"I don't see them anymore, Jacob. I don't see their faces." He doesn't need to. He needs something, though, and it can't be her. She's an angel, to be put on a pedestal and worshipped. She has no place in this vast desire. Four-Shot. Jacob's POV.
Warning: Dark. Disturbing. Even for me. It has themes of sex, or actual sex in a non-graphic way, depending on how you see it. And bad words. And... well, he's in love with a seven-year-old, okay? Yeah, major BD spoilers. Jacob/Renesmee-ish. I'm a huge imprinting fan, but if you look at it right, it IS pretty weird, and kind of sad. And you know Nightrose, she can never resist an opportunity for angst. i didn't put this with my Jacob/Nessie series of one-shots 'cause those are all happy and cute and this is really, really, really dark.
3. Chapter 3
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Leah was a mistake. The others were wrong, but he didn’t have a choice. But Leah… that was just stupid.
Because she’s still in his pack, and she’s still slowly falling for him (he’s tried to ignore it all along) and he can’t run from her like he ran from the others.
It’s like gravity (she always thought that was the stupidest way to describe imprinting because it’s instantaneous and inevitable and huge and gravity works slowly and sometimes you don’t notice it at all), the way she’s pulled into him. She doesn’t fall for him, she falls to him, until one day she collapses in his arms.
It’s the end. She lands there… his desperate need has drawn her in (another familiar situation) and she can’t resist it.
The want, the emptiness. And this time he can read her mind and he does laugh and when she tries to bite him for that scorning of her he gently (so gently) explains.
“I fell for Bella because I fell into the abyss. The nothing in her eyes… like a black hole. I had to fill it somehow. And I tried so damn hard.”
“Yeah. Well, you sure didn’t. You weren’t enough, just like I’m not enough. Deal with it. Move on. Grow up, Jacob Black. You have an imprint now, the damn perfect better-than-anything-else-can-ever-be fucking forever love! Why do you need to get validation for the girl you had a crush on in high school? Huh? Why do you still care about what she thinks?”
“I don’t. I… I care what she thinks because she’s my best friend, Leah. Because I, rather unlike you, don’t enjoy causing the people I love pain just because they don’t love me back.”
She growls and leaps at him, phasing as she does so she’s a human woman, a naked human woman, her hands claws as she pulls at his fur and he has no choice but to change so he doesn’t tear her apart (one supernatural mauling is enough for any friendship and it would be so unfair if Emily got the guy and they both got the ruined faces), thus transforming himself into an equally nude human man.
She grins and hisses, “Renesmee.”
One word is all it takes to set the fiery longing back in action, with the picture of her perfect face and her soft smile and the curves of her new beautiful body flashing in the phasing flame red of the land behind his eyes.
He mindlessly swipes his hand at her like it’s still a brutal paw, but in these bodies it isn’t a wolf taking down a threat it’s just a man hitting a woman and she smiles again, that desperate smile like she’s beating him at a game he didn’t know he was playing and the last time he thought that with their shared mind she smiled that smile and said “Life’s a damn game, Jacob.”
He had no answer, because sometimes he thinks she might be right.
His next move is expected. She’s been anticipating it, because she knows Jake, and she knows men, and she wants it.
Sure, there’s the complication of their friendship and the other emotions she’s trying as hard as she can to ward away, but more than that there’s lust, on both their parts. Really, he can sense that without the imprint Leah might have been the natural path his after-Bella life would have taken, and she’s the one who understands him.
But Leah wants almost as viciously as Jake does. She shares his supernatural longing and she has her own desire. It’s been years now, ten years since Sam, and Leah may have become a bitch but she’s still got an acceptable level of virtue for modern society—Sam was the first, and the last, and she’s sick of this. She’s an adult woman and she’s allowed to have sex if it strikes her fancy.
“Jake,” she says, “don’t go tonight.”
“Presenting shut up, an act in three parts. Part one. You’re not the boss of me. Part two. I need to. Part three. None of your damn business.”
“You don’t need to go, Jacob,” she murmurs, and puts a hand on his shoulder. If they were wearing clothes, it would be little more than a gesture of friendly solidarity. In their current predicament, he gets it.
It takes him a very short time to give in. He isn’t sure he can make it to a city anyway, and he sure doesn’t want the Jenny thing to happen again. So he just does it.
In the dark, even with their werewolf sight, he looks enough like Sam. Dark eyes and dark skin and dark hair cropped short and rippling muscles, and he’s not gentle like her forever love was, but she doesn’t really care.
There’s her developing feelings for him, and more than that she can lie to herself and she’s whispering both names and he doesn’t even notice.
Leah looks nothing like Nessie, but if he only did this with women who looked like Nessie, he’d be drawing from a very limited pool.
Waist-length bronze curls, sparkling white skin, chocolate brown eyes, impossibly perfect features? Not exactly common traits.
And he’s trying to escape omnipresent thoughts of her. It’s his only hope for making it (nine more years, nine more years, just nine more years). This escape, this life, this fierce reality with its total absence of pretend—it’s all that gets him through.
She tries not to dwell on the way his voice sounds on her name, familiar in that he’s said it so many times, and yet strange because she had almost fooled herself into expecting that it would be the growl of Sam’s.
One more disappointment, but that’s the motif of her lifetime and she’s used to it by now.
In the morning Seth finds out, and he’s shocked and horrified (they never expected otherwise) and then he pretends it never happened (exactly according to plan) as do they.
Or at least they try.
But there’s a predictable awkwardness that clings to their little pack for weeks afterwards. And when Leah sleeps on the ground because she can’t bear to walk past Emily’s house on her way home, she says two names again, this time in her sleep.
Like he said, a mistake.