corner tag


C. Valentina Dunn

The One Percent
Banner by C. Valentina Dunn 

It begins innocently enough. The slopes won't be open for another two weeks, so the resort is mostly empty. He's alone when he takes a seat at one of the tables in the bar. These days, he usually is. Right away, she approaches him. For her, this is just another day at work — providing small talk and good service is part of her job.

Banner by HeatherDawn

Her long blond hair rippled in the wind, her delicate features were perfectly formed, and her tall, curvy body inspired fantasies in virtually every male who saw her.  All I could think was . . .how wonderful it would be never to have to see her again. 

Well, that was almost all I could think.  I was a man, after all.

Yes, she was, without question, the most heart-stoppingly beautiful woman I'd ever seen.  But my heart had stopped long ago.  And the expression on that flawless face held just as much ire as I was sure my own did.

She was aware that I knew what she was about to say, but she insisted on saying it aloud anyway.

“This is all your fault!  If you would just stay out of my head for five minutes, you wouldn't hear things you didn't like.”

I knew responding in kind wouldn't help anything, but I couldn't stop myself.  “I can't just turn it off, Rosalie.  It doesn't work that way.”

“Well, no one said you had to comment—I was keeping my thoughts to myself, trying to be polite, but no!” she spat.  “Mr. Edward I-Know-Everything Cullen couldn't possibly withhold his wisdom!  Wisdom—hah!”

“Your idea was completely ridiculous!  How could you seriously consider—”

“Who said I was seriously considering anything?  I was just thinking, Edward—just letting my thoughts flow.  And it was none of your business anyway.”

She stalked off down the beach before suddenly halting.  Whirling to face me once more, she extended one foot and drew a line in the sand.

“There.  Pretend that line goes through the whole island.  You stay on your side, and I'll stay on mine. 
Sebastien Robichaud

In the Shadow of the Prado
by Sebastien Robichaud
Banner by Tkegl 

A/N: This is an Edward/Bella outtake from the story “The Ice Queen and Mister McCarty,” which appears on both Twilighted and Fan
(You should probably read the posted chapters first, along with the outtakes “Eiffel Tower Serenade” and “Eiffel Tower Morning.”)

December 2009

Bella stood motionless in front of Jan van Eyck’s Annunciation Diptych.  She was in the Thyssen-Bornemisza museum in Madrid and for the moment, she was alone.

Her eyes were drawn to the painting, to the interplay of light and shadow that made the images look like sculptures jutting out of a niche.  She stared at the masterpiece so long she forgot where she was. When she looked around, Edward was nowhere to be found.

A cold feeling began in the pit of her stomach, spreading outward to her limbs.

Where is he?

A few people had wandered into the space, but none of them were Edward.  She walked to the next room, but it was empty.  By the time she entered the long hallway that constituted room six, she began to panic.

He didn’t bring me all the way to Madrid to dump me.

Did he?

Anais Mark

Eating In
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Across the card-cum-dining table, I eyed my contractor suspiciously. He thought I might be amenable to loosening the time constraints on our project. Spending more time with him was something I could certainly handle. Dragging out this remodel, not so much.

“You’re tired of eating out?”

“I’m sorry. Come again?” I snorted at my innuendo. Adolescent sex jokes were all that stood between me and impaling this lovely hunk of husband on any one of fifty-eleven plastic sporks I’d collected with the mountain of takeout we’d consumed since gutting our kitchen more than a year back. An eyeroll was all the appreciation I got for my restraint and humor. Someone in this damn union needed to respect the pun. Today would have to be my turn.

Late Night with Aro (Epilogue)
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She was about as ready for the media attention as Bambi  was for his new legs. After Bella got out of the hospital, she was followed like a superstar and it was just infuriating. Her parents were in and out of her apartment with food and rented romantic comedies.

The paparazzi were a combination of fruit flies and cockroaches, except they could talk with their evil mouths. Bella kept waiting for the big reveal, waiting to hear the amazing news that Edward Cullen was still alive, but there was nothing.

She couldn’t even wear his big, hairy man toe. It was too long for her shoes. For a while she slept with it like a teddy bear. Then she woke up at night and screamed when she saw it lying next to her mouth. Now, the toe stays in the bottom drawer of her jewelry box.

Please Don't Leave Me
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Bella’s POV 

Of three things I’m sure. One, Jasper almost bit me. Two, Edward wasn’t taking that well. And, three… nope. Just two. I was really hoping to come up with three again, but it’s just two this time.

It has been sixteen hours since the ‘uh-oh that was my eighteenth birthday party’. I told Alice I didn’t want one, but as usual she didn’t listen. So, instead I ended up with stitches, an emo vampire boyfriend and having to sit through class without said emo vampire boyfriend. So, imagine my surprise when I came home from school to find the Cullen—whom I voted in my mind to most likely end my life—waiting in my bedroom playing with her hair. 

Coming Home (A Quiet Storm Outtake)
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Letting out these small groans, I was able to taste and kiss all my favorite spots in my only favorite place. By now Bella held her own legs back, nearly placing her feet behind her head. She was wide open — exposed — and looked so gorgeous, face scrunched and eyes closed in pleasure. I had stopped to finger her, using two and going so slow. 

Then was when I decided to test the waters. With my fingers moist and slippery from her wetness, they left her to slide down and rub against her asshole.

"Shit." Her ass rose from the bed even more, and my head dipped low — keeping pressure with my fingers without entering as I softly sucked her clit. The squeal I was greeted with made my heart take a leap. "You like that, baby?" I cooed, and then flicked my tongue on her swollen clit. "Yes!" she screamed, her thighs clamping my head tightly. "Oh God . . . just like that, Edward. I love you. I love you. I love—" She let out a gasp-like cry, her breathing cut off as she stiffened.

Kill Phil
Banner by Catonspeed 

Disclaimer: All references to Twilight, Kill Bill, Pulp Fiction, and Natural Born Killers belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

Huge love to mac for beta’ing this, and to catonspeed for the awesome banner. I couldn’t have written this very well without either of these ladies. Kill Phil is not an epilogue to Stigmata Tomato, but a dream sequence or AU ending.

Facebook Status: Samurais are the new pink.

We stumble and scream and fight and fuck. And we hunger for blood, vengeance like human flesh on our putrid, zombified tongues.

Will I be satisfied with his head on my mantle? Will I stop screaming at night when my katana slices through his meaty neck?

Or will I die a little on the other end of the sword?

There’s no time for regret.

I won’t sleep. Not until his cock is hammered to my cross.

Choices (Outtake)
Banner by EmilyMarie15 

“Jasper?”  Bella whispered as he pushed her off of him and started towards the bathroom door.  Bella was confused but she could not deny she was also incredibly turned on.  When Jasper had first leaned over her shoulder and pressed his lips to Edward’s she had been shocked.  But then as Edward’s hands came up to wrap around Jasper’s head, moving his face to better kiss him, she found herself unable to look away.  In their 10 years together she had always wondered if their feelings went beyond friendship but neither one had ever acted on it.  Now, she was sure that Jasper, at least, wanted more from Edward, but what did that mean for her?

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Bella's cheeks burned beneath her tears when Edward returned to his seat, wondering just how many of her notes he'd read. Kate immediately scrambled into his lap, though she was a too big for that now, and whispered in his ear. Edward nodded to her and whispered something back.

And while he was doing it, his hand reached for Bella's, clasping it tightly and drawing it so it rested against his outer thigh.

What was he doing? He'd called her his wife up there. Not his ex-wife, but his wife. He clung to her hand as he wept for his sister. And what had he said about the reading? That he understood it now?

What did that mean?

Bella sat frozen, overwhelmed by the day's most awful feeling yet: hope. Irrational, dangerous and wild for a glimpse of sunlight and breath of air.

Truly, she could hardly breathe, and hated herself for it.

Unfolding the Pages
Banner by HeatherDawn 

She peered up at him over the edge of her book, trying desperately to sneak one last look before she'd be forced to leave him.

He was sneaking peeks at her, too, though she never knew. He watched her when she came in. Every time she browsed the shelves, checked out a book, paid a fine. She was a brief spot of light in his day.

As she walked to the counter to check out her books, she noticed something that skewed and altered her entire perception of him: a streak of bright color peeking out from beneath his sleeve. 
Lady Gwynedd

Banner by Lady Gwynedd

Summary: This is set ten years after Bella married Edward and became a vampire.  It is a continuation of Hope, a one shot I did for a contest that presupposes that there was no Breaking Dawn.  We were asked to extrapolate the saga from the end of Eclipse.  Hope was my entry.  I didn’t win but I did get several requests to extend it and so, here it is.  If you’d like to read Hope first, here is a link to my profile on 

“Don’t tell her, Alice. I’m begging you.”   Edward paced the floor in front of his sister who was standing still as stone, her arms crossed in front of her, and a determined look on her face.

“Edward, you should see him.  He’s a shell of a man.  She needs to know.  It isn’t fair.”

“There’s nothing she can do about it and it will only make her suffer needlessly.”

“Don’t you think it is about time she suffered about something?”

Edward angrily turned towards Alice and flung his hands in the air. “She’s suffered!  She’s suffered enough.”

“No, Edward. She only suffered the usual things, things we all went through:  the burning, the eternal thirst, the aching need for blood.  Those are selfish pains.  I am talking about suffering for the choice she made, what she willingly turned her back on, regardless of the devastation it would cause other people.”
Morgan Locklear

Cockeyed Optimist: Tilting at Windmills
Banner by Tkegl

My name is Edward Cullen and I am legally blind.  It's hard to explain what that means but in mathematical terms; I have about 1/40 the vision of someone with perfect eyesight, or 0.025% if you don't like fractions.  Believe me, it looks worse in formulaic terms than it feels in practice.

As I share my stories with you, I will visit places so far in my past that I'll have to ask my parents for help.  You'll hear about my first pair of glasses, my first words, and my first steps (all on the same day).  My goal through these episodes is to enlighten and delight and since self-worth is the only way most people will ever be rich, I say we might as well live like kings and queens.

I have a great story concerning a pen light and an interesting side effect of my condition that will make you wish David Letterman would re-institute Stupid Human Tricks, but for today I will write about how a Golden Retriever named Brandy saved my life. 
Morgan Phoenix

Moving Violations (Outtake)
Banner by Tkegl

Summary: Bella gets pulled over on her way to her friend's house by Lt. Edward Masen of Chicago's finest. Even though she doesn't know him, she has a strong sense of lust for him. Little does she know that she'll be running into him a lot more frequently.

A/N: This scene was the original first date for Bella and Edward in Chapter 11. Because of the length of the chapter (over 4k), I decided to cut this scene out and forgo the whole date and go straight to the lemony goodness. Some of the words in here may be familiar as I kept some of this.

To: Bella Swan
From: Edward Masen
Message: Come to the cafeteria when you can.

My heart soars.
Edward's here!

After a quick glance at my watch, I see that I can spare at least 15 minutes before I need to go see Carlisle's surgery. I shove the bottle of lotion in my pocket, just in case Jessica questions me later, and exit from the supply closet. I bypass the elevator completely and skip down the steps to the cafeteria.

The cafeteria is a loud cacophony of sounds and smells delicious. I see that the day's "special" is chicken and dumplings, something I've enjoyed in the past and will more than likely eat later on that day — whenever I get a moment to eat. I look around and see Edward sitting at a corner table, gazing out of the nearby windows into a small courtyard garden. My heart flutters, seeing Edward in his uniform. Seeing him in a suit was absolutely amazing, but seeing him in uniform — the outfit he wore while we first met — was even more of a joy. Plus, it fueled the beginnings of my cop-fantasies. Around him, I can see some female staff members looking over at him and giggling amongst themselves. Some were outright staring at him in a dream-like gaze. I notice that Edward is completely oblivious to his surroundings and is fixated on his folded hands on the table, his heavy brown furrowed in deep thought. I wish I could flounce to him and kiss his forehead — not realizing that I can actually do this!

Not to delay our meeting any longer, I slide into the chair next to him and wrap my hand around his arm. I don't want to embarrass him too much, as I don't know his stance on PDA, so I forgo the kissing of the forehead. Glancing quickly at the nearest table, I see some of the women's dreamy gazes replaced with looks of shock. I smile just as Edward turns to me.

Dark Descent

Summary: Edward has a dark secret. A compulsion. An addiction. To soft creamy skin and hypnotic brown eyes. Will his intense obsession destroy him or somehow be his salvation?


I wait.

I want to see you. I’m desperate.

For you.

To be deep inside you.

But I’ll never tell you that.

I hear you before I see you. A clicking, and the door opens.

A rustling. The sound of your bag falling to the floor.

The sight of you brings relief. And want. And sin.

Your eyes search the empty room for me.

Slowly, I step out of the shadows. Hands in my pockets.

I freeze, unmoving and watch you.

And I wait. Again.

Love, Madness, and Music
Banner by Tkegl

She smiled back and took me by the hand, leading me to the couch in the center of the room. I sat and looked up at her face as she straddled my lap.

Bella cupped my face in her hands and leaned her forehead against mine, placing a soft kiss on my lips.

"Thank you," she muttered.

"It was my pleasure, love." I kissed her, framing her face with my hands gently, before adding, "I missed you."

She hummed in acknowledgment, never admitting that she had also missed me. It was okay, though; I had gotten used to it by now.

Bella threaded her hands in my hair, at the nape of my neck, parting my lips with her tongue. I obliged willingly, moaning into her mouth as her tongue tangled around mine.

A few minutes passed while we kissed intensely with Bella rocking above me, spurring me into a frenzy and arousing me further. Breaking away from the kiss to breathe, I skimmed my nose along her jaw line. 

"You're wearing too many clothes," she whisper-moaned, frustrated.

I chuckled against her skin. "Take them off then."

Attack of the Killer Lube. . . It's Coming to GET YOU!
Banner by lvtwilight09


“Edward Anthony Masen Cullen! I’m seriously going to kick your lily white ass,” Bella growled. “Put the damn seat down!”

“I did!” I barked.  Bella stomped into the family room, glaring at me. Her slight baby bump was jutting between her hips and she never looked sexier.

God, I love this woman.

Focus, Cullen!

“I swear, gorgeous,” I said, batting my eyes at my wife.

“Okay, who left up the seat, then? The toilet fairy?” Bella asked, arching her brow. “Cornish pixies that want me to fall into the toilet? Huh?”

“Maybe Ricky or Johnny,” I offered. “I haven’t even been in the bathroom since I got home from work.”

Bella snarled and went clomping toward the loft apartment we had above the garage for our two bodyguards. I hopped up and ran off behind my wife. I stopped her, wrapping my arms around her waist. “Bella, I know that you are pissed about the toilet seat, but don’t yell at them. They are protecting us from…”

“I know, I know,” she sighed. “Can you please talk to them? If I see the seat left up, AGAIN, I will seriously cut one of their dicks off.”

Red Kryptonite
Banner by Tkegl

Summary: Edward Masen: Bounty hunter. Isabella Swan-Hunter: Bail jumper. He's hired to bring her back for trial, but he's not prepared for what happens once he gets a taste of her. Death, lies, betrayal, toxicity, hope, desire. Who will survive?


The early morning sky is filled with pale streaks of color as the sun rises on another day.  I watch it from the window of my twelfth floor apartment.  Down below, the people of Port Angeles are beginning their day: buying a paper from the newsstand, getting their morning coffee at Starbucks, hailing cabs, catching buses, walking quickly along the sidewalks.  From up here, I can see them clearly, feel them clearly, hear them clearly.

With a sigh, I rub my hand over my bare chest.  Apathy has set in, and I long for something—anything—that can overlie the weariness that I'm not supposed to be able to feel.

The girl in my bed stirs, sitting up as she lets out a wide yawn.  Finally, her blue eyes seek out my form leaning beside the window, and she takes me in, her eyes roving over the low slung, black sleep pants to linger on the bare skin of my torso.  Subconsciously, she licks her lips, thinking back to last night when I picked her up in a bar six blocks away.  She eye-fucked me as I played the piano at Scottie's, and I decided to take her home.

“You need to leave,” I say quietly.

“What?” she asks, confused.  Her mind was moving along the lines of another romp in bed.

“I have early appointments today, but I thoroughly enjoyed my time with you.” Well, half of that is true—I enjoyed my time with her, although not for the reason she's thinking.

“Oh, sure.” Her voice and mind are dripping with disappointment.  “Will I... see you again?”

“It could happen, but my business takes me all over the country, and I tend to move around a lot.” I walk over to the bed and take her hand, placing a kiss on the back of it.  “Having you was my great pleasure.” The taste was delectable.

A tempting blush rises to her cheeks as I help her out of bed and into her clothes.  Thankfully, she's not outwardly clingy and leaves without argument.

I don't know her name, but it doesn't matter because I'll never see her or taste her blood again.

My cell vibrates on the nightstand, and I snatch it up, noting the display shows: unknown caller.


“It's me.”

“What?” I ask curtly.

“You're going to be offered a job later today.  Make sure you accept.”

“I'm dying for a job, Alice.  Why wouldn't I accept, and why do you care?”

Alice Brandon-Whitlock is my... sister, for better lack of a term.  I haven't seen or spoken to her for five years, and yet she expects me to follow her guidance—just like that.  Nothing ever changes in our screwed up version of a family, which is why I'm out on my own, doing my own thing—living a lifestyle none of them approve of.

“Just trust me, Edward.”

“I've heard that before.” I roll my eyes.  “Anything else?” I ask impatiently.

“Come home.”  There's a quiver in her voice, and it incites a flicker of anger inside me.

“Not happening.  Talk to you some year, Alice.”

Before she can protest, I hang up on her.  Interfering little pixie.  I only decide to keep her request in mind because, as much as I hate to admit it, she's usually right.

Five minutes later, my phone rings again.

“Masen!” I snap, thinking it's likely Alice on the other end, ready to spew more platitudes.

“Good morning, Edward.  I have a job offer for you.”  The person on the other end of the line is Jason Jenks, shady attorney and purveyor of certain jobs out for hire.  Nobody reaches me with assignments except through him.

“Set up a meeting with the client and let me know the time.”

I always meet with my clients before accepting a job, so I can ascertain their true intentions for myself.

“That's the thing... the client, Senator James Hunter, is out of the country.  He did specifically request you, however.”

“Did he now?  What's the job?”

“I can't disclose the details unless you agree to take it on.”

Normally, I'd tell Jenks to advise Senator Hunter to go fuck himself, but I'm bored to the tears I can no longer shed.  It's something intriguing—at least in the short term—and Alice did urge me to take a job I would be offered today.

“I'll do it for double my usual fee, plus expenses.  How do I get the info?” I don't need the extra money; I'm just being a prick.

“Done.  I'll courier over the dossier.  I think you'll find it intriguing.”

“I rather doubt that.” A sardonic smile plays over my lips.  There isn't much that can catch my interest anymore.  One hundred plus years of this existence, living among this most predictable of species, has fallen flat.

“I'll talk to you soon, Edward,” he says hesitantly before disconnecting.

Jenks suspects I'm something other, but so far, he hasn't even come close to figuring out what I am.

My name is Edward Masen, and I'm a bounty hunter.  A vampire bounty hunter able to read the minds of my quarry, which greatly assists me in ascertaining their guilt or innocence.  I also have a hobby of drinking blood—both from those I hunt and those who hunt me; I tend to be quite popular with the ladies. 

The members of my former 'family' don't approve of my habit of feeding off humans.  They all subsist on animal blood—a practice that turns my stomach.  It's unnatural to attempt to deny our vampire nature.  On the other hand, I understand their desire not to kill innocents.  Those I kill deserve death.  The vile filth, the dregs of society, are deaths easily justified, but I find that women in the throes of sexual pleasure taste best, which is why I employ the art of seduction.  I get what I need, and in return, the ladies receive an experience that transports them to the heights of ecstasy.  Once I'm between their legs, they rarely notice the slight sting of my sharp thumb nail as I gain access to their femoral vein.  After drinking of their velvet wine while playing with and suckling on their heated, moist flesh, I simply close the wound with a swipe of my venom-coated tongue, and they are none the wiser.  Far more fun than making a kill and needing to dispose of the remains.  Everybody wins.

An hour later, I hold a manila folder with the details of my next job.

Subject: Isabella Marie Swan-Hunter, Age 26

Reason for Warrant: Jumping bail

Charge(s): Attempted murder; no specifics provided

Assignment: Take the subject into custody and deliver for trial on March 3rd

Hobbies/Interests: Not provided

Background: Daughter of Charles Swan, former Chief of Police of Forks, Washington, deceased, and Renee Harper Swan, housewife, deceased.  Graduated Washington State at top of class.  Married Senator James Hunter immediately after college four years ago.  No priors.  Has been out of the public eye due to a mysterious illness which remains undisclosed at this time.

I continue on. This has to be the sketchiest dossier I've ever received.  The girl is squeaky clean: no priors, not even a parking ticket.  She's been absent from the public eye for nearly three years, which is a small miracle considering she's married to a senator.  According to the charges, she tried to kill her husband when she 'allegedly' caught him in flagrante with his press secretary.

A photo is clipped to the inside flap of the folder.  It's a well-worn black and white photo of a young woman with long, dark hair.  Her skin appears pale, and her eyes don't meet the camera.  She's gazing off to the side, but by the set of her jaw and the tense posture, I'm going to wager she wasn’t happy the day this was taken.  The background of the photo depicts grass and trees, and I can see the corner of what looks like a large house off in the distance.  A man in a dark suit that screams 'security' is hovering just behind her.  I'm going to venture a guess this photo was taken at Senator Hunter's estate.

Considering I'm being hired by the senator to find his errant wife and drag her back for trial, he's provided scant information.  Because I'm bored, and this is a bit of a challenge, I'll take the job.  The obvious lack of information suggests there’s more to the story than meets the eye.  Since the senator wasn’t available for me to interview, I'll just have to read his wife's mind to determine her innocence or guilt.  After all, I may be a bored vampire, but I have a strong sense of ethics when it comes to my work as a bounty hunter.  I never take in innocents; I simply return the fee and beg off.  Still, my track record is better than any human bounty hunter.  There’s no way a bail jumper can run far or fast enough to escape a vampire.

The only bounty hunter that has a slightly better track record than me—due to his blatant lack of ethics—is Demetri.  I try to stay out of his way, but on occasion, we butt heads.

Demetri cut himself loose from the Volturi—the vampire royalty who make the rules for my kind—with the agreement that they could 'hire' him at any time for his tracking services.  I have no idea how he cajoled them into such an agreement, since the mere suggestion of leaving their ranks has often been met with a purple cloud of smoke as the offending vampire is dismembered and burned.

Firing up my laptop, I do my own research.  Isabella Swan-Hunter hasn’t been seen publicly for three years.  Unheard of.  The back of the picture I was provided is date-stamped six months ago, and she doesn't look ill—she looks unhappy and bored, but she was standing under her own power.  Regardless of her health status, she has to be a drag on the senator's campaign.

I bring up a few press conferences and find that any reporter that dares to bring up Isabella is immediately shut down by the senator—politely, but there's a steeliness in his eyes.  Sampling conferences over a year-long span, I find that reporters have been trained not to ask about her because the senator doesn't call on those who dare to bring her up at future appearances—it's the equivalent of being black-balled.  Interesting.

Apparently, Senator Hunter is a prime candidate for the presidency—at least, he was until his wife tried to kill him.  Now he's dropped from the public eye with the excuse that his family is 'devastated' and asking the public to 'respect his privacy during this dark time.'  Even more interesting.  Depending which way he spins this, he could still end up in The White House.

I'm definitely taking this job.  I dial Jenks on my cell.

“Jason Jenks.”

“I'm taking the Swan-Hunter job.”

“I had a feeling you would.” Jenks sounds smug.

“All other job requests are on hold until I complete this one.  I have a feeling it's going to take up much of my time.”

I hang up before he responds, my mind already occupied with doing more research into Isabella Swan-Hunter.
Mina Rivera

It Isn't Over
by Mina Rivera
Banner by Mina Rivera

I knew he would be alone, his wife tended to stay constantly close to their child and I knew the family was at the main house. 

I knew it was a bad idea, but I couldn't stop. I kept the same pace, looking for him, trying to catch him off guard, but knowing full well he would be able to hear me coming.

Why was I still looking for him?

He was married.

He had a child.

He found her.

And she gave him things that I couldn't ever even dream to give him.

They were meant for each other.

I knew now that I was in some way trying to find closure to that chapter of my life, but the things I said and tried with him that day... I felt ashamed just thinking about it.

He should have been mad at me, but he wasn't.

I know how you feel, that desperation inside of you is the loneliness trying to consume you. Don't let it, my friend. You will find your happy ending. I promise.

How I wished to believe in his words, but when you had lived as long as I had, you tended to believe more in facts than in words.

And the fact was that, after one thousand years, I was still alone.

Till I Come Marching Home
Banner by Rosalynn

Just when Miss Bella began to wonder if supper would have to be delayed, the distinct sounds of Dr. Cullen’s carriage could be heard coming to a stop out front.  Miss Bella was quick to stand, making her way to the door and opening it to admit her guests.

“Good day, Miss Bella.  I’m awful sorry for the late arrival, but the streets of New Bern are so full of commotion we started to worry that we’d never clear the crowd.”  Carlisle Cullen tipped his hat as he walked in, his wife Esme on his arm.  Behind them were Mr. & Mrs. King, the Cullen’s daughter and son-in-law.

“That’s quite all right.  I’m glad you were able to make it, but if it’s as bad as you say, maybe we could offer you someplace to stay tonight.”  Bella turned to see her mother nod in approval as they all entered the parlor once more so the newly arrived guests could rest before supper.

Mrs. Sue came in with a fresh pot of tea and Bella started to tend to her guests.  She poured the tea as Mr. Masen addressed his brother-in-law.  “What happened in town to cause such an uproar?”
Carlisle looked darkly at the other men gathered ‘round the table.  “The only thing that gets people this excited these days, North Carolina joined the Confederacy.  News came down this morning, they’re calling up volunteers.”

At Carlisle’s mention of the Confederacy, Bella’s hand slipped and she burned herself on the hot liquid.  Quickly excusing herself, Bella fled through the house and onto the back porch.  Dreams of fighting had filled her Edward’s head since the first mention of war breaking out.  She feared the worst when it came to his going to war, but also his feelings on marrying before he would join up.  The one mention of the war’s effect on their engagement had not been a pleasant conversation and she did not wish to revisit it.
DeJean Smith

From the Journal of Liriope M. Hermitage
Banner by Readergoof

Greetings and salutations, friends!

I have been given the great honor of peeking into the journals of Liriope Missouri Hermitage Lawrence which she has so graciously allowed to be published as part of mostly a lurker's fundraiser. She understands how invaluable a good service dog is and know that Leo will be a godsend to Mal and wanted to help out in any way that she could.

As we know, L is quite. . . how shall we say. . . verbose and her journals took up most of her cabin in the woods of the Great Smoky Mountains between what is now Maggie Valley and Valle Crucis, North Carolina. Below are just a few excerpts from her life story, the highs and the lows. They are unedited and should be viewed as for the mature reader only.

We do hope you enjoy this look into her life and while by no means complete, perhaps in the future, she will allow more looks into her rather colorful existence.

DeJean Smith
October, 2011

Kindest reader,

When my friend DeJean told me there would be a fundraiser for the lovely Mal, I knew immediately that I had to help out! So, I've allowed DeJean access to my journals and let her pick out some of the stories she thinks y'all would like to read about. That doesn't mean I won't step in and make my own commentary. Bless my own heart, you know I can't keep quiet when there's something to say and when you pick and choose snippets from the 161 years of my life, there's a lot to say!

My comments will be in bold, the journal entries will be. . . er. . . normal? Yeah. Like I'm anywhere near normal.

Happy reading!


Fuzzy Logic
Banner by justduckie

Summary: “We have met the enemy, and he is a glasses-wearing, NPR-listening vegan.” A love triangle, of sorts.

“Jake, who’s that chatting up your woman?”

Seth’s tiny legs have almost carried him to the horde at the practice ring.

I snort. “Hey, it’s no business of mine. She’s not my wom--”

“I don’t mean Miss Fancypants on the A-frame. There’s a guy over there. On the bench with Bella. I’ve never seen him before.”


Shit. Neither have I. Which makes this an automatic DEFCON 3 situation.

I scramble to my feet. Don’t panic, keep it cool. “Um, thanks for the stick, Paul. See you around, guys.”

Who the hell is that?

I’m down the hill in seconds, barreling through obstacles both two- and four-legged. I barely avoid toppling two ladies near the weave poles and run flat out for Bella’s bench, skidding to a stop in front of her. My eyes travel quickly between Bella and this stranger, who is sitting way too close for my comfort.

“Hi, sweetie.” Bella ruffles the fur between my ears. “Where are you going in such a hurry? I saw Embry and Leah’s family a little while ago. Have you found them yet?”

I pant wildly, searching her face for signs of distress. I’m here. Are you all right? Is he bothering you?

There’s nervous energy rolling off her, but it isn’t scared, exactly.

“Oh, is this one yours? Wow, he’s stunning.”

I swivel and plant my butt in the dirt, facing the stranger. He’s turned sideways on the bench, in almost a mirror image of Bella’s posture. I’d put him at about my age, between three and four dog years. He’s clearly tall, but on the skinny side, and he’s wearing those heavy-rimmed glasses that are either supposed to be cool or ironically cool, I can’t remember which.

And apparently, I’m not the only one who rode here with his head out the car window. I can think of no other explanation for that hairstyle.

“Yep, this is Jake. Jake, say hello to Edward. He’s just moved here.”

“Hey there, Jake. Very nice to meet you.” He smiles broadly and extends a hand, palm up, towards us. He makes no move to touch me. Maybe I’m not the one he’d rather pet.

A rumble of warning reverberates deep inside my chest at the mere suggestion. I curl my lip back and let my teeth do the talking.

If you lay a finger on her, Edwin, I will go Hong Kong Phooey on your weedy ass.


Worth It
Banner by vbfb1

Summary: Desperate and alone, Bella has climbed the highest structure in Forks: the water tower. The small town Forks Fire Department sends Edward, the new guy, up to talk her down.

Edward looked at the darkening grey sky. “We better get her off there soon. That metal’s going to be slippery when it rains.”

“Well, I tried talking her down, but she’s not moving,” Mike said, crossing his arms.

Edward looked up the girl. “Mind if I take a stab at it?”

Mike took a step backward and gestured toward the ladder. “Be my guest.”

Edward patted his pockets. “Got a radio?”

Mike glanced at the pieces on the ground, but Ben stepped forward. “Use mine.”

Edward tucked it into the back of his waistband. “Thanks.” He turned his baseball cap backwards, and reaching for the ladder said, “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” the others chorused as they watched him begin to climb.

“Poor bastard doesn’t stand a chance,” Mike muttered under his breath.

More Than My Own Life
by wmr1601
Banner by lambkins aka Debra

~September 11, 2001~
“Oh, my God.” I can’t tear my eyes away from the television screen. Black smoke rises from one of the most prominent skyscrapers in the New York cityscape. The blue sky—normally a scene of serenity and happiness in early September—is suddenly daunting. I know what’s coming next, because the television station has been playing it on repeat all morning. “There it is,” I whisper, eyeing the second airplane, which I now know to be United Airlines flight 175. I watch with horror as the plane flies straight into the South Tower of the World Trade Center. The shot switches back to the live view of the Twin Towers—what’s left of them, anyway. I don’t even hear the newscaster’s voice anymore. What she’s saying doesn’t matter, not in the grand scheme of things.

“Maybe we should turn it off for a while,” my husband murmurs. He’s been sitting next to me all morning, neither of us able to peel our eyes away.

“Okay,” I agree automatically.

Neither of us move, and the plane flies into the tower again. And again. And again.

~September 25, 2001~

Two lines. Two little pink lines. I don’t know whether to be happy or not. Three months ago, I would have been ecstatic to see the positive pregnancy test. Now I’m not so sure. Edward and I had been trying to have a baby for six months, but after the terrorist attacks, we decided to take a break because he’d gotten deployment orders from his commanding officer. He’s leaving for Afghanistan on the seventh of October and will be gone for a year—at least. And now I’m pregnant. I sink to the floor next to the bathtub and weep.

Play By Play
Banner by Ro

Summary: Esme Platt spends her Fridays mooning over a local band's guitar player.  One night at the end of her freshman year at UW, she finds herself alone with a drunk and horny Edward Masen.  She takes advantage of the situation, but things don't turn out as she had hoped.

Disclaimer:  All the Twilight stuff belongs to Stephanie Meyer.  No copyright infringement is intended. I’m just perusing her lingerie drawer.

Edward’s pace becomes impossibly fast – brutally pounding into me, and I love it.  He’s grunting, cursing and moaning with every thrust, and the only way it could possibly be better is if he actually yelled my name.  With my legs wrapped around his waist, I do call out his name as the second orgasm hits me harder than the first.  I know he is right behind me as his body stiffens and he stills with his cock deep inside of me.  I feel him shudder and I gasp as his cock throbs and my pussy is suddenly coated with warm wetness. 

That is the point when I realize he is not wearing a condom.

Oh shit.

My hands grip his shoulders a tighter than I mean to as I feel him slide back and forth a couple more times.  The motion is easy and slick with his semen coating me inside.  My heart is still beating hard, but I no longer think it is from arousal or physical exertion.

It’s more like panic.

“Damn, baby…that was awesome,” he whispers as he makes a trail of light kisses down my neck and over my shoulder.  He raises himself up on his elbows and slowly pulls out of me.  “Shit…um…you’re on the pill, right?”

His eyes look to me, worry etched across his furrowed brow.  I nod in response, not about to tell him at this point that I hadn’t taken them in a good six months.  I try to remember when my last period had started, but I really can’t think straight with the alcohol still clogging up my brain. 

“Oh good,” Edward mumbles as he rolls off to the side.  His words are slurred again.  “Sorry…I really should have asked that before…”

Alby Mangroves

The Goth King of UW
Banner by evieeden

May 1993, University of Washington

Why can't I look away?

Just look away.

Just fucking look away!

Edward slides the bridge of his glasses up and follows the compulsive gesture with another helpless glance.

Where's a drama student when you need one? They can always be trusted to walk the halls in gaggles, bitching loudly, talking with their hands, being generally obnoxious and harnessing all the available attention while being all... dramatic.

Except when you need them.

With nothing to draw that attention away from himself and his perusal, Edward becomes very circumspect. He's James fucking Bond.

Half a world away at the end of Edward 007 Cullen's cagey stare, a black silhouette pops sharply from the bland orange brick wall he's leaning against.

Black jeans so tight that they strain at the seams over his sinewy calves and thighs. Scuffed black combat boots laced halfway up his shins with the lace-ends flapping around undone. Black leather coat so worn that it's almost second skin. Even his name is Blacker.
Lady Tazz

Dirty Money
Banner by vbfb1

Summary: Set in the 40's. Isabella Swan is a waitress at the Blue Note, the hottest Jazz club in town. When her life is in danger, she turns to Edward Masen, P.I. Can he save her from those meant to protect us? Or will he be blinded by the sparks?

There is I was sitting behind my desk in my dimly lit, smoke filled office. The only sound you could here was my type writer, tap, tap, tapity, tap, tap. Today was just like any other day in the life of a PI. I was buried under a mountain of paperwork, stolen jewelry, cheating spouses, and always a kid missing a puppy. Some days I hated my job.

I was brought out of my musings when my office door flew open. In walked this dame and I'm not talking about any old dame. This one was a beauty. She had long brown curly hair, deep chocolate eyes, and the reddest, most pouty lips I have ever seen. She was wearing a tight black suit that hugged every edge of her curves, black gloves, and she was smoking a cigarette from of those damn cigarette holders. She took one last pull, blowing out the smoke as she sauntered over to my desk.

The Selkie's Bride
Banner by @jamiearkin

The boy eyed her all week, going slack-jawed every time she passed him by like she was a bitch in heat and he liked the smell. I told him it would come to nothing but trouble, but who listens to a palsied old man whose eyes have gone blue with age? No one and that’s the God’s honest truth.
“Granda, wipe your chin,” he said, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. “Jaysus, man, the gruel is halfway down your neck.”

He came over to me, and like a babe, I let him clean me. We both knew that my hands wouldn’t work. He couldn’t look me in the eye, but at least he was gentle. I couldn’t blame the lad; he didn’t ask to take care of me in my last days. He was still a strapping young buck of a boy, not meant to be wiping spit off an old man’s chin. No, this was not the life Ailbert would have chosen for himself.

“The nets need mending,” he told me gruffly. “I’ll be gone most of the afternoon, but the Misses Muir and Wylie will come and lunch with you.”

He paused and seemed to consider whether to admonish me into behaving. I waved him out of the hut with a grunt; I was too old to be putting on airs on a young man’s account. He paused as he walked down the path toward the water, and I knew that the witch must have been hanging her laundry. I thought quickly, something I rarely did these days, and reached out a shaking hand for my walking stick. My fingers hit it and sent it bouncing off the breakfast table. It was just enough noise to make Ailbert jump.

“Clumsy old man!” he scoffed, thinking I couldn’t hear. “Hold on, Granda. I’m coming.”
Ailbert trudged along, his boots heavy on our wooden floor, and picked up my cane. As he reached out to hand it to me, I grabbed him by the collar and brought his face down close to mine. I was not so weak as he imagined.

“Ye stay away from tha witch, Ailbert,” I said, pounding my cane on the floor for emphasis.
My grandson recoiled from me, repulsed by the spittle that flew from my lips and frightened by the light in my eye, but I held him tight. He needed to hear me, though he didn’t want to.
“She’s trouble. It’s no right tha a woman got away from a selkie. She’s got magic running in those pretty veins and she’ll do ye harm, I’m sure of it.”

Ailbert pushed my hand away from his shirt as easily as though he was brushing off some dirt. Angry and defiant, his face was hard as he looked at me.

“Iona is not a witch, Granda. She’s a nice woman who would like to help you if you’d just ...”
“Ye dinna know what yer talking aboot.” I stood up slowly, my walking stick creaking as loudly as my joints. “She killed a selkie sixty years ago and hasn’t aged a day since. Ye think she’s no but a fine young lass now?”

“Granda, there are no such things as selkies or magic. You’re confused is all. You probably remember Iona’s mother, or maybe her grandmother.”

“I saw her walk out of the loch wi’ my own eyes, clothes dry as though she’d pulled them off the line just a minute before.” My voice strained and I struggled forward, raising my weak body up to full height. “Ye say what ye want, but tha’ woman’s no good for ye.”

“It’s a foul rumor, Granda, and I’d think that you would be a better man than to believe such superstitions. I’ve invited Iona to dinner tonight and you will be civil to her.”

The boy straightened his shoulders and stared me in the eyes, laying laws down in my own house as though he were the master here. My lips quivered at the thought of the witch dining with us, preparing us food, but Ailbert’s face showed he had no intention of discussing the matter.
“I’ll be out tonight,” I hedged, but he shook his head emphatically.

“Ye’ll be here,” he said firmly. “And ye’ll be civil. I intend ta court her. Enough of this nonsense, Granda. I want ye to be reasonable. She’s no a witch and she dinna kill a ... selkie. Get it through yer skull.”

Grey Skies and Light Fading
Banner by YellowGlue

Grey skies and light fading, headlamps making patterns on the wall.  Uptown, it’s dead now, but out here no one seems to care at all...  Come closer, you’ll see me... - “Take Me to the Riot” by Stars

a fluffsmut love one shot for Mal and Leo

All rights and respects to Stephenie Meyer.
Also to Stars, Rod Stewart, The Who, Bad Company, Carole King,
Al Green, Aerosmith, Bob Marley, John Lennon

Rated M

September 6th, 1976


I look toward love in the light as I reach for the handle and slide the patio door open. 

She doesn’t see me when I step outside, but I see her.

Next to her mom, in a small group of men and women, she’s laughing at something and when the clouds drift open and let the yellow-white sunset through, her dress looks translucent. 

She lifts her right hand and takes a drink.  I make the effort to focus on the bend of her elbow instead of her lips on the Coke bottle, but even the curve of her bare arm tempts my thoughts.  

“Cullen, how’s it going?”

Mr. Weber claps his hand against my back with a grin and love looks up with her tawny-dark eyes.  Same burnished sincerity I first laid my own eyes on eight months ago.  Same warm sepia-auburn that made me think of walking home.  In the fall.  When I was a kid... 

She looks over and up at me, just as innocent and open-hearted as the first day we looked at each other. 

“Very well,” I answer Mr. Weber, shaking his hand.  I still don’t want to stay.  I still want to clasp Bella-baby’s hand and blow this popsicle stand, but I take the Coke he offers so as not to be rude.  “How are things at the shop?”

Weber kind of laughs.  I pop the bottle cap and take a drink, giving him half of half, of half of my attention. 

The other half of it is on my girl, and the other half of half of it is on the little shapes her mouth makes when I pit-pat my fingers between her legs. 

So, I sort of listen as Weber tells me about the new kid they just hired at his and his wife’s record store, and how he keeps wanting to reorganize things.  I laugh with him, and drink my Coke, but my eyes keep drifting back to vanilla-blonde curls, naked collarbones and barely covered shoulders. 

Six days have never taken so long in my whole, entire life.

Isabella and I met last fall. 

She’d just moved to Hanover from Phoenix.  Little wooden flower barrettes in her hair and her knees just barely peeking out from under her light pink dress, she was sitting in the back of Paul’s advanced world history classroom at the local high school, making up a test she’d missed the day before. 

Paul, my best friend since little league, had just received his teaching degree a few months before.  I still had one more year of graduate school to go and no idea what to do after. 

I’d come to pick him up for The Who show we were road tripping to that weekend.

I’d left tripping over my own ridiculously smitten heartbeats. 

About a week later, I unpacked my bags for upcoming semester, in the house I shared with him and Alec.  Three nights later, I was walking instead of driving because it was such a nice evening, to Emily’s to pick up a bag.  Isabella was just leaving open mic night at Clearwater’s, the coffeehouse on Cold Brook lane.

I didn’t make it to Emily’s.  I walked love home instead and she invited me to come to the next open mic night with her. 

A week later, I did just that.  On the little stage, she rhymed Bad Company lyrics with Al Green and Carole King, and breathed her own sweet emotion in-between the lines.  When she curtseyed at the end and smiled all shy, held her two fingers up and said This will be an everlasting love.  No woman.  No cry - I felt the hair on the back of my neck get up, stand up.

She mingled with her friends, but she waved to me.  She gave me her sunset-dark eyes and let me walk her home again. 

She wore my jacket, charcoal grey hood up over her soft blonde, low-pulled pigtails and smiled at me like a #9 Dream...

“And I think I’m going to put a smoke detector in the back office, because, well, I can’t be positive of course, but I’m pretty sure...” 

Mr. Weber keeps going on about the Newton kid and I laugh under my breath with him, but in truth I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss love’s kneecaps. 

She and I have taken our time, and fastened ourselves together over countless night walks, dinners with her mom and secret afternoons on my bedroom floor.   Listening to Lou Reed and drinking cream soda floats.  Too curious not to steal timid glances. 

It took me almost six of the eight months to finally kiss her.  She was my best friend by then and finally our ages, the fact that I was in college and she still had a whole year of high school to go, didn’t matter anymore. 

She’d never kissed anyone and she wanted so much to be sure in her heart, and by her birthday, just a few months ago, she finally was. 

I’d never been more sure of anything, ever.

“But, that’s okay.  Takes all kinds to make the world go ‘round, doesn’t it?”

Weber chuckles a little and I nod, taking another drink.  Love smiles from across the lawn, peeking her eyes up to mine from under her shy little lashes.

If I didn’t know her better, if she was anyone else, I’d think she was doing it on purpose, that she was teasing me.

But that’s not even close to the truth. 

I know that look and I know she’s not teasing at all. 

She’s the very best kind of genuine.  Everything she feels fills her autumn-dark eyes up; even if she tried, she couldn't hide.  Her truths were easy for me to read from the start and if I went up to her right now, in front of her mother and all their friends, and touched her cheek, and told her I just wanted to feel her -

Right here.

Right now.

She’d let me.

She’d part her lips and make that half-gasp, half-giggle sound that she makes when she’s nervous, but she’d let me put my arm around her waist. 

I don’t though. 

I lead the way for us both and I know I’d want more than that, and so would she, and just because her mom likes me doesn’t mean she’d be okay with letting me get all handsy, all over Bella at their neighbor’s Labor Day picnic party.   

I smile back at her from where I stand, listening to Mr. Weber and another man now, talking about the Carter and Ford, and all his ties to Nixon, and why he won’t win...

Love looks down and then back up to her own conversation.  I laugh at the man next to me’s jokes, but I’m thinking about being in her bed, six nights ago. 

I came over to help her study for her physics final.  We were alone in her mom’s house; Renee was working an overnight shift at the hospital. 

Talking lead to kissing. 

Kissing lead to tummy-touches and slow rocking on her bed. 

Which lead to working my fingers under her faded Fleetwood Mac tee-shirt, over her blue and white striped briefs. 

Under them. 

Inside her. 

Holding her barely open, most honest eyes under my own, watching her yield and trust, and want, and follow, and love me.

Tugging her tee-shirt over her head, melting her hair like blonde ice-cream all over her light pink pillows. 

Feeling her hands all urgent and warm moving up my back, pushing my tee-shirt off too, helping her unbutton my fly.

“Slow, Edward... Go slow...”

I did. 

All night.

I moved slow and easy inside her. 

I went so, so, so fucking slow. 

Taking my time, I took her, all night long, until she was all pink lips and tender tips, all soft trembles when I grasped her hips and held her in place.  When I finally locked her to me as gently as I could bring myself to and came.

And came.

And came more than I ever had, and she held onto me so tight, like she wasn’t ever going to let go.


God, I had to move so slowly.  She was so soft...

Mr. Weber and his friend are talking about something I’ve lost complete track of now, because all I can think about is touching her neck, her chest, feeling how her sweet little heart beats so fast for me. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” I nod to them both and lift my Coke politely before stepping away.  “Thank you.”

Six days.

She had to leave the next morning to go away on a road trip she and Renee had planned months before. 

It’s been six fucking days since I’ve seen her, let alone wrapped my arms around her, tickled her stomach, kissed the little dips of her hipbones.

Six days since I’ve held her up off her bed and kissed her between her warm legs until she was whimpering, pulling at my shoulders, begging me to make her come... 

When love looks up again, I hold her eyes as I take each of my steps. 

She’s all I see, all I can hear.

“Kiss me...?  Kiss my mouth while you... Ooooh....  Oooooooh... Give me kisses while you do that, please?  Please...”

I’ve survived on goodnight phone calls for six days.  My body has missed her unrelentingly.  No matter the temporary relief I’ve offered myself, it’s been only that: temporary. 

I’ve been so hard for her for days.  So hard it hurts.

The few people left between us in the crowd shift apart to let me pass and when they do, I see her legs.

She’s got on little just-off-white boots that match her dress and thin grey-black socks pulled all the way up, covering her knees.

The slips of her bare thighs between the edge of her dress and the tops of her socks look ridiculously warm.  I dig my free hand into the front pocket of my jeans and grip my Coke tighter with my other.  It’s all I can do in the world to keep from reaching both of my hands out to touch both of her legs. 

Pick her up. 

Slide my hands up the back of her dress...

“Hi,” she smiles, pressing her light pink lips together.

I want to part them with my thumbs.  I want her open mouth, soft under mine.

“Hi,” I smile higher, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.  Her hand seeks and finds three of my fingers, and she squeezes gently, just for a second...


 Beneath The Scars
by CharliDenae
Banner by Jaimearkin

Sometimes, looking beneath the scars is all it takes to find the heart.

Jasper hates the spoiled little rich girls that attend his classes. They think all they have to do is flirt and smile suggestively to get special treatment. He's determined not to let that happen by treating all his students the same. They'll get nothing from him.

Alicehas worked hard to earn her degree, one more class is all she needs.Her new instructor takes an instant dislike to her and it takes allof her strength to put her tragic past behind her and strugglethrough.

AH. Rated PG-13 for non-graphic mentions of rape, abuse and murder.  


Copyright © 2010 Teasers for Mal & Leo