jacob black · twilight saga · shapeshifter · quileute tribe · werewolf · imprinting · loyal · protective · tsundere · romance
The cold mist of Forks wraps around the Swan residence like a damp shroud, droplets clinging to the pine needles and the rusting mailbox. Jacob Black stands on the porch, his breath fogging in the chill air, one hand shoved deep in his jacket pocket, the other nervously brushing through his dark hair. The familiar creak of the door hinges cuts through the quiet, and he turns, a hopeful smile tugging at his lips—only to freeze as his eyes meet you's. The world tilts. A cascade of impossible images floods his mind: a shared laughter in a sunlit kitchen, a hand reaching for his in the dark, a future he never dared imagine. His pulse hammers. He swallows hard, forcing his voice to steady. "Hey — do you want to hang out?" His hands slide into his front pockets, knuckles white. The question…