The Twilight 25 by americnxidiot

The Twilight Twenty-Five Prompt: vivid Pen name:
americnxidiot Pairing: Jasper/Alice Rating: T

* ~ * ~ *

For an eternity, he had existed in a world of grays.

The faint human memories were mechanical and violent, snapshots of
life and death in the war-torn south. And though the change had
sharpened his mind, it had done nothing for its vivacity.

In the protection of night, he tracked young vampires.

In the protection of shadows, he let Maria work his body into a lust-
filled frenzy, venom pulsing false heat through his veins.

Still, all was gray.

Then she approached him with four simple words, and he noticed color
for the first time.

Her eyes were golden.

Prompt: jealousy Pen name: americnxidiot Pairing:
Edward/Bella Rating: M

* ~ * ~ *

The night air is crisp with early winter frigidity. The moon wanes
crescent, leaving the ground around me dark. Plus, Forks is sheathed
in heavy clouds that shield me from almost all natural light.

It is the perfect atmosphere for a predator.

Around me, the small town sleeps. A few animals crunch leaves or
ruffle feathers while they doze in the brush. The dreams of humans
hum gently around me, more pictures than coherent thoughts.

And outside of Bella Swan's house, a tree sits alone, the bark coated in
a light frost that clings to its ridges.

I take swift, creeping steps across her lawn. No footprints are left in
my wake. The air remains unclouded around my exhales. My hand

grabs a branch and I can't feel the cold. All are reminders of what I
am. What I am not.

I am a creature of legend, a monster that haunts the minds of
innocents while they sleep. The fact that I'm here only confirms that.

Her blood - her saccharine, heavenly, drugging blood - pushes loudly
through her veins. I can hear each valve as it lubs and dubs, and the
whoosh as it cycles throughout her petite body. The closed window
doesn't do much to dim its potency.

And yet, that's not why I'm here. Fuck, I wish that was why I was
here. It would be so much easier to handle.

If my fascination with the girl ended with her blood, there would be
two clear endings to this strange situation.

Her pale skin flutters like paper with each heartbeat, and that is how it
would feel to my fingers. She is so fragile. In less than a second, I
could be through her window, oozing skin impaled on my sharp teeth.
Dragging gulps would cascade down my throat until she is cold and I
am more fulfilled than I've ever been in my life.

Or I could admit defeat, separate myself from this torture and leave
her to her life. I have spent eighty years practicing control over my
nature; there is no point in slipping up now. She would grow old as
humans do, and I would continue with my meaningless existence.

But I can't do it. I can't stay away. This isn't about her blood anymore.

Alice would say she knows why I am here, shimmying up the lone tree
to get a glimpse of her face as she tosses and turns. I refuse to even
acknowledge Alice's opinion on the matter. She can't be right. It's
absolutely absurd that I can… love at all, let alone a human whom I
barely know. It's not in my nature.

And yet… here I sit, just like every night for the last week.

Bella is not yet asleep, her heart rate too high and her breaths too
unsteady. Through the window, I see her laying prostrate on her
unmade bed. A book rests on her lap - Persuasion - which seems far
too stiff for a girl of her spirit. It's also pretty clear that she's read it
before. But her eyes are unmistakably bright as she scans over the
worn pages.

I don't approach her, though the pull is certainly there. The room
would be drenched in her scent. I could sit in the empty rocking chair
and enjoy the way her heart raced when I smile at her. But I have yet
to sink that low. Watching her without her knowledge is bad enough.
She is so innocent, and I'm no better than a depraved stalker.

I'm captivated by her expressions. Something crosses her mind,
making her eyes slightly unfocused. She is no longer paying attention
to her book. My hand slides into up into my hair, and I pull. I need to
know what she is thinking. That void alone is enough to drive me
insane with curiosity.

Bella carefully folds down the corner of her current page, recreasing a
line that she'd formerly attempted to smooth out, and then snaps the
book shut. She sets it sloppily on her nightstand and switches off her
light, lying down as if she were preparing to sleep.

But she doesn't sleep.

Something is off.

Instead of curling up her slim legs and wriggling under her blankets
like she did on other nights, she just stays still above the covers. Her
shorts reveal an expanse of skin I haven't seen before. Her ratty shirt
is thin enough that I can make out the outline of her flat stomach, her
waist, her breasts. My pointless breaths come slightly quicker, and I
feel a pleasant ache in my lower stomach as I watch her.
She's…beautiful. God, I'm disgusting.

Bella lifts a hand from her stomach to feel around her collarbone. Her
fingers dust along her skin, just slipping below the neckline of her
shirt. The movement is so casual and unthinking, just a simple brush
of skin against skin. I ache to be able to touch her like that.

And I can't even berate myself for that thought. I will flog myself later.
Right now, I can only watch in awe. I'm in awe of her.

Suddenly her hands change course. Her thumb traces a slow line from
her neck to her navel, dipping between her now pert breasts, and then
back up again. She repeats the cycle one more time, this time circling
over her right nipple on the way up. Her stomach clenches slightly
when her nails grazes the erect flesh, and I can't contain my gasp.

Bella Swan is touching herself, and I'm watching.

I need to look away. This is possibly the most despicable thing I've
ever done, but I am hypnotized by her. She draws me in like no one
else.

Her legs fall barely apart as she touches her breast in earnest. A small,
contented sigh escapes her mouth, and I have never been so envious
of a hand in my life. I feel as if I am meant to possess her, to claim
her body and blood. She should be mine, even if she never will be.

Right now it's hard to remember that.

Bella brushes two fingers along her lips, my lips, and moistens the tips
with a quick flick of her pink tongue. One hand continues to softly
knead her breast while the other moves purposefully down her
stomach. She pauses at the hem of her shorts, tracing along the
smooth skin with a cautious hand, and then moves beneath the fabric.
Her legs part wider, her hips scoot down the bed, and the most
beautiful noise of pleasure echos around the still space.

She is perfection.

Sheer perfection, and it feels like my heart is coming to life again with
each movement of her hands. My pants stretch tightly from the visual
stimulation. I am breathing embarrassingly loud, barely in control of
my own body anymore. After eighty-seven years of drifting along, I
am finally waking up.

Mine, my body screams.

This completely foreign sensation takes over me, anger and sorrow
and arousal and desperate need, and it nearly makes me shake with
its intensity. Jealousy, something I never expected to feel.

I can't have her, I can't. And I know this. We are worlds apart. If I
tried to feel her and lost control even for a second, she could be
crushed, broken, killed by my hand. It's not worth the risk. She will
never be mine to hold.

But god, do I want her to be. I can't deny it any longer.

I should be the one touching her, drawing quiet moans from her lips
while her body quivers below me. I should place kiss after crushing
kiss on her lips, completely swept away by the feel of her warm flesh.
We should move together as lovers do, pushing and grasping deep into
the night.

It's so easy to get caught up in the fantasy. I can imagine that I am on
the other side of that window with her, that I belong in her bed, in her
life… but I don't.

I never will.

A feeling of cold acceptance washes over me, replacing passion with a
serious sadness. The air is punctuated with Bella's breathy moans as
she squirms on the bed, but I don't respond as I did earlier. Bella is
the one bringing herself pleasure, not me. She will grow and live.
Other men will see her as I do now, and she will let them.

The vampire world and the human world will continue to parallel
without intersection.

And I will be alone for the rest of eternity.

Suddenly, Bella gasps sharply as her legs begin to shake, her back
arching off the mattress and her mouth parting with ecstasy.

Her quiet voice forms coherent words for the first time all night...

"Oh god, Edward."

...and my frozen heart stops again.

Prompt: awkward Pen name: americnxidiot Pairing:
Edward/Bella Rating: M

* ~ * ~ *

We ran up to his room together, laughing quietly and touching often. I
couldn't seem to stop myself from reaching under his arms and
dragging my nails down his chest, even though it made maneuvering
the stairs much more difficult. He groaned when I scratched over his
nipples, and I found myself pressed against the wall in a flash, his
mouth pressing frantically against my own.

I kissed him back excitedly for a few seconds, then pushed him away
with my own groan.

"Bedroom. Now."

Edward tried to reach for my hand, but just ended up grabbing my

wrist, and lead us up the last five stairs. He nearly jogged to the first
door on the left before throwing it open and pulling me inside.

I met Edward six months ago in my first week of classes at University
of Washington. Despite my tendency to trip over my own feet, I had
tried to figure out my schedule while walking, only to slam directly into
the back of a tall student. My bag fell to the floor, a few pens clanking
loudly against the linoleum. He turned around to see if I was okay, and
that was it. I was a lost cause the second I saw his smile. It was a
little pathetic actually.

I guess you could say we were still in our honeymoon phase, or maybe
we were just horny college kids, but I couldn't seem to get enough of
him. After eating lunch together, complete with pizza and lots of
excessive flirting, we'd practically run back to the house he shared
with his brothers.

Was it weird to want him so much now when we'd had sex just that
morning? Maybe. But then Edward locked the door behind me, yanked
off my shirt, and attached his lips to my neck, and I really couldn't
give a damn.

My hands worked open the button of his jeans, pushing the fabric over
his hips and becoming momentarily distracted by the way his ass
clenched beneath my fingers.

"Uhh.. Bella?" he asked/moaned against my bare collarbone, his hands
reaching behind to unclasp my bra. He'd gotten so good at that.

"Yeah?"

"I want to try something."

"Oh?" I asked hesitantly, holding onto him with a little less
enthusiasm.

Our sex life had always been pretty standard- mind-numbingly
fantastic, but nothing crazy. Suddenly all of these images flashed
behind my eyes, each scarier than the next. Role play, whips and
chains, did he want to lick my toes? Oh my god, was my boyfriend
secretly a sexual deviant?

"Bella?"

"Hm?" I glanced up at Edward, who was giving me a funny look.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, totally okay. Come here." I slid my hand from his chest to his
neck, pulling his eager mouth back to mine. I knew Edward incredibly
well after this much time together. If he started to do something that
made me uncomfortable, I could always just ask him to stop.

He pulled me away from the door and had me on the bed a second
later. His toned body felt perfect over mine, and I moaned loudly when
his large hands slid up my body to cup my breasts.

"Bella," he groaned. "You feel so good in my hands." I arched my
chest up against his fingers, twining my own hands into his messy hair
and pulling his mouth to mine again. He carefully pinched and pulled
at the flesh, and I shamelessly ground my hips up into his.

Edward moved his mouth from my lips down to my ear, sucking gently
on the lobe and whispering, "Does it feel good when I touch your
nipples like this?"

"Uh… yeah?" I was pretty much throwing myself at him right now, how
could he doubt that I liked it?

"Say it," he demanded firmly.

"What? Edward…"

"Please?"

I stiffened a little, my hands still planted in his hair. Is this what he
wanted to try, dirty talk? The idea really wasn't that appealing to me,
a little reminiscent of a porno movie I'd watched with my friends when
I was sixteen. But if this was what Edward wanted… I loved him, so I
could do this. Right?

Taking a deep breathe, I tried to repeat what he said. "It feels good…
when you touch… my nipples?" I barely made it through the phrase
without giggling. I tended to have the maturity of a teenage boy, so
this was really uncomfortable.

Edward moaned against my skin, quickly shoving down my jeans and
tossing them onto the floor before moving over me again. His tented
boxers ground against me, and I forgot all about the earlier
awkwardness. That was, until Edward started talking again.

"You sound so sexy when you moan like that," he groaned, running his
hands under my ass and licking at the hollow of my neck. "It's like
you're begging for my tongue."

I felt more laughter building in my throat, and just managed to fight it
off. You're doing this for Edward… you're doing this for Edward… I
thought to myself repeatedly. The dirty talking kind of felt like he was
narrating, and that wasn't sexy at all. But again, this was for him. He
did so much for me.

Determined to help him do this, I decided to say something honest
and easy.

"I love the way you kiss me."

His mouth moved back to mine as soon as I finished, and I let myself
get lost in the feel of his lips, his tongue. One of his hands moved
between us, slipping into my underwear and I sighed in pleasurable
relief. I could handle this as long as he didn't say something like -

"I can't wait to be inside your hot, wet pussy."

Oh no.

"It's always so tight around my hard cock."

A strangled, kind of choking sound came out of my throat at the sound
of my Edward, my loving and chivalrous and charming Edward, saying
the word cock. His lips were wet and perfect against my neck, but then
I thought about him saying cock again, and I just couldn't contain my
laughter any longer.

I pushed against Edward's chest until he was on his back and then
buried my surely red face in his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," I managed to choke out between my giggles. "I can't
do this." I felt horrible for ruining the moment and even worse for
probably hurting his feelings, but I couldn't help it.

He was quiet for a few seconds but then admitted, "Yeah, you're right.
It's too weird." And then he was cracking up with me. His arms
tightened around my shoulders, his warm laughter fluttering my hair.
Thank god I wasn't the only one who had found that strange.

After a few minutes I regained my composure and lifted my head to

smile at him. I kissed him quickly, and then cupped his cheek.

"I love you, Edward, but where the hell did that come from?"

"Uhh," he said, scratching his head nervously, "I was talking to my
brothers…"

"Oh god," I groaned and pressed my palm to my forehead.

Edward smoothed my hair absentmindedly and continued. "Well let's
just say Em and Jasper are definitely more… outrageous than we are,
and I didn't want you to think I was boring. I thought I'd try to be
exciting for you. I don't know."

My lips turned down into a frown. Running a hand through my tangled
hair, I cautiously asked him, "Edward, are you bored with our sex
life?"

"Fuck no," he answered a little too loudly.

I laughed, both amused and pretty damn relieved at his instant
response. "Me neither."

Edward looked at me with love in his eyes and placed a hand on either
side of my face. "You're amazing, Bella."

I smiled, leaning forward to kiss him chastely. The comfortable feeling
of his mouth against mine reminded me of our current state of dress,
and I giggled in anticipation. Moving slowly, I swung my leg over his
hips to straddle his lap. His eyes widened, his hands settling on my
waist.

"Now, speaking of our sex life…"

"You read my mind," he groaned and sat up slightly to capture my lips
again.

Prompt: worship
Pen name: americnxidiot
Pairing: Edward/Bella
Rating: M

* ~ * ~ *

If God existed, he was never meant for me.

Carlisle and I had exhausted the topic after my prodigal return, but I
knew the truth. Heaven was reserved for the righteous and good.

So I found something new to worship.

Her body was my altar, eagerly claiming my devotion as she writhed
below me. Flushed skin warming me with its heat, heels against my
back, hair spread wild like a halo. The warm island air left her slick
with sweat and glowing in the moonlight- a gasping angel, craving my
touch.

Let the righteous have heaven.

I had my wife.

Prompt: plea Pen name: americnxidiot Pairing:
Edward/Bella Rating: T (or M? I'm not sure)

* ~ * ~ *

Six-year-old Bella Swan jogged toward the playground, caught her toe
on a crack in the pavement, and dropped her lunch. The bag split
open. Her juice box leaked sadly onto the "3" from the hopscotch court
while her apple rolled across the blacktop into the wet grass. She
stared for a minute at the carnage, and then she began to cry.

A small boy heard her sniffles and looked up from his sandwich. He
frowned when he saw her spoiled food and wet cheeks. He set his
sandwich on top of his brown paper bag then walked over to the girl,
picking up her apple on the way. After all, his mom had made him
promise to be nice to his classmates.

"What happened?" he asked when he reached her.

Her wide, red eyes peered up at him and she sniffled again. "I dropped
it."

"Want some of my sandwich?"

She looked down at her squishy PB&J, the dirty apple in his hand, the
small puddle of juice. She looked back to the boy and nodded, bending
down to grab an intact packet of fruit snacks before following him to
his lunch. The two sat down on the bench together, swinging their legs

and munching on ham and cheese.

"My name is Edward," he said between bites of food, a small gap in his
teeth making him lisp slightly. He handed her his juice box. She gave
him a fruit snack.

"I'm Bella."

They ate together quietly for several minutes, passing the juice back
and forth and shoving sticky fingers into the small bag of snacks. After
her last bite, Bella turned to really look at Edward. His glasses were
too big for his head and kept sliding down his nose. Plus, his hair was
the color of a penny. It made her smile. So she made a decision.

"Can we be friends?" she asked.

"Sure," Edward said with a shrug.

"Best friends?"

Edward tapped his chin for a second, getting a tiny bit of mustard on
his skin before answering, "Okay."

Bella scrunched her nose. She'd never had a best friend before and
part of her worried that Edward didn't mean it. So she extended her
hand, putting out her pinky in the most sacred of gestures. "Promise
you'll never leave me?"

"I promise," he answered, locking his pinky with hers. With his other
hand he took the last bite of his sandwich and wiped his mouth on his
sleeve. "I'm done eating now. Let's go play tag."

* ~ * ~ *

Thirteen-year-old Edward Cullen groaned in frustration, falling
backward dramatically onto his living room couch. The school's worn
copy of Rascal tumbled to the floor and the frayed binding tore slightly
upon impact.

"It's really not that bad, Edward," Bella sighed from the recliner.

He turned his head to scowl at her. "I'm thirteen years old. They
shouldn't be able to tell me what to do anymore." The silver sparkle of
his braces made his face much less intimidating.

Bella giggled quietly over her math homework, her pencil tapping over

a particularly difficult problem. "Well, I liked the book," she mumbled,
grinning wider when Edward scoffed.

"That's because you read for fun." The end of the sentence sounded
like an offense, but he continued before she could counter. "And I
know, I know, I like playing the piano."

Edward scooped the book off the floor again and tried to read, but was
bored within a paragraph. He put his bookmark on the page and
snapped it shut, turning back to Bella again. He felt bad for distracting
her from her homework... but he didn't really feel bad.

"So, what are we doing this weekend?"

Bella blushed brightly when she thought of her plans and leaned
forward more over her homework. "Nothing," she squeaked.

Edward sat up straighter on the couch. "You're lying."

"No I'm not."

"Your face is all red."

"No it's not!"

"Bella, come on," Edward groaned, dropping his hands in his lap. "Tell
me what you're doing tomorrow."

"Well…" she drawled out. "Mikeaskedmetogotothemovies." She said
the word on a quick breath, and Edward's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Huh?"

"Mike asked me to go to the movies with him tomorrow."

"Mike Newton?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

A strange feeling settled in Edward's stomach and he crossed his arms
across his chest. Bella glanced up at him and frowned. She didn't know
why he was upset. She never meant to hurt his feelings.

Setting her pencil down, she said, "You'll still be my best friend. Mike

will just be my… boyfriend." She blushed again at the word, both
excited and terrified of that ominous term. When Edward didn't say
anything, she picked up her pencil and started working again, a sad
look on her face.

Bella continued to do her homework in silence while Edward watched
her with a small frown. His stomach still felt uneasy at the thought of
Bella going on dates, having her own boyfriend, doing things without
him. He didn't know why he felt that way, and that was even more
unsettling. But before he'd gotten quiet, she seemed almost happy
about it, if a bit embarrassed and terrified. It wasn't fair for him to ruin
this for her. He needed to break the tension.

"At least I got to be your first kiss," he muttered with a smile,
preparing himself for her reaction. It was the same every time.

"Ew! Edward, don't talk about that." She shuddered, thinking of the
awkward incident last year when they'd kissed during a game of truth
or dare. The combination of her outburst and his own laughter did it.
The funny feeling in his stomach was gone, and Edward was glad to be
rid of it. For a minute he almost felt uncomfortable around Bella. He
didn't like it.

This was a good thing. Plus, if Bella dated Mike, he could ask Jessica
Stanley to go on a double date. She had really nice hair, and Edward
liked her well enough. But still, the part of him that needed Bella's
friendship worried about her… and about them.

"Promise you'll never leave me?" he asked with a smile, holding his
hand out with the standard extended pinky. The silly question had
become a joke between them over the years, a reminder of how they
had met and also of what they meant to one another.

"I promise," she laughed, looping her pinky through his. He squeezed
her finger for a second and then let go, turning regretfully back to his
book.

* ~ * ~ *

Seventeen-year-old Edward Cullen tapped his fingers on his desk,
watching the second hand move agonizingly slowly around the clock.
His English teacher rambled on about something, even though no one
was paying attention, and Edward glanced at the board to make sure
he wasn't missing anything important.

Finally, the bell sounded, signaling the end of the class and the day.
He shrugged his backpack onto his shoulder and bolted for the door.
He smiled when he saw that familiar face waiting for him outside the
door. The two bumped shoulders and talked about their days as they
walked to his car.

His parents had called it a small miracle that he continued to be such
good friends with Bella, even as classes and social groups tried to pull
them apart. Edward didn't see the big deal. There was no life without
Bella, and there never had been. It was as simple as that. For over ten
years, Bella had been the one he turned to when he needed… needed
advice, a laugh, a friend.

They had stayed close when Edward got contacts and lost his braces,
and girls started noticing his appeal. They were friends when Bella
found her first boyfriend in Mike Newton and suffered her first
heartbreak two weeks later during a couples skate. They continued
their silly tradition of promises and pinky swears, even when Bella
filled out at age fifteen and began attracting attention from the boys in
their class… including Edward.

There was no point in denying it. Bella was beautiful, and he couldn't
help the way his heart beat quicker when she smiled at him or when
she blushed at his compliments. But he could never risk really thinking
about her like that. She was too important.

Edward dropped Bella off at her house, and he waved sadly when she
ran for the door. He had different plans tonight with different friends,
but that didn't make him miss Bella any less when she wasn't around.
Edward cringed to himself at that thought; if he told his friends he had
thought something like that, they would call him a pussy. In a way, he
figured he was.

Three hours later, Edward was out the door and off to meet his friends
at the diner. Emmett and Jasper were fun guys. He had met them two
years ago on the track team, and they had been good friends ever
since. Of course, no one could replace Bella, but it was great to have
friends who were guys.

The waitress brought their food over, giggling happily when Jasper
smiled at her. She set an extra order of fries next to his plate with a
shy grin before moving quickly back toward the kitchen.

Emmett shook his head judgmentally. "You have a girlfriend, dude. For

shame."

"Alice knows I do it."

Emmett's eyes widened. "How does she not care?" he asked loudly,
probably thinking of what Rosalie would do if he flirted with other girls.

Jasper shrugged, tossing a french fry into his mouth. "It gets me free
food."

A vibration in Edward's pocket drew his attention away from the
bizarre conversation, and he reached a hand in to retrieve his phone.
He flipped it open to find a text from Bella.

Can you come over?

That was unusual. Bella knew he had plans, and he'd assumed she
would either be down at the reservation or with other friends tonight.
He quickly typed a message back and hit send.

Of course. Is everything okay?

His phone buzzed again only thirty seconds later.

Please.

He was out of his seat right away. He tossed ten dollars onto the table
to cover his burger, apologizing to Emmett and Jasper for the quick
exit, and headed to his car.

The drive to Bella's seemed to take forever. He was held up at every
red light he passed, his foot tapping anxiously against the gas and his
tires screeching against the pavement once it finally turned green. He
pulled into Bella's driveway with a quick turn, a little surprised to see
that the cruiser wasn't there. He jumped out of his car, frowning when
he actually looked at the house. All of the lights were off. It was
almost as if no one was home.

Walking up the porch steps, he knocked once on the door and then
reached for the doorknob. It was unlocked. He knew Chief Swan never
left the house open. He felt decidedly more anxious, not sure what was
going on here, but knowing it was something bad. Without anymore
thought, he entered the house. He needed to get to her.

"Bella?"

His cautious voice echoed into the dark foyer, and he worried more
when no one answered. He knew Bella was home; her truck was
parked at the curb. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he pressed
the green call button and held the receiver to his ear.

Bach's Fugue in D Minor rang loudly from the living room, startling
him. He flipped his phone shut, stepping into the dark space just as
the ringtone cut off.

"Bella?" he asked again. Then he saw her small form on the couch and
his heart broke. "Oh, Bella." She was curled up with her head on the
armrest, her knees pulled close to her chest and a blanket covering
her feet. The dim moonlight showed the tears on her cheeks. Edward
knelt down beside her and brushed the hair away from her face.
"What's wrong?"

"The answering machine," she whispered. Her voice was cracked and
weary, and it took every bit of willpower he had to leave her side even
for a few minutes.

He pushed her hair back once again, then stepped over to the blinking
machine. He pressed the button, frowning when a familiar man's voice
played from the small speaker.

"Hey, Bella. It's Billy Black. I need you to call me the minute you hear
this. I called the school, but it had already dismissed for the day," the
voice on the machine paused for a minute. "Listen, something
happened today when Charlie was on duty. The doctors think he'll be
okay, but we need you to come down to the hospital as soon as
possible. Jake can give you a ride if you need one. Okay. Call me."

His mind was blank. He could barely process what he had just heard.
All he could really think about was Bella, who had started crying softly
again once the message stopped. The sound of her shaky breaths
awoke something in him. He needed to comfort her.

Two quick steps and Edward was at the couch, lifting Bella up into a
seated position. She protested quietly for a minute until she realized
what he was doing. He settled himself on the sofa, leaning against the
armrest, and then pulled her onto his lap. He was a little worried that
this was too much or that he would make her uncomfortable, but
Bella's reaction surprised him.

She clung to him immediately, the tears falling harder against his t-

shirt. Her head burrowed into his chest, and her legs curled up again,
bringing them closer together. The position was more intimate than
any they'd ever been in before. He felt a nervous energy in his
posture, something uneasy but very pleasant, and all he could do was
hold her tighter and hope she didn't sense the unexpected change.

"What happened?" he asked when she'd calmed down.

"There was a break-in. The guy pushed my dad out of the way and he
hit his head really hard against the countertop." She paused to sniffle,
and Edward pulled her ear closer to his chest. "He's fine, really. They
think it's a concussion, so they're going to keep him overnight. He
made me go home though. Jake drove me home an hour ago."

Edward understood. "Charlie's a proud man. He probably just didn't
want you to see him like that. I'm really glad he's all right though."

"I was so scared," she whispered against his chest. Edward didn't
know what to say. He rested his chin atop her head, hoping that this
was enough for now.

Bella was quiet for a while after that. Her arm occasionally tightened
around his waist, the only proof apart from her quiet sniffles that she
was even awake. Edward ran his hand up and down her back, over her
arms, through her hair, doing what he could to make her feel better.

"Edward?" she asked softly several minutes later.

"Yeah?"

Bella sat up straighter in his lap, and his chest felt cold from her
absence. Her hair was messy from his fingers. He would have smiled
at that, but her expression was so serious. She glanced down at her
hands nervously before lifting her hand between them, her pinky
extended. "Promise you'll never leave me?"

He sighed sadly at the desperation in her voice. This had always been
a joke in the past, but suddenly it wasn't very funny. She seemed so
alone. He never wanted her to feel that way.

"Bella…"

"Promise me," she whispered firmly, afraid the tears would shake her
voice if she spoke any louder. She turned her head and looked into his
eyes, needing the validation that he was here for her.

Edward stared down at his best friend, his heart breaking for her
family and his pulse racing because she was so vulnerable in his arms.
Bella smelled amazing, coconut and peach, probably from her
shampoo. Her brown eyes were too red, her skin splotchy from hours
of crying, and she was still so beautiful. Her face had thinned out as
she grew up. Her lips were full and red where she had bitten them, the
chapped skin so familiar to him after all these years.

Slowly, and watching her face as he did it, Edward slid his hand
against Bella's, touching all her fingers before linking their pinkies
together. Something changed for Edward in that moment. She was so
warm, so close to him. She was the most important person in his life.
She made him feel significant, even when he was at his lowest. She
made him smile regardless of his mood. She listened when he needed
to vent. She was just… everything, and he didn't think he could deny it
any longer.

So he didn't.

Using his hold on her hand to bring her closer, he pressed his lips to
hers with more force than he intended. The years of denying himself of
this had made him too eager. Bella instantly froze underneath him,
and he felt so stupid for pushing things right now. He started to pull
away, but Bella leaned closer, tentatively pushing her warm lips back
against his. Edward slowly mirrored the movement, pulling her bottom
lip between his… and then he was just kissing her, as if this was the
way things were supposed to be.

Their mouths moved together slowly and seriously. Their hands stayed
linked between them, but her other hand slid behind his neck, holding
his face against hers. His hair was so soft between her fingers, and
Bella almost had to break the kiss to smile. She had never expected
something like this to happen, but it hadn't stopped her from hoping.
For the moment, she allowed everything else to slip away- her worry
for her father, the stress over his condition and the hurt that he'd
forced her to leave the hospital. Right now, all that mattered was that
her best friend was kissing her like he meant it, and she could feel him
everywhere.

Eventually they broke apart, both breathing heavily. Edward allowed
his eyes to open for a brief moment, and the sight made his stomach
twist excitedly again. She had twisted in his lap during their kiss and
was now straddling his legs. Her eyes were shut, but a small smile
pulled at her lips and a light blush brightened her face. Leaning

forward, he pressed his forehead against hers. His thumb traced over
her warm cheek and he said the only thing that came to mind.

"I promise."

Prompt: sour Pen name: americnxidiot Pairing: Jacob/Bella Rating:
T

* ~ * ~ *

"I love you, Jake," she used to say. "You're my best friend in the whole
world."

She would smile and lean her head against my much bigger shoulder.
Her hair was always so soft. I would sift the strands through my
fingers when she wasn't paying attention.

That was back when everything was easy. When it was just us, before
he moved into town and ruined everything that mattered to me.

Bella would bounce in the passenger seat of her dad's cruiser as they
pulled up to our house. I knew because I was always outside the
garage waiting for her. Charlie would park the car and go inside to
watch television with Dad, then Bella would hug me and laugh and
captivate me with a smile. She would tell me stories while I worked on
my car. It was perfect.

Bella was just so different than all of my other friends. She was quiet.
She didn't feel the need to yell or shout when she got excited, like Quil
and Embry. She got along with my boys but wasn't a bitch, like Leah.
Hell, even my sisters liked her, and they didn't like anyone. We were
just compatible.

I knew even then that she didn't feel the same about me that I did
about her, but I didn't care. We were still young. We had all the time
in the world to figure it out. And until she realized how perfect we
would be, I could get by on her friendly "I love yous" and the feel of
her skinny arms wrapped tightly around my neck. Patience is a virtue
and other cliché crap like that.

Everything was so great and on the right track that I never even
considered someone else getting in the way. But I guess neither of us
were really prepared for Edward Cullen.

The change was more gradual than anything. Maybe it would have
been easier if we'd had some crazy blowout or if I killed her hamster
or something.

September had brought the end to another amazing summer with
Bella. We lived in different districts, so we hung out less during the
school year. Most weekdays we just sat in her living room and did
homework, but at least I got to see her. Quil and Embry ragged on me
constantly about that.

I didn't think much of it when I didn't hear from Bella for a few days.
She actually cared about school, so it wasn't weird for her to want to
get ahead on her work. But then the weekend passed and I'd still
heard nothing from her. After Rachel accused me of pouting next to
the phone, I decided to stop being a wuss and just call her.

God, that was a mistake.

"Hey!" Bella's voice rang excitedly through the phone. "I'm so sorry I
haven't called you this week, I've just been so… it's been crazy." She
laughed nervously. I could almost imagine her untangling her long hair
with her fingers as she spoke.

"That's okay, Bells. I get it. I've heard junior year is tough."

She did that nervous laugh again, and it sounded off. "Right. School."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Everything is kind of amazing, actually." And
then she said the three words that would haunt my daydreams for the
next several months. "I met someone."

That someone was Edward Cullen, a transfer student from some
Catholic school thirty minutes away. He was tall and handsome, and
he swept Bella off her feet faster than I could have ever anticipated.
Her calls slowed until it was rare for me to hear from her more than
once a month. When I did speak to her it was "Edward this" or
"Edward that" or "Edward's family is so great." I couldn't decide what
was worse.

I tried really hard not to let it get me down too much. High school
relationships never lasted, and when Edward broke her heart, I would
be there to put her back together again.

But then it had been a year. Then two. Then Bella chose a college with
Edward on the East Coast. And then four years after this entire mess
started, I got that ominous envelope in the mail and I finally had to
accept that Bella would never be mine.

That was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I mean Bella
and I were always supposed to be together. That was just how it was.
When we were kids playing in the mud together, our dads used to joke
about which band should play at our reception. I had foolishly put my
life on hold all throughout high school, pining after a girl who'd never
had eyes for me, and I was left with nothing. Because now she gave
her "I love yous" to someone else, and this time the words actually
meant something.

"Jake!" Her gentle voice shook me out of my moping. My heart
clenched at the sound, and I snapped the twig between my fingers in
two. I tossed the shards into the bonfire before turning to face what
should have been my destiny.

"Hey Bells," I said with false enthusiasm. I forced my eyes to stay on
her beautiful face, on her smile as she jogged toward me instead of
letting them wander to him. If I actually saw the man who stole her
from me, I wouldn't be able to mask how much this hurt.

I wrapped my arms around her tightly when she reached me. Her
warm hands held onto my neck. I could feel her breath against my
chest.

"I'm so glad you came," she whispered. When my fingers touched her
waist, she seemed to remember herself and stepped away from me,
almost looking embarrassed. She pushed the hair away from her face.
The firelight caught the diamond on her finger and made my heart
clench again.

I had to push that kind of shit away. She looked so damn happy and I
couldn't be the one to ruin her engagement party for her. "Of course I
came. I wouldn't miss it."

We talked quietly for a few minutes, but it was awkward. The jokes
didn't flow as easily as they once had, and all of her stories now
included him and the things they had experienced together. I could
feel myself getting sad again when she asked about Sam and Leah.
They had broken up over a year ago, and it was just another reminder
of how distant she'd become.

"Sorry to interrupt," Edward said quietly, glancing toward me and
nodding his head in acknowledgment. His mouth lowered near Bella's
ear and I could hear him mutter, "Your mother was looking for you."

She answered him with a brilliant smile, so much like the one she used
to give me, and a happy blush covered her cheeks when he kissed her
temple before walking away.

"Well I guess I should go find her," Bella drawled out awkwardly,
twisting a bracelet around her wrist.

I shoved my hands in my pocket, hunching my shoulders forward like
the awkward teenager I became around her. "Yeah. I remember how
pushy Renée can be."

For a long moment we smiled nervously at one another. And then in a
movement much quicker than I thought possible, Bella launched
herself toward me. Rising up onto her toes, she wrapped her arms
around my neck and tried to press a quick kiss to my cheek, our
difference in height making her lips land on my jaw.

"I love you, Jake." The once heartwarming words sounded bitter and
wrong, and I had to fight the urge to cringe. "You'll always be my best
friend."

Bella backed away from me as quickly as she'd approached. Her hand
wiped a threatening tear away from her eye. She smiled sadly at me
one last time and then turned back to the house, walking toward her
fiancé and her future without me.

I couldn't even think about facing the party like a man, instead
bending down and grabbing another twig from the ground. She was
moving on and living her life, and it was about time I did the same.
But for now, I needed a little time to mourn. I spun the twig between
my fingers and whispered hopelessly to the fire.

"I love you, too, Bella."

Prompt: erosion
Pen name: americnxidiot
Pairing: Carlisle
Rating: M

* ~ * ~ *

He had seen it happen before.

The elders would speak of an old church's glory, reminiscing about the
stain glass fixtures and the way the building had nearly shone in the
early morning sun, but all he saw was decay – the way cracks in the
foundation slanted the building or how holy statues lost their fingers
and noses. Whether from vandals or the steady English rain, the once
glorious building had lost its charm.

It was a bright contrast to the pastor's young son, fresh-faced and
dedicated to protecting his town from evil beasts. He spent a lifetime
building his character, working with his father, lifting himself in the
eyes of the town. Everyone expected him to have a happy and
successful life.

But it only took three days to drag Carlisle Cullen down below the
worst of men.

A typical evening spent patrolling the streets went horribly awry. The
hunter became the hunted, and Carlisle was left alone and bleeding.
Bitten. Sacrilegious. He faded from glory as humanity abandoned his
flesh.

Somehow, he had managed to drag his broken body into the shadows
before the pain consumed him completely. He spasmed silently for
days on the forest floor, pleading for an end to his suffering. But in
fleeting moments of lucidity, he sensed that death wasn't meant for
him. The attack had handed him a much more sinister destiny.

So he waited, and stayed silent. Nothing good could come from giving
himself away.

Carlisle could tell the moment the devastating transformation had run
its course. His twitching muscles finally relaxed, but he still felt stiff.
Each inhale made his throat throb with need, so he resisted the urge
to breathe. Every movement around him bombarded his senses.

He pulled his shaking form to a creek, trying to quench this strange
thirst with water, but he gagged immediately on the taste and retched
until his stomach was empty again. When he reached for the water
again, he caught sight of his reflection in the clear creek and froze.
Terrifying red eyes were set deep in a pale face. Dark bruises tinted
the skin beneath his eyes, and for the first time he realized just how
warm the cool water felt against his hardened fingertips.

He jerked backwards reflexively away from the water, the force of his
back cracking the trunk of a large tree. He recognized those qualities.
Some faded knowledge confirmed what he had already suspected.
Carlisle Cullen had ceased to exist. Instead he was a demon, a
vampiric being whose only purpose was the destruction of humanity.

His father would have been horrified.

Carlisle was overwhelmed, and sorrow for his life and extreme losses
made him collapse forward onto his knees. He knew right away that he
couldn't live like this. He couldn't hunt men for sustenance, moving
only in the darkness and waiting for his next victim. Suicide was
certainly a sin, but his life would only cause destruction. He didn't have
a choice.

He prayed for God's forgiveness, and then he tried to die.

He jumped off high cliffs. Attempted to pierce his flesh with sharp
silver. Consumed poison. He followed legend, seeking out garlic and
sunlight and wooden stakes, but nothing worked. The jump had left
him shaken but unbruised. His skin had dented the dagger and
snapped the wood into shards, and his stomach simply rejected
anything he swallowed. The sunlight gave him an alien glow, but left
him otherwise unharmed. And all the while, he struggled with the dark
desires that threatened to consume him completely.

He knew what his body craved. His father had told him enough about
these monsters and their wicked need for human blood, but he forced
himself to resist. His body may have betrayed him, but his mind was
still that of a moral man.

Maybe if he allowed himself to erode, to crumble and sink into the
damp soil, he could save innocent lives. If he could find the will power,
he could refuse to feed until he finally withered away. He could protect
the town from himself. And so he did.

Under the forest brush, he rested for days with legs drawn tightly to
his chest. When the cravings wracked his body, he pulled tighter, his
fingers tearing easily through his trousers and leaving unseen bruises
against his skin. His hair was likely matted with mud and sticks, but he
couldn't find it in himself to care.

He had never felt so much discomfort. He had never felt so inhuman.

As immeasurable time passed, he began to feel like the church, rapidly

deteriorating but refusing to fall. Starvation should have left him
emaciated, but his form remained unaltered. If he had been able to
peer at his reflection, he might have noticed the blackness of his irises
or the way the skin had darkened beneath his eyes. The scratching in
his throat felt like a burn and throbbed painfully, though he hadn't
taken a breath in days.

Carlisle tried to remain still as rain pelted his skin, when the cravings
moved past hunger and into desperation. His palms stayed glued to
his shins, though his limbs trembled with thirst. His pale arms grew
ashy in color as he fed solely on his own human blood. It felt as if he
were being eaten alive. The thought of stretching his limbs and
exposing his hungry belly to the harsh air was agonizing, so he stayed
curled up, as if he pulled tightly enough, he could hold himself
together.

He tried to ignore the way his resolve slipped when blood-soaked air
drifted past his nostrils. He tried to pretend that he noticed a tangible
sign that starvation was taking his life. But it did. And it wasn't.

The hours grew impossible to bear.

The hunger twisted in his stomach but never broke him.

And when the seductive pulse of a live creature wandered into his
midst, he couldn't stop himself from drawing a slow breath. The blood
smelled different, but it was still blood. Blood that he needed.

Time slowed down with each heartbeat. Blood. Blood. Blood.
Intoxicating, screaming-for-him blood.

He heard the sound of leaves crunching beneath feet and something
inside of him snapped. His legs stretched straight and his hands
grabbed at air and then something warm and alive crunched in his
arms until his mouth latched onto the squirming flesh. He moved
entirely on instinct, pushing the head aside so the blood drained more
easily, greedily sucking the hot, bitter liquid down his throat.

Far too soon, the limp corpse was empty and cold. He licked his lips
clean and began to regain some sense of himself. With a gasp of
realization, he dropped the broken body to the ground.

He had given in. He had killed for his own need and desires. He was
despicable. The blood had not been enough to satiate him, thirst still
clawed at his throat, but he could already feel the warmth pushing

throughout his body. The sensation nearly made him ill.

When he finally opened his eyes to see the damage, his brow furrowed
in confusion. There was no dead human. Instead, a deer lay mutilated
at his feet. He pushed against a hoof with his toe, and it moved limply
with the force. He remembered the smell and acerbic taste as he'd fed.
It wasn't what he truly craved. He could see that now, but it seemed
to be doing something to him. He felt stronger, less insane.

Could he train himself to feed only from animals? Could he push aside
his vampiric nature and make something better for himself?

The quiet sounds of a small herd alerted him to their distant presence.
Their scent of their bitter blood was weak, but there, and he was still
so thirsty. The venom was already running down his throat at the
thought of another feast. He almost smiled.

There was only one way to find out.

Prompt: heart
Pen name: americnxidiot
Pairing: Edward/Bella
Rating: M

* ~ * ~ *

Edward

My first thought upon waking up was What the fuck is that noise?

My second thought was What the fuck is this bandage on my arm?

A strange tapping/grunting sound was coming through my bedroom
door, and I would have chucked something at it if I thought it would
make it stop. My head was pounding already, even though I was
barely awake.

I felt something sticky… like tape or a band aid or something, pulling
at the skin of my upper arm. It kind of hurt, so I regretfully gave up
on going back to bed and decided I needed to check that out.

I pried open my eyes for a second before deciding that was a really
terrible idea. It was so damn bright. The sun was hitting the blinds in
just the wrong way, and a strip of light smacked me right in the face. I

rolled over to escape the death ray. Another bad decision. The
movement jostled my stomach, and I curled my knees closer to my
chest, hoping that would keep me from puking in my bed… and then I
realized I wasn't wearing any pants. I opened one eye, more
cautiously this time, and looked underneath my blanket. Yep, I was
naked.

I had no idea what the hell was going on, but it was pretty obvious
how I got here like this.

Clearly, I drank too much last night. Fucking Emmett.

I mentally cursed my roommate to hell and back for letting me get so
bad, then reached over to scratch my arm. Shit, ouch. I whimpered
when my short nails came in contact with something crinkly and
glanced down to see why the hell that hurt so much.

Oh right, the bandage thing.

It didn't really look like any band aid I'd seen before. It was almost as
if someone had stuck a piece of trash bag to my bicep with masking
tape. Did Emmett do this? Probably. The last thing I really
remembered was sitting with him at the bar, doing shots and pumping
ourselves up to mack on this really hot group of girls across the room.
Maybe I fell down or something and hurt myself, and this was his
makeshift band aid.

Whatever. My head and stomach and, apparently, arm hurt, and my
mouth felt like I'd been chewing on cotton balls. Right now, all I really
wanted was to down a bottle of water and collapse back on my pillow
for at least another ten hours.

Sitting up, and trying to ignore the way every part of me protested, I
reached down to the floor for my discarded boxers, yanking them up
past my hips. I rubbed my eyes sleepily and dragged myself into the
living room. My ears were immediately attacked by a more amplified
version of the annoying sound that woke me up.

Emmett was sitting intently on the couch, his hands gripping a video
game controller too tightly. His feet slammed against the floor at
random moments, and he kept grunting and grinding his teeth.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I asked on the way to the fridge. God,
my voice sounded like tires on gravel. I grabbed a water from the shelf
and emptied the bottle down my throat in one go.

"I'm playing Mario Kart, asshole." His player crossed the finish line,
and he pumped his fist in too-loud celebration before looking over his
shoulder at me. "You look like shit."

"I feel like shit," I agreed with a quiet laugh. Then I remembered I was
pissed at him. "Thanks for making sure I didn't get too hammered last
night, by the way. I'm glad I chose you to look out for me." Sarcasm,
the refuge of losers and the really hungover.

Emmett just scoffed. "Pshh, like you didn't have a great time." His
voice was so thick with implication that he might as well have been
winking and nudging me with his elbow. I furrowed my brow and
stared at him, confused and annoyed.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'll admit I was a little pissed when you ditched me for the brunette at
like 10:30, but when I got home and heard all those noises coming
from your bedroom…" he trailed off laughing. "Let's just say I'm glad
you got laid. You've been such a touchy bitch lately."

I frowned. "Wait, wait, what brunette? I don't remember a brunette."

He laughed loudly, dropping his hands to his legs. "Dude, you don't
remember? That blows. She was really hot. I guess that's what you
get for starting with tequila." He gestured to my right side. "What the
hell happened to your arm?"

"I was hoping you could tell me." I picked at the tape, flinching when I
peeled it away from my skin. I could almost hear my doctor father
yelling at me about bacteria and the risk of infection, so I manned up
and pulled it off in one quick rip. I needed to get this clean. As soon as
the black plastic had been removed, my jaw dropped and a cold chill
flew down my spine. "No fucking way."

I had a tattoo.

Not just a tattoo. There, glaring at me upside down was a set of initials
with a huge fucking heart between them. E loves B. A small amount of
blood surrounded the letters, and the ink was covered in small black
scabs. The whole thing was probably the size of a playing card.

"That is the gayest thing I've ever seen." That was all Emmett could
get out before he collapsed back on the couch, laughing hysterically. I
shot a glare at him, but he wasn't paying attention. Running my

fingers frantically through my matted hair, I rushed back into my
room, trying to find some clue as to what was going on.

What the fuck was I thinking last night?

And who the hell was "B"?

I searched around the room, my hangover long forgotten, but I didn't
find much. There was a ripped condom wrapper, confirming that I'd
had someone here with me last night. She hadn't left her phone
number or put it in my cell. There were no clothes, no hair-ties,
nothing apart from Emmett's few observations and this stupid tattoo.

Frustrated, I picked up my jeans off the floor and pulled them on. I
grabbed a clean t-shirt from my dresser and slid on my shoes. I had to
figure out what happened last night. Even at my most wasted, I didn't
think I was stupid enough to get just any girl's initials tattooed on me.
Hell, I thought regular, sober tattoos were generally a bad idea. Was I
that desperate to get into her pants? Was there something special
about her that made me want to do that?

I needed to know. This whole thing was too weird.

I shoved my keys and wallet into my pocket, flipped Emmett off when
he continued to laugh at me, then headed out the door to find my "B."

- - - - -

My plan was to start at the bar. We had gone out pretty early last
night. Maybe one of the employees had seen me leave or had even
seen an apparently smoking hot brunette girl enter with her friends…
shut up, I knew it was a stretch.

However less than five minutes after leaving my apartment, my
hangover returned with a vengeance. I pulled my car into the local
convenience store, desperately needing some juice or some crackers
or something. I couldn't handle this kind of stress on a queasy, empty
stomach.

I pushed against the glass door, setting off the little warning bell, and
smiled when I saw who was behind the counter. The cashier here was
so fucking cute. And I'd never admit it to anyone, but she was part of
the reason I came here instead of 7-Eleven, even though 7-Eleven had
much better Slurpees.

I hurried through the small isles, grabbing a gatorade and a bag of
Cheez-Itz before half-rushing to the register. She didn't see me
approach. I knocked a few times of the counter to get her attention
and smiled wider when she turned quickly on her toes, all wide brown
eyes and flushed cheeks. Plus, her polo shirt was just tight enough to
give a good outline of her chest. What can I say, I'm a guy.

"Oh! Sorry, I hope you weren't waiting long." She sounded exhausted,
so I decided not to push her anymore today. I guess she'd had a rough
morning too.

"Not a problem. Just this today." I pushed the two items toward her
and watched casually as she rang them up.

"That'll be $3.50," she said quietly.

I reached into my pocket, pulling out the contents and dumping them
gracelessly into my other hand. I handed her a five dollar bill and
looked through the rest. A cough drop, a piece of lint, and… a receipt?
Huh. Well, these were the pants I was wearing last night.

I uncrumpled the receipt on the counter, flattening it out and sighing
when I read the name at the top. Addiction Tattoo Parlor, complete
with phone number and address. The price was ridiculously high,
which worried me, but I had to push that aside for now.

I had a lead.

I smiled at the cashier one more time and grabbed my stuff, a little
bummed I didn't have the time and energy to flirt with her this
morning. She gave me a shy look, and then went back to work. I
walked slowly to my car, not all that excited but a little more hopeful
than before.

- - - - -

The tattoo parlor was closed when I got there, which was just my
fucking luck. It was just before noon, so I only had to wait a few
minutes. I leaned against the front wall of the building, snacking on
Cheez-Its and chugging down grape-flavored electrolytes until a tall
guy with blonde hair sauntered toward me, swinging a ring of keys
around his finger.

"Edward!" My eyes widened at his friendly greeting. "How are you this
morning?" he asked enthusiastically. He knew my name? I guess that

was a good sign. I stood up slowly, but shoved my hands in my
pockets, a little afraid that he was going to bro-hug me.

"Um, hi…" I said awkwardly, hoping he'd jump in with an introduction.
I felt like such a tool.

The guy grinned at me knowingly. "It's Jasper. Man, you'd think after
all the time we spent together last night you'd at least remember my
name."

"Yeah, I'm having trouble remembering a few details about last night,"
I admitted, scratching my head. He laughed understandably and went
to unlock the front door. I tossed my trash into the bin at the curb and
followed him inside.

"Believe me, I reamed Mike - the guy who did your tattoos - last night
after you guys left. We have a strict policy not to pierce or tattoo
people who are so obviously intoxicated, but by the time I got here, he
was already done yours and was halfway finished with hers. According
to him, he said no at first but then you just kept offering him more
money."

"Sounds like me." I grimaced. I had been a spoiled little shit growing
up, and it tended to come out when I drank. I turned into a ridiculous
over-tipper, which kind of sucked given that I didn't have that kind of
money anymore.

"How is the girlfriend this morning anyway?" Jasper asked offhandedly
while he unlocked cabinets and set up shop for the day.

I snorted. "Girlfriend?"

He looked up at me like he thought I was crazy. Not crazy, Jasper.
Just really, really stupid.

"You know, Bella? That cute little brunette you got inked with last
night?" he said slowly, gesturing his hands along with the words.

I glared back at him, not really amused by this anymore. "I met her
last night actually. I don't remember - wait, her name is Bella?" Bella.
Edward loves Bella. Jesus Christ, maybe I was crazy.

"You're shitting me," Jasper choked out, barely containing his laughter.
"The two of you told me last night that it was your eight month
anniversary, and that was the occasion for the tattoos." He shook his

head, still laughing at me quietly, and pushed up the sleeves of his
long-sleeve shirt, exposing his ink covered forearms. "You were
certainly touching and kissing enough for me to believe you. I think
you even licked her once."

"Fucking christ." I smacked my hands over my eyes, hoping if I
pinched them closed tight enough this would all be some drunken
dream. After a few seconds, I opened my eyes again and glanced
down at my arm. Nope. Girly tattoo still there. Dammit. I took a deep
breath and decided to just get to the point. I'd lost my dignity anyway
when Matt, or whatever his name was, tattooed a fucking heart on my
arm.

"All right, Jasper, I'm gonna be honest with you, I have no idea what
happened yesterday and um… Bella? I guess, left my apartment before
I woke up this morning. Is there anything you can do for me? Do you
have her number or know where she lives or works? Anything?"

"Sorry, man. All I know is that her name is Bella, and she's apparently
not your girlfriend."

"Shit," I muttered, scratching at my itchy arm again. Dammit! I really
needed to stop doing that shit until it healed.

Jasper noticed my pain and reached under the counter to grab a bottle
of something called H2Ocean. He tossed it to me, explaining when I
looked confused. "Tattoo cleaner. It's on the house. It's the least I can
do for a guy who got that tattoo in my shop." Then he smirked again. I
made a mental note to introduce him to Emmett. They could have a lot
of fun at my expense. "If you ever wanna get that covered up, come
back here. I'll do it for half price."

I grabbed one of his cards and slid it into my pocket. "Thanks, I
guess."

"Oh, and I think you guys walked to the diner down the street after
you left here. I don't know if that helps, but it's something."

I said my goodbyes to Jasper and headed back outside with a heavy
sigh. This seemed like one of those times where it'd be good to smoke
a cigarette. Maybe it was time to pick up the habit.

I squinted against the sun, annoyed at myself for forgetting my
sunglasses, and walked toward the sidewalk with my hands in my
pockets. The diner was only a few buildings down. I could only hope

that the walk would clear my head and give me a good mental image
of the girl who was branded on my arm.

- - - - -

Ninety minutes later, I stomped into the convenience store, exhausted
and frustrated. The whole thing had turned out to be nothing but a
waste of time. The hostess at the restaurant remembered who I was,
asking right away how "Bella" was feeling this morning. Then some
waiter asked if I wanted a free cup of coffee. Apparently, we'd made
lots of friends last night.

But none of them had been able to help me. All they knew was that
they had called a cab for us after we'd finished some one-in-the-
morning breakfast. The hostess said she'd never seen two people more
in love, which was apparently code for "two people groping and trying
to push clothes out of the way before they'd even left the restaurant."
I was a little bit mortified. This girl must have been really fucking hot
and interesting to make me act like that.

No one knew anything more about her.

No one could help me find Bella.

I had a seemingly crazy/awesome night, complete with copious liquor
and loud sex, and I couldn't even remember any of it. And to top it all
off, my stupid ass tattoo itched like a motherfucker. This day fucking
sucked.

I wanted a mediocre Slurpee.

Thankfully, my cute cashier was still working when I got there. Her
nervous faces made everything a little better. I glanced at her for a
few seconds, but moved on toward the Slurpee machines before she
caught me ogling her. I grabbed a plastic cup from beside the machine
and set it under the handle, pretty eager for some "cherry" slush.

Two drops of thick syrup came out before the nozzle ran empty.

"Fuck!" I muttered out loud, kicking the bottom of the huge machine.
It only dinged quietly, but was apparently loud enough to alert
someone else of my mini drama queen freak-out. I think the girly
tattoo was starting to mess with my brain.

"Is something wrong?" a shy voice asked from beside me. I looked

over and felt the blood rushing to my cheeks. Great. Now cute cashier
was going to think I was crazy and angry, too.

"Sorry," I sighed, fully embarrassed. "I've had a really sh- er, crappy
day, and I overreacted a little bit when the Slurpee machine wasn't
working."

She glanced down into my mostly empty cup and smiled
sympathetically. "The syrup's probably just empty. Hold on a second, I
can change it for you."

"Oh you don't have to do that-"

"It's the least I can do for one of our most consistent customers." She
shot me another sweet little smile before disappearing into the stock
room, and I couldn't protest anymore. Instead, I leaned back against
the side of the bagel warmer and waited for her to return. It was best
to stay out of the way so I couldn't embarrass myself any further.

She returned with another small smile, a soft blush on her cheeks, and
a small box in her hands. I watched as she unscrewed the old empty
box and tossed it to the floor. She lifted the new box over her head
and reached up to set it on top of the machine. God, she was so sexy
without even trying. I couldn't stop myself from admiring the way her
jeans hugged her ass. How her t-shirt lifted up when she raised her
arms, exposing a sliver of skin on her lower back. The somewhat small
tattoo peeking out from above the waist of her jeans…

Wait a minute.

The tattoo.

The same stupid E loves B tattoo I had stamped on my bicep.

Holy shit.

The cute cashier finished screwing in the new box and wiped her hands
on her jeans. "There you go. That should work now." She turned to me
with an accomplished smile, but froze when she saw my probably
stunned expression. That fucking blush crept onto her cheeks again,
and she lifted her hand to push her hair out of her face.

"Is your name Bella?" I blurted out after an awkward silence. Real
subtle, Cullen.

"Yes?" she answered in a small voice. I wordless turned my body
slightly, pushing my sleeve up my shoulder until my own tattoo was
showing, and then raised an eyebrow at her. I really wasn't sure what
to say. I'd kind of given up on figuring out who the hell "B" was, and
here she was, three feet in front of me.

Luckily, Bella seemed to have enough words for the both of us.

"I'm so sorry, Edward. I just figured that there was no way you were
going to be interested in more than just a one night stand from me
since you were so drunk and you're so good-looking, and I barely
remembered what happened when I woke up in your bed this
morning… and I was so mortified because that was so not like me at
all, and then the tattoos, these stupid and… and stupid tattoos! And I
just ran before I really could think about anything. I don't want you to
think-"

I stepped forward before she could say any more, pressing three of my
fingers against her suddenly closed lips. She glanced up at me with
huge brown eyes, and she looked sort of terrified but still really
fucking attractive. Maybe I should have been mad at her for being so
drunk and stupid with me. Maybe I should have been so embarrassed
that I couldn't look directly at her, but I wasn't. In fact some sick,
weird part of me was excited that she was Bella. Plus, she called me
good-looking in her little rant, so that made me feel good, too.

It's official. I was crazy. And stupid. And really fucking lucky.

"What time does your shift end?" I asked before I could think anymore
about this.

"Five?" she answered, her obvious discomfort turning up her voice at
the end like a question.

"Do you want to go get coffee or something?"

"Yes." She still looked really nervous, but I could feel the hint of a
smile pushing beneath my fingers. She'd said yes. Thank god. Then I
remembered I was still awkwardly touching her mouth and stepped
back. God, what was wrong with me today?

"Great. There's this diner up…" Then I thought about what would
happen if I returned to the infamous diner with Bella/cute cashier in
tow. Yeah, not gonna happen. "Actually, how about dinner instead?"

Prompt: mirror Pen name: americnxidiot Pairing: Alice Rating: T

* ~ * ~ *

Alice plays with the uneven strands, frowning at her reflection. She
smoothes, she musses. Her fingers pull at pieces, praying that
something different will fall into place.

It never does.

The others say they empathize with the loss of memories, but it's not
the same. She clings to what she can, enthusing about fashion and
feeling more human in chic clothes.

Still her mangled hair taunts her - an unchanging reminder that she'll
never really experience humanity.

"Alice?" Bella calls quietly from the hallway.

Alice sighs, picturing Bella's beautiful locks, and smiles wistfully.

Today she wants to try a french twist.

Prompt: crave Pen name: americnxidiot Pairing:
Edward/Jasper Rating: T

* ~ * ~ *

January

* ~ *

I pulled my still new and shiny silver Christmas present into the
parking lot of the strip mall, turning the wheel a little too eagerly and
grazing the curb with my tire. I cringed when I heard the loud thump.
If I popped a tire after only having the car for two weeks, Mom was
going to kill me.

There were a shocking number of typical suburban cars littered
throughout the parking lot. I groaned out loud to no one when the
nearest spot was a good hundred feet away from the entrance to the
coffee shop. After parking - very carefully, I might add - I flipped the
collar of my jacket up and zippered it to my chin before trekking out
into the bitter January air.

One quick glance to make sure that my tire was intact, and I took off
race-walking toward the frosted glass doors. The cold burned my ears
like hell. I cursed at myself for forgetting my beanie at home. My best
friend Tanya had knitted it for me as a present this year, which was
kind of girly, but was a really nice gesture. If she were here with me,
she'd smack me in the arm for being so stupid, but would warm up my
ears anyway with her constantly warm hands.

Finally, I made it into the coffee shop, shivering and half-frostbitten. I
hadn't considered any ulterior motives when Mom asked if I wanted to
take my new car to pick her up a latte. She just hadn't wanted to go
out in the freezing-ass cold. I underestimated her too much.

I made my way toward the counter, rubbing my palms together
harshly. A hot chocolate sounded amazing right about now.

"Welcome to Joe's Coffee. Can I get one of our signature cups of joe
for you today?"

The barista smiled at me, but it was one of those fake, overly forced
smiles employees are trained to give to customers. His eyes gave
away his true boredom. With his vacant expression, he sort of looked
like one of my little sister's Ken dolls, and I did a really shit job of
hiding my amusement.

His blinding smile slipped for a second; a small amount of cautious but
genuine emotion settled onto his face.

He crinkled his brow slightly and asked, "Are you laughing at me?"

"No! No, I'm not. Sorry, I was just... The way you said- it reminded
me... Ugh." My cheeks suddenly weren't very cold anymore as I felt a
weird blush pushing through my skin. This kid was making me
uncharacteristically flustered. "It's nothing," I muttered, once words
decided to fail me like the assholes they were.

The barista's lips curled up into a real, amused smile at my discomfort,
and it only jumbled the words in my head even further. "Let's try this
again. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Right," I said with a nervous chuckle. Drinks. That I could do. "Can I
just get a medium vanilla latte and a small hot chocolate?"

He nodded, pushed some buttons on his register, then turned around
to start my order. I sighed in relief when he wasn't looking at me

anymore. What was going on with me? I think the cold had given me
brain damage. I'd never forget Tanya's beanie again.

"Cream?" he asked, flaring my nerves again.

"Wha- what?"

He smiled, barely restraining his laughter. "Do you want whipped
cream on the hot chocolate?"

"Oh," I said lamely. "Yeah that'd be great."

He set the two drinks into a small carrier and took the cash from
where I'd placed it on the counter. I shoved my change in my pocket
and nodded an awkward goodbye before grabbing the drinks and
getting ready to leave.

"Hey," he called after me when I started to walk toward the door.

"Um, yes?" I asked, my mouth and lips dry at this point from the
constant unease.

"You might want to get some sleep, rather than just sucking down
coffee. You seem a little out of it." He smirked at me, like actually
smirked with the little laughing breath and everything. I looked around
nervously, not sure if he was teasing me or serious, until his lips broke
into a real smile. Teasing it was, I guess. He waved once and started
gathering some dirty mugs off the back counter . My hand lifted after a
few seconds to return the gesture, but he'd already disappeared into
the back room.

I walked back out to my car, frowning as I replayed the last five
minutes in my head. Maybe I was just out of it. I checked my fully-
inflated tire one more time, and then started the short drive home
with a funny feeling in my chest and a weird urge to go back to talk
with the barista a little longer.

* ~ *

February

* ~ *

"Hey," he said with a warm smile when I walked through the doors of
Joe's. "I was wondering if I was going to see you today."

My voice shook with embarrassed laughter, and I lifted a shoulder in
forced nonchalance. "Yeah, I didn't want to disappoint." Wow, way to
be awkward, Edward. I pulled the warm beanie further down over my
ears and stared intently at the patterns on the counter top while he
started to make my drink. I didn't even need to tell him what I
wanted.

And why did the blond barista know my order and expect me to show
up during his shift?

Because I had been coming to the coffee shop every day for a month
now. I wasn't exactly sure what drew me there day after day. They did
make really great hot chocolate, and this winter had been impossibly
cold. To be honest, I didn't spend much time thinking about the whys.
I just... liked stopping by there and interacting with the employees. So
each day around three, when school was over and I'd already dropped
Tanya off at her house, I'd swing by Joe's to get myself a drink. I'd
talk with whatever employee was working for a few minutes, and that
was it. It wasn't my fault that the blond barista worked four days a
week.

"Is it still freezing out there?" he asked me, setting my drink on the
counter.

I quickly took a sip of the chocolaty goodness and sighed happily,
licking the whipped cream out of the corner of my lips. "Yeah. I don't
think it's been above freezing in four days now." The cliché small talk
about the weather should have been awkward, but it wasn't with him.
There was something very at ease about this guy.

"Well, I like your hat. It suits you."

My stomach tightened up oddly when he complimented my beanie. I
tugged down on the right side of my cap again and felt that
embarrassed laughter building in my chest. Luckily my phone vibrated
in my pocket and distracted me before I could say anything stupid.

Ed- my mom left for the night. I'm ordering too much pizza. Get your
cute ass over here ;)

I snorted out loud, quickly typing back an affirmative text to Tanya
and shaking my head at her typical antics. "What's so funny?" the
barista asked. I glanced up to see him wiping off the counter top with
a paper towel while looking at me expectantly.

"It's just my friend. I've told her a million times not to call me Ed, and
she knows I hate nicknames, but she'll never stop. "

The blond barista's eyes narrowed for a second in concentration before
a careful smile threatened to break over his face.

"So you're name is... Edward?"

"Yes, and you're..." It was a strange moment when I realized I didn't
actually know his name. I'd seen him so regularly that I'd just sort of
dubbed him "blond barista" in my head. I furrowed my brow and tried
to remember if I'd ever seen a name tag.

He grinned in restrained laughter at my expression, and I felt that
weird twisting in my stomach again. I often found my stomach felt
weird when I came here. Maybe the constant hot chocolates didn't sit
well with me, but they tasted too good to give up.

"Jasper," he said with a tip of his uniformed hat. "The name's Jasper."

* ~ *

March

* ~ *

"I don't get it, Ed."

"What don't you get? I always take you home after school."

"But we're hanging out in an hour! Why can't I just tag along with you
until we head out to Port Angeles?"

"Tanya," I groaned, dragging out the "a" for an obnoxiously long time,
hoping she'd just let it go.

She folded her arms over her chest, her annoyed eyes burning me
even in peripheral. "What do you possibly have to do in the next hour
that is so important? I can be quiet. You seem to enjoy my company,
seeing as we've been friends for six years. What's the issue?"

I scratched my hair through my hat before just pulling it off and
tossing it into the backseat. It was getting a little warm for a wool cap
anyway. "I was going to get a start on my homework before we left,
that's all."

I never made the conscious decision to lie to her, but for some reason,
that's how it came out. I hadn't exactly told her about my recent
affinity for Joe's hot chocolate, because how do you bring that up in
conversation. Hey, best friend. I just wanted to let you know I stop by
that strip mall coffee shop every day to buy a delicious beverage and
chat with my new friend Jasper for a few minutes. It felt weird to think
it, let alone say it out loud.

Was Jasper even my friend? The term didn't seem to fit.

"Bullshit, Cullen. Like you do your homework ahead of time. What, are
you keeping secrets from me now?" She said it teasingly, but I could
hear the slight unease that shook the end of her question.

I sighed. "Of course not. I really was going to start that paper, but
you're right. I probably wouldn't get anything done anyway." Another
lie. "We can head up early. I just need to make a stop first." The light
switched to green and I pushed my car into gear, continuing down the
road toward the coffee house. It felt wrong bringing someone with me,
but I couldn't seem to ignore the voice demanding that I pick up my
standard beverage. Another smaller voice, one that had been grower
louder in recent weeks, reminded me of something else that was
guiding me to Joe's despite present company.

I knew he worked today.

There was something cathartic about talking to Jasper, and though it
was difficult to admit, I knew that I was starting to crave his company.

I pulled into the familiar lot with sweaty palms and hoped Tanya
wouldn't ask too many questions. She gave me a strange look over the
console but just shrugged her shoulders before getting out of the car.
We headed across the pavement together, and she smiled in surprise
when I opened the door to the coffee shop for her.

"Ooh, Joe's? Kate told me this place was good. Plus, she said the staff
was super cute."

I rolled my eyes and laughed because that was the reaction she
expected, and hoped she didn't notice the tremor in my response.
"You know that's what I'm worried about. The cute staff."

Tanya looked toward me with a shy grin, reaching up to touch a piece
of my hair.

"Who knows, Ed? We might just find the right girl for you yet."

I was surprised by the force of the unease that hit my stomach at her
innocent teasing. Weird. "Yeah, maybe," I muttered, trying to
inconspicuously wipe my palms on the inside of my pockets. I looked
up toward the counter where Jasper was looking at me, smiling but
confused. My tension slipped away as I felt my own lips curving up just
slightly.

His bright eyes shifted to the girl at my side, then to the top of my
head. Something about what he saw made his eyes crinkle with
amusement.

"Nice hair," he said, nodding up and reminding me that I'd yanked off
a wool beanie without so much as running my fingers through it to
smooth the strands.

I was getting better at responding to his teasing, though. "Thanks. I
thought I'd try out the static cling look."

He laughed, a warm and happy sound. "It works for you."

"Who's your friend, Ed?" Tanya said quietly from beside me. I was
shocked to realize I'd almost forgotten she was here. I mussed up her
hair gently in apology and then gestured toward my... no, not my. The
blond barista.

"Sorry. This is Jasper. Jasper this is-"

He interrupted me. "Let me guess... Tanya."

"How did you know that?" she asked curiously while I just stood there,
kind of gaping as my small little worlds collided for the first time.

Jasper lifted a finger and pointed at her with a knowing smirk. "You
called him 'Ed.' He told me you're the only one he lets call him
anything other than Edward."

I spaced out as Tanya and Jasper talked for a few seconds. He
remembered her name. I only could recall referencing Tanya by name
maybe once or twice, which meant that he held onto the things I told
him. He deemed them important enough to remember. That thought
made me feel unusually warm, and I could feel the tips of my ears
burning. It was uncomfortable but not unpleasant.

Tanya placed her hand on my arm to get my attention. "I'm going to
run to the bathroom before we get going, okay?" I nodded and
watched her as she rounded the corner.

"She's really nice."

I smiled, noticing how much calmer I felt when it was just the two of
us. "She is."

His focus slid down to a dirty spot on the counter, his thumb trying to
lazily rub it away. "And pretty."

"Yeah, Tanya's definitely a looker." Even since she'd turned fifteen,
Tanya had been the poster child for the all-American girl: perfect
figure, curly strawberry blond hair, and a killer smile. The only real
sign of her Russian heritage was in her high cheek bones; those
definitely didn't hurt her appearance.

"Is she your girlfriend?" he asked. My brow furrowed and my eyes shot
toward his at the question, but he wasn't looking at me. His voice
sounded calm, but his thumb was pushing a little harder against the
smudge. He almost looked... like I felt earlier when Tanya mentioned
me finding a nice girl.

"No! No," I said, trying to force some laughter into my words. "She's
my best friend. We've known each other way, way too long for
anything like that to happen. I've never actually had a... a girlfriend." I
started to stutter, which was God telling me to shut the hell up, so I
did. My posture was tense as I waited for his reaction to my over-
share, but as usual, Jasper surprised me.

"Oh," he said simply. He pressed his thumb across the spot one more
time and then finally looked up to meet my eyes.

"Yeah," I muttered back just as simply. I rested my hand on the
counter,

I tried to think of something pointless to say, but nothing came to
mind. The energy had changed from our usual, lighthearted banter to
something more serious and nerve-wracking in the blink of an eye. His
body language spoke of his relief, and I could feel his stare on me
even after I'd looked away. He was seeing me, really seeing me, and
that scared the shit out of me.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt the tips of his fingers

pushing against mine on the counter. It was the first time I'd ever had
intentional physical contact with him. My eyes widened in surprise
when my pulse started to quicken, goosebumps erupting under my
thin jacket despite the heat burning in my face. I didn't understand
what was going on, right there, across the counter at Joe's coffee. Or
maybe I just wasn't ready to understand. It was too much and not
enough all at once. All I really knew was that I was overwhelmed. I
wasn't sure whether I wanted to stay here, basking in this anxious
tension, maybe pushing my hand further against his... or if I wanted to
hide in my car until Tanya came and found me.

Thankfully, I didn't have to make that decision.

Warm fingers grasped and pulled on my sleeve, and I looked over to
find Tanya staring up at me with clouded blue eyes. My hand shot back
from Jasper's, reaching for my cup of hot chocolate instead.

"You ready to go?" she asked, too quietly.

"Sure."

I waved goodbye awkwardly to Jasper, both saddened and relieved
that the intense moment was over. I had been seconds away from
snapping one way or the other, so maybe this was best for now. Plus,
the conflicting emotions were starting to give me a headache. He
waved back and told Tanya it was nice to meet her, his confused
expression mirroring my own as we left the coffee shop.

And Tanya Denali and I, the best friends who had been scolded for
years for talking in class and laughing during church sermons, spent
the entire trip to Port Angeles in complete silence.

* ~ *

April

* ~ *

I kicked the front door to the Denali house, my hands too full of
everything to knock or ring the doorbell like a civilized person. I
bumped my books further up my arms, regripped the tray in my left
hand, and tapped my foot against the door again.

I heard footsteps approaching and then the dark wood was pulled wide
open, revealing Tanya's mother. Mrs. Denali smiled at me brightly,

ushering me into the house. She was typically stuck at her office when
I came over, so I was happily surprised to see her.

"Edward! It's been too long since I've seen you, sweetie. How are
you?"

"I'm good." And by good, I actually meant confused, constantly
anxious, and possibly at the precipice of something life-changing. "It's
been a busy few months, but I'm good."

She patted my cheek warmly, still every bit the second mother that
she'd been for me since middle school. "Such a handsome boy," she
muttered to herself, turning my cheeks a bashful red. "Tanya's up in
her room."

I somehow managed to climb up the stairs without dropping anything,
so when I finally stepped through her doorway, I let the books fall on
her bed. They bounced against the mattress as I shook out my arms.

Tanya looked up at me from her spot on the floor, raising an eyebrow.
"Hello to you, too, Ed."

"Oh, like you didn't hear me come in," I teased back, taking a seat
across from her on the soft carpet. I set the tray I'd been holding
between us and nudged it toward her before reaching over to grab my
calculus book from the bed.

"I picked you up one, too."

I waited for her to grab one and join me in the magical world of
derivatives, but she didn't move. She just stared at the two cups for
longer than normal, a worried crease appearing on her usually smooth
forehead.

"Let me guess," she finally whispered bleakly, "hot chocolate from
Joe's?"

"Uh, yeah." I answered cautiously, not really understanding why she
looked so upset by this. It had been Jasper's idea to bring her a drink
when I told him how strangely she'd been acting the last few weeks. I
thought it seemed like a nice idea. "I stopped by there on the way
here. I had a craving for it."

"I bet you did," she mumbled under her breath.

The words might have been quiet, but her harsh tone was like a slap in
the face. "Excuse me?"

Her eyes shot up to mine, and I flinched when I saw the faint red
rimming, the barely there wateriness that always preluded her tears.
"Do you really not see it, Edward?"

"See what?"

She just shook her head, a few tears tumbling down her red cheeks
with the movement. The frustration grew with every second of loaded
silence, and I wanted to just shake her until the words fell out. I
stared at her, really not knowing what the hell was going on, until I
couldn't take it anymore. She was crying, and I was pretty sure it was
my fault. I slid closer to her and placed my hands on her forearms,
willing her to look at me. When that didn't work, I pleaded.

"Tanya, please. Help me out. Let me know what I did... or didn't do,
hell just point me in the right direction-"

She stole my focus with sudden, determined eye contact. Then she
stole my words, leaning forward in a rush and planting her lips firmly
on mine.

I froze.

She scooted toward me.

I kept my hands tightly on her arms, my eyes still open in shock.

She squeezed her lids shut, forcing her lower lip between mine and
getting as close as she could.

When I still didn't respond, she pulled back just enough to growl,
"Come on. Try to kiss me back. Please." One of her tears fell against
my lips, and I finally allowed my eyes to flutter shut. My mouth
became pliable under hers. My fingers moved to her waist because
that's what they were supposed to do. At least that's what I'd always
thought.

But I was wrong, and this was wrong, and I was beginning to see that
it always would be. She pressed herself onto my lap, and I saw blond
curls beneath a black hat. Her hands wove into my messy hair, and I
felt phantom stubble beneath my fingertips. Her warm breath against
my mouth recalled images of calloused fingers barely brushing against

mine on a cool counter top, and my eyes snapped open again. Tanya
was just perfect and girl here above me, but it didn't hold the appeal.
Soft curves and feminine sighs were not meant for my hands. I craved
the sharp line of his smiling jaw. His. I craved him.

Jasper.

They say that acceptance of something you've always sort of known
brings a kind of calm, but all I felt at that moment was overwhelmed. I
gently pushed Tanya back and let her slide onto the floor. The words
escaped my lips as I consciously thought them for the first time.

"I'm gay."

She sniffled, a mess of tangled hair and tears, and stared intently at
my feet. "I know."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, and I meant it for a lot of reasons. For
hurting her, for making her cry, for not seeing this sooner.

"No," she said firmly, her shaky hand moving up to brush through my
hair. "Not sorry. Never sorry."

She scooted to my side, and when she guided my head into her lap, I
let her. Her warm fingers combed through my hair, calming me down,
giving me something to focus on as I tried to really process everything
that had just happened. My brain felt scrambled. I'd been avoiding this
moment for months now, but I couldn't run anymore.

To tell the truth, I didn't even want to. But that didn't make it any
easier.

For the next few hours, I leaned heavily on my best friend. We talked
about menial topics. We figured out natural log derivatives, and sipped
on lukewarm hot chocolate, and I thought about Jasper until I felt
steady once again.

* ~ *

May

* ~ *

The sun warmed the pale skin of my arms, the spring breeze blowing
through my too long hair and making me feel calm despite my raging

nerves. Another month and I'd be spotted with annoying freckles,
possibly sunburned along my nose and shoulders, but for now the sun
was my friend. It was pretty much the only thing keeping me from
freaking out, jumping up from my seat on the curb, and driving right
the hell home.

I hadn't been back here in over a month, not since the day in Tanya's
bedroom when everything changed for me. I couldn't bring myself to
see him knowing what I knew. How could I stand to see the object of
my affections when I could barely accept that I could like him in the
first place?

So I stayed at home. I made tea, because my mother didn't approve
of instant hot chocolate and I couldn't make it from scratch. I pretty
much just pondered and moped until Tanya threatened to kick my ass
if I didn't go talk to him.

Still, the doubts were there. The last few weeks were some of the
most trying I'd experienced. I spent a lot of time reflecting on myself
and my choices so far in life. I was forced to participate in way too
many pow-wows with Tanya, during which she tried her best to help
me out. She made me write down my thoughts and feelings into this
journal thing, which actually ended up helping a lot, not that I would
tell her that. I did draw the line at "girls' nights," though. That was
taking the whole "Edward is gay" thing a little too far.

In the end, I had felt much better, and, honestly, more at peace with
myself than I had in a long time. But was I really ready to talk to my
first... guy crush? The nerves fluttered again and my palms got
sweaty, my legs almost twitching with the desire to run.

This was a bad idea. I wasn't ready.

Like some kind of annoying psychic, Tanya texted me the second I
pulled my keys out of my pocket. Ed- if you don't talk to him, I'm
going to tell him the carnival story.

I cringed just thinking about the horrible time we'd eaten a funnel
cake each and decided to go on this deathtrap of a ride at a local fair.
She was bringing out the big guns early. I sighed, knowing that she
really wasn't kidding. She'd do it.

"Edward?"

I glanced quickly toward the door of Joe's Coffee, where Jasper was

standing, staring at me in shock. He wasn't wearing his uniform, and I
could see the edge of his apron sticking out of his messenger bag.
Well, crap. I didn't really have a choice now, did I?

"Hey, Jasper," I said shakily, lifting one hand up in a weak hello.

He watched me cautiously for a few more seconds, almost as if afraid I
was going to bolt. When it became clear I wasn't going anyway, he
slipped his bag onto the sidewalk and took a seat a foot away from me
on the curb.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he said, clearly confused as to why I
was here.

I frowned, "Yeah. Sorry about that." Taking a deep breath, I tried to
figure out how to best say this. "It's been a... strange month. I really
needed some time to think and reflect on pretty much everything in
my life before I could see you again." I chuckled humorlessly at how
dismal that sounded. "My first identity crisis at the ripe old age of
seventeen."

"Heavy," he sighed. The words sounded like they'd come from an
aging hippie, and I found myself smiling in amusement before I even
realized it. I'd almost forgotten how easy it was to be happy when I
was near him. Just his presence cheered me up.

"Yeah, I guess it was. But I'm doing better now."

He was quiet for a little bit, probably trying to figure out what the hell
I was talking about. Meh, I couldn't blame him if that were the case. I
still barely knew, myself.

"So," he said questioningly, his head tilting so he could see my face,
"did you figure anything out?"

Ah, the question. I knew exactly what I wanted to say to him, and
given his hopeful tone, I kind of knew what he wanted me to say, too.
Suddenly, I was struck with a weird case of stage fright. I had been
building up this moment so long, before I even realized that it was in
fact him I wanted to talk with, to kiss, to love. Now that the moment
was actually here, I wasn't sure how to phrase it. Before I could get
myself too worked up, I closed my eyes and remembered my whole
reason for coming here today. I looked back at him, knowing exactly
what he needed to hear.

"I like you, Jasper."

His smile was immediately bright and beaming; he was looking at me
as if I were incredibly important, and I could feel the blush pooling on
my cheeks, but I didn't care.

"I like you too, Edward," he finally replied. I was beginning to think
that excitement and nauseating fear went hand-in-hand for me,
because I felt all of those things at his admission. I felt like I needed
to warn him. So I did.

"This is new for me. Really new. It might take me a while to figure it
out or to even be ready to do this for real."

He just smiled wider, letting his hand drifted toward where mine
rested between us. "We don't have to rush into anything."

"Okay." I laughed breathlessly, a little overwhelmed by the feel of his
skin against mine.

"Okay," he agreed.

His pinky finger drew lopsided circles over the back of my hand,
sending little nervous sparks up my arm. I kind of felt like a girl, but
as long as he was touching me, I didn't mind too much. All of it was
foreign to me, anyway.

"Hey, Edward?" he asked after a lengthy silence.

"Hm?"

His eyes drifted up to meet mine again, a little darker and more
serious than before. "Before we start taking things slow, can I try one
thing?"

I gulped, hoping and dreading that this was going where I thought it
was going. "Sure?"

Jasper moved closer to me on the curb. His body shifted so he was
facing me, his expression serene but determined. I was ready but not
ready and... well, fuck that stuff, because if Jasper wanted to kiss me
then I was going to let him.

I leaned forward slightly, letting him know that I was his if he wanted
me.

And when his lips finally touched mine and his hand moved to gently
cup my neck, I felt as if I would burst with this ridiculously right
feeling. There was awe and some terror, but mostly overwhelming
happiness. I took one of his full lips between my own, letting my
tongue graze the flesh, and couldn't fight my smile.

He tasted like hot chocolate.

Prompt: stagnant
Pen name: americnxidiot
Pairing: Esme
Rating: M

* ~ * ~ *

If it were up to her, she would be resting in a rocking chair. She'd lean
back comfortably, her infant upon her breast, while Con Conrad
crooned "Margie" on the phonograph. The moonlight would happily
caress her skin.

But fortune never shone upon Esme Platt.

Instead, she sits upon a clumsy wooden stool. The music remains a
dream from her violent past. The moon cowers behind black clouds,
and an invasive draft chills the room.

She is cold.

The babe in her arms is even colder.

There is nothing left.

And soon her heart will be as stagnant as his.

The Twilight Twenty-Five Prompt: retribution Pen name:
americnxidiot Pairing: Jessica/Mike Rating: T

* ~ * ~ *

That scumbag.

That mean scumbag.

That mean, blond, arrogant… mean little scumbag!

I repeated that mantra in my head as I ran around his car. The saran

wrap clung nicely to the doors, under the axle, over the hood. I felt
guilty a few times. Then I remembered what he'd done.

Did he think he could ask Bella Swan to the dance without me finding
out?

Did he honestly think he could leave me hanging and then settle for
me when she declined?

No.

Jessica Stanley was not a backup date.

Good luck getting to school on time tomorrow, Mike.

Prompt: platonic Pen name: americnxidiot Pairing: Rosalie (with
non-romantic Rosalie/Edward) Rating: T

* ~ * ~ *

My reflection still astounded me after all these weeks.

The mirror was probably the best friend I had in this godforsaken
house. It never said a mean word about me, inherently praising my
beauty by allowing me to gaze upon myself. Any modesty I might
have had as a human disappeared the moment I saw my new face
staring back at me. Everything else had been stolen from me. Forgive
me for embracing my appearance.

In fact, all parts of me seemed to have been enhanced by this horrible
transformation, something that was annoyingly clear as I sat in my
room, trying to avoid this unorthodox family who had claimed me as
one of their own. Despite my locked door and the hum of my record
player, I could hear the quiet whoosh every time Carlisle flipped a
page in whatever book he was reading now. The walls trembled as
Esme rearranged parts of his office. Those two spent almost every
second of their days together, and I won't even get into the disgusting
noises that echoed from their bedroom when they coupled.

And most irritatingly of all, I could hear that arrogant, judgmental boy
banging away at old piano keys in that wing of the house: discordant,
testing, and pushing my composure to its breaking point.

I knew that he had the ability to play beautifully, and truthfully, his

talents could put the best musicians I'd heard to shame, but of course
that wasn't good enough for his holiness. He had to compose as well.
When completed, they would be spectacular, but in this infantile stage,
the music was just annoying.

Perhaps that was what bothered me most about Edward. He was, in
every respect, my male counterpart. His features were the perfect
balance of strong masculinity and boyhood softness; if he had been
five years older when he was changed, his looks would have been
devastating. He was a Renaissance man; though, to be fair, after
nearly twenty years of constant boredom, I'm sure I could be as skilled
as he in whatever trade I chose. Edward Cullen was practically perfect.

And he doesn't find me appealing.

I flinched at that truth. That was actually what bothered me most
about Edward. From the moment I first heard his irritatingly smug
voice, he had berated me, deeming me not good enough to be his
mate without a word from my lips.

It made no sense to me. Even as a human, the wealthiest and
handsomest men in the town had flirted for my attentions. I was a
treasure to be won by the highest bidder. While some women might
find that insulting, I always found it thrilling. Empowering. Powerful
men went out of their way to woo me. Ro- no, he didn't deserve a
name. That pig that my mother had chosen for me was one of the
most desirable bachelors in Rochester, and he wanted me.

But Edward didn't. Despite the fact that I was more beautiful than
Esme or even Ginger Rogers, he had the nerve to yell at Carlisle when
he learned of Carlisle's attempts to play matchmaker. I was so
unappealing to him that he would rather be alone than have me as his
wife.

A particularly clashing note rang out from downstairs, and I felt my
hands curl into fists at my sides.

Who was he to judge me, really? He might have been almost perfect,
but Carlisle had explained many things to me upon my waking once I'd
calmed. Edward had hunted humans, for pleasure, for several years.
He had murdered and played God, while I had refused to feast on even
the men who wronged me. I was the only vampire in this house who
had never tasted the blood of men. That made me even more perfect
than prodigal, flawless Edward.

Then what was his problem?

Did he think that his age and ability to hear the thoughts of others put
him above the rest of us? Carlisle had been on this earth for almost
300 years, and even though I hated the man for taking my life from
me, I could see what a humble and well-intending being he was. He
never rolled my eyes when I entered a room. He had recognized my
specialness when he found me and had decided that I was too
beautiful to die. Esme tried to play mother when I let her, brushing out
my hair or asking me how I was handling this. Everyone else could
recognize my value.

The morose melody grew louder, his hands pounding along the lower
keys, and my patience snapped.

I heard the door knob crumple under my stressed fingers and the
sound of wood splintering against wood, but I didn't care at the
moment. I was downstairs glaring at Edward in less than a second.

"Must you play that thing right now?"

"When would be a more convenient time for you, Rosalie?" he asked
sarcastically, in that voice I was learning to hate, continuing to play
whatever was running through his mind at the moment.

His fingers moved gracefully over the white and black keys, his
concentrated expression making him look far more like a painting than
anyone should, and it only made me more irritated. I was just as
beautiful as he, even if I wasn't a maestro. He had no right to think he
was better than me.

"I don't think I'm better than you," he responded, surprising me for a
moment before I remembered his skill.

I narrowed my eyes at him, but his voice and face betrayed no
sarcasm. He really didn't think he was better than me. That both
comforted and confused me further. An idea occurred to me as his
melody moved up the keys. Maybe he was so intimidated by my
perfection that he couldn't see himself worthy of me.

Edward snorted, actually snorted at me, never ceasing his playing,
never looking in my direction. "Don't flatter yourself, Rosalie."

I folded my arms over my chest. I knew if I didn't do something with
my arms, I would likely attack him, so enraged as I was by his attitude

toward me at the moment.

"You know, Edward, one day you're going to look back and regret
being so terrible to me. Any man or vampire would be lucky to have
me as his mate, and you are passing up the opportunity of a lifetime."

The melody abruptly ended, his fingers still in place, and he looked in
my direction. His eyes were that inhuman shade of gold that mine had
yet to reach, the mark of animal's blood upon his body. His face was
intimidating, straight on, but I refused to back down. Finally, he
relaxed, one of his dexterous hands leaving the keys to run through
his messy hair.

"Rosalie, do you even want to be with me?"

His question took me by surprise. I had been so busy trying to figure
out why he didn't want me that I hadn't really thought about whether
or not I wanted him. I listed internally all of the things that made him
perfect for me: his face, his talent, his athletic physique; but he cut off
that train of thought.

"I'm not asking if you think I'm a good match for you. Do you want to
be with me?"

As much as I would have liked to shove something in his self-righteous
face, I knew the answer. Everything Edward did annoyed me to anger.
He was like the wealthy child who mocked those less important than
himself, or the sibling who pushed all of your buttons without even
trying. We would be absolutely volatile together.

Edward nodded along with my thoughts. "Exactly. I don't need a
woman who can't love anyone more than herself to make me happy."
My rage flared to life again at that statement, but he spoke again
before I could refute his claim. "I am perfectly content on my own."

A strange thing happened when Edward muttered those last words. His
posture slumped just barely. He tried to hide it by refocusing on the
piano, but I saw it. His melody resumed, slow and depressing, and I
finally figured out a piece of Edward's mentality. He didn't want to be
happy. Maybe the reason Edward was so arrogant and judgmental was
that it was easier to keep everyone at a distance than to come to
terms with the things he'd done, the horrible crimes he'd committed
over the years.

His jaw tensed as I thought that, and he muttered in an irritated voice,

"Please leave now."

With nothing left to say, I turned swiftly and returned up the stairs to
my room.

I made a promise to myself at that moment not to let Edward Cullen
make me feel bad about myself anymore. He was just a boy, far too
serious and weighed down by guilt and responsibility. He would never
find someone to love because he wouldn't allow himself to love.

I thought of Vera and her son as I assessed the damage I'd done to
my door, their faces growing fuzzier even as I repeatedly forced
myself to remember, and a solemn ache settled into my dormant
chest. Giving myself to a man for superficial reasons would never
make me really happy. I had made this mistake while I was human,
and it had cost me everything. I would not settle for someone who
didn't want me for me. And if that left me alone, like Edward, for the
rest of eternity, so be it.

I just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Prompt: soft Pen name: americnxidiot Pairing:
Edward/Bella Rating: T

* ~ * ~ *

I was ridiculously happy to be home. Today sucked, and all I wanted
was to have a glass of wine while snuggling with my boyfriend.

It was girly, but whatever. He could deal.

I heard the soft hum of the television, so I walked into the living
room…

And froze.

"Edward, are you watching Grey's Anatomy?"

His spun toward me with wide eyes. For a second we just stared at
each other, and then he dove frantically for the remote. I grabbed it
first.

I glanced in disbelief between McDreamy and my frozen boyfriend and
smiled.

He was so busted.

Prompt: wood
Pen name: americnxidiot
Pairing: Jasper
Rating: M

* ~ * ~ *

JPOV

The bedroom that Alice and I claimed was a bizarre blend of both of
our personalities.

More than half of the space was incredibly feminine, overloaded with
clothes and make-up and various hair care products that she hoarded
in hopes that Bella would turn superfemale overnight. If an outsider
looked in, they probably wouldn't realize I lived here. Between the
pink and purples, it appeared to be very much a girl's room. Those
who knew us, though, could see where I made my mark. My spot was
in the corner by the window. I had a small bookshelf and a
comfortable chair, and that was all I really needed.

We'd argued over that damn chair for days. Alice claimed it messed up
the feng shui of the room, and more than once, I only stopped her
from tossing it out because Edward gave me a heads up. She
conceded when I agreed to let her put a slip cover over the
upholstery; now, I had my very own lilac barcalounger.

Score one for Jasper.

That's where I was right now, a heavy tome on my lap that Alice had
ordered from Amazon for me last weekend. Sitting here and reading
was my favorite thing to do besides my wife.

My pen was cocked and ready, a clean notebook on top of the first
volume of the The Civil War: A Narrative. This was going to be a
productive afternoon.

"Dear Editors," I wrote in swirling cursive. My brothers made fun of me
for doing this, but I didn't let them bother me about it. People
deserved to know when they were insultingly wrong about my history.
And I'd found out through practice that they tended to take me more
seriously when I wrote like an elderly statesman.

I was fifty pages into the text, which was proving slightly more factual
than most of these pieces of garbage that claimed to be histories,
when it happened. The one thing that could distract me from my fun
afternoon of editing textbooks.

Emmett parked his Jeep in the driveway and walked into the garage
where Rosalie was doing… something. Who knows. It didn't take much
for him. I heard his quiet groan and the sound of the door shutting and
locking, and then Rosalie's enthusiastic moan as Emmett… yeah. And
just like that, with my wife in Port Angeles and a new book on my lap,
I was sticking up at half-mast in my trousers. Stupid oversexed sort-of
siblings.

For the most part, I embraced my power. It gave me a certain amount
of control over the actions of others and allowed me to act the
peacemaker when people (or vampires) got aggressive. It also made
me the only person in the house who could get a grasp on Bella
Swan's thoughts, which pissed Edward off, and that was always fun.
But it was a little embarrassing and gross getting secondhand-horny
from my family members.

The years and constant exposure to Rosammett had given me some
sort of control over this particular issue, so I thought about werewolf
stank and the terrible taste of squirrels after hibernation until the
General Lee calmed down again. I took a few focused breaths and was
back to normal.

Crisis averted.

I reached over to my bookshelf, pressing play on my iPod dock, and let
whatever fruity classical music Ed had put on there sort of drown out
Emmett's mumblings about "super awesome titties." My focus returned
to the book in my lap. After a few minutes, my annoyance overtook
any residual arousal as I read the incredibly biased retelling of the
caning of Charles Sumner. I didn't care what they said about Preston
Brooks. That man was an American hero.

Everything was fine until I heard that increasingly familiar heartbeat,
and Edward and Bella walked together into the house. He muttered
some excuse, pushing her past the garage door before she heard the
happy humpers, and led her up the stairs to his bedroom. Thankfully,
that seemed to be the end of it.

I took a second to rein in the bloodlust and scrawled some more

grievances onto my notepad. "Frankly, I am appalled by your attempt
to describe the mentality of the Southern gentleman during the period
before the war. It makes me wonder if you've ever spoken to a man,
let alone a soldier…"

"You're so beautiful, Bella."

Oh crap.

She giggled quietly, and I heard the quiet ruffling of his comforter as
they lay down together. "I'm nowhere near as perfect as you."

God, they were sickening.

I tried to tune out their "I love you more, no I love you more" bullshit,
and it worked until I heard Bella's breath hitch as Edward's skin
brushed against hers. Knowing them, he was only pressing a finger to
her forehead, but from the rush of feelings you would think he just
threw her down and had his gentle and respectful way with her. That
made my guard slip, and the combined force of Eddie boy's chaste
touches and Emmett's unchaste game of hide the salami in the garage
was too much.

The General sprung to attention so quickly that I was kind of worried it
would dent the cover of my book.

Why the hell is Alice still in Port Angeles?

No. I was not going to let those eager virgins get the best of me. This
chair was my happy place, meant for reading and editorial ego-
crushing. I was not going to sit here and squirm, sporting wood like a
teenager grabbing at his first boob. So I focused. I stared hard at my
book and thought about my usual boner-killers, but none of it was
working.

The taste of pretty much all animal blood? Nope.

Rosalie's aggression every time Bella got within a fifty-foot radius of
her? Nope.

Emmett going skinny dipping for whales the last time we were in
Alaska? God, even that mental image didn't deflate my boner, and that
one always worked.

I was about to call it a lost cause and shuffle in defeat to the bathroom

when the savior couple, Carlisle and Esme, finally came home. Rosalie
and Emmett quickly finished up their business, thankfully having
enough shame to calm down for Carlisle's sake. Edward's brain was so
twisted about purity that he panicked at the idea of his "parents"
hearing him even kissing his girlfriend, so he quickly rolled off the bed
and moved over toward what sounded like his window.

My pseudo-parents walked quietly up the stairs toward their bedroom,
talking about some charity hospital function that was coming up, and
everything finally calmed down. The textbook came back to rest on my
legs as the General retreated. Finally.

I looked back at my book, scoffing at their description of Stonewall
Jackson as stiff and unfriendly, and settled back into my happy place.

"… And furthermore, I have it on good confidence that not only was
Stonewall Jackson quite the prankster, but he was an enthusiast of
good, Southern moonshine as well. His drunken antics were legendary
throughout the troops…" My eyebrow quirked when I heard a door
lock down the hall, but I didn't think much of it.

"So, Doctor," Esme whispered after a few seconds, though I could still
hear it pretty clearly. "I have this ache between my legs. I was hoping
you could take a look."

Was this seriously happening right now?

Fine. Thanks, fate. You win.

I slammed shut my book, the pen saving my page, and set it down on
top of my bookshelf before getting ready to stomp off to the
bathroom. There wasn't any point in fighting it anymore. It was time
to salute the General.

I took two steps across the room before arousal buckled my knees, the
sensation combined with the smell of lavender and woman almost
taking me over completely. But this was different. This wasn't Edward
and Bella, or Emmett and Rose, or even Carlisle and Esme. This was
my own desire, and that scent told me that my wife was finally home.
Thank. Fucking. God.

She slipped into our room and locked the door in one movement,
smiling at me and jutting her chest out just enough to catch my
attention… as if that were ever an issue.

"I had a feeling I should be home right now," she said suggestively,
her hand sliding down her side to settle on her waist.

I couldn't even think of a seductive response before my animal
instincts took over. I tackled her onto our bed like a goddamn
caveman, climbing over top of her, and beyond ready to show her just
how happy I was that she was home.

Her laughter told me she didn't mind in the slightest.

Prompt: touch Pen name: americnxidiot Pairing: Edward/Renesmee
(father/daugher stuff) Rating: K+

* ~ * ~ *

Renesmee extends her fingers, grubby palm stretching toward his
face, but his larger hand catches her wrist before she makes contact.

"No, sweetie. I need you to practice using words."

Why she asks in her mind. She knows of easier ways to express her
thoughts.

"Because humans won't understand. They'll get… upset if you use your
gift." Edward almost laughs at the understatement.

She is quiet. He fears he embarrassed her, that he made her feel too
strange or different.

And then she smiles brightly.

"I love you, Daddy," she whispers.

Her hands on his cheek soon echo the sentiment.

Prompt: juvenile
Pen name: americnxidiot
Pairing: Edward/Bella
Rating: T

* ~ * ~ *

"So Bella…" Alice started coyly, spinning her straw around her coke
glass. She glanced up at me, quirking one eyebrow and jutting out her
lip in an attempt to look as cute as possible. As if that could fool me. I

knew what a tyrant she was for information.

I glared at her for a second and then sighed, nodding to her to just get
it over with.

"How are things going with Edward?" She flipped her hand out girlishly
when she said his name, smiling widely and pretending to fan herself.
I shot her another glare and tried to ignore the fact that my stupid
stomach fluttered at the mention of my new boyfriend. I knew I was a
lost cause, but Alice didn't need to know that.

"Oh, lighten up, Bella, you know I'm messing with you." She smirked,
taking a sip from her soda. "But seriously, how are things going with
you two?"

I let myself smile, thinking of the text I'd woken up to this morning.
Edward was very stoic about his feelings and he'd only officially asked
me out two weeks ago, so it turned me into useless girly mush when
he showed some affection. I really shouldn't be so excited about an I
missed you last night, but I was.

"Things are good. Really good. He's… great." Great smile, great eyes,
great kisser…

"Earth to Bella!" Alice snapped right in front of my face, making me
blink and bringing me back to the conversation. "Damn girl, I guess
things are good. You didn't hear me at all." The waitress came to take
our orders. Alice sort of slumped back against her chair, scrunching
her nose and doing some weird thing with her eyebrows. As soon as
we were alone again, I rolled my eyes.

"What is that face?" I asked.

She drained her soda, taking an annoyingly long time to answer my
question. Finally she set the plastic on the edge of the table and
tentatively looked to me. "Please don't take this the wrong way." Uh
oh. That was never a good sign. "But Edward is… he's just so serious,
isn't he? Has he lightened up at all since you two started dating?"

"He's not that serious," I rebutted lamely, reaching for my own drink.

That was such a lie. When I first talked to Edward, I thought he was
possibly the stiffest guy I'd ever met. Our first conversation was
about, I'm not even kidding, types of wine and different processes of
fermentation. It wasn't until I knew him better that I realized that was

Edward's attempt at flirting. Thank god he was pretty.

"Come on, Bella. He was so secretive about his crush on you that you
almost passed out when he finally asked you on a date. The guy's not
exactly an open book."

"Yeah, I know, but that doesn't mean anything."

She wasn't buying it and leaned forward, assuming the interrogating
position. "Tell me, then. What's his favorite food? Song? What are his
parents' names? Where did he go to high school-"

"Jesus, Alice, calm down. We've been dating for fifteen days. We still
have plenty of time to get to know one another." She kept giving me
that I know more about your relationship than you do look, so I
muttered, "His favorite food is lasagna, by the way."

The waitress brought us our sandwiches, and I thanked God for small
miracles. I took my aggression out on an unassuming french fry,
squeezing it until the potato crumbled to the plate. If I squinted hard
enough, it looked like Alice's head.

I heard her sigh but kept my focus on my food. I was kind of pissed at
her for making me doubt the best thing that'd happened to me in a
while.

In typical Alice fashion, she got tired of waiting for me to calm down,
grabbing my plate and pulling it out of my reach. I groaned but quickly
admitted defeat, looking up and waiting for her to speak.

"I'm sorry for harshing your Edward buzz. I know how much you like
him, but I need to make sure he's good for you."

Damn intrusive, well-intending best friend. "He is wonderful to me,
Alice." She didn't look convinced and was still holding my plate
hostage, so I added, "Listen, I knew how he was going into this.
Edward defines the strong and silent type, and I'm not going to freak
out because I don't know how old he was when he lost his first tooth
yet."

"Well as long as you're happy, I'm happy." She sighed dramatically but
cracked a smile, letting me know in her own weird way that she
wouldn't bug me about this anymore.

"Good. Now give me back my damn french fries."

- - - - -

Alice may have dropped the topic then, but what she had said
apparently got to me, because two hours later, I found myself sitting
on my bed, contemplating whether or not my boyfriend was too
austere for my liking.

I was fully aware that this was crazy. I really cared about Edward. He
made me happy, and that was all that really mattered, right?

So what if he didn't laugh that much? So what if I didn't really know
what he did for fun or if his interests in science and classic films could
put me to sleep? We'd only been on five dates, and we'd maybe hung
out ten times. There was still so much I didn't know about him. I was
sure that he would relax around me eventually, once we were less
nervous around each other…

But what if he didn't? What if the guy I was seeing now was the real
Edward and there was no other layer waiting for me under the
surface? What if he really was this serious, sophisticated man trapped
in the body of a twenty-one-year-old college student?

I thought back to our first real date. Edward had taken me to a really
nice restaurant twenty minutes outside of campus. It was the classic
wine and dine. For our second date, we went to a small independent
movie theater for some advanced screening of a subtitled film. And so
on… and so on.

The pattern was there. Edward was a guy of sophisticated tastes, and
from what I could tell from glancing around his apartment, he was
really into reading and his studies. Meanwhile, I was a girl who
laughed when someone used "long" and "hard" in the same sentence.
Alice and I had spent last night seeing a terrible movie, just so we
could laugh at the acting. Edward was mature and brilliant. I was
smart, but was still just a kid at heart.

Were Edward and I too different to work?

Oh god, what if we didn't have anything in common?

I couldn't date someone who would judge me for my love of old Disney
movies, or who made me feel like I was a kid sitting at the grown-ups
table at Thanksgiving. I knew that I already liked Edward an unhealthy
amount given the short amount of time we'd been dating. But I
couldn't continue to see him if we weren't compatible, and I needed to

figure that out before I got in too deep.

Ignoring the fact that showing up to his apartment hours before our
date would probably set off the crazy girlfriend alarms, I stood from
the bed and grabbed my keys and purse.

Edward and I needed to have a chat.

- - - - -

The ten-minute trip to his apartment wasn't long enough to convince
me that this was a bad idea. If I didn't talk to him now, then I would
just be really awkward on our date tonight, and I didn't want that.

I shook out my hands, not wanting to draw this out any longer, and
knocked loudly on his door.

I heard some rustling from inside the apartment. Someone yelled
"Coming!", and I waited until the door was yanked open, revealing an
incredibly buff guy I'd never seen before. I felt my eyes widen in shock
before I could stop them.

"Er, is Edward here?"

The big guy turned his head toward the living room and called out, "Yo
Cullen, there's a hot chick at the door asking for you."

I looked past the guy into the living room where my boyfriend and
three other people were sitting around the table. Edward looked up at
the sound of his last name, and his lips parted slightly in surprise when
he saw me. He didn't seem annoyed that I was here, so I just clung to
that.

"Oh hey, Bella," he greeted, walking over to me and pulling me into a
quick hug. "I thought we weren't meeting until eight?"

"Yeah, we weren't, I was…" worried that you might be really dull…
concerned that we were functioning at different maturity levels…
wanted to know if you had any hobbies besides looking intense… "I
just missed you. I hope you don't mind that I stopped by a few hours
early."

Edward smiled as I spoke, letting his hand move to the back of my
neck. "I'm really happy you came." He leaned in cautiously and gave
me a short kiss before pressing his lips to mine more seriously. It was

hard to care about whether or not he was too mature for me when he
kissed me like this. Hell, it was hard to care about most things when
he kissed me like this.

A loud voice from the living room area, accompanied by some banging
noises, made me break away from him a few seconds later, something
I was not entirely happy about.

"Dammit, Rose, you can't just reach over and block my hippo!"

Um. What was that now?

"Stop being a crybaby, Jasper. You're just pissed you lost."

I stood on my tiptoes, looking around Edward's arm to see what they
were actually doing in the other room. Around the coffee table, where
just last week Edward and I had eaten dinner while watching some
black and white movie from the 50s, two blond people were arguing
over an incredibly familiar old board game.

"Are you guys playing Hungry Hungry Hippos?" I asked slowly, the
words sounding as weird out loud as they had in my head.

"Uh… yeah," he muttered awkwardly, "Emmett, my roommate, wanted
to play so… yeah."

I'd never heard him sound so jumbled. I stepped back, but kept my
hand on his waist as I looked up toward his face. The sight shocked
the hell out of me. Edward's cheeks were flushed pink, his hand that
wasn't clutching my hips pulling at his messy hair. He looked like a
teenager who got caught snuggling with his old teddy bear, and
something finally occurred to me.

Maybe Edward wasn't as serious and mature as I'd thought. Maybe he
was acting like the cool, mysterious guy to impress me. The idea
completely endeared him to me, and I wanted to do something to let
him now how much I didn't care about that stuff.

Shuffling slightly closer, I pressed a firm kiss to Edward's cheek. His
arm tightened barely around me. Leaning back just enough to see his
eyes, I smiled widely.

"Can I be on your team?"

Edward's lips twisted up into a pleased grin, and then he crushed his

mouth to mine in both relief and excitement. His hands pulled me flush
against his body, and though I could hear catcalls coming from the
living room, Edward didn't seem to give a shit.

I took that as a yes.

Prompt: walls Pen name: americnxidiot Pairing: Alice Rating: T

* ~ * ~ *

When she'd first arrived at the asylum, when her father told her they
were just taking another trip to see the doctor, the overwhelming
stench of the place had hit her hard. She'd bent over at the waist just
inside the door and emptied her stomach onto her favorite black
shoes. Her father had sighed while the nurse shook her head sadly,
patting her on the head.

Mary Alice doesn't even notice the smell anymore.

The doctors took those shoes an hour later, replacing them with cotton
slips over her toes. Her soft dress was exchanged for a gown and she
was left, smelling of vomit and sobbing in her solitary room.

In her other life, doctors tried to talk her out of what she knew was
true. They yelled or pleaded with her, gave her pills to quell her
affliction, but here they mostly leave her alone. She doesn't correct
them when they call her Mary, a simple name she has always hated,
and they don't tell her not to dream.

She isn't sure how long she's been here now. They don't allow clocks
or calendars for patients, and she hasn't seen a mirror since she's
arrived, so she can't see how much she's aged. Not knowing has
almost become a comfort to her, allowing her to believe that her stay
has been shorter than it has.

When she first came here, she ticked away her time with scratches on
the walls of her cell. After twelve days her nails were broken, her
fingertips too scabbed and raw to continue. The blood stain from that
incident was still on her cot.

At the time, she cried quietly over the throbbing pain.

She hasn't broken down since.

* ~ * ~ *

Every so often, she hears another patient screaming through her door.
Sometimes the patient is muffled and she can hear the kicking of feet,
as he or she- as faceless as she is- is dragged down the hall. Not
everyone can cope like she has. She's listened to the moaning
lamentations of distant voices, but she doesn't agree.

The blackness of everything doesn't threaten to swallow her
completely, or pull her down into sin. It simply is.

She misses the taste of proper food and the sounds of pans clanking in
the kitchen, but she doesn't cry. She feels no fear when the pale man
with amber eyes brings her meals, despite the goosepimples that rise
on her skin in his presence. She hasn't seen her family in ages; her
mother visited once the week after they'd disposed of her here, but
she never returned. And still, she doesn't feel lonely. She doesn't
mourn her unfair situation or wish for something better.

She just exists.

She sits quietly on her rancid cot and watches the thin light that shines
through a crack in the wall travel across the floor with the moving sun.
She eats the food she is given without protest. She sleeps when her
body grows tired.

When she feels the emotions threatening to show themselves, she
clings to what she knows might just be imagination, hazy memories
whose details have slipped through the small crack underneath her
door. She focuses on the happy things instead of the current
nothingness, and that makes it easier to breathe.

She reminisces about playing tag with her best friend Allie in the sticky
summer sun.

She recalls parting her neighbor's pretty blonde hair, twisting it into
plaits while daydreaming about restaurants in Philadelphia.

She remembers her precious sister Cynthia's warm laugh.

By the end, Cynthia was the only one she spoke to about her dreams.
The small girl would listen with rapt attention, believing her sister was
a faerie instead of the witch the town made her to be.

She never blamed Cynthia for what happened after that final

premonition. Cynthia hadn't wanted to go to the carnival after Mary
Alice saw the little boy's death, and she'd simply told her mother why
she was so afraid. She hadn't known that she was condemning her big
sister to this place. Cynthia was so young and so pure, and Mary Alice
could never resent her for her own miserable fate. She had only sped
up the inevitable, anyway.

When Timothy Jones fell from that tree, his neck snapping on impact,
it was already too late. After two days, her father had ushered her into
the carriage, and Mary Alice was no longer a Brandon.

* ~ * ~ *

Some days are harder than others.

Mary Alice wakes up to the usual dark shadows, the line of sunlight
illuminating the corner to the left of the door. Once it reaches the
crack of the passageway, the pale man will bring her slop and dirty
water, her first of two filling but revolting meals for the day. She
traces her fingers over her twelve needy scratches and waits in
silence.

But today is different.

The door cracks open with six inches to spare, and Mary Alice sits up
cautiously. The routine rarely breaks, so when it does, she takes
notice. The scraps of blanket fold beneath her curling hands.

The first thing she sees is a blinding lantern, and she immediately
squeezes her lids shut; even the weak light source burns her tired
eyes. She opens them just enough to take in the foreign visitors who
have come into her room.

The two men do not work for the asylum. She can tell that from their
clothes. Even the one who is clearly of lesser importance wears a clean
cotton shirt and trousers that fit properly. His master is an older
gentleman, and he looks toward his apprentice with very little
fondness, his eyes weary and telling her that his presence here is
nothing different for him. He glances toward the thin girl on her cot
and nods his head once, the finality of the movement putting her on
edge.

"This is the one," he mutters to his companion as he sets the lantern
on the floor. He speaks as if she is not in the room, which intensifies
the dread already settling into her chest.

Out of reflex, Mary Alice shuffles until her back hits the wall when the
young man begins to approach her. He reaches for her body as if she
is an animal. She kicks fiercely at his legs and tries to cry out for a
doctor or another worker, but her tired voice barely reaches the
doorway. She is too weak, her muscles atrophied from lack of use. And
when his strong arms restrain her fully, she is helpless to fight him.

The older gentleman reaches into his pocket, pulling out an object in a
flash of silver. His trained thumb flips against the steel, and she gasps
in horror when a sharp blade is revealed.

This is how I die she thinks hopelessly, without explanation or
purpose. Her pitiful life sprints through her mind- Cynthia and flashes
of Philadelphia and her warm mother and cold father and more and
more- and for the first time is ages, she dares to ask the why. Why is
this happening? What have I done?

But his razor never touches her racing pulse.

The unexpected pain is a shock, and she whimpers when she feels his
warm hands pulling at her hair. She doesn't understand the quiet
swish that accompanies the tugging, until a long piece of black hair
falls sadly to the floor. And then another.

The older man is efficient, cutting incredibly close to her scalp as he
chats lazily with his apprentice. "Lovely hair like hers is always in
demand. We can expect between five and ten dollars for this wig once
it's put together." Sometimes he gets too close and the blade nicks her
sensitive skin. She doesn't struggle out of fear that the razor will make
a deeper cut.

When the job is complete, the gentleman gathers the shorn hair into a
sack draped under his elbow. He nods his head again, and the
apprentice drops Mary Alice carelessly to the floor as he stands. The
cement does little to cushion her fall. She flinches at the dirt
underneath her scraped palms, and quickly pushes herself back
against the wall, watching the door intently until it shuts behind those
horrible men.

Her body still trembling with fear, she lifts her dirty hands to feel
across her scalp. She feels the misshapen patches and the increasingly
unstable nature of her breath, and sighs. She knows the hair will grow
back, but she cannot stifle the deep sadness she feels at its loss.
Without her clothes or jewelry, this was all she had left, the last

physical connection to the life she no longer had.

But she also knows this sadness is for nothing. The futile act of crying
will only leave her eyes raw and her long suppressed emotions
threatening to push through the surface. It will only make it harder.

So she does what works best.

With her hands sticky and her mangled hair matted with blood and
grime, Mary Alice closes her eyes. She takes controlled breaths
through her mouth and focuses on her constant. Her favorite vision
still holds strong after all this time, giving her hope that everything
hasn't been destroyed.

Her chapped lips shape the word Jasper over and over.

She thinks of his burgundy eyes, his dark blond curls, and the smile
that overtakes his face once she makes him whole again.

Prompt: light Pen name: americnxidiot Pairing: Leah Rating: M

* ~ * ~ *

The first time Jacob Black saw the demon spawn, he said it was like he
had been living in darkness and suddenly there was light.

Paul was less poetic. He needed to be with Rachel, and that was that.

Gimme a break.

None of them see how demeaning it is. They are so damn eager to
sacrifice their free will for "love". Ignoring the potential heartbreak it
can cause. Ignoring what happened to me.

So fuck them.

Fuck imprinting and their "perfect" lives.

The others can frolic mindlessly in the light if they want.

I'd rather stay in the dark.

Prompt: aesthetic Pen name: americnxidiot Pairing:

Edward/Bella Rating: M

* ~ * ~ *

"Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the

cultivated. For these there is hope."

-Oscar Wilde

* ~ * ~ *

My boyfriend was so fucking cute.

I probably should have been focused on my work, given that I had a
painfully broad exam in my psychology class the next day, but I
couldn't help it. His green eyes were focused on the music theory
textbook in his lap, his black framed glasses occasionally sliding down
his nose until he pushed them back up again. His t-shirt was slightly
wrinkled and his hair was a wreck from fingers running through it
(both his and mine), and I just wanted to throw our books to the floor
and straddle his skinny legs. So I did.

I wasn't as careless as I was in my fantasies, carefully setting both of
our books on the table before shifting on top of him. Those things were
expensive, you know? Edward's hands cautiously settled on my hips,
and I smiled when his Adam's apple bobbed, reminding me of how
nervous he still got around me. Like I said, so fucking cute.

"Hey," I said happily before leaning down to kiss him once.

He lingered against my lips as I pulled away, leaning forward just
barely, my shirt bunching under his fingers.

"H-hey yourself," he replied shakily. His stare moved between my eyes
and my mouth, and then he made a tentative move, pressing his
mouth to mine and briefly drawing my lip between his. When we
parted again, his face was set in a concentrated frown. He was
thinking hard about something. I knew from experience that I couldn't
push him, so I twisted my fingers through his hair and waited for him
to speak.

"Can we..." he started, his palms slightly sweaty against my waist. "D-
do you trust me?"

I smiled. "Of course I do."

Edward grinned, one side of his lips lifting higher than the other, and
let go of me just to remove his glasses. He nudged me off his lap,
running his hand from my shoulder to my fingers, and we stood
together. He kissed my forehead before leading us down the hallway
toward his bedroom. I tried not to skip in my excitement. I loved when
he was somewhat in control.

Once we were inside, he walked me to his bed and then went to
quietly shut and lock the door. He glanced up at me from the doorway
and laughed nervously, his hand that held his glasses smoothing out
the back of his hair. He stopped at his desk, setting down his glasses
and grabbing some kind of black fabric, before coming back to me. For
a moment we just looked at each other. And then he held out the
fabric, showing me what it was.

"My scarf?"

Edward gulped again and lifted the scarf to my eyes. I froze when I
felt him fold it a few times, wrapping it around my head, and tying it in
a knot above my hair-tie. This was… different. He had never done
anything like this before.

Sensing my unease, he quietly asked again, "You trust me, right?" I
could feel his breath on my ear when he spoke and the reminder that
he was there calmed me down a little.

"Yes," I said, because I did trust him if nothing else.

This was a change of pace. The loss of my sight had made me the
nervous one, waiting for him to make a move, to show me what it was
he wanted. I listened attentively in an attempt to hear what he was
doing. Not much, I figured, since I could only really hear his breathing.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Bella."

I stiffened in the best possible way, my body responding immediately
to the uncharacteristic confidence in his voice. There was no stutter,
no cautiousness, just honesty. I felt his hand move to my ponytail,
gently pulling the scrunchy out and letting my hair fall over my
shoulders. I knew it probably had that annoying bump in the back
from the elastic, but it didn't seem to bother him. I knew he liked
touching it when we fooled around.

"I know I usually have trouble saying this, but it's true. You are the
most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and I'm so lucky to have you in

my life."

His words reached somewhere deep inside my chest. Normally when
Edward stuttered out a compliment, I would blush and say something
funny to draw the attention away from my looks. But here, with my
eyes covered and his voice pleading with me to believe him, I couldn't
bring myself to say anything. His fingers ran once through my hair
before moving down my neck and shoulders. I could feel his warm
body in front of me, even more than I usually did when he was this
close.

"You're incredibly bright and funny. Even on my worst days, all I need
is to hear your laugh and see your amazingly expressive eyes, and the
stress just melts away."

His hands drifted along my arms and further down, just barely grazing
the sides of my chest before moving to my stomach. I felt my breath
hitch, electric fingertips making the urge to touch him almost
unbearable, but I forced myself to sit still. It wasn't often Edward
spoke this much about anything, let alone about me.

"Your body is perfect, with the kind of features artists dream about.
Just thinking about how wonderful your breasts feel in my palms, the
way your skin flushes when we're alone together… the quiet noises you
make when I touch you... it's enough to distract me completely."

"Edward," I sighed, though I'm not really sure why. Did I want him to
stop? Was I a little embarrassed by this kind of attention? Did I just
really love saying his name?

No. Maybe. Abso-fucking-lutely.

He laughed quietly to himself at my weak protest/encouragement,
dragging his fingers along the tops of my thighs. "Sometimes it's so
hard not to just... attack you, wherever we are. Everything you do
turns me on. It's almost embarrassing, actually, how easily you rile me
up."

My breathing was embarrassing at this point, and I was kind of afraid
that I was going to pass out if I didn't do something soon. I braced
myself for more of the words that were rapidly turning me to horny
mush. But then Edward took me by surprise again. His hands left my
legs, and I jumped a little when I felt his palm press gently to my
cheek. His thumb brushed against the scarf as he rubbed back and

forth over the likely red skin. I took the quiet moment to simply feel,
the sparks between us elevated by my missing sense.

"Though I have trouble saying it in words, I hope you understand how
I feel about you. I get so nervous because you're kind of everything to
me, and I'm so afraid I'm going to mess it up somehow. You're just…
literally the woman of my dreams. Completely lovely inside and out,
and by some amazing twist of fate, you're mine. My Bella."

Those were the magic words. I felt around, wrapping my fingers
around his t-shirt, and pulled his face to mine. Our noses bumped
together because I couldn't see, but he just laughed and appeased
me, pressing his lips to mine and letting me pull him closer. He fell on
top of me, his kisses becoming more serious as I pushed the scarf off
my head.

"I really fucking love you," I giggled against his mouth before the
ability to speak left me completely.

He pulled back just enough so I could see his happy smile.

"I love you too."

Prompt: sky Pen name: americnxidiot Pairing:
Edward/Bella Rating: T

* ~ * ~ *

Her feet pounded painfully against the old stone stairs while the
celebrazione buzzed around her. The sun drew hot sweat from her
skin, leaving her nearly dizzy with exertion.

To the crowd, the clear Italian sky was perfection. To Bella, it was a
nightmare.

Gasping for breath, she stared desperately at the few clouds scattered
across the blue. If they were a little darker, thicker, everything would
be okay. But for now, it was up to her.

So she ran-

And cried out his name-

And prayed she'd get there before the sun stole all light from her life

forever.

Prompt: voracious
Pen name: americnxidiot
Pairing: Emmett/Rosalie
Rating: T

* ~ * ~ *

"You have got to be kidding me."

Carlisle looked around the wreckage where a perfectly furnished room
used to be. The four post bed had been reduced to shards, with some
of the fragments actually embedded into the wall. Scraps of cotton and
feathers littered the floor.

If that weren't enough, a gaping hole beside the window provided a
beautiful and unintended view of the forest behind his home. He
turned his disbelieving eyes toward the culprits, waiting for an
explanation.

Emmett fidgeting nervously under Carlisle's gape. His eyes flitted
toward Rosalie, and he shrugged his shoulders cautiously.

"We're newlyweds?"

Prompt: crusade
Pen name: americnxidiot
Pairing: Edward/Bella
Rating: M

* ~ * ~ *

"They say Eve was made from Adam's rib" - his finger traces along her
side - "and before the apple thing, neither was ashamed of nakedness"
- beneath the bra and under her breast - "and it was good."

Bella gladly plays the forbidden fruit as Edward explores her skin. And
when he continues to wax religious, she smiles.

"I'm sure Father Cullen would be proud you're putting Bible study to
good use."

Edward just smirks, continuing down her body until his thumb slips
beneath the hem of her panties. When his fingers touch wet flesh, he
catches her eye and grins wickedly.

"Hallelujah."

Prompt: play Pen name: americnxidiot Pairing: Edward Rating: M

* ~ * ~ *

This man truly was a lucky find.

His thoughts first drifted into Edward's mind just as the sun dipped
below the horizon. Though it couldn't have been past six in the
evening, the words in his head were already erratic and strange,
connections blurred by three late-afternoon whiskeys.

Edward always found the chase most satisfying when his victims were
aware of their impending demises, when he truly felt the angel of
death he pretended to be. But even he could find amusement in the
stuttered mumblings of drunks. When the tips of their boots caught on
invisible twigs and they stumbled to the ground in surprised lumps, he
could almost experience their intoxication secondhand. He watched the
world spin briefly through their eyes, often allowing himself a moment
of fantasy. Plus the abrasions on their palms left the air pungent and
his instincts snarling for blood. That particular relief was better when
he craved it first.

But Edward did not choose this man because of his inebriation. That
was purely a bonus on this particular October evening, as he found
himself in a uncharacteristically lighthearted mood. This man - Frank
Mathis, thirty-four years old, born and raised in Pittsburgh - was the
worst kind of murderer. His sins replayed through his slow mind as if
on a picture screen, and Edward felt his murderous desire growing
with each passing moment.

A few crunching leaves played a sloppy symphony under Frank's worn
shoes as he swayed down the street. He was not drunk enough to
stumble yet, but the turkey sandwich he'd scarfed down for lunch was
doing little to slow the absorption of alcohol into his bloodstream.
Edward imagined he would taste slightly bitter.

From his post, resting leisurely against a tree half a mile away, Edward
could see the man's lips trembling as he muttered to himself.

"Why did I go with the whiskey? I know better than to go with the
whiskey."

His brown jacket had a few superficial tears, though the entire town
still thought him married to the daughter of a seamstress. This was
the only physical sign that something was wrong in his home, but
Edward knew better. The most damning evidence existed in Frank's
own thoughts, and he could not conceal those from Edward. The young
vampire had yet to meet the man who could.

"Cathy always hated when I drank whiskey."

Cathy. As soon as the name passed through his lips, Edward was
taken aback by the guilt Frank felt burning in his gut. A broken image
of the girl pieced itself together in his head, incomplete but enough to
let Edward understand the severity of this tragedy. She had been so
young when her light was snuffed. So young and so devoted to her
husband. Several months after the incident, Frank still could not justify
her murder to himself. She was so innocent. How could Cathy have
known that Jimmy would take Frank out for a few drams of celebratory
whiskey? How could she have predicted the near fight that shrouded
Frank's eyes in a violent haze? How could she have known to run?

Edward only caught a glimpse of her deformed and bruised body,
slipping from his arms into a nearby riverbed before distraction pushed
the girl out of Frank's mind. A sudden gust of wind inflated his coat,
and he struggled for a moment to slip his hands into his pockets. The
sight would have been comical were Edward not so focused. Once he
regained control, Frank forced himself to stare straight ahead while he
held the leather to his body.

Damn Pennsylvania weather. Can never tell if the clouds are gonna
rain or just hover all day. Maybe if I...

The bark beneath Edward's finger tips groaned quietly and crumbled to
dust as disgust overrode any sympathy he might have felt for the
man. As much as Frank wished to repent, Cathy never stayed in his
thoughts for more than fleeting moments. Despite his wrongdoings,
Frank continued to drink whiskey to the point of foolish aggression. He
let the young woman's body rot unnoticed behind his home, without
respect, without the blessing of the clergy. That is why Edward found
Frank so reprehensible. That is why Frank would die today.

Edward waited until Frank passed his tree before taking action,

following six yards behind. He scoffed quietly when the man's thoughts
drifted to his trip home. I swear that Thompson was here this
morning... or did I make the wrong turn back at the church... the next
pub, I'll stop at the next pub to ask for directions... and maybe get
one more drink...

Though he had lived in the city his entire life, the fool had managed to
get himself lost, unknowingly making Edward's task much simpler. Not
that he ever had a chance for escape. Frank did not seem to notice his
quiet company as he walked farther and farther from his intended
destination. The sky slipped from gray clouds to charcoal only ten
minutes after Edward began his pursuit, and Frank finally allowed
himself to fear the unfamiliar road. Edward chose that moment to
announce himself.

"Excuse me, sir!" he called out, jogging toward the pathetic man.
Frank turned toward the noise, rotating just too far before
straightening himself out. He released a tense breath once he realized
it was just a kid, though his pulse continued to race slightly. Why is
he out this far? Is he gonna know I'm drunk? He kind of looks like
Mary Parker's son, but I coulda sworn that boy was a blond. And this
one's got a funny look to him.

"What do you want?"

This was Edward's favorite part. He had lost so much of himself
when... that man stole his life and transformed him into this monster.
His humanity had disappeared with his pulse and green eyes. Now that
he had come to terms with this truth, he was able to fully embrace his
internal predator. And like all predators, he found that half the fun of
the hunt was the game.

"Sorry to bother you, sir," Edward said, ducking his chin to fit the role
of an embarrassed youth. "I was wondering if you saw a girl run by
here earlier."

Though Edward knew Frank had not seen anyone else in the past
twenty minutes, he watched in amusement as the man lifted his hand
to his short beard as if in thought.

"What'd she look like?"

He read the description straight from Frank's head. "She's a few years
older than me. Black hair, prettiest blue eyes you ever saw, a

birthmark right here." Edward pointed to the appropriate spot on his
neck, resisting the urge to smile as Frank's pulse began to race again.
"Her name's Catherine, but we all call her Cathy."

This time, her name flooded his body with nervous tension. His
intoxicated mind began to recognize the fear his body had already
sensed. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, though
the nervous sweat beading on his brow might reveal the lie to even a
normal man.

"Oh, I think you do, Frank."

How the hell does he know my name? God almighty, what a creepy
kid.

Edward did not miss the irony of Frank's unintentional call to God at
the moment of his death.

There's no way the little ass knows about her. No one in town knows
about Cathy anymore, so calm down before you make a fool of
yourself in the middle of this goddamn street.

"Go home," he muttered. "You're too young to be wandering around
this late. You're gonna get yourself killed."

The scent of alcohol seemed to wrap itself around each word while the
drunken sweat oozed through his pores. Even Frank realized he was
patronizing the young man, but he was solely focused on getting
Edward to leave so he could find his way home.

"Too young," Edward said with an empty laugh. Frank felt goosebumps
rise on his skin at the sound of his cold voice. "Cathy was too young,
wasn't she? That didn't stop you."

Frank stepped forward aggressively, his terror at being discovered
manifesting itself in this pointless rage. Edward had no trouble
understanding how this man had beaten his wife to death after too
many drinks. Tantalizing blood splotched his round face as the anger
consumed him. It was too much, and Edward gulped loudly to clear
the venom from his mouth. Frank mistook the movement as fear.

"Listen, you little shit, I don't know how-"

Words failed him completely when his sweaty palm clamped down on
Edward's shoulder. The feel of his marble flesh sobered him greatly,

his anger dissipating as the muscle refused to move under Frank's
grip.

Edward could see Frank's plan before it unfolded - to pull away from
the terrifying boy and run down the street until he found the first
establishment - but Edward was much faster than a drunk man's mind.
His fingers circled Frank's wrist in a vice. His metacarpals whispered
their stress as he attempted to jerk his hand free.

"Frank Mathis."

Edward lifted his eyes as he spit out the man's name. Frank's thoughts
grew frantic as he fully took in Edward's black stare, noticing the spots
of red that gave an evil glow to his irises. Sign from the devil
himself... like a goddamn statue... never felt skin this cold... help me,
God... Cathy... dead in a river... I'm a sinner... fucking demon kid...
God, Cathy, I'm sorry... It was common for his prey to confess their
sins at their moment of reckoning, but Edward could not pardon this
man. Nor did he wish to. Frank Mathis had a luxury Edward never
would. He was blessed enough to keep his soul, to stay intact and pure
and human. It made Edward sick that he would damn himself like this,
when he had the chance to go to heaven... when he had a choice.

"Who the hell are you?" Frank eventually asked, the terror badly
shaking his voice.

The question reminded Edward that though no one was on the road,
they were still very much in public. He quickly turned off the road,
dragging his prey behind him and ignoring the sharp snap of bone
breaking under his grip. Frank's pained whimpers only strengthened
his resolve. Cathy had whimpered. She had cried and pleaded for him
to stop. Frank hadn't even noticed her tears until she was already
dead.

Once the two men were entirely shielded beneath the canopy, Edward
took one last look at the pathetic mess in his hand. The short trip here
had tattered his coat further. Stale mud covered the side of his right
pant leg, and all of his visible skin was coated in warm sweat. With his
eyes squinted, he mumbled some disjointed combination of the Hail
Mary and Our Father while his hand twitched in pain beneath Edward's
fingers. If Edward hadn't known what this broken hand had done, he
might have believed the man innocent. That thought made his fingers
tighten around the now shattered wrist, the desire to feed growing
with his anger. At least he never pretended he wasn't a monster.

With venom coating his tongue and the bloodlust pulsing inside his
dead veins, he spat out his response.

"I'm what you deserve."

Edward released his arm only to grab the man's shoulder and head in
his hands. In an ungracefully move, he shoved the head sideways,
exposing his neck. He faintly heard the nonfatal snap of a collarbone
before teeth sunk into ready flesh. And then Edward felt nothing but
bliss. The man squirmed for a few brief seconds before the blood loss
robbed him of consciousness. The hot liquid rushed down Edward's
throat as quickly as he gulped it down, and though the alcohol did
somewhat tarnish the taste, it could not dim the satisfaction.

He continued to suction the wound for a few seconds after the last
drop had emptied. Finally, Edward felt the nearly imperceptible
collapse of blood vessels, and the strange sensation was enough to
bring him back to awareness. The broken body dropped to his feet,
barely rustling the ground where it settled.

He could not leave it here. It was too close to the road, and it would
be bad for Edward if a human stumbled upon an emptied corpse. He
had some time, though, so Edward let himself enjoy the sensation of
energy returning to his every cell as someone else's blood coursed
through him. He was sure he had never felt this kind of bliss before he
tasted human blood.

Edward knew this animalistic euphoria would fade soon enough. The
thirst would return with his grim self-awareness. He would remember
his past and the two loving creatures he left behind months ago. He
would remember the fact that he was damned to wander the planet a
murderer forever.

But right now, none of that mattered.

For now, it was all little more than a game, a way to catch a meal and
clean up the streets at the same time. The predator was utterly
satisfied from his giving prey. His faded sense of morality was
appeased as well. Because even if the world could never be rid of
Edward, they could be rid of more human sinners.

No one would fall to the drunken rage of Frank Mathis ever again.

And right now - before all of those other things clouded his judgment -
Edward knew that had to count for something.

Prompt: raindrops Pen name: americnxidiot Pairing:
Edward/Bella Rating: T

* ~ * ~ *

6:23

"Shit, shit, shit!"

Now, I wasn't the best person to judge how a date was going. I had
been asked on a handful, gone on a few, and was overall pretty
informed about the dating scene. But I had to imagine that showing up
thirty minutes late for a first date wasn't a good sign for how the
evening would go. And of course, this couldn't have happened on my
date with friendly but dull Mike Newton or grabby-hands Jacob Black.

No. I was now twenty-five minutes late for a date with a guy I actually
really liked.

The delay wasn't entirely my fault. My roommate Alice had bombarded
me right as I was stepping out the door, pushing me forward into the
bathroom and declaring that my make-up looked "absolutely
ridiculous" for a first date. I would have been offended, but I'd learned
years ago that that was only Alice-speak for "not dressy enough." Five
minutes later, I managed to bat her hands away from my face long
enough to sneak out the door.

Of course, in all my stealth, I left my phone sitting on the edge of the
bathroom sink. The light rain left the roads slick and drivers overly
cautious. When traffic slowed to a dreary crawl, I was left tapping my
fingers on the wheel. I couldn't even call Edward to tell him I was
running late, so all I could do was pray that he'd hang around long
enough to see I hadn't stood him up.

Strike one for this date.

I practically yanked the wheel, hurling my poor old truck into the
parking lot of his apartment building. Earlier in the week, when Edward
had mentioned that his apartment was closer to the restaurant than
mine, I offered to just meet him at his place first so we could drive
together. That was probably a mistake. Pulling into a spot, I slammed
the truck into park and barely had time to grab my purse and cardigan
before I was out the door and running toward the lobby of his building.

I sighed in relief when I saw Edward Cullen through the smudged glass
doors, waiting for me on a small bench across from the security desk.
He was picking absentmindedly at a button on his jacket, a
disappointed look on his face, and I felt absolutely awful.

I knew he had been nervous about asking me out. Though I would
never admit it to Alice, we had been cautiously flirting back and forth
for more than two months now. In that time, I learned that Edward
might have been devastatingly handsome, but he still had a difficult
time talking to people at first. I would almost go as far as to call him
shy. Plus, he had run his hand through his hair no less than eleven
times in the time it took him to ask me to dinner. If that wasn't a sign
of nerves, I didn't know what was.

"Hey!" I called out the moment I pushed open the door. His eyes
jerked toward me, and a tentative smile overtook the sadness as I
frantically tried to explain myself. "I am so, so sorry I'm late. There
was traffic, then my roommate, and I forgot my phone just... I'm
sorry."

Edward stood up and walked toward me. His arm moved slightly at his
side until he took a deep breath and gently raised his hand to push a
damp piece of hair behind my ear. "I'm just glad you came."

I wanted to tell him something like I wouldn't miss this for the world or
How could I possibly stand up the most wonderful guy in existence,
but that would have been beyond cheesy. So, we just stood there for a
few seconds, matching dorky smiles on our faces, before Edward
seemed to shake out of it. He took a shuffled step back and ran his
fingers through his hair. Again.

"So, the restaurant isn't far away," he said with a nervous laugh. "If
we're lucky, we might still make our reservations."

I smiled again in return. "Let's go then."

The short trip to the car was quiet but exciting, our arms occasionally
bumping as we walked side by side. This date was a long time coming,
and I had high hopes despite the rough start, especially if Edward kept
sending me those little smiles. The rain seemed to have picked up in
the time we were inside, but not terribly so. I tucked my chin down in
an attempt to keep my face dry.

When we reached the silver car, I couldn't help but giggle quietly. I

glanced over toward Edward to see him shooting me a teasing glare.
The car that he seemed to love so much looked like a hand-me-down
from a soccer mom, but who was I to judge? I drove a shitty truck
that only worked half the time. Despite my implied snub at his car,
Edward held the door open for me, which made me smile. I was doing
that a lot tonight.

We talked easily back and forth as we drove to the restaurant. This
almost felt like one of our normal conversations rather than a date,
with one huge exception. Our hands rested, touching but not clasped
together, on the middle armrest. The light contact was exhilarating.
The time passed quickly and before I knew it, he was pulling into the
parking lot of an incredibly charming, but expensive, Italian
restaurant.

"Edward, you didn't have to do this," I protested weakly, a blush
overcoming my cheeks as he took his place at my side again.

"I wanted to, Bella. This is important to me." He nudged my shoulder
gently to break up any awkwardness from his declaration. "Besides, I'll
take any excuse to eat their Chicken Carbonara."

"Oh, ha ha."

We entered the restaurant laughing together, that nervous excitement
returning to my stomach when I felt Edward's hand pressing cautiously
against my lower back and guiding me toward the hostess. The lobby
was full of people waiting to get a table. Since there were only a few
nice restaurants in town, it was nearly impossible to eat here on Friday
nights without calling ahead.

"Edward Cullen. I have a reservation for two at seven," he said
smoothly. The woman smiled warmly at us both, looking down to
check her notebook, and I leaned closer to his side without thought.
Edward didn't seem to mind, sliding his hand from my back to my
waist. His fingers toyed gently with the hem of my sweater.

Suddenly the professional grin disappeared from her face, confusion
taking over as she flipped through a few pages.

"You said Edward Cullen?"

"That's right," he answered. Our eyes met briefly while she worked, his
lips moving up into a pleased grin while he squeezed my side. Like the
completely lovesick girl I was, I could only think about how our faces

had never been this close before, at least not on purpose.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said slowly, breaking us out of our moment. "We
don't seem to have your reservation."

"That's impossible." He reached behind his head and pulled at the
collar of his oxford, his fidgeting betraying his confident tone. "I called
it in on Wednesday afternoon. Can you check again?"

The woman made a point to slip through the last five pages in her
register, but apparently did not find what she was looking for. "No, we
don't have an Edward Cullen for tonight."

For a few awkward seconds, she just glanced between us while Edward
kind of froze. Eventually, he shook his head and frowned at her. "Well,
then is it possible to get a table tonight anyway?" I looked around us,
wondering if Edward somehow didn't see all the people waiting.
Hostess lady confirmed my suspicions.

"There won't be a table available until after ten." She seemed truly
sorry to be the bearer of bad news, and her face softened when she
asked her next question. "Would you like me to get a manager for
you? We might be able to give you a discount at 10:30 for the
inconvenience."

"No, that's okay," Edward answered dejectedly. His body moved from
mine until just his hand pressed to my back again, and we walked
quietly back out into the raining evening, ignoring the snickers and
confused looks of the other people in the lobby.

Strike two.

Man, this date was not going well.

But it wasn't entirely his fault. I didn't like the way his lips were now
curved down just barely at the edges, and I certainly did not like that
he had all but stopped touching me. Taking a chance, I reached for his
arm, slipping my fingers around his bicep and ignoring the rain on his
jacket. I worried my desire for contact was not reciprocated until he
shifted his arm to grab my hand in his. He linked our fingers together
between us and sighed, finally calm enough to talk.

"Well, that was embarrassing," he muttered.

Before I could reassure him, the rain turned from a drizzle to a full

shower. We quickly clambered into his car before my lack of jacket
made me look entirely like a wet dog. Edward turned the key and
cranked up the heat almost immediately.

Rubbing my hands together in front of the air vent, I glanced over to
him. "It's okay, Edward, really."

He sighed, "No, it's not. I wanted this night to be perfect."

My intent was to be empathetic and to reassure him that I liked him
for him, not just because he could take me to a nice restaurant, but
Edward chose that moment to touch his hair again. He ran his fingers
through it like always, but this time when he shook it out, the rain
splattered all over the car. Some of it even hit me in the face. I
couldn't have stopped my giggles if I tried.

"We're a bit of a mess, aren't we?" I tied my wet hair up into a
ponytail, accidentally proving my point when the water hit him this
time, and smiled when I saw his lips barely turn up in amusement. "I
was ridiculously late and you messed up the dinner reservations. We
both suck."

He snorted and finally cracked a genuine smile, turning his head to
look at me.

"What if we just grab a pizza, head to my apartment, and call it even?"

I nodded my head and reached behind me to fasten my seat belt.
"That sounds great."

Ten minutes later we were driving in a forested patch of road, taking
the long way to the best pizza shop in town to avoid the traffic.
Edward had called in our order from the parking lot of the Italian
place, so we were ready to go. I couldn't imagine that the date could
get any worse than this. With Edward's hand barely touching mine
across the center console, I let myself smile and finally enjoy my
evening with Edward. Some of the first date awkwardness was still
there, but we had both relaxed considerably.

"I can't believe you haven't seen that movie! It's a classic," Edward
declared, dramatically smacking his free hand against the steering
wheel. He was incredibly cute when he was excited.

I shrugged my shoulder nonchalantly. "I heard it was stupid."

"Stupid?! Mel Brooks is never stupid, Bella." He huffed, blowing away a
piece of hair from his forehead. "Whoever told you that is stupid."

I giggled, something I tended to do a lot around him. "You're so
clever, Edward."

Edward smiled lightheartedly and pulled on the steering wheel, ready
to turn onto the next road. His wipers moved quickly over the
windshield to clear the falling rain. It hadn't poured this badly in a
while, and I was excited to change into a dry pair of clothes in
Edward's apartment. Clothes that smelled like him. I practically
shivered in my seat at the thought.

Suddenly my side of the car jerked up onto something I couldn't see
through the rain. A horrible grinding noise made me reflexively cover
my ears until the car dropped down again, rocking back and forth
briefly before evening out. The grinding quieted, but it didn't stop
entirely. Edward drove for a few more feet before coming to a stop on
the side of the road.

"What the hell was that?" I asked a little loudly, my hand pressed over
my racing heart.

After making sure I was okay, he looked at the dashboard to look for
any emergency lights. I waited patiently, fidgeting my hands in my
lap, until Edward groaned out loud.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"What's wro-"

Before I could even finish my question, Edward was out the door. I
really didn't know what to do as he walked around the front of the car
and looked at something on my side. My teeth sunk into my lip almost
to the point of pain in my worry.

A few seconds later, Edward ran back over to his side and opened his
door. He was positively drenched, his hair falling in clumped pieces
over his eyes.

"The tire popped. It looks like I hit the curb on the turn back there."
He rubbed his hands over his face roughly and leaned against the
door, seemingly unconcerned with the water pooling on his seat. "Can
you do me a favor and call AAA from my phone?" He gestured toward
the cup holder where his phone was sitting, thankfully not ruined from

the rain.

I nodded my head and chose the right number from his contacts. Two
minutes later, I hung up with an annoyed sigh. Travel with someone
you trust, my ass.

"They'll be here in about ninety minutes. Their guys are busy.
Apparently there have been several incidents in the county tonight."

"Awesome," he groaned, still standing in the rain. He glanced toward
the back of his car and sighed. "I'm going to try to change it myself.
Maybe we can get out of here in under ninety minutes." With one more
lingering look at me, he bent down to open the trunk and shut the
door, leaving me alone in the running car.

And a flat tire makes strike three.

"This is officially the worst date ever," I mumbled to myself, dropping
my forehead to the dashboard. My wet cardigan clung irritatingly to
my arms, so I pulled it off and tossed it to the floor, leaving me in my
black fancy-without-trying-too-hard top. I made the foolish mistake of
looking in the mirror, only to see that my hair looked a mess and
almost all of my make-up had been washed away by the rain. Thank
god for waterproof mascara, at least.

Oh Alice, if you could see me now.

I could barely make out Edward's blurry form through the rear-view
mirror, crouched down near the back of the car. I hated that we were
going to spend most of our night together not together. But what
could I really do? I knew absolutely nothing about changing tires.
Though I knew it was stupid, I could feel the disappointed tears
threatening to tumble down my cheeks. I had been so excited about
finally going out with Edward. He was sweet and dorky and pretty
much exactly what I wanted in a guy. But given how terribly this
attempt at a date went, I couldn't see him wanting to go out again.

Leaning back against the seat, I turned up the radio and tried not to
mope.

My eyes drifted shut as I listened to the familiar song, and nearly
jumped in surprise when the door opened loudly beside me. The rain
bounced against the edge of my seat, hitting my bare arm and jeans.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't answer my question, instead reaching across me to unbuckle
my seat belt. My breaths came quickly as I tried not to freak out at the
feel of his body so close to mine. When I tilted my head forward, I
could actually smell the faint mint of his shampoo.

As soon as the buckle clicked, he leaned away from me again. The
front of my shirt was completely wet from rain dripping off his soaked
jacket. He pulled the offending material off his arms, dropping it
beside my cardigan on the floor, before extending his hand to me.

"Come here."

I waited for a few seconds to see if he was kidding, but he continued
to hold out his hand without another word. The raindrops clung to his
hair and eyelashes, slipping along his nose and jawline and leaving me
positively captivated. I had to look away from his face in order to form
an answer. I laughed nervously and pushed a piece of hair behind my
ear.

"Edward, it's pouring," I said quietly, though my body was already
turning toward him in my seat.

"I don't care." A small smile crept onto his lips as he watched me
struggle to say no to him. Sane people didn't walk around in the rain
when they had a somewhat dry car, did they?

"Edward-"

He cut me off with gentle laughter, his good humor warming his voice
as he reached forward to grab my hand himself.

"Bella, I spent two months working up the nerve to ask you on a date.
There's no way I'm going to waste my first real chance to spend time
with you changing a stupid tire."

With that he pulled me out of the car, shutting the door behind me. I
shrieked quietly as the downpour quickly drenched my clothes, though
it wasn't as cold as I expected. The warm spring air kept me from
freezing, and as I shuffled toward Edward's even warmer body, I knew
I'd be more than fine. Keeping my hand tightly in his, he led us toward
the front of the car and into the line of the headlights. He let go of me
just for a moment, turning to face me. He pulled me toward his chest
with a smile, and before I knew it, Edward and I were slow dancing on
the side of the road in the pouring rain. Sane people definitely did not
do this. I wasn't sure if I cared anymore.

"Tonight was a disaster," I muttered against his shoulder, clinging
tightly to his wet hand as we moved in slow circles. His large hand
squeezed my waist in amusement, and I squirmed against the ticklish
sensation.

"Oh, definitely," he agreed, his warm laughter disappearing into my
wet hair. "An absolute disaster." We both leaned back at the same
time and beaming at each other through the slowing rain. His smile
was so beautiful, warm and earnest, his eyes dancing with mirth as he
released my hand to push the hair away from my forehead again.
Somehow, even after all the nonsense that had happened tonight, he
was still looking at me with so much affection. It was practically a
miracle.

"I think it ended up okay, though," I said softly, using my now free
hand to carefully run my fingers along his jawline.

Edward's eyes fluttered when I first touched his skin. He slid his hand
from my forehead down the side of my face before settling on my
neck, and I didn't even care that he could probably feel that my pulse
was racing. His dark eyes moved quickly over my face, giving us both
a few seconds to adjust to this wonderful change before going any
further. And then he smiled again.

The last thing I heard was his quiet, "I think so too," before his lips
made slow and gentle contact with mine, officially making the rest of
this terrible night worth it.