Warning: Rated Mature for violence, language, adult situations, etc… 18+
Disclaimer: I own nothing regarding the Twilight franchise or the initial making of these characters; I just like to make them human and dump them in angsty situations.
Everything Hourglass related and plotwise, belongs to hottygurl7 — as well as the ability to come up with words such as plotwise. ;) See you below.
"All along it was a fever
A cold sweat hot-headed believer
I threw my hands in the air, said, 'Show me something,'
He said, 'If you dare come a little closer'
Round and around, and around, and around we go
Oh now tell me now, tell me now, tell me now you know
Not really sure how to feel about it
Something in the way you move
Makes me feel like I can't live without you
It takes me all the way
I want you to stay"
— Stay, by: Rihanna
Jasper has decided to stay in Forks permanently, so he's been searching for employment.
He went to school for culinary arts, and he's right at home in a fully stocked kitchen, but Forks doesn't really have a lot of demand for an overly qualified chef.
He's toying with the idea of taking a loan out from our father to open up his own restaurant, and I know he'd succeed, but I can't help feel a little guilty for keeping him here.
He should be showing off his talent someplace where he'll be recognized for what he does, instead he's here in po-dunk Forks, Washington.
Being pregnant seems to have unleashed a flood of guilt-ridden feelings inside of me. Maggie says it's normal for me to be going through this as well, but I hate it. I hate feeling guilty over things most people don't bat an eyelash at. And I hate feeling like I have to tiptoe around my best friend's feelings.
Bella isn't the one who was beaten, raped, left for dead, and then ended up pregnant. I am. Half of the time, I want to slap her, and the other half, I feel so fucking guilty for feeling that way that I want to scream, cry, throw my arms around her and beg her to forgive me for thinking such things.
Being pregnant stinks.
Flipping through the channels, I try to find something to occupy my frazzled mind and distract me as I spend a few hours alone in the house. Jasper is out looking for job opportunities, Charlie's at work, and Bella had errands to run. It's the first time I've been alone in the house for more than a half hour since I've moved in here, and to say I wasn't a slight bit nervous would be a lie.
Bella's paranoia is definitely rubbing off on me.
I settle into a comedy on one of the movie channels, and a couple of minutes later, the doorbell rings. My hands tremble and I instinctively place one over my stomach as I make my way to the door hesitantly. I'm immediately relieved when I see Emmett's large frame on the other side of the door, and I open it quickly, inviting him inside.
"Hey, sorry to just barge in here, but I heard everyone was busy today and thought you might like a little company?" He seems shy, and it's quite endearing to see such a loud, large, boisterous man seem so timid.
"I'd love that. Thank you," I say with a smile and wave my hand for him to come further into the house.
Instead of going into the living room, he makes his way into the kitchen and deposits a couple of grocery bags onto the kitchen table.
"I brought snacks," he says with a dimpled grin.
This is just one of the reasons why Emmett is such a great guy, he's always carrying around something delicious—and he's not so, so serious all of the time. He can be the biggest goofball and not have a care in the world if anyone sees him that way. He's not some big macho asshole, and he doesn't feel like he needs to prove anything to anyone. He just likes to make the people around him happy.
He's the polar opposite of Royce.
I try to shake my head of the swoon-worthy thoughts and I clear my throat nervously.
"Sounds great, Emmett. What all do you have in there?" I ask as I peer into one of the overloaded bags.
"The usual; chips, peanut butter, Oreos, Cheeto's, popcorn, juice, hot cocoa, bananas, brownies, chocolate chip cookies, Pop-Tarts, Cheez-It's, Fig Newtons, and stuff to make S'mores." He turns to me with a sheepish grin.
"Holy shit! Why did you bring so much stuff? And how did you fit it all into these bags?" I move closer to the table and begin rifling through the bags in amazement.
"Pregnant ladies like snacks," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And I have a few more bags out in the car." He grins and runs back outside for the rest of the stuff, returning with four more bags of goodies.
"You're kind of amazing. Has anyone ever told you that?" I'm smiling so big, my face hurts a little.
"All the time," he jokes with a smile and wraps me in a gentle, one-armed hug.
Being in close contact with Emmett tugs at my heart-strings a little. I think back to a couple months ago when I first saw him, I was all doped up on medicine, but from his size and unfamiliarity, I was sure he was one of Royce's minions—sent to finish me off.
I couldn't have been more wrong or misguided. I know it was a rational fear at the time, but now when I look at Emmett, I see so much love and kindness. I'd also be lying if I said I wasn't attracted to him.
He's firm and thick in all the right places, his dimpled cheeks and soft-clefted chin are to die for, and his dark brown hair is always in a slightly curly disarray. He looks more like a GI Joe than an EMT, and he's everything I never knew I wanted. Yet, I find myself inexplicably drawn to him, to his warmth. Emmett is his own massive ray of sunshine, shining on others and bathing them in happiness.
I'm the moth, and he's the flame.
. . . . . . .
"Oh, God, that feels so good," I whimper as he kneads his thick, strong fingers into my skin. I hiss when he strokes a particularly sensitive spot, and he softens his touch before moving onto another spot and pressing hard again.
When he finishes, he gently places my feet into his lap and I relax backwards with an exaggerated sigh.
"That was amazing!" I exclaim, dazed.
He chuckles and his face turns a lovely shade of pink, even staining the tips of his ears.
Bashful is a good look on him.
"Thank you for the foot-rub, Emmett." I smile and nudge his thigh with my right foot.
He nods with another shy smile and changes the subject. "Have you thought of any names yet?" he asks quietly, tilting his head toward my still fairly flat abdomen.
I shake my head. "No. It's still really early yet, and I don't want to jinx anything," I reply cautiously, my hand instinctively settling against my middle.
"Makes sense." He nods, and then he tries to lighten the mood. "You should totally name him or her after me." His cheesy grin is infectious, and even though I know he's joking—my heart still dances a little in my chest at his playful suggestion.
"I'll think about it," I respond with a smile of my own and wiggle my feet in his lap, silently asking for another massage.
"Woman! My hands are half-cramped from the last thirty minutes of rubbing. I think it's your turn to rub me," he quips and waggles his eyebrows suggestively, looking like a loon.
"While the idea of rubbing your probably stinky, sweaty feet is absolutely on my 'to do in the near future list' I can't help but notice I'm the one who was just stuffed to the brim with sweets, and also has a bun in the oven, so without further ado," I quip and wiggle my feet again with a giggle.
He gives me a huge goofy grin as his strong, but warm hands begin massaging my feet again. My eyes flutter closed and I feel myself slowly drifting off to sleep, relaxed and more content than I've been in a long time.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Reviews = Love