A/N: Hello, everyone! So it's been a good while since I wrote my last fanfic and I really hope this one turns out to be only five chapters long. But I'm not that good with short stories. Anyway, this is Jacob/Nessie, no big drama there. I'm also working on a Quil/Claire fic right now - yeah, I'm all about the pedophile wolves apparently - so, anyway, I'm sorry for any English or grammar mistakes that might appear in the story. I done my best, so be nice. The point of view of the fic will be changing chapter to chapter - I guess. First chapter is Bella's, next will be Jacob's. So, anyway, I really hope you like the first chapter- at least enough to review, come back and keep motivating me to write, ok ;;? I need to be loved. You can also correct my English if you feel like it. But be nice, I'm deeply afraid of rejection. lol.

No, really, I am. .-.

My Beloved Monster

"My beloved monster is tough. If she wants, she'll destroy you. But if you lay her down for a kiss, her little heart could explode." (Eels - My Beloved Monster)

Chapter 1:

Gloves

I had promised myself (and Edward) that I should not think about it for, at least, six and a half more years, and well, I surely didn't mean to, but then again, I could not foresee (and, unfortunately, neither did Alice) how things would turn out. Not that quickly.

Of course I had expected that, I mean, ever since she was a toddler - if Nessie ever happened to be one in the past - she would refer to Jake as "My Jacob", she would send me images of his face and they would spend everyday together. I knew that, with the imprinting thing, that they would, eventually become a couple; my husband knew about it too, thought he chose denial as the best way to deal with it.

But then, one day, I entered my family's house, following the sound of my sister's voices and the sweet smell of my daughter. And there they were, in Alice's bedroom, surrounded by a thousand (and this is not a made up number – there were literally a thousand) different shopping bags.

Downstairs, I could hear Edward's piano playing a song I've never heard before. A sad waltz, like there was rain pouring all over the house, under heavy dark clouds. Well, it was Forks, after all. I looked at the girls standing in front of me. Alice had sparkling eyes and was smiling from ear to ear like it was the best day of her life (or existence, I guess) even Rosalie had a look of pure amazement and looked fascinated. Renesmee, on the other hand, looked as always. Standing there in the middle, she didn't make a peep until I entered the room:

"Good Morning, Momma." Her voice was clear but very low. Nessie wasn't very fond of speaking. Even when she was been home schooled by Carlisle and Esme she would just give them the answers by touching their faces. I tried to convince Edward into making her attend school so she could develop at least some social skills, but he just rolled his eyes and asked what I would say when her classmates started wondering why did our daughter looked like she could go to college when she was only in fifth grade, so I gave up.

"Good Morning, dear. What's all this?" I was a hundred per cent sure Alice was somehow blackmailing my daughter. But Nessie just browsed the room with sad eyes and said in her always so low, always so calm tune:

"Gloves."

"Gloves?"

"Yes! All kinds of beautiful and fashionable gloves! And, of course, I bought some new dresses to go with them! And shoes!" Alice said in the happiest of all voices. "Nessie asked me if I could buy her some on my next trip to Seattle, but I just couldn't help it! I know she only asked for two or three pairs, but…"

"Why do you need gloves, dear? It's August…" I started, but Alice was already pushing her to the closet.

"Go on! Get dressed!" And I could see the chocolate brown eyes that were once my own looking sadly at the pile of bags. Alice stuck a few dresses and accessories on Nessie's arms. Once she was inside the dresser, Alice looked at me:

"I went all the way to France this weekend! It's not like you or Renesmee have any taste for good fashion so, when she asked for new clothes, I just couldn't let the opportunity pass!" Rosalie was now holding a checked yellow and dark blue dress in front of her eyes, analyzing it.

"Alice, this one is gorgeous! She'll look like a couture model!"

"I know, right!? And it matches perfectly with the yellow leather gloves I brought!" – She grabbed the dress and took it to the dresser. "Here, Nessie, put this on with the yellow gloves and the blue velvet ankle boots!"

Honestly, I was truly sorry for my daughter, I had once been Alice's Cobaia Barbie, but even I hadn't had to try all these things at once. And I don't think Rosalie would ever be this thrilled to see me try on new outfits. But once she got out of the dresser, I had to forbid Alice to put any other piece of clothing on her. She looked heaven sent.

Her glossy red-brown curls fell from her shoulders up to her back and she had a satin yellow headband on her hair. Her expensive looking dress showed most of her pale legs, tights and arms, but it was loose and made her look like a real living doll. Her gloves were short and her boots went up only a little above her ankles. She looked embarrassed even after years of been watched in amazement. She stared at her own feet.

"Thanks, Aunt Alice. Can I keep it on?" Alice seamed a bit disappointed, but she didn't seam to have a different opinion than mine. So she just smiled:

"Sure, Nessie! I'm so proud!" And I could see that Rosalie agreed. Nessie looked at me:

"So, Momma, do you think I look good too?" Nessie always asked my opinion. Even now, that she looked like a sixteen years old teenager – technically around the time she would start to hate me just for being her mother – she had the same approval needs of a five year old. This, by the way, was exactly what she was.

I was dazzled.

" Honey, you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen!" I said but I still couldn't understand this whole glove thing coming from nowhere, and I remembered Charlie commenting one day about how teenage girls liked shopping a lot so I wondered if this was only a phase she was going trough. "But, Nessie, darling… Why gloves?"

"Oh…It's just this idea I had…" she said out loud which was just as surprising as she asking Alice to buy her clothes. "I thought that maybe, if I wore gloves, I could touch people without them looking into my head." I was confused. And so were Alice and Rose:

"What do you mean by that, Nessie? You've learned how to control your power a long time ago! You're a pro at this! You don't need gloves!" Rosalie said as if she thought it was the most insane of ideas that Renesmee wasn't confident about something. Renesmee looked nervous and bit her lips. I could hear her heart racing.

"I know, I know, but sometimes…Look…" She looked to the door, like she was desperate to get away from that conversation. "My father, for example, he's always reading your minds, right?"

"Is this about your father, Renesmee? " I said putting my hands on my hips and raising an eyebrow, just like a normal mother would do. "Because there aren't any gloves capable of stopping him from worrying sick about you and reading your thoughts!"

"No, no! That's not about dad at all!" Although she did sound like she was lying - "I'm just using him as an example. He's always reading your minds so don't you feel like sometimes…" she looked at her aunts "you shouldn't have thought something. Don't you sometimes lose control of what you're thinking and feeling?"

There was a long pause in which we all understood her point more than she believed we did. It was hard to control your feelings when you're around someone you like, hard to control what you're thinking. I remembered being so glad about Edward not reading my mind every time I thought of something I shouldn't. Specially when I was touching him.

Then it hit me. And, for a moment, I secretly hoped that she was referring to someone she liked at school, although I knew she had never once went to school in her whole life so there could only be one person capable of making her want privacy for her most secret thoughts of love and adoration. And I could hear his car stopping by my house at that right moment. So I said in a whisper that sounded just like her voice:

"It's going to be ok, Sweetie. I swear you're going to be happy. It's just how it's meant to be." And, while she was on her way to the bedroom door, she looked at me, confused for a second. Then she smiled weakly and said, back in her old low tune, something that made all of my already dead hopes of she dating someone else vanish:

"Sure, sure." And went downstairs to meet him.