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Blackness encroaches, the moonlight becoming a tiny spotlight on you.
You toss yourself awake, slowly hearing a screech of Fingernails on your window. You bolt upright, looking around for a weapon.
"Ouch - damn it; open the window."
You cautiously move to your window to find your best friend Jacob, shirtless, clinging to the top of a tree that bends with his weight. You open the window.
"What the hell are you doing?" You whisper-yell.
Jacob replies. "Get out of the way."
He begins to swing his legs, increasing momentum. You realize what he's about to attempt. He launches himself through the window with great agility. Jacob lands on the balls of his feet. You're stunned. He freezes, listening for your parents. Nothing. A bitter, self-satisfied grin spreads on his face. It pisses you off. He takes in your room.
"I pictured your room more...cluttered."
You cross your arms, still half in shock, trying to process the fact that he just parkoured through your window like your bedroom is some kind of training course.
"It's not a museum," you whisper sharply. "And why are you even here at—what time is it?"
Jacob glances toward your alarm clock, then shrugs like time is a concept that applies to other people.
"Late enough that I needed a shortcut," he says simply.
You point a finger toward the window. "You could've used a door."
"And miss the tree challenge?" he replies, like that explains everything.
Outside, the branches scrape softly against the glass as the wind shifts. The room feels suddenly smaller with him in it—too still, too quiet, like the dream is lingering at the edges of everything.
You hesitate. "So... what do you want?"
Jacob flashes that stupid, lopsided grin—the one that makes your stomach flip even when you're mad. He plops down on the edge of your bed like he owns the place, stretching his arms behind his head.
"Missed you," he says simply—no drama, no explanation. Just missed you, like it's obvious.
Then he leans forward suddenly, eyes catching yours in the dim glow from your desk lamp. That intensity rolls over him—warm and sudden as a summer storm.
"You weren't asleep five minutes ago when I called." His voice drops lower now—protective wolf mode activated without warning or permission from reality itself:
"I heard it."
You blinked.
"What? You came all the way here because of... that"
Jacob's jaw tightens, that protective fire lighting in his dark eyes. He reaches out without thinking, cupping your face gently with one big hand—his thumb brushing over your cheekbone like he's checking for tears.
"Yeah," he says quietly. "I came because of that."
He doesn't care about logic or doors or parents sleeping down the hall. He just climbed through trees and launched himself into your bedroom like some dramatic action hero.
"Your insane"
Jacob's grin widens at your insult, completely unfazed—if anything, he looks pleased with himself.
"Yeah," he says shamelessly, leaning back on his hands like a king lounging on a throne. "But I'm your insane."
His eyes flicker to the stuffed animal sitting innocently on your shelf—the one you've had since you were ten—and something in his expression softens for half a second before the teasing glint returns.
He kicks off his sneakers without asking and scoots further onto your bed, patting the spot right next to him like an invitation.
"C'mere," Jacob murmurs. "We're having a sleepover now."
Before you can protest or argue about boundaries or how this is wildly inappropriate considering it's 2 AM, he basically just broke in and your parents are downstairs—he flops onto his side facing you expectantly.
The streetlight outside casts golden stripes across both of you through the blinds. He smells like pine trees and motor oil from working all day in Billy's garage again today.
And despite everything... part of you wants nothing more than to crawl into that warm space beside him where everything feels safe just because he's there.
His bare chest is inches from your face; he smells faintly of pine and motor oil—the scent clinging to him after working all day in Sam's garage fixing trucks.
Then... slowly... deliberately...
He wraps both arms around you—and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug before planting a loud kiss right on top of your head like an overexcited golden retriever who just won Best Dog Award.
You let out a tiny "oof" as Jacob practically tackles you into a hug, his muscular arms locking around you like steel bands.
"Jacob!"
The kiss on your head is messy and loud—mwah!—and you barely have time to process it before Jacob's squeezing the air out of your lungs with that bear hug.
He nuzzles his face into the top of your hair, breathing in deeply like he's memorizing your scent. His skin is warm from climbing through trees and adrenaline, radiating heat like a furnace.
"Missed this," he mumbles against you, voice suddenly quieter—softer than usual. No sarcasm. No jokes. Just this.
His arms don't loosen; if anything, they tighten slightly—as if afraid you'll disappear or push him away.
You stay frozen for a second, heart pounding—not from fear, but from the sheer *Jacob-ness* of it all. The way he smells. The way his chest vibrates with quiet laughter when you don't immediately shove him off.
And then—because your traitorous body has zero self-control around him—you melt.
Just a little.
Your arms slowly rise, hesitantly sliding around his waist as you return the hug without really meaning to. It's warm and solid and feels like home in a stupidly simple way that makes your throat tighten.
Jacob feels it—the shift—and instantly softens even more. He presses another kiss to your hairline, this one gentler than the first loud smack on purpose now: tender instead of teasing.
He starts rocking slightly where he sits—a subconscious thing he does when something's comforting him emotionally—and hums under his breath like an idiot who thinks affection is just *vibes* rather than words or explanations (which honestly? Fits Jacob perfectly).
Then suddenly...
Without warning...
He flips onto his back... taking you with him so gently despite how strong those arms are... pulling you right on top of him like a human blanket while still keeping both hands firmly locked behind your shoulders so there's no escape unless *you* want one.
Now face-to-face in this new position—your nose almost brushing against his jawline because wow okay close proximity alert—the room spins just slightly.
His dark eyes search yours quietly; no smirk now; no joke brewing behind them...
Just pure affection staring right at ya.
You stare back at him for a few seconds before you sigh and plop your head down against his chest, your head tucked under his chin.
"Your really unbelievable"
Jacob chuckles—a deep, warm sound that rumbles through his chest beneath your ear. His fingers start playing with the ends of your hair absently, twisting a strand around his index finger like it's the most fascinating thing in the world.
"Unbelievable?" he repeats softly, voice laced with amusement. "I prefer devoted"
He presses another kiss to the crown of your head—this one lingering longer than before—and you feel him smile against your skin.
His heartbeat is steady under you: strong and even like a drumbeat keeping time just for this moment. The rise and fall of his breathing is slow now; he's relaxed in a way that only happens when you're near him—like all tension melts out because being close to you literally calms every wild wolf instinct inside him
Then...
Without asking...
One hand slides up from stroking hair... across shoulders... down spine...
Until gently cupping behind neck
And then—
He tilts forward ever so slightly...
Without warning (because when has Jacob ever warned anyone?), he leans down and kisses you.
For a second, your brain short-circuits.
It's not gentle. It's not sweet or hesitant or soft—it's a claim. A collision of lips and teeth and warmth that steals your breath faster than the window stunt did earlier.
His hand slides into your hair as the kiss deepens; calloused fingers tangling gently but firmly at the roots while his other arm wraps around your waist to pull you flush against him on the bed
You can feel every hard line of his body—the defined chest pressed to yours through thin fabric; warm skin radiating heat like a furnace; solid muscle everywhere
The kiss is messy—too enthusiastic, slightly off-center because neither of them are perfect—and Jacob nips at your bottom lip by accident before catching himself
He pulls back an inch only long enough to smirk—that stupidly cocky grin full pride over stealing that first real kiss from under cover darkness
Then dives right back in.
You can feel him smiling between kisses—that stupid proud wolf-smile that says I finally got her—and then suddenly...
Without breaking contact...
He rolls again—gently flipping positions so suddenly that now you're beneath him on soft sheets with Jacob hovering above.
His broad frame cages you in without crushing; his elbows frame your head as he braces himself above you. One knee slots between yours on instinct, and for a split second, the heat of it sends a jolt through your whole body.
He breaks the kiss just enough to breathe—chest rising fast—and stares down at you with those dark brown eyes gone half-lidded and molten. His lips are slightly swollen from kissing, cheeks flushed despite his usually cool complexion.
That smirk? Still there. Bigger now.
Prouder than ever before in his life because holy crap he kissed her and she didn't shove him away or scream or call him an idiot (yet).