Two J/A RPFs.
Title: Of Them, of Their Something, of This Nothing
Author: ciza
Pairing: Jackson/Ashley.
Rating: PG
Summary: Tonight was just the final snap that broke their hearts.
Genre: Angst
Word count: 808
Disclaimer: I so don't own them.
A/N: Mix POVs, I hope it's not too confusing. Sorry in advance for the angst, bbs. There's a reason why I post this along with the fluffiest story I've ever written thus far. :)
For realynn8, because she's awesome.
Special thanks to the wonderful snitchster, who betaed both fics.
It hadn’t been the first time he saw her with another man.
It had been the first time he didn’t smile and pretended that he was alright. Instead, he walked out of the party and futilely tried to breathe in the crisp, cold night air.
He wanted to forget. He didn’t wish to subject himself to this painfully familiar feeling in his chest, ever again.
“Hey.”
A hand snaked around his arm and tugged it with such quiet insistence that he immediately pivoted his body towards said force, without his willing. Or perhaps it was that voice and the pain so carefully hidden in it - he was sure he wasn’t supposed to notice. He wished he hadn’t.
“I’m yours, you know,” she said. Her soft voice quivered ever so slightly.
He said nothing.
“Jackson.”
Three years he had waited on the sideline. Three years of seeing her go from party to party, event to event, club to club. For some couples, three years might be just a blip in time. For him, it was a little over his limit. He had grown tired of waiting, of pretending, of them not being able to define whatever it was they had.
Her hand wrapped his.
“Jackson, please. Just a little while longer.”
He had never talked, walked with, danced with, hugged, held hands with any other girl just for the cameras to snap some pictures, just for letting the suits - the powers that were - know that he was still holding his end of the bargain. She did the dirty work, for both of them. Going out with cute guys she barely knew, posing for photographs, going to places where she knew there would be people waiting to see if they - Ashley and Jackson - were together. People who would milk the most of their personal lives, people who didn’t realize that their expectations and speculations had caused such distance between the both of them.
It was part of the job description.
She stared at his back - waiting, waiting and waiting for him to turn around and look her in the eyes. She wanted to move closer and hug him, to make it all okay. She wished she were brave enough to rush into his arms and let herself break down in the safety of his embrace. She wanted to see him smile, so badly. She longed for that cheeky smile, the one that let her know that everything was alright again.
He turned around to face her - eyes cold, teeth clenched, forehead creased.
What little strength she had, what little hope she had burning in her heart, vanished into thin air when their eyes met.
She tried convincing herself that it wasn’t just about tonight. It was about constantly fighting the situations they were put in, for the past three years. It wasn’t about her, or him. It was about their not being able to just be.
Tonight was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Tonight was just the final snap that broke their hearts.
“I can’t, Ash.”
She wanted to ask him if any of it was her fault. She wanted to know if he were blaming her on anything. If she had done things differently, would he have chosen to stay?
“… Jasper and Alice?”
She shook her head in disbelief, when she realized how she actually used the job to try and get him back. But it was valid; they still had the final movie to shoot, and it had to be good. Not for the profits, but because they owed their second family that much. They owed their characters that much.
“We’re professionals. We’ll manage.”
His voice was detached.
They used to be each other’s. Both of them knew that they just were, and it was enough. Both of them knew that it wasn’t anymore.
I love you. Please don’t give up on us just yet.
She looked at the ground that kept them apart.
There were a lot of questions on the tip of his tongue. So many that if he was to satiate his curiosity, they would’ve talked all night, and perhaps, everything would’ve turned out to be okay. They would’ve hugged. She would’ve cried. He wouldn’t have understood why exactly, but he would’ve comforted her anyway, and kissed her pain away.
I love you. So much that I’m letting you go.
He swallowed those words and resumed to apologize in silence.
I’m sorry, Ashley.
His face moved closer, and closer, and closer. She closed her eyes. A kiss on her forehead, her hand being let go.
And then nothing.
For a few moments she stood there, the cold breeze mocking the tears streaming down her cheeks. When she finally opened her eyes, she watched the shadow of that familiar figure walking away, never looking back.
-------
Title: One of those Breaks
Author: ciza
Pairing: Jackson/Ashley
Rating: PG
Summary: Learning to pitch a baseball sure was frustrating.
Genre: Fluff
Word count: 747
Disclaimer: I so don't own them. Still.
A/N: Dialogues galore.
“I’m just a girl from Jacksonville.”
“And I’m just a boy from Texas. What’s your point?”
“You’re an extremely talented boy from Texas.”
“And how are you not talented? The fact that you’re so beautiful that you’ll still be gorgeous, even if you’re wearing tarp, doesn’t hurt either.”
“Why would I be wearing tarp?”
“Don’t change the subject, Ashley.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Don’t freakin’ change the subject.”
“I have inferiority issues.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Clearly.”
“You would be, too, if your sister wrote and starred in freakin’ Thirteen.”
“My brother got killed by Voldemort. He has a sexy British accent in real life, to boot.”
“Jackson. Edward’s my brother, too. My favourite, nonetheless.”
“And Rosalie is my twin. See my point?”
“You’re saying I’m good enough to be cast alongside her. I mean, them.”
“I’m saying you should stop being so… insecure.”
“The word you were looking for was ‘neurotic’. And ‘paranoid’.”
“I can settle with ‘frustrated’, Ash. It’s somewhere in the middle.”
“I was basically useless as a model, and then constantly rejected in this acting world for nearly two years. It did dreadful wonders to my self-confidence.”
“Yet you’re here.”
“Yes, because good things happen to those who work freakin’ hard. They still can’t get rid of me just yet.”
“But not being able to pitch a baseball -”
“Let’s just say it brings up unresolved issues.”
For a good minute there were nothing but smokes coming out of their mouths and flickers of ashes on the ground.
“You’ll nail it, you know. You’re getting better already.”
“It’s been twelve days, Jackson. We’re shooting the scene in three days. I still can’t pitch the damn ball.”
She hugged her knees closer to her chest, and hung her head down, causing her hair to cover her face.
“You’re a girl.”
“Shut up. You can twirl a baseball bat like you’re a majorette.”
“… Major.”
“-ette.”
He swept some of her hair carefully to the back of her ear, just enough to see the profile of her face. She tilted her head and squinted at him.
“You’re going to be okay.”
“I’m not good enough.”
“You are. You just can’t pitch a baseball yet.”
“I’m constantly scared that someone will point out that I’m such a fraud, that I can barely act, and they’ll put me on the next plane back to Jacksonville.”
“Far out. All these coming up now because you can’t pitch a baseball?”
“I told you I have issues.”
“You’re a talented, beautiful girl. No one is sending you home.”
“You’re only saying this because you’re my husband.”
“I’m only saying it because it’s the truth.”
She couldn’t help but smile. It was bittersweet.
“I’m just me, Jackson.”
“You’re only you. But you are you.”
He let out an exasperated sigh.
“If only you could see yourself through my eyes, Ash.”
There was confidence creeping into her eyes, a little bit more than there were a few sentences ago. He noticed.
“Do you really think I’ll nail it?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Believing in me, even when I myself don’t.”
He put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple.
“Anytime, wifey.”
She put her cigarette out and he followed. He stood up, holding out his hand. She gratefully moulded hers into it and they walked, hand in hand to the set, after a regular five-minute break that turned out to be a twenty-minute heart to heart session.
Kristen waved at them when they crossed her path, as she walked towards her trailer.
They smiled and waved back. A split second later, Ashley felt her face blanched.
“Oh, God. We forgot about that one.”
He laughed and hugged her waist with an arm, squeezing her gently towards his side.
“Let’s not open that door.”
She looked up at him, finding fortitude in his laughter, and she quietly smiled - lingering a little longer than necessary in his arm, before walking away from him and into the practice field. He leaned his back against the wire fence, eyes on her. Jackson gave her a thumb up and she grinned, relishing the last thought that entered her mind before she closed her eyes.
Amazing, I’m surely not. But you make me feel like we can conquer the world, just you and I.
A couple of deep breaths, then she flung them open; ready for yet another gruelling day of practice, a baseball clutched in her hand.
Author: ciza
Pairing: Jackson/Ashley.
Rating: PG
Summary: Tonight was just the final snap that broke their hearts.
Genre: Angst
Word count: 808
Disclaimer: I so don't own them.
A/N: Mix POVs, I hope it's not too confusing. Sorry in advance for the angst, bbs. There's a reason why I post this along with the fluffiest story I've ever written thus far. :)
For realynn8, because she's awesome.
Special thanks to the wonderful snitchster, who betaed both fics.
It hadn’t been the first time he saw her with another man.
It had been the first time he didn’t smile and pretended that he was alright. Instead, he walked out of the party and futilely tried to breathe in the crisp, cold night air.
He wanted to forget. He didn’t wish to subject himself to this painfully familiar feeling in his chest, ever again.
“Hey.”
A hand snaked around his arm and tugged it with such quiet insistence that he immediately pivoted his body towards said force, without his willing. Or perhaps it was that voice and the pain so carefully hidden in it - he was sure he wasn’t supposed to notice. He wished he hadn’t.
“I’m yours, you know,” she said. Her soft voice quivered ever so slightly.
He said nothing.
“Jackson.”
Three years he had waited on the sideline. Three years of seeing her go from party to party, event to event, club to club. For some couples, three years might be just a blip in time. For him, it was a little over his limit. He had grown tired of waiting, of pretending, of them not being able to define whatever it was they had.
Her hand wrapped his.
“Jackson, please. Just a little while longer.”
He had never talked, walked with, danced with, hugged, held hands with any other girl just for the cameras to snap some pictures, just for letting the suits - the powers that were - know that he was still holding his end of the bargain. She did the dirty work, for both of them. Going out with cute guys she barely knew, posing for photographs, going to places where she knew there would be people waiting to see if they - Ashley and Jackson - were together. People who would milk the most of their personal lives, people who didn’t realize that their expectations and speculations had caused such distance between the both of them.
It was part of the job description.
She stared at his back - waiting, waiting and waiting for him to turn around and look her in the eyes. She wanted to move closer and hug him, to make it all okay. She wished she were brave enough to rush into his arms and let herself break down in the safety of his embrace. She wanted to see him smile, so badly. She longed for that cheeky smile, the one that let her know that everything was alright again.
He turned around to face her - eyes cold, teeth clenched, forehead creased.
What little strength she had, what little hope she had burning in her heart, vanished into thin air when their eyes met.
She tried convincing herself that it wasn’t just about tonight. It was about constantly fighting the situations they were put in, for the past three years. It wasn’t about her, or him. It was about their not being able to just be.
Tonight was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Tonight was just the final snap that broke their hearts.
“I can’t, Ash.”
She wanted to ask him if any of it was her fault. She wanted to know if he were blaming her on anything. If she had done things differently, would he have chosen to stay?
“… Jasper and Alice?”
She shook her head in disbelief, when she realized how she actually used the job to try and get him back. But it was valid; they still had the final movie to shoot, and it had to be good. Not for the profits, but because they owed their second family that much. They owed their characters that much.
“We’re professionals. We’ll manage.”
His voice was detached.
They used to be each other’s. Both of them knew that they just were, and it was enough. Both of them knew that it wasn’t anymore.
I love you. Please don’t give up on us just yet.
She looked at the ground that kept them apart.
There were a lot of questions on the tip of his tongue. So many that if he was to satiate his curiosity, they would’ve talked all night, and perhaps, everything would’ve turned out to be okay. They would’ve hugged. She would’ve cried. He wouldn’t have understood why exactly, but he would’ve comforted her anyway, and kissed her pain away.
I love you. So much that I’m letting you go.
He swallowed those words and resumed to apologize in silence.
I’m sorry, Ashley.
His face moved closer, and closer, and closer. She closed her eyes. A kiss on her forehead, her hand being let go.
And then nothing.
For a few moments she stood there, the cold breeze mocking the tears streaming down her cheeks. When she finally opened her eyes, she watched the shadow of that familiar figure walking away, never looking back.
-------
Title: One of those Breaks
Author: ciza
Pairing: Jackson/Ashley
Rating: PG
Summary: Learning to pitch a baseball sure was frustrating.
Genre: Fluff
Word count: 747
Disclaimer: I so don't own them. Still.
A/N: Dialogues galore.
“I’m just a girl from Jacksonville.”
“And I’m just a boy from Texas. What’s your point?”
“You’re an extremely talented boy from Texas.”
“And how are you not talented? The fact that you’re so beautiful that you’ll still be gorgeous, even if you’re wearing tarp, doesn’t hurt either.”
“Why would I be wearing tarp?”
“Don’t change the subject, Ashley.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Don’t freakin’ change the subject.”
“I have inferiority issues.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Clearly.”
“You would be, too, if your sister wrote and starred in freakin’ Thirteen.”
“My brother got killed by Voldemort. He has a sexy British accent in real life, to boot.”
“Jackson. Edward’s my brother, too. My favourite, nonetheless.”
“And Rosalie is my twin. See my point?”
“You’re saying I’m good enough to be cast alongside her. I mean, them.”
“I’m saying you should stop being so… insecure.”
“The word you were looking for was ‘neurotic’. And ‘paranoid’.”
“I can settle with ‘frustrated’, Ash. It’s somewhere in the middle.”
“I was basically useless as a model, and then constantly rejected in this acting world for nearly two years. It did dreadful wonders to my self-confidence.”
“Yet you’re here.”
“Yes, because good things happen to those who work freakin’ hard. They still can’t get rid of me just yet.”
“But not being able to pitch a baseball -”
“Let’s just say it brings up unresolved issues.”
For a good minute there were nothing but smokes coming out of their mouths and flickers of ashes on the ground.
“You’ll nail it, you know. You’re getting better already.”
“It’s been twelve days, Jackson. We’re shooting the scene in three days. I still can’t pitch the damn ball.”
She hugged her knees closer to her chest, and hung her head down, causing her hair to cover her face.
“You’re a girl.”
“Shut up. You can twirl a baseball bat like you’re a majorette.”
“… Major.”
“-ette.”
He swept some of her hair carefully to the back of her ear, just enough to see the profile of her face. She tilted her head and squinted at him.
“You’re going to be okay.”
“I’m not good enough.”
“You are. You just can’t pitch a baseball yet.”
“I’m constantly scared that someone will point out that I’m such a fraud, that I can barely act, and they’ll put me on the next plane back to Jacksonville.”
“Far out. All these coming up now because you can’t pitch a baseball?”
“I told you I have issues.”
“You’re a talented, beautiful girl. No one is sending you home.”
“You’re only saying this because you’re my husband.”
“I’m only saying it because it’s the truth.”
She couldn’t help but smile. It was bittersweet.
“I’m just me, Jackson.”
“You’re only you. But you are you.”
He let out an exasperated sigh.
“If only you could see yourself through my eyes, Ash.”
There was confidence creeping into her eyes, a little bit more than there were a few sentences ago. He noticed.
“Do you really think I’ll nail it?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Believing in me, even when I myself don’t.”
He put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple.
“Anytime, wifey.”
She put her cigarette out and he followed. He stood up, holding out his hand. She gratefully moulded hers into it and they walked, hand in hand to the set, after a regular five-minute break that turned out to be a twenty-minute heart to heart session.
Kristen waved at them when they crossed her path, as she walked towards her trailer.
They smiled and waved back. A split second later, Ashley felt her face blanched.
“Oh, God. We forgot about that one.”
He laughed and hugged her waist with an arm, squeezing her gently towards his side.
“Let’s not open that door.”
She looked up at him, finding fortitude in his laughter, and she quietly smiled - lingering a little longer than necessary in his arm, before walking away from him and into the practice field. He leaned his back against the wire fence, eyes on her. Jackson gave her a thumb up and she grinned, relishing the last thought that entered her mind before she closed her eyes.
Amazing, I’m surely not. But you make me feel like we can conquer the world, just you and I.
A couple of deep breaths, then she flung them open; ready for yet another gruelling day of practice, a baseball clutched in her hand.