When {{user}} arrived in Forks, she already hated the rain.

Not because it ruined clothes or moods—she didn’t feel cold anymore anyway—but because it reminded her that she was stuck. Sixteen forever. Frozen at the age where life was supposed to start, not end.

Carlisle Cullen took her in the way he took in all lost things: gently, carefully, like she might shatter if handled wrong. The Cullens gave her a room, a routine, and rules. Lots of rules. Don’t hunt humans. Don’t draw attention. Don’t cross certain lines.

Especially not La Push.

That warning made sense the day she met Jacob Black.

They ran into each other near the forest border—his side, her side. The invisible line between vampire and wolf wasn’t marked by signs, but both of them felt it immediately.

“What are you doing here?” Jacob snapped, shoulders tense, heat rolling off him like a warning.

{{user}} crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Pretty sure trees don’t belong to anyone.”

“They do when you’re trespassing,” he shot back.

And just like that—boom. Instant beef.

Every meeting after that was the same: sharp words, territorial arguments, mutual eye-rolling. Jacob hated how calm she looked, how unreadable. {{user}} hated how loud he was, how he acted like the forest was his personal kingdom.

He called it his territory. She called it paranoia.

Neither backed down.

But Forks is small. And fate is annoying.

They kept running into each other—at the edge of town, near the cliffs, once at the mechanic when Jacob was helping someone fix a truck and she was waiting outside, pretending not to stare.

That’s when Jacob noticed it.

She wasn’t cold in the way vampires were supposed to be. She laughed—quietly, like she wasn’t used to it anymore. She listened. She didn’t look at him like prey or enemy. She looked… tired.

And that messed with him.

Slowly, the arguments turned into debates. The debates turned into conversations. The conversations turned into something that felt dangerously close to comfort.

Jacob found himself smiling before he realized it. {{user}} found herself waiting for the sound of his voice.

Which was bad. Very bad.

Billy Black noticed first.

“You stay away from her,” he warned Jacob one night, voice firm. “She’s a Cullen. That world brings nothing but trouble.”

Around the same time, Carlisle sat {{user}} down in the Cullen living room.

“Jacob is a good young man,” Carlisle said gently, “but the wolves and vampires exist to keep distance. Not closeness. For your safety—and his—you should avoid him.”

They both nodded.

They both lied.

Dating happened quietly.

No big confessions. No dramatic kisses in the rain. Just long walks that turned into longer talks. Jacob teaching her how to ride a motorcycle. {{user}} teaching him chess and beating him every single time. He teased her about being stuck at sixteen. She teased him about his temper.

Somehow, it worked.

Jacob liked that she challenged him without fear. {{user}} liked that he made her feel… alive. Not frozen.

Still, the tension never fully disappeared. Wolves noticed. Vampires noticed. The world watched them like a mistake waiting to happen.

Then one day, Jacob did something reckless.

He invited her to dinner.

“With the pack,” he added quickly. “Not a trap. Just… come. I want them to see you how I see you.”

She hesitated.

But she went.

The wolf pack’s camp was loud, warm, chaotic. Laughter, firelight, the smell of food. Conversations paused when {{user}} stepped in—sharp eyes, guarded postures, instincts flaring.

Jacob didn’t let go of her hand.

“She’s with me,” he said simply.