'Till the Morning Light, Twilight
'Till the Morning Light Jacob/Leah.
Twilight. 411. K+.
Notes: Title from Sampson by Regina Spektor. For kaiwynn for being supportive and altogether awesomesauce. Thanks for getting me to finishing this! (characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. No infringement intended)
Chocolate-brown eyes. Her eyes, she likes to think, because she’s only ever seen that softness in them when he’s with her-not even that bloodsucker’s idiot.
Shaggy-black hair. It’s always a touch shaggier since he overheard her thinking about how guys with long hair are her weakness.
Skin the color of her favorite, fluffiest towel at home-the one she’s had since she was four-and-a-half and that she only uses when she’s lonely (or when she wants him around-she uses it a lot more now).
A cocky grin-it’s a grin that always pisses her off. It makes her feel like he’s keeping something from her-like a cruel piece of gossip or a thought of hers he wasn’t supposed to hear.
Lips, round and pink and almost too full. They’re the reason she fell for him in the first place-she wasn’t able to look at them without imagining herself all over them, tracing them with her lips and fingers and tongue, whispering words that he could taste. She’s already kissed them now, though-plenty of times, in the way that can make a girl fall in love or lust or something in between. Those lips really are almost too full. Almost.
Of course, she isn’t really in love. Teenagers don’t fall in love-she’s said that since Day One (Day Two, she corrects herself-The Day After Sam). Teenagers just get attached (They really aren’t teenagers anymore, she thinks. This quirk in their genes has made them much, much more.).
Sometimes, she thinks she’s just second best-and maybe he is too. She’s second best to Bella fucking Cullen-the one who changed everything. She knows when he thinks about her, whether they’re wolves or not-he gets this sadness in his eyes that she just can’t describe. He looks so hurt, so vulnerable. Those are the times she pulls him closer to her and holds him, planting light kisses all over his face and begging his old vitality to bloom again, to resurface. Sometimes it does.
No one knows it, but she takes pride in this-her ability to comfort him in a way no one else can. It makes her feel important, useful. It’s like he’s her Jacob, and no one else’s-and she never really liked sharing anyway. Bella has a power over him like she’s a hammer and he’s a piece of glass-she can always break him. Leah’s different-like superglue, maybe-she’s always there to fix him.
Twilight. 411. K+.
Notes: Title from Sampson by Regina Spektor. For kaiwynn for being supportive and altogether awesomesauce. Thanks for getting me to finishing this! (characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. No infringement intended)
Chocolate-brown eyes. Her eyes, she likes to think, because she’s only ever seen that softness in them when he’s with her-not even that bloodsucker’s idiot.
Shaggy-black hair. It’s always a touch shaggier since he overheard her thinking about how guys with long hair are her weakness.
Skin the color of her favorite, fluffiest towel at home-the one she’s had since she was four-and-a-half and that she only uses when she’s lonely (or when she wants him around-she uses it a lot more now).
A cocky grin-it’s a grin that always pisses her off. It makes her feel like he’s keeping something from her-like a cruel piece of gossip or a thought of hers he wasn’t supposed to hear.
Lips, round and pink and almost too full. They’re the reason she fell for him in the first place-she wasn’t able to look at them without imagining herself all over them, tracing them with her lips and fingers and tongue, whispering words that he could taste. She’s already kissed them now, though-plenty of times, in the way that can make a girl fall in love or lust or something in between. Those lips really are almost too full. Almost.
Of course, she isn’t really in love. Teenagers don’t fall in love-she’s said that since Day One (Day Two, she corrects herself-The Day After Sam). Teenagers just get attached (They really aren’t teenagers anymore, she thinks. This quirk in their genes has made them much, much more.).
Sometimes, she thinks she’s just second best-and maybe he is too. She’s second best to Bella fucking Cullen-the one who changed everything. She knows when he thinks about her, whether they’re wolves or not-he gets this sadness in his eyes that she just can’t describe. He looks so hurt, so vulnerable. Those are the times she pulls him closer to her and holds him, planting light kisses all over his face and begging his old vitality to bloom again, to resurface. Sometimes it does.
No one knows it, but she takes pride in this-her ability to comfort him in a way no one else can. It makes her feel important, useful. It’s like he’s her Jacob, and no one else’s-and she never really liked sharing anyway. Bella has a power over him like she’s a hammer and he’s a piece of glass-she can always break him. Leah’s different-like superglue, maybe-she’s always there to fix him.