Twilight -- Something In the Brushwork [Jasper/Bella]
Title: Something In the Brushwork
Pairing: Edward/Bella, Bella/Jasper
Rating: PG
Summary: She has a thing for boys who's lips never quite form perfect smiles.
Notes: This has been sitting on my computer for quite some time, taking up space and driving me crazy. I was going to delete is as a lost cause but I decided certain parts of it were salvageable. Lately there has been nothing but a huge black wall of despair where my inspiration should be. Originally one of those five things stories, it morphed into something completely unrecognizable. IDK. o_O
Fourth grade. Fistful of wildflowers torn up by their roots, she doesn’t know what to say when Andrew Dillon dumps them on her lap with a crooked smirk (she has a thing for boys who’s lips never quite form perfect smiles). Sneezing (quite violently) seems to be the only response she can generate when he asks her if she’ll go to the Valentines dance with him. Smiling sheepishly, she decides then and there that she really does like wildflowers better than daisy’s, and that blue (but only the incredible washed out shade of Andrew’s eyes) really is her favorite color after all.
Yes. The treacherous word tumbles off of her tongue before she can stop it. With someone of her natural grace it’s no wonder dancing has never been her forte. All the same, she accepts with only mild trepidation, her sense of longing, of wanting to belong, winning out over any rational thought of self perseverance.
**
The night air is cool on her face, almost glacial, and she hopes it’s not an omen (Titanic sized disasters are the one thing she has going for her most of the time). Fifteen minuets later, sniffling and waiting by the curbside, her light pink dress dyed crimson from the entire contents of a punch bowl, she decides she doesn’t like wildflowers after all.
**
Somehow, even after the punch bowl incident, she allows her mother talk her into signing up for ballet lessons (it’ll boost you’re confidence, hun). A mistake in the making, she hates to break her mother’s heart. She doesn’t exactly lie when she tells Edward she wasn’t very good because she wasn’t, but she glosses over the painful details with simple words hoping he’ll let it drop.
When her mother married her father, that was a mistake. When Bella broke all five mirrors in her dance studio, that was forty years bad luck. A smug I told you so never quite finds its way past the prickly lump in her throat when her mother tearfully writes the teacher a check to replace the damaged items.
**
Her first kiss was more sloppy than amazing. Breathtaking, but not in a particularly good way. Perhaps drowning would be a more adequate description now that she thinks about it - not that she like to dredge up such a memory if she can help it - but Edward’s kisses erase such disappointing memories and for a moment she wishes they really were the perfect couple of her daydreams (instead of the lion who almost ate the lamb). His kisses make her desire many things (things he’s hell bent and determined to pretend he doesn’t feel least he should give in to temptation) but she’ll settle contently in the knowledge that he’ll be her first and only in the sole facet of her love life that really matters.
**
Her favorite color at any given time fluctuates with the hunger she sees in his eyes. But deep within the recesses of her heart, in a corner where she hides a million unspeakable truths, her favorite color is stamped over everything (undeniable as it is forbidden). A peculiar shade of alluring honey that haunts her dreams (though he’s far from sweet) her heart does a wild stutter step whenever she glimpses a bobbing head of honey-blonde in the hallway. It’s not really a betrayal when Edward arches an eyebrow and smiles sweetly at her, thinking mistakenly that such a spasm is a direct result of his hand brushing softly against hers. But she feels a stab of guilt nonetheless, the knife twisting in deeper when he shoots Jasper a warning glance (stay away).
**
It is a betrayal when she consciously seeks him out; deliberately taking her own destiny into shaking hands. Edward means well (the road to hell is paved with good intentions) but she hates that he thinks Jasper a wild animal she must be protected from.
His amber eyes are warm and familiar and she sees her future reflected in them, bright and inviting despite the icy tingle of fear that winds its way down her spine. There is an undercurrent of darkness she chooses to completely disregard - believing that the Jasper before her and the Jasper of yesterday are two separate entities, each independent of the other. But believing in something doesn’t make it so. A delicate spider web of doubt and self loathing connect the two beings, bridging the gap between monster and man, and she could easily be the catalyst that brings the life he’s worked so hard to build crashing down around him.
A single drop of luscious red, life’s hope rushing through fragile veins, and the fairytale she’s deluded herself into falling for is over in a dangerous flash of tortured gold.
(This might be the end of the fairytale but it’s only the beginning of the story).
Pairing: Edward/Bella, Bella/Jasper
Rating: PG
Summary: She has a thing for boys who's lips never quite form perfect smiles.
Notes: This has been sitting on my computer for quite some time, taking up space and driving me crazy. I was going to delete is as a lost cause but I decided certain parts of it were salvageable. Lately there has been nothing but a huge black wall of despair where my inspiration should be. Originally one of those five things stories, it morphed into something completely unrecognizable. IDK. o_O
Fourth grade. Fistful of wildflowers torn up by their roots, she doesn’t know what to say when Andrew Dillon dumps them on her lap with a crooked smirk (she has a thing for boys who’s lips never quite form perfect smiles). Sneezing (quite violently) seems to be the only response she can generate when he asks her if she’ll go to the Valentines dance with him. Smiling sheepishly, she decides then and there that she really does like wildflowers better than daisy’s, and that blue (but only the incredible washed out shade of Andrew’s eyes) really is her favorite color after all.
Yes. The treacherous word tumbles off of her tongue before she can stop it. With someone of her natural grace it’s no wonder dancing has never been her forte. All the same, she accepts with only mild trepidation, her sense of longing, of wanting to belong, winning out over any rational thought of self perseverance.
**
The night air is cool on her face, almost glacial, and she hopes it’s not an omen (Titanic sized disasters are the one thing she has going for her most of the time). Fifteen minuets later, sniffling and waiting by the curbside, her light pink dress dyed crimson from the entire contents of a punch bowl, she decides she doesn’t like wildflowers after all.
**
Somehow, even after the punch bowl incident, she allows her mother talk her into signing up for ballet lessons (it’ll boost you’re confidence, hun). A mistake in the making, she hates to break her mother’s heart. She doesn’t exactly lie when she tells Edward she wasn’t very good because she wasn’t, but she glosses over the painful details with simple words hoping he’ll let it drop.
When her mother married her father, that was a mistake. When Bella broke all five mirrors in her dance studio, that was forty years bad luck. A smug I told you so never quite finds its way past the prickly lump in her throat when her mother tearfully writes the teacher a check to replace the damaged items.
**
Her first kiss was more sloppy than amazing. Breathtaking, but not in a particularly good way. Perhaps drowning would be a more adequate description now that she thinks about it - not that she like to dredge up such a memory if she can help it - but Edward’s kisses erase such disappointing memories and for a moment she wishes they really were the perfect couple of her daydreams (instead of the lion who almost ate the lamb). His kisses make her desire many things (things he’s hell bent and determined to pretend he doesn’t feel least he should give in to temptation) but she’ll settle contently in the knowledge that he’ll be her first and only in the sole facet of her love life that really matters.
**
Her favorite color at any given time fluctuates with the hunger she sees in his eyes. But deep within the recesses of her heart, in a corner where she hides a million unspeakable truths, her favorite color is stamped over everything (undeniable as it is forbidden). A peculiar shade of alluring honey that haunts her dreams (though he’s far from sweet) her heart does a wild stutter step whenever she glimpses a bobbing head of honey-blonde in the hallway. It’s not really a betrayal when Edward arches an eyebrow and smiles sweetly at her, thinking mistakenly that such a spasm is a direct result of his hand brushing softly against hers. But she feels a stab of guilt nonetheless, the knife twisting in deeper when he shoots Jasper a warning glance (stay away).
**
It is a betrayal when she consciously seeks him out; deliberately taking her own destiny into shaking hands. Edward means well (the road to hell is paved with good intentions) but she hates that he thinks Jasper a wild animal she must be protected from.
His amber eyes are warm and familiar and she sees her future reflected in them, bright and inviting despite the icy tingle of fear that winds its way down her spine. There is an undercurrent of darkness she chooses to completely disregard - believing that the Jasper before her and the Jasper of yesterday are two separate entities, each independent of the other. But believing in something doesn’t make it so. A delicate spider web of doubt and self loathing connect the two beings, bridging the gap between monster and man, and she could easily be the catalyst that brings the life he’s worked so hard to build crashing down around him.
A single drop of luscious red, life’s hope rushing through fragile veins, and the fairytale she’s deluded herself into falling for is over in a dangerous flash of tortured gold.
(This might be the end of the fairytale but it’s only the beginning of the story).