed this. "Now, with that out of the way, I believe Edward would be thrilled to continue with the tour."

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Rosalie and Jasper talking about reader who is sleeping peacefully but had a nightmare episode a few nights ago

Can't Escape the Nightmares

Pairing(s): Jasper Hale x Human!Reader, platonic!Rosalie Hale x Human!Reader

Warnings: mentions of past assault, mentions of past rape, noncon themes discussed, reader is jasper's mate, platonic!rosaliexreader, human!reader, nightmares, trauma, ptsd, dark content, mention of blood, brief mention of murder/death, short

Words: 624

Cradle (pt2)

Rosalie pets your hair with the tenderest of fingers as you slept with your head on her lap, head cushioned by a pillow. Your mate Jasper was off with Emmett and Edward for a boy's night. Which was quite unfortunate as he was one of the few who could subdue your nightmares that constantly plagued you. Thankfully you found the same sense of calm when you were with Rosalie.

She'd left a text to Jasper, telling him to come home when he gets the chance but that was a while ago. Maybe he didn't have cell service out there.

Drawing the blanket closer to you, Rosalie makes sure you're bundled so her naturally cold skin doesn't make you freeze. What she would give to be able to see into your dreams to make sure they were sweet. You'd been through enough in the waking world, you shouldn't have to suffer them again as you slept.

Was it really only four years ago that she followed the sound of your screams into the woods and found you being assaulted in the worst ways possible. When she saw you there, she was taken back to a time where Rosalie was in a similar scenario. There was no prior thinking involved in her decision to rescue you and kill the men responsible.

She didn't even know what she'd do with you once she finished killing them. When Rosalie gazed down at your dirty face and trembling body she was not willing to leave you out there by yourself. You were swiftly brought to the Cullen house so Carlisle could attend to you.

And from there. . . you and Jasper fell in love. You were there to stay.

The back door alarms ding, Rosalie nearly jumps to her feet before she remembers you were fast asleep using her for comfort.

She needn't even budge. In a second, Jasper was in the living room with them. Eyes brimming with concern when he regards your sleeping form. "Was it bad?"

Rosalie hums and resumes stroking your head. "She's had worse."

Jasper kneels down so that he could get close to kiss the bridge of your nose. You'd been doing so well this past month; no nightmares for several consecutive days and it looked to be keeping strong. Of course the one night you push Jasper out to join his brothers in hunting would be the night you'd get a nightmare.

"Remember what Carlisle told us." Rosalie reminds Jasper in a warm yet warning tone. "It's from her PTSD. She may never really recover. All we can do is help her when she's suffering from it." Maneuvering herself so that Jasper had easier access to you, he picks you up blankets and all.

He often thinks back to the day Rosalie brought you home. Bruised, naked, dirty and so terrified that your bottom lip couldn't stop trembling. Bright red was splashed across Rosalie's face and even dyed parts of her hair where blood had spattered on. Time itself had stopped in that moment. Rosalie holding you looked like a painting from Titian.

It was funny, the contrast between how Rosalie treated you compared to Bella. Night and Day. From that day on, Rosalie always kept an eye on you similar to a mother hen. It didn't surprise anyone in the family, knowing what Rosalie had gone through was quite similar to what had happened to you. A morbid, kindred familiarity that made Rosalie soften up to you.

"Thank you, for being there for her." Jasper whispers. Unequivocal tenderness warms Rosalie's eyes as she watches Jasper hold you.

"Don't be stupid." her voice mellow like a drip of honey. "Even if you didn't want me to be, I'll always be there for her."

[volturissideslut]

hii love its me again ! idk if u would do that or if this sounds stupid but could I may request jasper hale & fem reader and reader is a shape shifter and can transform her self into a cat and jasper and the reader are cuddling together while the reader is a cat i think that’s really cute but it might sounds stupid and weird but u would really appreciate it 😭🩶stay safe!💋

𝕵𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝕳𝖆𝖑𝖊

Short but sweet

This had to be the best place in the world, snuggled up on your boyfriend's chest and using his woolly green jumper and your personal blanket. The pitter patter of the fork's rain was soothing, but not as soothing as the gentle hum your Texan boyfriend lowly gave as he read. Your ears flicked at the sound of a page turning over, awakening more at the noise.

Perhaps it was time to rear your little head.

Poking out if the linen stitches at his neckline, whiskers tickle at his face and distract him into putting down his book.

"Well hello darlin'" his accent twangs, two fingers coming up to scratch lightly at your forehead. Jasper grins at the little purrs you let out, blond hair tussled in front of his face and almost hiding it from you. "Was wondering when you were gonna come out of there"

His voice is low, quiet, soothing. Just like your jasper usually is.

"You ready to come back to me yet?"

A small nip at his finger, but all he does is chuckle.

"I'll take that as a no. Back down you go Sugar." He watches as you re-curl yourself on his chest, and he lifts his jumper from the waistline to smooth his hand over the fur on your side.

What a satisfying evening, a good book, some gentle rain, a humming boyfriend, and a cat ready for cuddles. Who could imagine a better life?

[notti-stellate]

The Cullens

Emmett x sister!reader, Jasper x sister!reader, Carlisle x daughter!reader

a/n: so basically I'm thinking of making this a new series, I was thinking maybe having reader fall in love with one of the pack members but I'm open to other ideas! I hope you like it, I'm a little rusty but I did my best

Warnings: small injury, death of parents, brief mentions of trauma, adoption, Emmett forgetting reader is human, I think that's all but if I missed any please let me know!

From the outside the Cullen house seemed quiet and uneventful, unfortunately for Carlisle that was very untrue…

“Emmett put your sister down,” Carlisle called out as he walked through the door, probably going to another shift at the hospital. I squirmed and kicked at Emmett, who currently had me thrown over his shoulder. Emmett is a notoriously bad loser, and since I beat him at mario kart this was my punishment. Since I’m the youngest (and only human) sibling it was fairly easy for him to keep his hold on me as I fought.

Just when I was starting to accept my fate of being stuck, Jasper came around the corner asking Emmett if he was ready for a rematch after their wrestling match last night. At this, Emmett got excited and lost his hold on me, making me fall flat on my face against the kitchen floor. Jasper ran over, glaring at Emmett as he helped me up. 

Jasper has always had a kind of soft spot for me. Carlisle took me in when I was 11 after my parents were murdered. When I first got there I refused to leave my room, locking myself away completely. I had horrible nightmares about my parents death, because of this Jasper used to sit outside my door at night and used his gift to calm me until I was ready to talk. Ever since then we’ve been practically inseparable, it’s rare to see me without Alice and Jasper. 

Jasper pulled my face towards him gently, looking for any sign of injury. “I’m fine Jas, nothing broke” I wheezed after getting the air knocked out of my lungs. Jasper didn’t seem to accept this though, sighing as he saw a bruise already forming under my eye. Emmett finally snapped out of his shock, spewing out as many apologies as he could.

I smiled at him, trying to let both him and Jasper know I was alright. “Come on darlin’, let’s go get some ice on that eye,” Jasper wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pushing me lightly towards the living room while he headed towards the freezer. I layed back on one of the couches, stretching my legs out and closing my eyes tightly to try to ward off my growing headache. Jasper appeared a moment later, handing me ice to put against my eye. He lifted my legs as he sat down, placing them back down on top of his own. ‘Thanks Jas,’ I mumbled, laying my head back and listening to Edward play his piano a few rooms over. 

We might not be a perfect or “normal” family, but I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Blood singer, part 3

Summary: Hiding from the storm, Jasper is tested as he finds himself close to Y/N for much longer than he had hoped.

Warnings (be mindful of your triggers): injury, blood and death, angst, fluff, grief, swearing, sexual content, mentions of mental health struggles, alcohol, detailed descriptions including physical harm

Pairing: Jasper Hale x human!reader (blood singer), Paul Lahote x human!reader

Word count: 10.1k

Blood singer - Series Masterlist

Teeth chattering, Y/N clings to Jasper, even though his skin is just as cold as hers, if not colder. It's counterproductive. She knows that, but her body refuses to let go. Logic says she should pull away, give him space and stop abusing his kindness, but his touch feels like salvation.

There’s no fire in his hands, only ice. Yet somehow, it burns. It seeps deep into her bones, awakening a part of her soul she long set to rest. All her life, she craved warmth, Paul’s warmth. That human, familiar kind. But this? This icy flame Jasper lights in her makes her feel more alive than any heat ever could.

And God, the way he smiles at her.

Her heart skips a beat every time his lips curl just slightly, just enough to incite the feeble muscle on a course of pure insanity. His voice alone seems to unravel her nerves, twisting her up and settling her all at once, disturbing the rhythm of her pulse. Even now, with his jaw tight and posture stiff, like he's trying to hold himself back from something, he looks at her like she’s the only thing anchoring him.

As he walks inside the cabin, she inhales deeply. To her dismay, she knows he needs to put her down. He can't carry her forever.

So she taps his shoulder lightly. “You can let me go now,” she says softly.

“I’m sorry,” Jasper murmurs, his voice smooth but a little too strained, like it takes effort to speak. He lowers her carefully onto the couch, his movements overly cautious, as if touching her too long might break his control.

She shakes her head, offering a tight-lipped smile. “I’m not.”

He licks his lips, clearly flustered, and then offers her one more of those slow, devastating smiles that could stop the world from spinning. It damn near stops her heart and she has to physically restrain herself from squealing like a teenager with a crush. This can’t be healthy. She doesn’t even know him. Not really.

But he makes her feel… light.

Like the darkness inside her, all the anxiety, the pain, the pressure was never even there. She doesn’t understand it, but something in her soul recognizes him. She feels safe with him. Maybe a little too safe.

“I should set up the fireplace,” Jasper says, finally breaking the moment, “Warm up the place.” He nods toward the hallway behind him. “You’ll find some dry clothes in the bedroom. Help yourself.”

“Thanks,” she says, standing with a wobble. She’s soaked to the bone and freezing, and any clothing that’s not clinging to her like a second skin will be a step up.

The bedroom is warm, bathed in honey-colored light from a small lamp in the corner. The bed is centered beneath a large, tinted window, and a closet stands tall beside it. It’s simple. Rustic. Comforting. She wonders if this is his room, if he chose this color palette, if amber is his favorite shade.

Bracing for some vintage cowboy fashion, she opens the closet, only to freeze.

Dozens of dresses greet her. Not jeans. Not flannel. Not even a dusty old hat. Just designer dresses; sleek, expensive, feminine. Her jaw drops.

“What the actual fuck…” she whispers, flipping through them. Labels that most people would kill for. Some are still tagged. Others look barely worn. A chill races down her spine, this time not from the cold.

Why the hell does Jasper have a wardrobe full of high-end women’s clothing?

Her heart rate spikes.

Did he break into this place? Was he following her? Did he plan this?  Is she in a damn Lifetime movie?

The thoughts spiral faster than her heart can keep up. She doesn’t even know where they are. What if he brought her here on purpose? What if…

“You alright, darlin’?”

She gasps, whipping around so fast her wet hair slaps her neck. Jasper’s leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, that unreadable look on his face. He seems calm, but his eyes…they’re a little too sharp. A little too dark…Where has the golden gone?

Still, the way his presence makes her nerves soothe is suspicious. She recognizes it now. It’s as if he is doing something. Jasper’s presence feels like a weighted blanket, steadying her breathing, grounding her thoughts. She swallows hard.

“Be honest,” she says. “You’re not, like…a criminal or something, are you?”

His brow arches, and he lets out a soft, breathless chuckle. “What? Why would you think that?”

“I mean, look.” She gestures wildly toward the closet. “You have, like, a dozen high-fashion dresses in here. Unless you’re secretly married or have a very niche hobby, this looks like a setup. Like… a really weird hostage situation.”

Amusement sparks in his darkened eyes. “It’s my brother’s cabin,” he says with a lazy shrug. “His wife’s real into fashion. Leaves her stuff here.”

She stares at him, wishing the ground would just swallow her whole. But Jasper only grins wider, clearly enjoying this far too much. If he thinks she’s amusing now, he should see her with her claws out. Might erase that confident smirk right off his face.

“But if you’re into roleplay,” he adds, voice low and teasing, “I won’t put up a fight.”

She snorts, folding her arms across her chest as she leans against the closet. “Might take you up on that, Cowboy.”

His grin turns lopsided, lazy and cocky, but his eyes stay locked on hers, darker now, like storm clouds just before a downpour. The warmth that spreads through her is instant, crawling beneath her damp skin, finding a home low in her belly. He doesn’t even have to touch her to ignite something. The way he looks at her is dangerous. Addictive. Trouble with a capital T. Girls probably fall for him in seconds. But Y/N? She’s far too proud to admit she desires him openly, resorting to teasing. Her specialty isn’t the fire most are drawn to, it’s ice. Cold, calculating, distant when she needs to be.

And yet…

There’s something in his stillness that mirrors hers. Something cool. Controlled. Until it’s not.

She shifts slightly, and Jasper’s eyes dip, just for a second. She doesn’t miss it. Neither does he. Her shirt is soaked clean through, clinging to her skin in all the worst ways. The thin fabric does nothing to hide the curve of her breasts or the black, lacy bra covering them. She knows she should be embarrassed.

She’s not.

Not when Jasper’s shirt is just as wet. Just as translucent. She can see every line of his chest, the way it narrows down to his waist, the sharp dip of his collarbones and the delicious happy trail. And damn him, he knows it. Knows exactly what kind of effect he’s having on her.

“You know,” she drawls, voice silky, “I was going to change out of these clothes. But… With you standing there, giving me a nice view, it feels a little unfair not to return the favor for a moment or two longer.”

Jasper’s brow lifts slightly, a slow smirk tugging at the corner his mouth. “You think I haven’t noticed, darlin’? Been tryin’ not to stare like a gentleman.”

“Failing miserably,” she murmurs, stepping toward him, a single step, measured. Testing.

Jasper’s throat bobs as he swallows. His hands curl into fists at his sides, his jaw ticking, but he doesn’t move back. Doesn’t breathe. And she feels it, his presence wrapping around her, trying to still her racing heart. Trying to calm her, like she’s some wild creature that might bolt if he makes a wrong move. How does he do that?

One thing is certain. She’s not running. Not tonight.

She takes another step, now close enough to reach out. And she does, just lightly brushing the soaked fabric over his chest with the back of her fingers. His shirt clings like a second skin, and he tenses beneath her touch, muscles rippling beneath her fingertips. Still, he lets her, almost as if he’s been waiting for her to make a move.

“You’re freezing,” she murmurs. She doesn’t mention his hard muscles. She’s never touched someone like that, ripped to the point of feeling like marble.

His voice comes out rougher than it was a moment ago. “So are you.”

“So warm me up.”

His gaze sharpens like a blade. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

She meets his gaze head on, daring him. “Maybe I do.”

That breaks some of his resolve. Not all the way, but enough.

Jasper closes the distance between them with terrifying, graceful ease, pressing her into the closet door. One of his hands lifts, fingers grazing the curve of her jaw, trailing just beneath her ear. It’s such a gentle touch, but the way her body shivers under his fingertips drives him insane.

“You’re playin’ with fire,” he says, voice low, the southern drawl thicker now. Rougher. It drips with warning. Hunger. “And fire melts ice, sweetheart.”

Y/N smirks, heart beating far too fast. She’s not letting him believe he’s winning though. “I thought you were cold.”

He lets out a soft, humorless chuckle, but his eyes stay locked on hers, black with no gold in sight, wild, and aching. “I am. That’s the problem.”

Did he…Did he imply he’s she’s the fire melting him? Good, she thinks. I’m winning. And if she must become a flame to get this man to surrender, she will let the fire reign.

His thumb brushes over her bottom lip, featherlight, but it leaves her dizzy. She should move. She should think. But all her body wants is more.

Jasper leans in just slightly, like gravity’s pulling him closer against his will. She can feel the tension in him, how tightly wound he is, how hard he’s working to stay in control. He wants her. That much is obvious. But it’s not just want. It’s something deeper. Something almost dangerous.

And she’s loving every second of it.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, breath ghosting over her lips.

Her lips part, but no sound comes. Her heart thunders, her skin tingles, and every inch of her screams for more. Her voice, when it finally emerges, is soft and certain.

“I’m not that nice.”

Jasper closes his eyes for a moment, just one, and when they open again, there’s a war inside them. Then, with a breath that sounds almost like a growl, he steps back. Just far enough to put space between them, yet close enough for her to still feel him.

“Get changed,” he says, voice strained. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

Y/N bites back a smile, the heat in her chest flaring. “You regret things easily?”

His eyes drag over her one more time, lingering like a promise. “Only if I mess ‘em up.”

“If you don’t want to touch, it’s fine by me.” She lets the words hang, tilting her head slightly as a devilish smirk appears on her lips. “But you’re free to look if you want to stay for the show?”

His eyes darken, not with lust, exactly, but something more primal. His eyes meet hers. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. Doesn’t blink.

Her heart skips three beats and then pounds back with a vengeance. The room is quiet. Too quiet. She swallows hard, and the blush creeping up her neck gives her away. Jasper notices. His stern expression softens into something tender, almost…shy.

 “Don’t tempt me, darlin’,” he says, voice is low. “I’ll leave you to it,” he murmurs, offering a small nod.

And with that, he turns, disappearing down the hall, leaving her to catch her breath and pretend like her knees aren’t shaking. She finally lets out the breath she’s been holding and her lungs feel like they just ran a marathon. She plants her hands on her knees, trying to steady herself.

Jasper is going to be the death of her. And for once…she doesn’t mind the idea. She’s rarely ever pursued men like this. It’s as if the mere thought of him is bringing her to the brink of madness. Whatever it may be, Jasper is different. Something isn’t quite right about him or the way his presence causes her to act and yet she finds no regrets about any of it.

She was wrong about Paul. She might be wrong about Jasper. To hell with consequences! Her heart’s broken anyway. It may fracture to the point of no return…or it may heal. Feeling this drawn to someone is rare. Of course, it could be caused by her near death experience and yet she doesn’t care. She’ll discover it along the way and the way might be leading her straight to hell, but at least she’ll make sure she enjoys the ride.

The closet is full of surprises. She pushes hangers aside until her fingers brush against silk. Her eyes catch the shimmer of crimson, a deep, blood-red nightgown tucked in the far back. It’s soft, almost liquid to the touch, sliding like water through her fingers. When she pulls it out, her brows lift in surprise. It’s... simple. Elegant. A little sexy without trying to be. The kind of fabric that kisses the skin when you move. It falls to mid-thigh, the top a delicate web of lace that dips low, supported by slim, almost invisible straps. No sleeves. No bra. No armor.

She hesitates, her heart doing that annoying flutter thing again.

She slips it on anyway. Over it, she finds a matching robe, same rich crimson, edged in subtle lace, loose enough to keep things comfortable but tied snugly around her waist. The cool silk caresses her skin and clings in places it probably shouldn’t.

Her reflection in the small mirror over the dresser stops her. For a second, she doesn’t recognize herself. She looks like she’s about to seduce a man instead of relax by the fireplace until the storm ends.

With a sigh that’s half exasperation and half laughter, she gathers her hair up into a messy bun, strands falling loose around her ears. The motion exposes her neck, pale and vulnerable. She considers letting her hair back down but... no. She likes the honesty of this. It feels brave in a quiet way. She washes her face, the last remnants of her make up. She’s bare now, entirely vulnerable to his gaze.

Then she pauses.

This is insane.

You’re acting like a damn cat in heat, she scolds herself silently, adjusting the robe’s tie. Her fingers linger at her waist, and she forces herself to breathe.

This isn’t about sex. Not this time. She’s learned her lesson with Paul, burned herself on the promise of something hot and fast that turned to smoke in her hands. That’s not what she wants from Jasper. She wants to know him slowly. Carefully. Until she’s learned every corner of his soul. And if he lets her... she might just show him every hidden part of hers too.

Composing herself, she pads back into the hallway, bare feet silent on the wooden floor.

The small living room glows softly, bathed in the gold orange flicker of firelight, and a night-lamp by the doorway. The flames dance lazily in the hearth, casting long shadows that stretch across the walls.

And there he is.

Jasper sits low in a chair just in front of the fireplace, his back to her, the light tracing the silhouette of his broad shoulders and long frame. His legs stretch out in front of him, relaxed, and his posture is looser now. He’s not stiff like before. But there’s still that… tension. Always with him.

She holds her breath as she studies him.

His hair is drying, slightly wavy, reaching his shoulders. That golden honey tone gleams darker in the firelight, tousled and imperfect in the most perfect way. His skin glows pale and smooth, almost too flawless. And his jaw… it’s sharp with a quiet restraint, like he’s sculpted from stone. But it’s his lips that hold her hostage, pressed together, unreadable, in control. She wonders what they’d feel like if he ever let go of all that restraint. Jasper is beautiful in a way most men aren’t. Not pretty. Not handsome. Beautiful. Angelic. A creature from a painting brought to life.

She smiles softly, involuntarily, as memory flickers to life.

She has seen him before.

Just once or twice. Passing glances in Forks, back when she visited her grandmother at the hospital. Her grandmother had raved about Dr. Cullen, how kind and polite he was and of his well behaved children she wanted to set her up with. She talked about their unusual beauty and more than once, she mentioned the “quiet southern one” with the saddest eyes that seemed to be in perpetual pain. Y/N always thought she was imagining things. Now… now she knows she wasn’t.

The wedding of Bella Swan with Edward Cullen. That was the last time.

Her grandmother had been invited but passed before she could go. Y/N brought the gift in her place. Just an awkward drop-off. But the Cullens had all been there. She remembers the short girl beside Jasper. The way he looked at her back then, fond, maybe even in love. Everyone said they were adopted into the family. He went by Hale, if she remembers correctly.

And then she left.

Now, here he is, sitting in front of her like a beautiful ghost. She can’t help but wonder if his restrain is due to his feelings for the adopted sibling he was with. If rumors were true, they were together back then. Are they still? Or was the pain in his eyes born from heartbreak she caused?

“I can feel you starin’, sweetheart.” His voice rumbles through the quiet like a secret. He doesn’t even turn around.

Her lips curl. She bites her lower lip to hide her smile. “I think I prefer darling.”

He turns his head, just slightly. Enough to catch her in his peripheral. She sees the edge of a grin tugging at his lips. “I’ll make sure to remember that,” he says.

His eyes glance down, flicker, just for a moment, over the length of her, then back to her face. But that one look is enough. She can’t stop the blood rushing to her face, and she’s done hiding the blush it brings.

She walks closer, slowly, barefoot steps padded and quiet. But he hears her anyway. Probably knew where she was before she moved. There is something between them, something wordless she can’t quite explain. Not quite desire. Not yet. But the possibility of it.

She sinks onto the couch across from him, crossing her legs casually.

“Nice fire,” she says lightly.

His gaze lingers on her face. “You’re not cold anymore.”

“No,” she says softly. “Not at all.”

The silence between them is comfortable but weighted. The only sound is the crackling fire, its warmth only fueling the tension growing between them. Neither of them speaks. Neither of them moves much. She watches the flames, but her gaze drifts. Always back to him.

Jasper’s eyes are cast downward, though he’s not really watching the fire. He seems lost in thought, jaw tense, the tip of his finger tapping against the arm of the chair in a slow, restless rhythm.

She can’t help but steal glances.

Again. And again.

The golden hue of his eyes has returned, it shimmers in the low light, intense and quiet all at once. Familiar.

Too familiar.

Her breath hitches. She’s seen them before. Not just at the wedding. Not just tonight. But inthe dream.

That recurring dream she never quite understood. The one that left her aching and hollow every time she woke. A figure in the dark. A storm outside. Golden eyes glowing in the shadows, looking right into her, like they’d always known her. And she’d reach for him, desperate, always desperate, and wake up before her fingers could touch him.

She thought it was a metaphor. A manifestation of loneliness. Of longing.

But those eyes?

They're his.

Her heart skips a beat. She saw those eyes recently, as well.

“I saw you before,” she says, almost absently, like the words slip past her lips before she can second guess them.

Jasper freezes. He doesn't look at her. Not right away. But the tapping stops. His whole body goes still, so still it’s unnatural. Tension spikes, growing in the space between them, and for the first time tonight, it’s not playful. It’s something colder. Darker.

His voice is low, cautious. “When?”

She tilts her head, brows drawing together as she watches him. “The other night,” she says slowly. “I think I stumbled into you. You caught me before I fell.”

Jasper exhales. His shoulders drop. Relief flickers across his face like wind snuffing out a flame, and he finally meets her gaze. “Yeah,” he says softly. “That was me.”

“You left pretty fast,” she adds, her voice lighter now, testing him, watching him closely. “Why?”

He shrugs, looking away again, his jaw ticking just slightly. “You seemed... busy.”

“Busy?”

“There was a guy.” His tone is flat. The accent thicker. “He was walking toward you with roses.”

Her lips part. And then she laughs, warm and genuine, caught off guard. “Oh my God.”

He looks back at her, brows lifted, uncertain.

“I hate roses,” she says, smiling wide. “They always feel like a cop out. Like the guy couldn’t be bothered to think for more than ten seconds.”

Jasper blinks, processing that.

“And the guy?” she continues, rolling her eyes. “Let’s just say... he’s very much out of my life. Where he belongs.”

A flicker of something shifts behind his eyes. A subtle satisfaction. It’s there and gone in a second, but she sees it. His lips twitch, and for a moment, he looks smug.

“Is that right?” he murmurs, and the warmth in his voice makes her toes curl.

“Mm-hm.” She leans back slightly, watching him from beneath her lashes. “So if you disappeared because you thought I was on a date with Mr. Red Roses, I’m here to clear it up. Just in case that’s why you were holding back.”

His eyes are on her again, fully this time. No restraint.

The firelight dances in the reflection of his gaze, and the tension from before doesn’t vanish completely. It just shifts into something else. Something quieter. Hotter.

“Noted,” Jasper says at last, his voice velvet soft and unmistakably pleased.

She smiles at him, soft and secretive, her heart fluttering in her chest like it hasn’t in years. And as the fire crackles and the silence fills the room once more, it’s no longer heavy.

Blinking slowly, she reminds herself to breathe, inhale, exhale, don’t fall apart. But it’s not easy, not when Jasper is looking at her like that. His golden eyes glow in the low light, molten and unreadable, and she feels like she’s standing too close to something she should be afraid of.

But she isn’t.

She’s captivated.

"Your eyes are like liquid fire," she murmurs, her voice soft, words leaving her before she can weigh their weight. "I fear the burn… but I cannot look away."

Jasper’s lips twitch at the corners, a faint smirk playing at the edge of his mouth. His gaze stays locked on hers, unwavering. "You sure you’re not the poet, darlin’?"

His voice is low, rich like dark honey, and it’s impossible to remain ice cold as she initially planned.

"You bring it out of me," she replies, chin tilted ever so slightly, matching his smirk with one of her own. "I don’t do this often, you know."

"Flirt with strange men in little cabins in the woods?" he drawls.

"Compliment their eyes while half-dressed," she clarifies, raising a brow. "Totally different."

Jasper’s gaze flickers downward, just once, just enough to remind her that her robe, though tied, clings to the curves beneath. He hasn’t changed his clothes. His shirt is still damp, clinging to his frame in a way that should be illegal. She can see the definition of his chest, the broad cut of his shoulders, the faint pattern of bluish veins on his forearms as he rests them lazily against the chair’s armrests, the tension in every inch of him like a spring ready to snap.

And yet, he doesn’t move. He just watches her.

"What's your favorite color?" she asks, wanting to ground herself and lustful thoughts before she combusts.

Jasper raises an eyebrow, almost caught off guard by the simplicity of it. "My favorite color?"

"You heard me." She tucks her legs under her body slowly, watching the way his eyes follow the movement before moving back to her face with a faint edge of restraint.

He chuckles softly, surprised. Then glances at the fire, as if searching for the answer there. "No one’s ever asked me that before."

She frowns, genuinely stunned. “You’re kidding.”

But something about the way he says it, quietly, almost hesitant, makes her believe it. There’s truth in it. Pain, too. She sees it then, emerging behind those golden eyes, buried beneath years of silence and shadows. The light from the fire doesn’t just dance across his skin, it reflects all the things he tries to keep buried. It catches on the cracks.

“It’s red,” he says finally, voice barely above a whisper. “Deep red.”

His smile is small but real. She swears it steals the breath from her lungs. Red like her nightgown and robe, she realizes. Even unintentionally, she’s trying to seduce him.

"I would've guessed… green," she teases. "You have that forest recluse vibe."

He huffs a laugh. “Not quite.” Then his eyes narrow playfully. “You strike me as a purple girl.”

She gasps, mock offense showing across her features. “Wrong.”

“Oh?”

“Blue,” she says with a grin of victory. “Like the sky… like freedom. Ever changing shades of blue that make up every part of our lives.”

There’s a pause, just long enough for her to avert her gaze shyly.

"Freedom, huh?" Jasper echoes, like the word tastes unfamiliar to him.

Her smile softens. “What about the season? What’s yours?”

He leans back, resting his head against the chair. His profile in the glow of the fire looks carved, almost unreal, sharp lines, sculpted features, that unruly hair drying in soft waves. She has to remind herself he’s real. That she’s here. That this isn’t another dream.

“Fall,” he says eventually. “It’s colorful… but everything’s fading. There’s something honest about it.”

Thunder rumbles low in the distance, a reminder that the world outside this cabin is wet, wild, and cold. But inside, it’s warm. Warmer than ever before. And safe… for now.

“You’re not what I expected,” she admits, watching him with curiosity.

His eyes meet hers again, calm but cautious. “What did you expect?”

She shrugs. “A flirt. A cowboy. A mystery. But I didn’t expect you to be… kind.”

That startles him. Not in a dramatic way, but in the flicker of his eyes, the slight movement in his shoulders. Like her words hit somewhere deeper than he expected.

“You don���t know me,” he says.

“I’m starting to.”

And something in his expression shifts. He straightens a little, just enough that the damp fabric of his shirt stretches across his chest again. She wonders if he notices the way her gaze lingers on him now, the way her breath is forgotten when he licks his bottom lip absently.

She doesn’t say anything about it, but her heart is pounding.

He’s too perfect. Too careful. Too calm. Every move he makes seems calculated. It goes against every natural instinct she’s learned. Every red flag she's ever ignored before being burned. Yet here she is. Still leaning in. Still falling.

“You’re dangerous,” she says suddenly, smiling through it.

Jasper tilts his head. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It might be,” she murmurs, shifting slightly on the couch, the robe slipping to reveal a sliver of her thigh.

Jasper’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t move.

“Do you always seduce women by lighting fires and answering personal questions?” she asks, her tone light, teasing.

He smiles, just barely. “Only the ones I save from drowning.”

Her laugh is soft, breathy. “It’s a good thing I didn’t have to sing like Ariel to draw you in. I’m a terrible singer.”

“No need for singing,” he says, his voice dropping low, eyes darkening slightly. “I’d find you anyway.”

She swallows. He looks at her like he’s memorizing her. Like he’s restraining himself, but she wishes he’d stop. The storm outside rages inside her as well, and she needs to know if he feels it too.

She shifts on the couch again, the soft rustle of silk brushing against her skin. Jasper's eyes flicker toward the sound, briefly, before returning to her face. But that brief flicker is all she needs to know he notices everything.

She should look away, but she doesn’t.

Instead, her voice lowers as she leans a fraction forward, the firelight painting her skin in honey and shadows. "You said something earlier," she murmurs. "About no one ever asking your favorite color."

Jasper nods once, slow. Measured. “Mmhm.”

"Made me wonder…" Her gaze drops to the fire, lashes casting shadows on her cheek. Her tone is soft, almost musing, like she’s trying not to sound like she’s fishing, but she is. "Have you always been alone? Or just… lately?"

That gets his attention. She feels the shift before she sees it, like the world stops and gravity itself tilts toward her just slightly. When she meets his gaze again, it's already locked on her, heavy with something she can't quite name.

"Is that your way of asking if I’m single?" he says, one brow arching with just enough amusement to take the edge off the raw honesty underneath.

She huffs a soft laugh, caught. A flush rises to her cheeks, warm and betraying, but she doesn’t look away. “Maybe. I like to think I’m more subtle than that.”

“You’re not.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes not leaving hers. “But I don’t mind.” He pauses. “I’ve been alone for a while now,” he says, voice quieter. Still warm, still steady, but pained. “Long enough that it stopped feeling strange.”

She nods slowly, letting the words settle. And then, because she can't help herself, she continues. “Was it by choice?”

Jasper doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze lowers, down to her lips, her throat, the pulse that jumps beneath her skin, and then locks on her again,

“Not at first.”

She swallows. “And now?”

His smile is soft. Shadowed. “Now I think some things happen when they’re meant to.”

She wonders if that’s meant for her. The fire cracks beside them, thunder still rolling faintly in the distance. The storm hasn’t passed, but in here, it might as well not exist.

“Are you asking because you’re thinking about changing that for me?” he teases, voice low.

She smirks, though her stomach flips. “Would it be a problem if I were?”

He lets the silence set again, a practiced pause, like he’s savoring the weight of her words before letting his answer fall: “No,” he says. “No problem at all.”

Her pulse pounds louder in her ears, but she plays it cool, leaning back slowly and smoothing the edge of her robe where it’s fallen slightly open at her thigh. “Good. I’d hate to waste a perfectly good storm on poor timing.”

Jasper leans back in his chair, watching her like she’s both a challenge and reward. “Darlin’, with you here…” He tilts his head, a slow grin forming. “Timing feels just right.”

His words linger in the air, rich and slow like honey dripping from a spoon.

Timing feels just right.

The way he says it, how it bears intention, makes her stomach flutter. She’s not easily rattled, but Jasper is a dangerous exception.

“You always talk like that?” she teases, stretching her legs across the couch, draping herself like she’s in control of this entire exchange, when she absolutely is not. “Or am I just a special case?”

His gaze falls to the ground. “I want to answer, but it wouldn’t be polite to say what I’m thinkin’,” he replies.

That does something to her. She swallows, glancing at the fire to cool the flush rising to her cheeks. Her fingers fiddle idly with the edge of the robe belt tied at her waist, nerves masked as restlessness.

Jasper shifts subtly in his chair, sitting a little stiffer now, as if resisting the urge to move closer. His knuckles seem paler against his knees, hands clenched tight, so still. Unnaturally still. Her eyes move toward his chest, narrowing slightly. Is he even breathing?

“Are you…” she trails off before she can finish the question, unsure what she’s even asking. She frowns softly, watching him too closely now. “You’re… hard to read.”

His head tilts slightly. “That so?” His tone is amused, but there’s tension beneath it, like he’s trying to play casual while keeping a tight grip on something unruly just beneath the surface.

“You’re calm. Too calm.” Her voice is soft, speculative, like she’s thinking out loud. “You barely move. You barely blink. It’s like… you’re not even breathing.”

That earns her a flicker of something behind his eyes. Not fear, not annoyance, something like... regret. Guilt, maybe. It's gone before she can name it.

“I do breathe,” he says evenly, lips twitching into a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just not when it’s difficult.”

Her brows knit. He doesn’t make any sense “Difficult?”

Another pause. He shifts again, a subtle turn of his body away from her, like distance might help. She notices how tightly he holds himself, like one wrong move might crack him wide open and she’d catch sight of his soul on display.

Jasper’s jaw tightens. “You make the air… a little thick, is all.”

Her breath catches at the implication, heart thudding. “You blaming me, Cowboy? Telling me I smell bad?” she teases.

“I’m saying it’s not your fault your presence is…intoxicating,” he murmurs, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “But I reserve the right to suffer because of it.”

That gets a breathy laugh out of her before she can stop it. “You’re really pulling out all the lines tonight, huh?”

He finally turns fully to her again, and his expression softens. No grin. No teasing. Just quiet intensity.

“I’m not tryin’ to charm you,” he says, voice low. “You’re just… easy to talk to. Easy to look at.”

Something flutters in her chest, wild and unexpected. She’s not the only one who feels it then. And yet, there’s still that distance in his body. The way his fingers grip the chair too tightly, the way his shoulders lock, like he’s constantly reminding himself to stay exactly where he is. She wonders again if he’s fighting something she can’t see.

Y/N leans forward slightly, eyes narrowing just a touch, not with suspicion, but curiosity. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a lot you’re not saying?”

Jasper hesitates. There it is, that flicker again. This time not just in his eyes but in the way his entire body goes just a little too still, like he's deciding between fight or flight.

“I’ve been told I’m a hard person to get to know,” he admits, training his eyes on the fire. “That I keep my true self hidden.”

“Maybe,” she says softly, tilting her head. “Or maybe you’re just scared someone might see too much and use it against you.”

That makes him look at her again, really look. Something shifts in his expression then, and for the first time tonight, he looks… unsettled. But he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he clears his throat and leans back in his chair, creating just enough space to keep whatever storm is inside him from spilling over.

“Tell me more about the man with the roses,” he says abruptly, deflecting with calculated ease. “You said you hated both?”

She laughs, letting him have the shift in conversation, for now. “I did. I do.”

He smirks. “What kind of woman hates roses?”

“The kind who likes honesty over grand gestures. And prefers thorns out in the open.”

That earns a quiet chuckle from him. “Noted.”

Their eyes meet again, and this time, neither looks away. Y/N tugs the robe closer around her body, more out of instinct than chill, because despite the warmth of the fire, there's something in Jasper’s gaze that makes her skin prickle. It's not fear. It's want.

He shifts again, subtly angling his body toward her as though gravity itself favors her presence. But still, not a single unnecessary movement. Still no breath.

“I’m trying to figure you out,” she says softly, her lips curving as she rests her elbow on the armrest. “You seem to act like you’re made of stone.”

He chuckles low in his throat, the sound dark and husky. “Stone’s more accurate than you think.”

“See? There you go again,” she says, pointing a finger at him. “Being cryptic. It’s infuriating.”

His eyes flash at that, and for a second, the teasing slips from his face. Something lingers there. Almost like he is wounded.

“You’re not the only one who’s been burned before,” he says quietly, almost like he didn’t mean to say it aloud.

Her smile fades, gaze narrowing as she leans in, heart thudding just a little harder. “That sounded like the beginning of a story.”

Jasper stiffens. His jaw tenses, and he glances down at his hands like he’s just remembered he has them. She watches his knuckles go white again, the firelight catching the fine tremble in his fingers.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” he says quietly. “Ones that don’t go away with time.”

She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t interrupt. She just watches him, lips parting slightly as if to invite more, but he doesn’t continue. He swallows hard, like the words are sitting razor-edged in his throat, and one more would tear him open.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she says gently. No wonder he is so guarded. Is he afraid she’d be a mistake, as well? “But that? That was the most human thing I’ve heard all night.”

He looks up at her then, and for the first time, his gaze isn't guarded. It’s aching. Vulnerable.

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” he breathes.

“It is,” she says simply. “People carry their damage. Doesn’t make them less worth knowing.”

Jasper’s lips twitch, almost a smile… almost, but there’s something close to fear dancing in his eyes now. Like she’s getting too close to something he’s buried deep. She can feel him pulling back again, emotionally if not physically.

Before she can push further, before she can even ask the question dancing on the edge of her tongue.

CRACK.

The entire cabin rattles as thunder explodes overhead, so loud it sounds like the heavens have split in half. The lamp light flickers, the fire jumps, and Y/N jumps too, a startled gasp leaving her lips as she instinctively presses a hand to her chest.

Jasper’s up in a blink.

She doesn’t even see him move, he’s just suddenly there, closer than he was a second ago, hand half-outstretched as if to shield her from something. That strange stillness returns to his frame, but his eyes are sharp and alert now, scanning the shadows for signs of danger.

“Storm’s getting worse,” he mutters, voice low again, low and too calm.

“You don’t say,” she breathes out, forcing a laugh that’s more nerves than humor.

His gaze finds hers again, and there’s a softness to it now, something almost apologetic, as though he’s sorry for pulling away, sorry for not saying more. But he doesn’t speak, while outside, the storm screams.

“It doesn’t look like it’s going to stop soon.” Jasper’s voice is quiet, measured. Too careful. “You should probably get some rest.”

Y/N blinks, heart sinking a little more than she wants to admit. Just as she felt she was chipping away at his defenses, this happens. A soft dismissal. She breathes out through her nose, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips out of sheer stubbornness. “Yeah,” she says, nodding as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Guess you’re right.”

She hesitates a moment longer than necessary before adding, “When will you rest?”

Jasper glances toward the fire, then back at her. “Soon.”

The way he says it feels like a gentle deflection. She fights the sting of disappointment, but she doesn’t let it show, at least, not entirely.

“I hope you're not a blanket hog,” she jokes, forcing a playful tone as she rises to her feet, brushing invisible lint off her robe. “You'll be joining me, right?”

His smile is subtle, restrained, like everything about him. It's more in his eyes than his lips, but it hits her all the same, right in the chest. She licks her lips to hide it, but she’s saddened by the way the day is ending.

“I’m good on the sofa,” he says, voice warm but distant. Polite. Detached. She’d much prefer an open rejection, something she can hold close to her stubborn heart and replay in her mind. This only gives her the idea of rejection, but in such a sweet way that it almost angers her.

“I don’t mind,” she presses, hands sliding to her hips. “The bed’s large enough for both of us.”

He shakes his head, golden curls falling softly around his face. He looks ethereal like this, hair dry and tousled, jaw sharp beneath firelight, eyes deeper than anything she's ever seen. How is he real?

“You saved my life,” she says, quieter now, less flirtation and more sincerity. “The least I can do is let you have the bed.”

“That’s alright, darlin’,” he replies with a familiar softness, one that only twists the knife. “I’ll be fine out here. Wouldn’t be a very good host if I took up all the space and hogged the covers, would I?”

His smile is back again, easy and charming, and yet all she can think is, he’s not going to come with me.

She nods, looking away briefly to blink back whatever disappointment is threatening to rise. You’re reading too much into this, she tells herself. He’s being kind. That’s all.

“Don’t be afraid to join me if you change your mind,” she says over her shoulder, quieter now, walking slowly behind his chair. Her voice is smooth, but her stomach churns, unsure if she’s flirting or begging.

He stops her.

A cool hand wraps gently around her wrist. She’s startled, gasping at the contact. His touch is cold. Not unpleasant, but cold enough to send a shiver running down her spine. He pulls her hand toward him, slowly, deliberately, and presses his lips to the inside of her wrist, just over her pulse.

She forgets how to breathe.

The kiss is featherlight, reverent. And it lingers, not long enough to be improper, but just enough to undo her completely. She stands frozen, hoping to hell her legs won’t fail her.

He’s still holding her gaze when he lets her go.

Maybe that’s what people mean when they talk about a gentleman, she thinks dazedly. Not one of weakness or practiced charm. But one who holds back even when he clearly doesn’t want to. One who shows restraint where others would have taken. And yet… there’s something mournful in him. Something unspoken. Something so filled with fear and guilt and she can’t understand where it comes from.

“Goodnight, Jasper,” she says, voice soft, uneven now. Her heart is still racing in her chest.

His eyes search hers for a second longer before he replies.

“Sleep well, darlin’.”

She walks away slowly, still reeling. The storm still howling outside, but it’s nothing compared to the one stirring in her chest. Biting her lower lip, she wracks her brain for a suitable word to say, but she can't even think properly. He has distorted her train of thought entirely.

The bed is too soft. She shifts beneath the covers, one arm thrown over her eyes, the other splayed out on the sheets beside her. The room is warm, her silk nightgown clinging to her skin in places she wishes it wouldn’t, heat rising from the fireplace lingering.

But it’s not the fire keeping her awake.

It’s him. Jasper.

She stares at the ceiling, heart still racing from his touch, from that kiss on her wrist. It replays over and over like a movie scene she’s memorized. Her skin still tingles where his lips pressed against it, as if they branded her, marked her. But that’s not what keeps her from sleeping. It’s the distance in his eyes. The contradiction. He’s warm and kind and gentle, but there's something in him that holds back, as though he's constantly walking the edge of a cliff and can't afford to look down. And God, it hurts a little, the way he wouldn’t come to bed. She had given him an open invitation. It wasn’t about sex, not even closeness, really. It was about comfort. Warmth. Trust. She had wanted to offer it. And he’d turned it down. Not cruelly. But carefully. Which might’ve been worse.

Was she wrong to want more? Was she imagining things, the tension, the shared glances, the moments that felt stolen from something bigger? She bites her lip, the taste of disappointment sharp as she sighs into the darkness.

What is he hiding?

And why does part of her still want him to knock on her door and climb in beside her, cold skin and secrets and all?

Despite her busy mind, sleep finds her soon enough and for the first time in forever, there are no golden eyes haunting her dreams.

--

The fire crackles, low and steady, bathing the cabin in flickering shadows. Jasper stares into it like he’s trying to burn the hunger out of himself.

He can still feel her wrist against his palm. Still taste her pulse against his lips, though he didn’t taste anything, not really. Not like he wants to.

His jaw clenches.

He hadn’t meant to touch her like that. Hadn’t meant to kiss her. But the moment she walked behind him, smelling like honey and warmth and a faint trace of something undeniably her, he lost the thread of his resolve.

And now? Now it’s fraying at the edges.

He inhales deeply, though it’s a habit more than a need. Each inhale is torture. Her scent lingers in the air like a ghost. He holds his breath again, trying to dull the ache in his throat. The hunger. The need.

She has no idea what she’s doing to him.

He imagines it, just for a second. The way her blood might taste. How warm it would be. How it might sing through his body like wildfire, like salvation and damnation all at once. The monster inside him stirs, just a little. He forces it down.

You’re better than this.

But God, it’s been so long since anyone made him feel… alive. He closes his eyes, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands folded in front of him like he’s praying to a god who long stopped listening. She was kind to him. Open. Inviting. She didn’t flinch when he pulled her close. Didn’t run when she saw something darker in his eyes.

She saw the monster in him and smiled anyway.

And that’s the problem.

Because if he gives in, even a little... He’s afraid he won’t stop.

Jasper flees the cabin like the devil himself is at his heels. Trees blur past in streaks of black and green, rain lashing against his skin as he tears through the forest. The sound of her heartbeat still echoes in his ears. His throat is a furnace, a hollow tunnel of fire and ache. The taste of her is everywhere and nowhere, a ghost on his tongue, phantom sweetness that never came, but almost did.

Too close. Far too close.

By the time he stumbles up the porch steps of the Cullen house, he's shaking. Not visibly, his body is still and statuesque as always, but inside?

Inside, he's on his knees.

Carlisle opens the door before Jasper can raise a hand. “You did well, my son.”

A hand clasps his shoulder. Warm. Steady. Reassuring. But Jasper can’t respond. Can’t even meet Carlisle’s eyes. He’s terrified to draw a proper breath, certain that her scent is still clinging to him, soft and honeyed, soaked into the fabric of his shirt, caught in his curls. If he inhales too deeply, he’s afraid his resolve will fracture.

If I feel her again… would I go back?

Edward appears beside them, arms crossed, face unreadable. “He needs to hunt. Soon.” If anyone understands him, it’s him. He’s had it bad with Bella too. “I’ll help,” he adds. “We all will.”

But Jasper barely hears him. His voice sounds like it’s coming through water. Thick. Distant.

“If I hurt her…” Jasper begins, low and hoarse.

“You won’t,” Edward says quickly, confident in his response.

“There’s no guarantee,” Jasper growls, stepping back like their proximity alone is too much. His eyes, once a soft gold, are dark now. Bottomless. Ravenous. A predator’s stare. “You might know how it feels, but you don’t know what she does to me.”

Edward’s jaw tenses. But he remains calm. “The fact that you saved her, multiple times, means you’re in control. You’re doing better than I ever did with Bella.”

Jasper wants to agree. God, he wants to believe that.

But how can he?

The first time he caught her scent, he hadn’t even seen her face. He and Alice were in the hospital, watching from a distance after Edward saved Bella from being crushed by a truck. Amidst the chaos, the sterile tang of blood and adrenaline, her scent hit him like a freight train.

He hadn’t known who she was. He only knew he needed to feed.

It took three of his siblings to restrain him. For weeks afterward, he couldn’t be left alone. Someone always hovered close, Alice, Carlisle or Emmett, just in case. He was locked in a constant battle with the beast inside, writhing in silence.

He never connected the dots. Never knew that mysterious, maddening scent belonged to someone who would one day look at him like he was something good.

Looking back, it made sense why he snapped at the birthday party. Why a single papercut shattered him. He’d been teetering on the edge for months, made unstable by an unknown presence that inflamed his thirst every time it brushed against the periphery of his senses.

When the Cullens left Forks, he felt relief. The scent vanished. The haze lifted.

And then came the wedding. And again, there she was.

Unseen, but felt. Her scent turned his hunger into barbwire, it wrapped itself around his throat. Alice had to drag him away before he did something irreversible. That time, it only took him a few weeks to regain his senses. He clung to control like a lifeline, forced himself to act normal when Bella returned from her honeymoon, pregnant and terribly human, more human than ever as life drained from her. He distracted himself with the chaos, convinced it was all behind him.

But it wasn’t.

It would take a year and a half before Jasper would finally see her. Finally learn her name. Y/N. It was the same night Edward erased her memories. The moment their eyes met, the thirst returned, tenfold.

Now that he knows her, now that he’s touched her, heard her voice, watched her laugh…this is hell. Pure, exquisite torture.

Edward thinks he’s doing well?

He’s barely holding on.

Half the time she speaks, all Jasper can think about is how easily he could draw her closer. How sweet her breath would feel against his lips if he kissed her, right before sinking his teeth into the softness of her throat. If she came to him willingly, he could almost pretend he wasn’t a monster. Could almost lie to himself about what he would do next.

But no, he’s not in control. Not really.

And definitely not doing well.

Not at all.

Jasper shakes his head. “I almost killed her at the beach. When I pulled her out of the water and the ocean stopped masking her scent... I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to. The hunger was...” His voice trembles, and he clenches his fists to still the shaking. “Intoxicating. Like every cell in my body was begging for a taste. Just one.”

His eyes flash to Carlisle, wide with guilt. “I brought her to the woods planning to drain her dry. I had her in my arms. I ran with her into the trees, ready to end it. And then she opened her eyes and... I couldn’t.”

Carlisle exhales softly. “She’s your blood singer.”

Jasper flinches at the term, as if it brands him. He doesn’t want this. Not this way.

Emmett steps onto the porch, arms folded, the usual grin absent from his face. “She’s lucky it’s you and not me. I killed mine on sight.”

Regret pulses off Emmett like a wave, and Jasper, despite the pain clawing at his insides, instinctively dampens it, dulling the sharpness of his brother’s grief. And he hates that. Hates that even now, he’s still trying to fix everyone else while he’s falling apart inside.

���I don’t want to be around her,” Jasper murmurs, eyes locked on the treetops. Dark. Wet. Tempting.

“Just because your blood singer was your mate,” he says to Edward, “doesn’t mean she’s mine.”

“Alice said -” Emmett starts, but Jasper cuts him off, sharp.

“I know what Alice said.” His voice is rough, stripped of its usual smoothness. “She can’t be the one. No human can survive me.”

“She already has,” Carlisle reminds him gently. “She survived then and today again. She survived you at the beach. She survived the cabin. And you’re standing here, begging for a way to keep her safe. That says everything.”

Edward steps forward, gaze knowing. “You should hunt. Then go back to her.”

Jasper scoffs. “You think feeding will fix this?”

“No. But it will make you stronger and help the burning in your throat.” Edward’s voice is calm but firm. “If Alice is right, if she’s your mate, do you really want to lose her because you were too afraid to try?”

Jasper is silent.

He wants to scream. Wants to vanish into the forest and never return. Wants to erase the memory of her warm skin, her wide eyes, the soft pulse beneath her wrist as his lips hovered over it. He wanted to taste her so badly, he can still feel it. Like her blood is already in his mouth. Lush. Lively. Fatal.

He imagines it again, just for a moment. Her body against his. Her breath hitching. The way she would sigh when his teeth found her throat, the blood rushing to meet him, a welcome he doesn’t deserve. Her heart would stutter. Then stop.

It would be bliss. And it would ruin him.

He looks at Carlisle, then Edward.

“I can protect her from anything.” His voice is almost a whisper. “But how can I protect her from me? Every time I touched her, I was terrified. That I’d snap a bone. Cut her skin. Taste blood.”

Carlisle places a hand on his shoulder again. Steady. Fatherly. “Practice.”

Edward nods beside him. “A lot of it.”

The forest is still damp with the remnants of the storm. Jasper is running wild, untethered, finally hunting. Emmett charges alongside him with a shout of excitement, and Carlisle moves with graceful precision, already several yards ahead. The trees bend to make way for them. He will feed until the hunger is satiated, until his thoughts move away from all the ways he’d savor the taste of her blood, until every last drop is in his system. Until his eyes brighten and the hunter is appeased.

Back at the house, Alice stands by the window, watching shadows move beneath the moonlight. Her arms are folded, but her eyes are distant, seeing something no one else can. Almost no one.

Edward watches her, then speaks. “Are you absolutely certain your visions were right?”

She exhales slowly, finally looking away from the night. “Do you think I would leave Jasper for anything less?”

Edward nods once. “You knew before any of us.”

She smiles, faint and sad. “Y/N was already in town when you met Bella. Back then, Jasper was struggling to stay in control around her… but what none of us realized was that it wasn’t Bella driving him to the edge.”

Edward’s brows pinch together. “It was her.”

Alice nods again, slower this time. “He could smell Y/N in the hospital. I stopped him from seeking her out because I saw what would happen if he did...she’d die. I made a choice, and it changed everything. Because when I stopped him… I saw a different future.”

Her voice softens, wistful. “The future he could have with her. If we keep her alive long enough… it’s beautiful. She’s his mate, Edward. I’ve never doubted it.”

Edward wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in gently. “Still… it couldn’t have been easy. Leaving him.”

Her laugh is quiet and bitter. “Of course it wasn’t easy. I loved him. But I’m not his mate. And I wasn’t going to stand in the way of what he’s meant for. I knew if he was freshly single when he met her, she'd never trust him. I had to make it clean. Immediate. For all our sakes.”

“You’ll find your mate too,” he tells her softly.

“One day.” She leans into his side. “But that day isn’t here yet.”

They sit in the silence for a moment longer. The moon is high up, peeking out from behind clouds, casting light across Edward’s face. Alice studies him for a moment, then asks gently, “Does his thirst for her unnerve you?”

Edward hesitates. Swallows. “The rest of you don’t have a front row seat to his mind like I do. I won’t lie and say it’s been easy.”

“Far from feral?” she teases, trying to lighten the mood.

He huffs a quiet laugh. “I’ve had… worse. But he’s right at the edge. And the things he thinks… the way he imagines her blood…and other things he’s like to do with her…” His voice falters. “It’s a struggle. Every second.”

Alice nods solemnly. “Well, I can already tell you this, none of those futures I’ve seen end with you killing her. You don’t need to carry that fear. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Both of you are.”

Edward looks at her, hesitant. “And in how many of those futures does she actually survive this?”

Alice’s smile fades. Her eyes darken. For a moment she’s still, then she opens her mind to him completely. One by one, visions flood into him. Flashes of blood. Of her body limp in Jasper’s arms. Of him falling to his knees in despair. Others are better, she’s laughing, Jasper seems radiant, they’re kissing underneath the moonlight.

But they’re few.

Edward’s lips part, his breath shuddering. “That was… difficult to watch.”

“I know.” Alice’s voice trembles just slightly. “Now you understand.”

He presses his lips into a thin line, turning from her to the moonlight. “If we can’t save Y/N…”

“We lose him,” Alice finishes.

He nods once. “Yes.”

A heavy silence settles again.

“One in a million chance,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “The odds are stacked against us.”

Alice shrugs with a whisper of a smile. “Well… her chances are higher after tonight.”

He raises a brow. “You’re sure?”

“We’ll see how she feels after breakfast.” Her grin turns sly. “Jasper’s not the only one who’s going to be tested tomorrow. It’s been a while since we’ve had a human in the house.”

Edward groans. “Just wait till we tell Rosalie.”

Alice snickers. “I already saw how that goes.”

----------------------------

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[s9fti3]

‘And you’re still hungry for her’- Jasper Hale Headcannons!!

• A southern gentleman through and through. He greets those he likes (and who he can control himself around) with a smile and a ‘Well, Hello there.’ while tipping his imaginary cowboy hat.

• He says ma’am and sir even if he is 10x older than the person he is talking too.

• Did I say he was a gentleman? Jasper likes to hold the door for those behind him, waits for the person who is tying their shoe, listen to the person who was cut off in the middle of a conversation, offers his friends to stand under the umbrella with him while it pours down rain, offer to pay sometimes.

• When first being with you, he had to keep a distance for a long while. He wasn’t sure that he could handle himself and was scared of hurting you on accident. But with the help of Edward, Bella and Alice, he was able to spend more time with you and realize he won’t hurt you.

• One of his hobbies is playing baseball and he loves to have you watch him play, but he loves it more when he gets to teach you. His cold hands over your warm ones on the bat as Alice tosses the ball in your direction. Teaching you how to throw the ball with enough force to get it to hit hard.

• His body is absolutely freezing, so please bare with him when he touches you with his cold hands. The worst thing is when your cooking with Bella and he comes over with his cold hands offering to help, placing his hand on your shoulder.

• He smells like a lot of things, but the ones I can pick up on the most are pine wood, blood, rain, and old spice.

[mandomaterial]

Jasper Hale dating headcanons

- this man is definitely, definitely still very old school, very chivalrous and a western gentle man. Stuff like opening doors, kissing your hand and leading you on his arm is a must.

- This man loves showing and teaching you new things 100%. Oh you’ve never really played baseball?, hell show you exactly how to hold the bat and hit the ball with precision. Hell stand behind yo, his arms wrapped around your body, his hand pressing to to yours as Alice pitched the ball, it came at such speed and you were a little frightened, but he led the movements with ease.

- He definitely takes you to a ranch to show you how to ride a horse, western of course. You’re sitting in front of him on the sturdy leather saddle as he’s handing you the reigns, his ands moving to your waist instead. He’s giving you detailed instructions as he gives the horse a little nudge with his heel. He tells you to softly pull the leather straps in the direction you want to go and the horse follows, he’s definitely praising you every chance he gets.

- He definitely has a thing for keeping you close, always holding your hand, or resting or around your waist, he wont allow you out of his weight until he bids you good night at your window. By the way, he’s definitely no as creepy as Edward by watching you sleep. Jasper definitely respects your space and leaves the second you give him a kiss good night. Thats unless you ask him to stay, then he’ll gladly lay down with you, cuddling you close but making sure that you’re always covered with a blanket so that you wouldn’t freeze while laying in his arms.

- Jasper will show you his battle scars once he’s sure that you’re ready and of course you’re a little shocked, but at least now you know why he always wears long sleeves. He allows you to grace them with your soft warm fingers as you ask questions about them, of course he answers truthfully, having come to terms with them a long time ago. He even tells you about Maria and her army, but what he didn’t expect was that you’d start crying, big round tears rolling over your chest. He coos and takes you into his arms, comforting you and telling you that he’s alright all while you’re whining about the story being unfair and sad, he cant help but smile.

- He definitely introduced himself to your family as on as your relationship got serious, you couldn’t stop him from meeting your father and making himself known in your family. Unexpectedly, your father actually liked him, he could tell that he wasn’t just going to keep you round short term but that he’d planned his future around you, going as far as to ask your father for his approval of the relationship.

- Jasper definitely knows how to play the guitar, i mean, he’s a cowboy? Hell play anything and everything for you, in his room , at the beach, in school or anywhere you want. He’ll definitely attempt to teach you at least a few songs so that the two if you could duet, but he soon finds that you rather enjoy watching him instead of playing yourself, swaying softly to the tunes and humming along.

- Jasper defiantly takes it slow with you, just like a true old-school gentle man. He’ll kiss your hand whenever he picks you up and he’ll drive you to a secluded romantic spot, the beach for example, hell sit down with you and just bask in your presence, he’ll kiss you, sure, smiling every second and laughing with you at the awkwardness, only to kiss you again. He really does love you.