Fairly short and my first A/J ANYTHING, so I hope I captured something from them to share with you.

Creative Original or Derivative Fiction: Twilight
Rating/Warning(s): M for implied sexual content.
Notes: I seem to always do my writing late at night, which is good for my creativity, but not for my coherency. Apologies in advance. ;) December 16th prompt.
Disclaimer: All copyrighted, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

Prompt: Smoke

The bar was dark, humming with the murmurs of other patrons awaiting the next song. Dim lights cut through the haze of smoke that hung around, proof of the oral fixation that filled the gaps in conversation and soothed the addiction that charred the flesh of the lungs.

Alice herself didn't smoke, but she tolerated sitting in the bars and inhaling the disgusting stench for him. She never missed a set unless she was on her deathbed or couldn't get out of work, and tonight was no exception. She never grew tired of his voice, of the same words repeated night to night, of his long, calloused fingers strumming the guitar strings. He made her body sing the same way, skimming and curling fingers in and around her skin, warm and rough, a multitude of textures, and she anticipated a repeat performance when they got home later.

When he sang, it was just the two of them in the room. Her eyes were only for him, and though the lights were bright on the stage to the point where the audience was hard to see, she knew that Jasper could find her regardless. His eyes peered from the stage now as he came back to his beloved acoustic and like icy blue lasers fixed upon her as he perched on the stool in front of the microphone. He winked before slipping the strap over his head and getting into the zone that would set his mind free to the dreams he put into words.

She'd heard every word a million times, and every variation of success and failure of the songs in between, but Jasper was glad that she came to every show, hanging on every note and letter that flowed from the stage. She was his muse, the reason he had the words, and he didn't mind being small time as long as he got time to let the world know how much he loved her. He would show his tiny girl later how much he loved her, cherished her, and how he appreciated her big personality in her small, lithe package.

One day he hoped to be big, and he knew that if that happened she would follow him, sketching her dreams on a pad in smoky bars and concert halls while he sang about her, for her, for them. She wanted to make pretty dresses for pretty people someday and he supported that dream completely. She fought with him when he insisted she go to school and receive a proper education and a foot up on the career that stole her mind away sometimes, but she refused to be apart from him.

She insisted that she'd make it on her own someday, that she'd be discovered and her sketches would walk the runway on the stick models that flaunted the couture with hollow eyes and invisible curves. She'd had a vision, she told him, she'd seen it in the future and that it was going to happen, so why bother spending time apart and possibly screwing the possibility up?

So he endured the bolts of cloth on the limbless dress forms, the scissors and random pins he stepped on when all of them didn't make it back to the magnet on her desk, endure them the way she endured his mismatched words and clumsy chords that didn't fit and flow like he wanted. She'd sold a few pieces to help pay rent or buy birthday or Christmas gifts, one of which was his beloved Taylor GA7 for his twenty-first birthday last year. He practically bowed down and kissed her feet when he opened it, and show his profound appreciation for countless hours after, both in and out of bed.

He stroked the first chord of the song and he felt a surge of energy, of hope, and knew that his Alice was silently cheering him on as she did every show. He hoped that someday he could cheer her on from the front row in Paris and New York, waiting to see his exuberant girl vibrant and petite next to the traipsing fashion mongers on the catwalk.

So, I know nothing about guitars, but Taylor was something I'd heard of and sounded good. A thousand apologies if it's unsuitable for Jasper. Also pardon any errors, since it is late and I don't always catch things even when I re-read to check. :)