a/n You guys are the best. ILYSVM. I thought I'd post this today, since it's my birthday. And yes, Robert Pattinson and I are twins (obviously) because we have the exact same dob.
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Whoa, gravity, stay the hell away from me / Whoa, gravity has taken better men than me / now how can that be? / Just keep me where the light is
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Jacob Black
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"How do you do it?"
He knows he shouldn't ask, but the curiosity inside him stirs like an angry beast, hungry for answers. She barely spares him a glance, unparsed at the foaming of his mouth and sarcastic demeanour.
"Do what?"
He takes a controlled breath, tilting his chin to the left so he can look her over. With her body stretching out upon the towel he fights the heat that kicks against his spine. She's all hard lines, curves and attitude, a far cry from the girl that owned his heart.
"Hate him. How do you hate Sam after loving him for so long?"
She still doesn't move to look at him. Instead she closes her eyes and tilts her head back. Her eyelashes twitch as she smirks towards the heavens like she's sharing in some cosmic joke. But he wants to know, has to know. Because he needs to know how to hate Bella, so he can stop loving her. So he can stop hurting. So he can stop wanting to hurt her with his words and his narrowed gaze. He wants to hate her so he can be happy -
Because she finally is.
Leah opens her eyes, blinking slowly. The reflection of the early morning light causes her eyes to look golden rather than the deep brown he's come to know her by. Ever since he was a child, her eyes have always given her away, been the windows to her soul.
"What makes you think I hate him?" She asks seriously.
His brow raises ever so slightly. She gives a little laugh, shaking her head as she stands and picks up her towel.
"Silly boy," she mutters as she folds the material over her forearm. "You think you can stop loving her, by hating her?"
He stares at her, watching as she begins to walk away before she stops and turns back to look over her shoulder.
"I don't hate, Sam, Jacob. Not in the way you think."
Jacob has never know when to stop while he's ahead. "So why are you... the way you are?"
Glancing out to the ocean first, she answers him in a strange voice. As if she is far away from everything in front of her.
"You can't hate them, Black. Because deep down, there's still a part of you that belongs to them. Instead - you start to hate yourself. Hate the part of you that you will never get back and they will always own."
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The moment he sees the child, he feels weightlessness.
Every moment leading up to this very point in time is being wiped clean, like he's stuck inside some kind of giant vacuum. Every emotion, every heart break, every single stitch of happiness, joy, laughter and love, dimming the memories he's clung to. His body shudders, his jaw clenching so tight he feels the ache behind his ear.
There, under the blonde locks of Rosalie Cullen sit two innocent brown eyes that force him to his knees.
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"Those things are going to kill you one day," he tells her seriously.
As always, Leah hears him but never really listens. Her expressive eyes tell him a vicious retort is sitting on the tip of her tongue, but she swallows it, and blows out a thin line of smoke.
"We're all going to die one day. The sooner, the better," she grumbles as she flicks it away and stands from the porch step, dusting off her jeans shorts.
He can tell just how serious she is when she says shit like that, and it grinds on each one of his nerve endings. But what's the point in fighting with her when he was eventually going to let her win anyway.
"Sure, sure."
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"Jacob, you're here," Nessie squeals as she leaves the shadow of her parents and runs towards him.
He scoops her up before she can plough into his legs, and holds her on his hip.
"Happy birthday, kid," he smiles gently, pulling his free hand up to her face to show her the little wrapped box and large pink ribbon.
Her eyes are like saucers as she thanks him and takes the gift eagerly.
"Renesmee," Edward admonishes quietly, his eyes drifting to the table filled with gifts.
"Father and mother say we must play games and cut the cake before I can open presents," she tells him seriously, though a tiny smile crests on her lips as she looks over his shoulder.
He nods in understanding, gently letting her down so she can add the item to the table. His gaze lingers on the child who appears to be around five years old, before a scoff coming from his left shoulder reminds him he hasn't come alone. He can almost feel the agitation and annoyance radiating from her warm skin now that his imprint is busied with other things.
Turning slightly he grasps her elbow, encouraging her to move further into the house.
A whine of displeasure squeaks from her lips but she does so without further guidance.
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He walks into the house, ready to shout his arrival, when he spots a lone figure sitting on the couch in the Clearwater's living room holding a bouquet of wild flowers in his nervous hands. Jacob eyes the intruder critically, both hearing the clearing of the man's throat and the scuffle of feet as they descend the stairs.
"I'm so sorry to keep you waiting Anthony, I was just finishing - oh. Jacob. What the hell are you doing here?"
He wants to answer but his tongue refuses to cooperate.
Leah stands scowling up at him, her hands moving to her hips.
Her hair is swept back, pinned nicely into a ponytail that just brushes her shoulder. Her cheekbone's are defined with highlights of bronze, and her lips are a deep shade of burgundy. Her eyelashes, thicker than he's ever seen them, dusting in anger at his unannounced appearance. His eyes study her face, before moving down her body to notice what she's wearing. It's almost strange to see her in something so soft. Her simple top is a soft blue, tucked into a pair of high waisted jean shorts. Her legs are bare, her feet covered by a pair of old vans.
Before he can form words, 'Anthony' speaks, standing from the couch.
"Wow, Leah - you look... wow."
Jacob rolls his eyes, as Leah smirks at him and moves around his hulking form to greet her guest.
"Thanks. Let's go before more of my brother's friend's show up."
The snide comment coming from her mouth, kind of hurts. They weren't exactly best friends, but he was more than just her 'brother's friend'. Before they can slip away, Jacob calls out to her, reminding her exactly why he had shown up in the first place.
"Hey, Lee. Don't forget we're meeting at my house later tonight. It'll be you and me - just us. All. Night. Long."
She shoots him a death glare as she pushes her 'date' out the door, attempting to convince Anthony that he didn't just hear Jacob say, what he had said.
Jacob smirks and wiggles his fingers in a goodbye gesture.
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He considers himself a pretty level headed person.
He's always tried to think before letting his emotions or actions take precedence. He's always tried to be reliable, safe, kind, understanding. But nothing worth anything works when he's around his Beta. Stomping through the forest has his patience slipping even further.
"Leah, don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you."
She scoffs, shooting him a backward glare, before increasing her pace.
"Stop following me, asshole. I told you. I don't want to play 'house' with the vampires and your half-breed. I have better things to do."
Jacob growls at her nickname for Renesmee. "It's just food!"
She stops, spinning on her heel, heading straight for him. Her index finger is raised, ready to shove into his chest.
"No. It's not just food. It's dinner. Then it's niceties. Then - I'm the fucking bridesmaid for you and your demon child's happily ever after. I've done enough. I come to every stupid birthday because you want me there. And now this? No. No way."
He kind of wants to laugh. Not because he doesn't take Leah seriously, but because her conviction is just too adorable. Her cheeks are pink, her lips pouted. He tries to hide the smirk that's pulling on the corner of his mouth, but when her eyes flick down from his eyes to his mouth, he knows he's failing.
"You think this is funny, Black?" she growls, jabbing that index finger into his chest once again.
"It's just dinner, Leah. We're not getting married. Nessie is like... ten years old and... she likes you." He tells her teasingly, grasping her fingers before he ends up with bruises on his chest. "Trust me, I have no idea why."
"Yet!" she warns as she pushes past him, heading back to the Cullen home. "You're not getting married, yet."
He blows out a breath as he rolls his eyes, and turns to follow the she-wolf back to the Cullen's.
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Weeks bleed into years, like sands falling through an hourglass.
He feels static, unsure; no longer confident of the life fate has so intricately designed for him.
Does he want it? Does he want what Sam gives Emily?
Complete adoration.
Obedience.
Can he allow his choices to be taken away so... resolutely?
He doesn't know.
But times running out.
And if he doesn't decide, fate will force her hand once again.
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Jacob snorts before he downs another half-crown of whiskey.
The slow burn is welcome as it slides down his throat and settles in his stomach. The beat up Jukebox that stands against a far wall continues to drone out country music, melodies filled with the acoustics of guitars and heartbreak. He can't help but smirk as his pack boisterously argues about the merits of top shelf tequila versus the liquor store brand in the run-down dive.
"Nobody even asked you," Embry argues as he slams down another empty drink, before sloshing another few ounces into his glass.
"Oh. Poor boy. I don't care if you didn't ask me," Leah snipes back, swiping the glass from Embry's hold and downing it.
Jacob watches as a drop of tequila beads under the she-wolfs lip. It's almost like its levitating, before a jerk of her bottom lip causes it to tumble down over her chin and down her neck. It's fascinating to watch, wondering how far the little bead of liquor will actually venture.
Quil elbows him hard, snapping him from his interested gaze.
Jacob already knows it's a silent reprimand. Leah was off limits. Always had been.
Especially to a wolf.
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"Grandpa told me that Oxford has a really great anthropology program," Nessie tells him as she combs out her curls in front of the white vanity. Red curls bounce back into place as the teeth of the comb pull through the spiral ends. "One of the best in the world."
Years gone by, Nessie had been nothing more than a child, but in front of him sits a beautiful woman, one who has grown into her intelligence. She is no longer a child, regardless of the years eclipsed since her birth. The thought both terrifies and intrigues him.
"Jacob?"
"Hmm?" He shakes his head, smiling gently. "Sure, sure, Oxford."
She frowns as she places the comb down, her eyes meeting his in the mirror. The fact that she looks like Bella except with a finer facial structure makes his stomach clench. He wasn't in love with Bella, hadn't been for almost eight years, but the staggering reminder continues to look him straight in the eye, day after day.
Renesmee being born was both the worst and best day of his meagre life.
"Jake," she starts, turning now on the small seat so she can look at him properly while he lounges in the large king bed, hands tucked behind his head. "Oxford is... it's in England, Jake. You know that, right?"
He frowns, letting a small 'oh' fall from his mouth.
No, he didn't know that, why the hell would he?
"I mean, I really really want to go, Jacob." Her eyes fall from his as she chews on her bottom lip. "I'd really like for you to come with me too. If you can. You're my best friend, and being without you would feel... It just helps when you're around."
He clears his throat and continues to frown. Over the years there had been conversations about the Cullen's moving, but Jacob had always pushed them away, opting to focus on the now, rather than the future.
"Ness, I -" he swallows hard. "I'd love to, but-"
"I'm sorry I asked," she tells him softly.
"Hey, hey, no," he says reassuringly, moving from his lain position to sit at the end of the bed. "Renesmee. Look at me."
When she does look up, it feels as though his breath leaves his body for a split second. There are tears in her eyes, a look of both nerves and fear mingling in those warm brown irises.
"I'll always be your best friend. No matter what, okay? If Oxford makes you happy, then go for it."
"I don't think I can do it without you." She grumbles as she frees a hand to push away a few stray tears from her chin.
Jacob smiles then, giving her one of his signature grins. "You can do anything, kid. With, or without me."
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Jacob knows all about secrets.
So when his imprint shares one with him, he promises to take it to the grave, promises that whenever she's ready to tell anyone but him, he will be by her side, in her corner, fighting for her always.
Because if nothing else, that's what he can offer.
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"What do you mean she's leaving?" Leah shouts as they face off in the Clearwater kitchen.
Her eyes are blazing, almost as if it were his fault.
Jacob rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms across his chest. "I didn't stutter, Clearwater. She's. leaving."
"Is it because she kissed me?"
"What, no. Why would that be the reason?"
Of course, she brushes off his words.
"For how long?"
He shrugs in response. Her mouth opens and closes several times before she reverts back to her old friend - anger.
"What. the. fuck. does that even mean?"
Dropping his arms, he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "I don't know, Leah. All I can tell you is that she's leaving. They all are. She wants to travel the world, she wants to go to school. Be normal. She can't do that here. It's time the Cullen's move away."
Leah's limbs are tightening with each syllable he breathes, like an atomic bomb counting down, ready to detonate.
"She's your imprint. She can't just leave! You need her!"
She kind of has him there, but this was bigger than him.
He sighs. "She's happy, Leah. Safe and happy. That's the only thing I've ever wanted from this. You know that, you've been in my head. School makes her happy, her family keeps her safe. She wants me, but she doesn't need me. Not like that."
When he looks up from the stained flooring, his heart clenches. Unfamiliar tears streak hot tracks down the she-wolf cheeks. She's refusing to look at him, refusing to believe the whole conversation and he knows why.
In the kitchen, after almost eight years, they cement the truth about Samuel Uley.
And Jacob Black remains the living proof of Sam's failures.
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The bass from the speakers makes his body vibrate with each thump.
Leaning his back against the cabinets, beer pressed to his bottom lip, he watches the crowd, noting the easy flow of conversation and laughter. With all of the pack and their significant others, it makes for quite a sight. Food is spread across the counters and dining table, drinks and emptying cups squeezing in between the ruffle of plates and trays.
Of the 22 wolves that once were, only seven remain, with the others either handing back the reigns or giving them up to allow themselves to age.
Him. Leah. Seth. Quil. Embry. Brady. Colin.
Of the 22 wolves, five of them had imprinted.
Sam. Jared. Paul. Quil. Him.
The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth. A taste not even the cold beer can wash away.
He huffs, casting a glance out the window toward the back yard. Party lights are hung in the trees, a few guests mingling on the grass. But it's the girl in red that he notices; that captures his eye.
Her back is facing him, her short black hair cut delicately, showing off the length of her neck, to where the red material dips low on her back. It's not really a Cullen-grade gown or anything too fancy, but it's stitched in a way that shows off the swell of her hips, and the dip above and under her ass.
He recognises Brady from the stupid fauxhawk the kid wears, and growls a little, noticing the way his eyes are firmly on the she-wolf's backside.
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He doesn't know what makes him ask her to stay.
Maybe it's jealousy.
Or loneliness.
Or a multitude of a hundred other fucked up reasons.
But he needs her.
In more way than one.
He feels like an asshole, like he's abusing the Alpha power that was born in him.
But he had given her a choice.
Leave or stay.
If she were to leave, he would understand.
But if she were to stay, he would need more than just a stiff drink and a friend.
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He can feel the veins throbbing at his temple as he slams the phone down and rubs a frustrated hand over his face.
Ten fucking days.
That's exactly how long Leah's been AWOL.
She refuses to be alone with him, refuses his request to talk about what happened between them that night. She's even changed her number, which grinds his gears even further. He was Alpha and she was acting as if he were some lowly wolf chasing her tail.
If there was something Leah Clearwater was great at, it was denial.
He rubs his tongue against his bottom lip, remembering the way she'd bit down hard, drawing blood from him in the heat of the moment. He remembers the taste of her mouth, the heat of her breath, the warmth and slickness of her skin.
He growls to himself as he stands and makes his way out the door to his sister's place. He'd almost refused until Rachel had barked that he better be there to help plan his nephews first Christmas or else.
Jacob supposes it would at least take his mind off the wolf-girl that had avoided him like the plague for almost two weeks.
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Oh God. She's just as warm as he remembers. Slick, needy and desperate. He isn't fairing much better considering he's lost his damn mind and was slamming into his Beta against his sister's house. Honestly, he's surprised when the old house doesn't end up with cracks in the wood.
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She smells of rain, and honey suckle when he presses his nose into her shoulder, his lips dragging across her damp skin.
His fingers dig a little too hard on her hip, but he doesn't let go.
Not when he can feel the pressure building in her spine; filling with the restless energy she always seems to possess. He's almost certain, that given the chance, Leah Clearwater would run straight the hell out of dodge, and leave him for the wolves.
It's hard to imagine life before her; not because he doesn't want to, but because he now feels like the old Jacob around her. He's smiling more often than not, and not just the small ones reserved for strangers. It's the ones that actually make his cheeks hurt; the ones that when she spots them, she rolls her eyes and punches him in the stomach. Leah makes him feel like a man, a man worth something; not because she was forced to, but because she wants to.
Drawing tiny stars against her belly button, he feels her breath hitch, before she wiggles her toes against his shins.
"Quit it." She growls softly, even though he can hear the smile on her mouth.
"No." He grins back, moving to place several kisses under her ear.
He moves his hand to cup her breast before running his palm down the length of her. Gently, he slips his hand between her legs, satisfied with her sharp inhale of breath. She's wet and ready, and the whine she makes when he drags index and middle finger over her makes him want her forever.
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"I think I'm in love with you," she blurts out suddenly and without warning as they make their way through the yard to the house.
The mere words are enough to stop him in his tracks. His muscles are tense, his hands balling into fists before allowing the energy to release from his fingers. As he turns, his gaze flicks to her eyes. The truth sinks into his bones, her hazel eyes a direct highway into her scorching soul. They're bright, but he can see the caution in them. She's biting her lip, mumbling to herself about what an idiot she is.
Gently, he takes her face in his large hands, his thumb rubbing across the apple of her cheek. Her warm breath reaches his chin, the anticipation of his answer shining in her eyes.
Vulnerable. Beautiful. Fierce.
"Leah. I..."
Unfortunately the moment is lost when Sue calls for Leah from the back porch.
Her hazel eyes wait, but his tongue twists knots inside his mouth.
And just like that, the years of the trust she's given him, slowly slide through his fingers like sand.
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He's been tracking her for days; over familiar and foreign terrain.
The rains whip at his pelt as he fights to shake his head to rid himself of the icy water. He huffs and then growls, scenting the fauna around him. She had been here, in this very spot, but she was always the best strategist of them all.
When he spots indents in a soft portion of soil, he understands why it's been so fucking hard to track her or pick up any of her thoughts.
She's running as a human.
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"STOP!"
The command is resolute.
He watches her fight against it, her shoes digging into the earth, her nails clawing at the tree she slumps against. She's dirty, her legs sprayed with lines of mud from running through last night's storm. She hadn't thought he would be able to follow her, not with the water washing away evidence of her scent.
But he had; because he had memorised her, had tasted every part of her, had been inside her.
"You're such a hypocrite, Black." She tells him in the quiet of the forest. Her voice isn't loud, but it's firm. Full of conviction. "All these years you pushed and fucking pushed. Forced me to open my eyes. Forced me to see the truth. But the truth is - there's only one coward here, and it isn't me."
"Leah-"
"Why the hell did you follow me? Why would you even-"
"Because you belong to me!"
When he snaps that, beating a fist against his chest, she whips around, eyes narrowing. His breathing is shallow and he's trying his best not to shout.
She may have been angry, but he was fucking pissed.
"You belong to me, Leah."
He moves towards her, grasping her hands in his, trying in vain not to crush her fingers. He's shaking, his anger still very close to the surface. Her hands are warm and familiar and firm; so he focuses on that fact alone. The silence of the forest crawls along his spine as he waits for her to say something. When she doesn't, he guesses she's said it all over the years; called him out, threw the truth in his face even when he didn't want it. He may have pushed her over the years; but she pushed back just as hard. It was something he loved about her.
Closing his eyes, he brings her hands to his mouth; dry lips brushing her scarred knuckles.
"The way I feel about you, what you mean to me - I need you, all of you, and I fucking want you, even when you're making my life hell." He takes another controlled breath. "Because when you're not with me, I don't feel right. I don't feel useful, or content or me; I'm only that way, when I'm with you. Because not only do you belong to me... I belong to you. You've taken a part of me I can never get back - and that's more than 'I love you' can ever say."
Her fingers squeeze inside his.
"You caught me off guard the other day and I - I didn't, I couldn't explain it then. It's taken me a long time to figure it out, to really, truly appreciate what we have."
By the time he's finished his sentence, the single tear that hovers on her chin tells him she understands. She had told him the same thing once, such a long time ago. But unlike Bella, he didn't want that part of himself back from Leah. He wanted it to remain with her, give her more; because she owned him, as much as he owned parts of her.
"It's not going to be easy. But I don't want easy. I want us. And I happen to think we're pretty fucking terrific together. Even when I have to chase your ass across the god-damn continent."
"Well, it is a pretty good ass." She snickers, pulling him up to his full height. Her lashes are wet and her voice is a little husky from his words but she's smiling, her eyes bright and sparkly. He can't help but grin as he leans down, taking her face in his hands and presses his mouth over hers.
"It is. Now, let's go home. I haven't eaten in days, my shoulder is fucked and I'd really like to get reacquainted with that excellent piece of anatomy." Just for kicks, he lightly pats her behind. "I didn't chase you for nothing."
With that acclamation he gets shoved back, and glared at. "There is something seriously wrong with you."
He grins, grasping her hand and pulling her back to his chest. "Oh, boo hoo. You know you love me. Come on."
What they had would always require work, he knew that. They would fight, argue; but the moments in between would make up for the darkness of life -
being with her was as easy as breathing;
and she would always keep him where the light was.
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