Authors, if you have a specific teaser you would like posted, please send it along with your banner if you have one to fandom4children@gmail.com by March 15, 2012, or if you do not have a specific teaser in mind, the admins for Fandom 4 Children will choose a part of your submission to post as a teaser upon receiving it for inclusion in the compilation.
The Road Less Traveled
by: Busybrie
She sighed, clutching her punched card, and walked back to the row of cold, metal benches. Her bag dangled by her side, and she dug out the dog-eared novel with her favorite passages highlighted. The words were poetic beauty, flowing together in a harmony that warmed her heart, and she breathed slowly. The day had started off poorly, but it had to become better. Right?
“Robert Frost so early in the morning? You’re rather brave.”
The voice was unfamiliar, smooth as honey, and she looked up in curiosity. A boy was standing a few inches away from her, no older than herself, and she couldn’t understand the sudden nerves that flooded in her stomach. Dark green eyes flashed, filled with unfathomable interest at what she was about to say. She couldn’t understand it. For a moment, she felt important.
She shrugged, looking back at the ink-smudged page. “It calms me.”
“Missed train?”
She nodded.
He gestured toward the seat beside her. “Mind if I sit?” She hadn’t meant to hesitate, and she saw his confidence falter. “Only for a moment. I’m waiting, too.”
His eyes were tired, ringed with several nights of missed sleep, and she felt a pang of sympathy. She nodded, moving over to give him ample room. His tattered knapsack knocked against his knees, and he held out a hand.
“Edward,” he introduced. “Thanks.”
“Bella,” she replied, and found herself smiling gently, intrigued by him. “Pleasure to meet you.”
She hadn’t known yet, but that moment would, in hindsight, define the rest of her life.
The voice was unfamiliar, smooth as honey, and she looked up in curiosity. A boy was standing a few inches away from her, no older than herself, and she couldn’t understand the sudden nerves that flooded in her stomach. Dark green eyes flashed, filled with unfathomable interest at what she was about to say. She couldn’t understand it. For a moment, she felt important.
She shrugged, looking back at the ink-smudged page. “It calms me.”
“Missed train?”
She nodded.
He gestured toward the seat beside her. “Mind if I sit?” She hadn’t meant to hesitate, and she saw his confidence falter. “Only for a moment. I’m waiting, too.”
His eyes were tired, ringed with several nights of missed sleep, and she felt a pang of sympathy. She nodded, moving over to give him ample room. His tattered knapsack knocked against his knees, and he held out a hand.
“Edward,” he introduced. “Thanks.”
“Bella,” she replied, and found herself smiling gently, intrigued by him. “Pleasure to meet you.”
She hadn’t known yet, but that moment would, in hindsight, define the rest of her life.
Too Young To Be Sexy: An I'm Sexy And I Know It Outtake
by: reyes139
Daddy’s no en casa; please leave me a message after the tone…Beep.
Sorry sweetpea, but Daddy can’t hear or see the nonsense of which you trippin’ about...
“Daaaaaddy,"she whines and stomps her foot, clearly adorable, but not helping her case onebit. I refuse to listen to my sixteen year old girl tell me she’s met a boy,and wants to go on a date…nope, not going to happen.
I will not be weak...she's just a baby. Fuck that, she's my baby girl...my angel.
Putting my fingers in my ear I begin my chant of “lalalalala,” thus evening the playingfield with my child and annoying the wife.
Wife=serious, demanding and no fun.
Wifey=sexy, naughty, vixen with a dirty mind.
"Oh for fucks sake," my Kitty Boo-boo raises her arms up above her head and storms away. She’s clearly frustrated with my ass, but tough shit. I mean,Maya's just a little girl...impressionable and naive.
Sixteen is way too young to grow up and attempt to unleash her sexiness unto this world. Doesn’t mean I’m blind and don’t see the way the boys at her school follow her around like lost puppies… hanging on her every word.
Smoke Gets In Your Eyes
by: KGQ
As the bar lights flicker, he eagerly gulps on his beer, noticing the manager take the stage. Knowing that’s his cue to start, he takes his half glass with him as he climbs the steps to his stool, listening as the husky, too many smokes and too much liquor voice of the boss yells way too loudly into the microphone, “Welcome, everyone. Happy to see you all here tonight and hoping you’re ready to have a good time?” The bar erupts with cheers and claps.
Raising his arms and waving his hands to shush them somewhat, he continues, “OK! OK! Settle down and settle in, for your entertainment pleasure tonight. And because you all seem to have grown to love his sexy, sultry voice, and as some of you ladies have liked to put it, his fuckhot bod, I present to you our resident country crooner, Jasper Hale.”
Cringing at the boss’s words. Like fuck, really! Country crooner? And the thought of the ladies thinking him fuckhot makes his belly a little uneasy. But he waves confidently towards the crowd. His eyes dart as the loudest wolf whistle hits his ears, shooting straight from the kid in the front row. Raising his eyebrow in question as their eyes meet for the first time, the scrawny, smooth-skinned face turns bright crimson then shyly diverts.
But with the first strum of his old, but finely-tuned guitar, he’s taken away, letting himself go. His mind wanders and his eyes flutter softly closed, enabling him to escape and let his emotions take him over. Songs have always come easy for him, and singing has forever brought him comfort, realizing at a young age that it was the only place he could run and hide to be alone with his thoughts, without fear of being judged or frowned upon.
He found it easier over the years to sing of love and love interests, rather than having to actually go out in the real world and work at getting one. The romantic side of happily-ever-after had been destroyed for him long ago, with countless, useless one night stands and abusive, stupid so-called relationships. And let’s not forget, cause really! How could we! The nastiness of thinking he has always been an aberration for being gay; no thanks in part to his wonderful, church attending, God fearing, Bible thumping southern family.
As the first song ends and the last long note rings out, he’s abruptly brought back to reality as their claps pound loudly in his ears. Granting them a small smile, he quickly finds his escape again, and continues with the next.
Before he knows it, his first half has ended, and placing his guitar ever-so-gently by his stool, he heads in the direction of the bar and a well-earned free beer.
His skin prickles and goose bumps right before he feels the soft, creamy voice wash over him. Turning slowly, he’s met with the same scrawny, smooth-skinned kid from earlier. But what takes him aback and steals his breath are the eyes, so clear and honest that they seem to be piercing his very soul. Needing a moment, but only having a second, he turns away, shoots the remainder of his beer and takes a deep, well-deserved breath, clawing for the courage he knows he damn well has somewhere inside just to speak to said eyes.
Finally finding his cockiness again, but unable to make direct eye contact, he addresses the guy. “I don’t do requests, kid, so don’t waste your breath asking,” surprising even himself when guilt sets in, at the furrowed brow and somewhat hurt look on the boy’s face.
But his cockiness is short lived and shot to shit once more, as the creamy, smooth tone and sweet mixed with cheap beer breath dusts his cheeks. “I… I… I was just going to ask if I... ya know... I... could... ya know… buy you a beer... or… or something?”
Raising an eyebrow at the kid, realizing the boy’s boldness from earlier has suddenly disappeared, and with an expression, he’s sure as hell is saying, Are you for real? he gives a long, drawn-out reply. “Orrrrr... something?.Huh?”
His eyes dart to the boy’s lips, cause fuck, why wouldn’t they? He’s gnawing on the bottom one nervously, and his gaze has now found the design on Jasper’s t-shirt to be of some interest to him.
With a pang of some uncharacteristic guilt, he places a gentle hand slowly on the boy’s shoulder, feeling the need to ease the kid’s nerves, but his greedy side really wanting and longing to look upon his blushed, smooth skin and deep haunting eyes full on again.
Leaning closer, needing the full effect of the creamy tone and sweet breath when the guy answers next time, he whispers softly, “Take it easy, kid! No worries. I was only messing with ya. Really, I swear I was.”
And bingo, he is not disappointed as a hushed whisper is returned. “Edward.”
Pulling a little back, confused, he questions, “Huh?’
He watches in awe as the boy’s eyes take a slow journey up the front of his t-shirt, stopping occasionally to stare and take a harder look around his chest, once again feeling his skin react with goose bumps and slight shivers, as the haunting eyes seem to pierce his soul once more. The gaze travels his neck dances across his jaw line, finding his lips cheeks and nose, before coming to rest on what Jasper is now sure is a dazed somewhat lust-filled stare.
Then he’s rewarded as the sweetness hits him and he finds he’s unable to keep his eyes from fluttering closed just to breathe it all in. He lets his lips form a grin as he listens to the boy’s reply. “My name is Edward! Edward Cullen. Not boy, or kid or guy. But Edward! Edward Cullen. And I would really like it if you’d let me buy you a drink before your next set. Plea... please.”
And that’s when it really hits him, and hits him hard, that the kid is being genuine. The kid really wants to buy him, Jasper Hale, a fucking drink. And not for the want of anything, or in payment for services rendered, but just because. The thought of just because confuses him - he’d never had a just because drink before.
But as he stares the boy down, his old self kicks in. This kid has innocence and naivety written all over his face, and who the fuck was he to mess with that? What kind of person would that make him if he did? His chest tightens as he realizes it would make him the kind of person that at one time or another stole his happily ever after, and he just can’t bring himself to do that to this kid.
So taking a deep, disappointed breath and squeezing the kid’s shoulder once more, he decides to save the boy some heartache and try as gently as possible to give him the old brush off. “Listen, kid! Oops sorry! I mean Edward! Edward Cullen. As much as I would love to have a drink with you right now…”
Leaning back seductively, devouring the poor guy’s body from head to toe with a knowing wanton stare, he watches as Edward swallows hard, and feeling under his touch when he trembles slightly, he decides he has him where he wants him, so he continues, “I can’t. Really, I can’t. Go back to your table, kid! Forget you asked. Enjoy the rest of the set, then go home and be happy. Cause believe me when I tell ya, I’m not what you want right now, and I have nothing you will ever need.”
As he watches the boy’s face turn from what was once glad to now sad, feeling the guilt set in again, wanting to ease the kid’s nerves, he knows he can’t, and that it’s for the best. He quickly turns, and with a heavy heart and a deep disgusted breath, he takes the stage once more.
He knows the second half of his set is different; he knows his concentration is elsewhere. The escape that he usually found in his songs, for some reason is lost. He finds his mind - and from time to time, his gaze - wander to the lone table and chair in the front.
He watches as the boy’s gaze never leaves him, finding himself thinking and worrying about the the kid, or should he say.
“Edward?” No, he shouldn’t say, “Edward.” Seems wrong, saying “Edward,” His name means something now. Thinking ‘Edward’ makes him real.
But he still finds himself watching him from the corner of his eye. He still finds himself wondering what the hell the boy’s thinking of him. Does he now hate him? Does he now think less? Deciding it best to mentally kick his own ass rather that worry about what some kid thinks, he, for the first time in years, continues his set with no form of escape or trouble-free thoughts in sight.
And when his last song of the evening rings out, the crowd gets to their feet, and the lights come up. He takes a deep, cleansing breath for the first time in hours. But as he waves his goodbyes, exiting the stage, he stops abruptly.
Looking toward the lone table, his chest tightens slightly as the sight of an empty chair and half empty glass are all to be found.
Raising his arms and waving his hands to shush them somewhat, he continues, “OK! OK! Settle down and settle in, for your entertainment pleasure tonight. And because you all seem to have grown to love his sexy, sultry voice, and as some of you ladies have liked to put it, his fuckhot bod, I present to you our resident country crooner, Jasper Hale.”
Cringing at the boss’s words. Like fuck, really! Country crooner? And the thought of the ladies thinking him fuckhot makes his belly a little uneasy. But he waves confidently towards the crowd. His eyes dart as the loudest wolf whistle hits his ears, shooting straight from the kid in the front row. Raising his eyebrow in question as their eyes meet for the first time, the scrawny, smooth-skinned face turns bright crimson then shyly diverts.
But with the first strum of his old, but finely-tuned guitar, he’s taken away, letting himself go. His mind wanders and his eyes flutter softly closed, enabling him to escape and let his emotions take him over. Songs have always come easy for him, and singing has forever brought him comfort, realizing at a young age that it was the only place he could run and hide to be alone with his thoughts, without fear of being judged or frowned upon.
He found it easier over the years to sing of love and love interests, rather than having to actually go out in the real world and work at getting one. The romantic side of happily-ever-after had been destroyed for him long ago, with countless, useless one night stands and abusive, stupid so-called relationships. And let’s not forget, cause really! How could we! The nastiness of thinking he has always been an aberration for being gay; no thanks in part to his wonderful, church attending, God fearing, Bible thumping southern family.
As the first song ends and the last long note rings out, he’s abruptly brought back to reality as their claps pound loudly in his ears. Granting them a small smile, he quickly finds his escape again, and continues with the next.
Before he knows it, his first half has ended, and placing his guitar ever-so-gently by his stool, he heads in the direction of the bar and a well-earned free beer.
His skin prickles and goose bumps right before he feels the soft, creamy voice wash over him. Turning slowly, he’s met with the same scrawny, smooth-skinned kid from earlier. But what takes him aback and steals his breath are the eyes, so clear and honest that they seem to be piercing his very soul. Needing a moment, but only having a second, he turns away, shoots the remainder of his beer and takes a deep, well-deserved breath, clawing for the courage he knows he damn well has somewhere inside just to speak to said eyes.
Finally finding his cockiness again, but unable to make direct eye contact, he addresses the guy. “I don’t do requests, kid, so don’t waste your breath asking,” surprising even himself when guilt sets in, at the furrowed brow and somewhat hurt look on the boy’s face.
But his cockiness is short lived and shot to shit once more, as the creamy, smooth tone and sweet mixed with cheap beer breath dusts his cheeks. “I… I… I was just going to ask if I... ya know... I... could... ya know… buy you a beer... or… or something?”
Raising an eyebrow at the kid, realizing the boy’s boldness from earlier has suddenly disappeared, and with an expression, he’s sure as hell is saying, Are you for real? he gives a long, drawn-out reply. “Orrrrr... something?.Huh?”
His eyes dart to the boy’s lips, cause fuck, why wouldn’t they? He’s gnawing on the bottom one nervously, and his gaze has now found the design on Jasper’s t-shirt to be of some interest to him.
With a pang of some uncharacteristic guilt, he places a gentle hand slowly on the boy’s shoulder, feeling the need to ease the kid’s nerves, but his greedy side really wanting and longing to look upon his blushed, smooth skin and deep haunting eyes full on again.
Leaning closer, needing the full effect of the creamy tone and sweet breath when the guy answers next time, he whispers softly, “Take it easy, kid! No worries. I was only messing with ya. Really, I swear I was.”
And bingo, he is not disappointed as a hushed whisper is returned. “Edward.”
Pulling a little back, confused, he questions, “Huh?’
He watches in awe as the boy’s eyes take a slow journey up the front of his t-shirt, stopping occasionally to stare and take a harder look around his chest, once again feeling his skin react with goose bumps and slight shivers, as the haunting eyes seem to pierce his soul once more. The gaze travels his neck dances across his jaw line, finding his lips cheeks and nose, before coming to rest on what Jasper is now sure is a dazed somewhat lust-filled stare.
Then he’s rewarded as the sweetness hits him and he finds he’s unable to keep his eyes from fluttering closed just to breathe it all in. He lets his lips form a grin as he listens to the boy’s reply. “My name is Edward! Edward Cullen. Not boy, or kid or guy. But Edward! Edward Cullen. And I would really like it if you’d let me buy you a drink before your next set. Plea... please.”
And that’s when it really hits him, and hits him hard, that the kid is being genuine. The kid really wants to buy him, Jasper Hale, a fucking drink. And not for the want of anything, or in payment for services rendered, but just because. The thought of just because confuses him - he’d never had a just because drink before.
But as he stares the boy down, his old self kicks in. This kid has innocence and naivety written all over his face, and who the fuck was he to mess with that? What kind of person would that make him if he did? His chest tightens as he realizes it would make him the kind of person that at one time or another stole his happily ever after, and he just can’t bring himself to do that to this kid.
So taking a deep, disappointed breath and squeezing the kid’s shoulder once more, he decides to save the boy some heartache and try as gently as possible to give him the old brush off. “Listen, kid! Oops sorry! I mean Edward! Edward Cullen. As much as I would love to have a drink with you right now…”
Leaning back seductively, devouring the poor guy’s body from head to toe with a knowing wanton stare, he watches as Edward swallows hard, and feeling under his touch when he trembles slightly, he decides he has him where he wants him, so he continues, “I can’t. Really, I can’t. Go back to your table, kid! Forget you asked. Enjoy the rest of the set, then go home and be happy. Cause believe me when I tell ya, I’m not what you want right now, and I have nothing you will ever need.”
As he watches the boy’s face turn from what was once glad to now sad, feeling the guilt set in again, wanting to ease the kid’s nerves, he knows he can’t, and that it’s for the best. He quickly turns, and with a heavy heart and a deep disgusted breath, he takes the stage once more.
He knows the second half of his set is different; he knows his concentration is elsewhere. The escape that he usually found in his songs, for some reason is lost. He finds his mind - and from time to time, his gaze - wander to the lone table and chair in the front.
He watches as the boy’s gaze never leaves him, finding himself thinking and worrying about the the kid, or should he say.
“Edward?” No, he shouldn’t say, “Edward.” Seems wrong, saying “Edward,” His name means something now. Thinking ‘Edward’ makes him real.
But he still finds himself watching him from the corner of his eye. He still finds himself wondering what the hell the boy’s thinking of him. Does he now hate him? Does he now think less? Deciding it best to mentally kick his own ass rather that worry about what some kid thinks, he, for the first time in years, continues his set with no form of escape or trouble-free thoughts in sight.
And when his last song of the evening rings out, the crowd gets to their feet, and the lights come up. He takes a deep, cleansing breath for the first time in hours. But as he waves his goodbyes, exiting the stage, he stops abruptly.
Looking toward the lone table, his chest tightens slightly as the sight of an empty chair and half empty glass are all to be found.
Lingerie, Lifeboats and Lullabies
by: teamswitzerlandmom
Hi B, everyone said congratulations but that I really should learn to control my hose better.
~E
E, tell them I said that you control it very well thank you. ~B
OK B, I’ve got another one for you. Hey E, you fired the shot heard around the ovaries! ~E
E, I like that one! Lol ~B
Hey Beautiful. Here’s one of my favorites. Edward poked fun at Bella and she took his serious! I love you. Be sure to tell our baby I love him or her too. ~E
Hey Handsome. I love that one too! I think it is my favorite as well. I love you and you can poke fun at me any time. We both love you very much. Be careful and come home to us soon.
~B
I continued to walk around the nursery, looking at the various items in the room and noticed how the pictures chronicled the changes that my body had gone through so quickly over the past eight
months. January had come and gone with the doctor visit resulting in no ultrasound since their machine had been out of service. Since it had been so early in my pregnancy and Dr. Platt was not concerned about complications, we rescheduled the ultrasound for my visit in February.
The Sinful Temptation
by: ADADancer
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. His warm breath caressed my skin. I shivered from the contact. “Good morning, baby.” He breathed in my ear.
I turned around abruptly, “I’m not your baby, Edward.” This was our morning ritual. Edward claimed he wanted me, but I knew it was a joke. I wasn’t even in the same league as him. The only possible reason he could want me, was because I was the only girl not falling on their knees for him.
His green eyes pierced through mine; and a light chuckle escaped his lips. “Keep telling yourself that, Bella. But, you and I both know that you will be my baby soon.” His lips came closer to mine.
“Yo, Cullen!” I jumped back by the sound of Jacob’s voice.
Edward smirked at me and then turned toward Jacob. “You rang, Black.”
Jacob had a dark look in his eyes and his face was turning a unpleasant shade of purple. “You stay away from my girl, Cullen. You hear me?”
“Your girl?” Edward laughs along with his minions, Emmett and Jasper—who I just noticed—“let’s see how long that lasts Mr. Quarterback. You know it’s always the good girls that turn bad. Miss Swan is no exception. She will be mine.”
Edward leaned down and placed a kiss against my cheek. “You know where to find me.” He whispered in my ear.
Elf on Holiday: An Elf Outtake
by: texasbella
The anticipation was killing me.
The fluid dripping out of me bordering on ludicrous.
Flicking my eyes to the clock, I groaned loudly when I saw that I still had an hour until the car was supposed to come round to get me, 90 minutes until I’d see him...my Sir.
Unconsciously, I rubbed my thighs together, easily done with the slickness coating them.
I needed to get myself under control. Yes, today was going to be a big day, but I was prepared. Sir had spent the last four months patiently training me, showing me the ropes so to speak.
He’d been firm and demanding, but never cruel towards me. In short, the last four months had been the best of my life. Our first time together, back in his uncle’s playroom, had only been the beginning of an amazing journey.
Since following him to England to begin my advanced studies at the University of London, he’d taken me under his wing, escorting me comfortably and safely into the underworld of the BDSM lifestyle.
The fluid dripping out of me bordering on ludicrous.
Flicking my eyes to the clock, I groaned loudly when I saw that I still had an hour until the car was supposed to come round to get me, 90 minutes until I’d see him...my Sir.
Unconsciously, I rubbed my thighs together, easily done with the slickness coating them.
I needed to get myself under control. Yes, today was going to be a big day, but I was prepared. Sir had spent the last four months patiently training me, showing me the ropes so to speak.
He’d been firm and demanding, but never cruel towards me. In short, the last four months had been the best of my life. Our first time together, back in his uncle’s playroom, had only been the beginning of an amazing journey.
Since following him to England to begin my advanced studies at the University of London, he’d taken me under his wing, escorting me comfortably and safely into the underworld of the BDSM lifestyle.
Defending Bella: A Learning To Let Go Outtake
by: lvtwilight09
I try to keep my calm, but I just can’t, and everything comes out in a flurry of shouts and yells.
“Seriously…all of you for one second…can you just try and think about everything she’s dealing with? First her husband dies…on Valentine’s Day and when they were getting ready to start trying to make a family of their own no less. Then she just as she’s finally starting to move forward from losing the love of her life, she gets a call and find out that she’s now been left responsible for her dead husband’s child that he had with his mistress. And to top it all off…the mistress could have well been her twin. So please…tell me just what is the standard protocol for handling that situation, because I sure as shit don’t know what it is.”
No one says anything, I just hope it’s because I’m starting to get through to them.
“Now add to all of that stuff that she’s dealing with…add all of you. Mom with her overcorrecting every little thing she does in regards to Eva, Dad with his glorifying of Evan into some golden boy that he never was, Emmett with his harping about how fucked up Evan was, Alice and Rose with your pushy ways and criticalness of how Bella looks and acts and how she’s no fun anymore…it’s enough to break any sane person down and drive them insane.”
“Just you wait a minute there Edward,” my dad interrupts. “Your brother was a good man. I raised him right. It’s not right for you to go dragging him through the mud like that…”
“My brother was an adulterous asshole,” I yell at my dad. “He threw away the best thing he ever had. He may as well have pissed on his marriage certificate. You can’t ignore what he did wrong Dad. He made mistakes. He lived a lie. He turned his back on his wedding vows, and his unborn child. You can’t ignore the facts.”
Red Elephants
by: Amber1983
We wish the others goodnight and make our way down the winding pathways with the aid of a flashlight Edward borrowed from reception. We reach our cabin way too quickly. He helps me inside and lays the flashlight on the nightstand where it gives the room a dull glow.
"Will you be able to see well enough?" Edward asks and I nod.
Suddenly I'm hit by how much I don't want him to leave. I've never felt this drawn to a man before. I want him to stay in this lonely room with me, wrapped around me, keeping me safe from the wild beasts and thick darkness outside. More than anything I want his lips, his hands, his body on mine.
But what does he want?
"Night, then," he says. "We'll see you at breakfast."
He heads for the door and I scramble after him. He reaches for the handle and I touch his wrist, turning him towards me. His face is an inch from mine but I can't read his expression in the almost-dark. His breath is slightly laboured though and it's all I can hear.
"Thank you," I whisper, finding his cheek in the darkness and placing my lips there. I'm frozen, captured by his scent, his warmth, his quickening breath in my ear.
"Will you be able to see well enough?" Edward asks and I nod.
Suddenly I'm hit by how much I don't want him to leave. I've never felt this drawn to a man before. I want him to stay in this lonely room with me, wrapped around me, keeping me safe from the wild beasts and thick darkness outside. More than anything I want his lips, his hands, his body on mine.
But what does he want?
"Night, then," he says. "We'll see you at breakfast."
He heads for the door and I scramble after him. He reaches for the handle and I touch his wrist, turning him towards me. His face is an inch from mine but I can't read his expression in the almost-dark. His breath is slightly laboured though and it's all I can hear.
"Thank you," I whisper, finding his cheek in the darkness and placing my lips there. I'm frozen, captured by his scent, his warmth, his quickening breath in my ear.
Script Fun
by: FFLoverLaura
“This something you wanna try out, baby?” he asks quietly, with no judgment at all in his voice.
“Yeah, I think it’d be fun.”
My head is still kinda fuzzy from all the alcohol I drank and I can’t really remember which script he’s looking at.
But I know I haven’t read anything that I wouldn’t try with Edward anyways.
Edward turns his head towards me and reaches up to grasp my chin in between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my face up to his.
I look into his eyes and smile.
“Get naked, now,” he demands, his eyes hooded with desire.
With no hesitation, I jump up from the bed and strip my clothes off my body.
Standing there naked, I place my hands on my hips and raise an eyebrow at him with a smirk on my face, awaiting his next move.
“Now, undress me baby,” he says and crooks his finger at me, beckoning me to come to him with that damn lopsided smile on his face.
I go willingly; I’m always willing to be closer to him.
Edward places the tablet on the bedside table and opens his arms to me.
I straddle him and run my hands up and down his chest, over his strong arms and muscular stomach.
“Mmmmm, I’ve missed you,” I murmur against his lips as I kiss him.
My hands make quick work of the buttons on his shirt, sliding my hands up his chest and down his shoulders.
I remove his dress shirt, loving the feel of his chest against mine.
I reach down and undo his belt, sliding it off and throwing it onto the floor.
Unbuttoning his pants and lowering the zipper, my gaze falls onto his hardened cock.
I move my hand to brush against the soft skin of his arousal, rubbing my thumb along the pierced head.
Resident Adviser Future Outtake
by: addicted to romione bedward
Damn. I missed her so fucking much. I couldn’t stop staring at her. Her hair looked longer as it was caught in a pony tail, she had a tan, and when her brown eyes met mine I had to resist the urge to burst in tears.
Taking a Shot
by TwoTwimoms
“Ed! Good to see ya. Nice game tonight.” Emmett shook my hand before going to pour me my usual beer.
“Thanks. So, how’s it going?”
Emmett slid a beer in front of me. “Real good. Rose and I got engaged over the weekend.”
“Congrats, man. It’s been a long time coming.”
“No shit. If she turned me down one more time I was giving up. How about you?”
“Same shit, different day.”
“You still seeing, Irina?”
“Hell, no! She decided woman were more appealing to her than men.”
I thought Emmett was gonna pass out he was laughing so hard.
“I’m glad I could amuse you.”
I flipped Emmett off before turning on my stool to see a gorgeous, sexy brunette walking through the front door. As she walked closer I got a better look at just how beautiful she was. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, she had beautiful dark brown eyes that looked like melted chocolate and pillowy soft lips meant to be kissed. Her tight black t-shirt accentuated ample breasts that would just fill a man’s hands. Her small waist led to slender legs clad in denim. Her smile was warm and I couldn’t help but return it.
She walked past me assaulting me with an intoxicating smell of fresh lavender. I turned on my stool getting the most perfect view of her slender hips swaying and soft, round curves of her ass as she made her way behind the bar. She kissed Emmett’s cheek, saying a hello before placing her stuff under the bar.
I looked up to see Emmett scowling at me. “Dude! You think you could close your mouth and stop drooling over my little sister.”
“That’s your little sister?”
“Ever Mine, Ever Thine, Ever Ours”
by Little Angry Kitten
And they lived happily ever after…
That’s how all the fairytales my mom used to read me when I was a child ended.
With the Princess finding her Prince and the bad guys being punished for what
they did.
For many years I believed I would get my happy ending too. I would find my
Prince Charming, he would sweep me off my feet and we would live happily ever
after with no worries.
Now, two years after my whole life was shattered before my eyes, I wish I never
believed in fairytales. I wish I never believed in Prince Charming, white horses,
beautiful dresses that my fairy godmother would make from rags or carriages
made from pumpkins. I wish my mother had told me that true love never comes
ease. That life never runs smoothly and happy endings don’t really exist.
I wish I never thought I was entitled to live that happily ever after.
I wish someone had warned me about the pain I would feel when I lost him.
The Art of Love
by: Arc Morpheus
She continued to study the portrait - the lady was now smiling down at her, as if she knew what was about to happen, and strangely approved. Izzy felt the heat of his masculine body behind her, wondering how close he was to her heated and flushed skin. Here was a complete stranger and she wanted nothing more than to lean back and mold against him, he felt so solid, so alive, so human.
“I’ve been watching you. You’re the most beautiful work of art in this gallery.”
A Cruel Mistake
by: Beckybrit
nudges me and points over toward the bar.
I glance over to my right and sure enough, a striking red-head is brazenly checking me out. Even
I can admit that she's hot, but there's something about her that seems off. It's like she's almost too
perfect.
“She's fucking hot, man.” Alec shouts from across the table. “You should definitely go for that.”
I smile and shake my head, saying that she's not really my type and hope that will be the end of it.
Unfortunately for me, the shit load of beer they've drunk has made them all pushy. All except for
Riley. As he sits there, listening to them egging me on and urging me to go talk to her, I see the
disappointment written all over his face. He knows as well as I do that if I'd just been honest about
our relationship, then I wouldn't be in this fucked up situation.
I've just about had enough and am really fucking tempted to out myself just to get them to stop, but
the next voice I hear stops me dead in my tracks.
“I think you should go talk to her. It's not like you're seeing anyone at the minute, is it?” His eyes
are focused on the neck of his beer bottle as he picks at the label there. I stare at him, willing him
to look up, but he doesn't and my heart sinks. At the back of my mind I know its probably the beer
talking, but I fear Riley has finally reached his breaking point, and in my shocked state I hesitate a
fraction too long. “That's what I thought.” He downs the rest of his beer, announces that he needs
a 'fucking piss', and stalks off to the bathroom.
I'm desperate to follow him; to sort this mess out, to tell him that I just need a little more time
before I tell them all. But the very thing we're arguing about is what keeps me in my seat.
The Officer Is No Gentleman
by: ImHereToReview
“Hi, daddy.”
“Hi, baby girl.”
He sounded tired.
“I’m almost there. I thought I’d call you and let you know I’m close. Just passed the “Forks” sign.”
“That’s good. Real good. You remember to do the speed limit when you’re coming through town. My boys are good and…”
Silence.
“Dad?”
“Uh…yeah. Sorry. I needed to get to my pain meds and nearly spilled the bottle. Damned nurse. She put them too far away and I couldn’t reach them.”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes, dad. Just wait for me. Okay?”
Hearing my dad in pain, I pushed the gas pedal closer to the floor.
“It’s alright. I’ve got them. No need to rush.”
Just then, I heard the siren and saw the lights in my rearview mirror before I could even respond to my dad.
Fuck
“Bella?”
“Uh, yeah, dad. Alright. No rush. Okay. I think I’ll stop at the grocery store to get… yeah, I’ll be there in a bit. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”
”Love you too, baby girl. Don’t speed.”
Too late for that.
“I won’t.” I hung up without hearing his response.
I was being pulled over for speeding. I should have listened to my father.
I pulled off to the shoulder of the long stretch of road that seemed to be deserted at the moment. I was a little pissed because, for all practical intents and purposes, it was an emergency. My dad was in pain and I needed to get to him.
I sat up straight and looked in the mirror to see what was taking so long. Just then the patrol car door opened and a long leg stepped out, unfolding a tall, lean body. The officer placed his hat on his head and shut the door to his car as he made his way toward me. His arm instinctively bent as he rested his hand on the holster for his gun. A slight shiver ran through my body as I watched him.
I sat still and waited for the officer to approach. My imagination was working over time. I was trying to think of something to say to get out of it. Should I pull the “my dad’s your boss” card? Would he even care? Technically I was speeding.
A knock on my window snapped me out of my daydreaming.
How To Get The Girl
by: Unfamiliar Faces
How could all this equate to you being out of my league? You were snarky and defensive and stubborn. You were kind and open and embraced life with a smile. You were the perfect combination of wrong and right.
It amazed me how much I learned about you in one conversation. I wondered how much more I could learn in future conversations. I wondered if I’d learn everything I’d need to know if I spent the rest of my life talking to you.
Memories Like Fingerprints
by: JA Mash
This part of campus is usually quiet at night, most of the students heading toward the parking structures and lots or toward the bus stops and subway terminals. Bella likes the seclusion she feels when she walks in the opposite direction, toward her small studio apartment seated above the old coffee shop a couple of blocks from campus.
The walk home is her personal quiet time, as she calls it, time to reflect on that night’s lecture or scene. However, more often than not lately, the time is spent thinking about the enigma that is her acting coach, a one Mr. Edward Cullen.
Her breath is a solid cloud as she sighs, stuffing her hands into her jacket to shield them from the brisk November air as she shifts her shoulders to better distribute the weight of her pack. Edward—she thinks—liking the way the name sounds in her mind’s voice, is unlike anyone she has ever met while in New York, and definitely different from any of the other professors or academic instructors at NYU.
Mr. Cullen doesn’t strike her as the type to voluntarily sign up to be an acting coach for up and coming stars. Bella’s never really been one to categorize people by their appearance, but even if he wasn’t more talented than most of the people currently employed on the Broadway stage, the man could be a star based on his looks alone. Gorgeous green eyes framed with long lashes, pale skin marred perfectly with spatters of golden freckles, lips that captivate when they move to speak, and his voice. The man has a voice, so quiet and yet so commanding that Bella has found herself lost in the movement of his voice more than the man’s words on more than one occasion, his tone varying from light and appeasing to dark and menacing, the occasional slip of his southern roots blending his vowels. Why the hell the man is working as an instructor and not making a living acting, is a question she has always wanted to ask, but she knows it’s not her place as someone studying under him. She knows better than to ask such a personal question of someone so utterly professional.
“Bella!”
Pulled from her thoughts by the shrill voice, she turns to see Alice Brandon running toward her, barely dodging a kid on a moped speeding by her with a loud curse and a not too subtle offer of a certain finger.
She smiles as Alice finally reaches her, pack slung on her right shoulder, hair sticking out in all directions from under her knit cap. “Hey,” Bella says warmly, linking their arms together as they begin to walk again.
“You forgot, didn’t you?” Alice asks, but there’s no aggravation in her voice, just a warm acceptance of the fact that Bella is a little scatter brained and forgets almost anything that isn’t related to school or her acting.
She bites her lip and squints guiltily, looking down at Alice’s amused expression. “Uh, what’d I forget?”
Alice laughs, hitting Bella’s arm lightly as she pulls away to retrieve a small booklet from her bag. “Macbeth?” she says, tapping the book against Bella’s arm. “We totally had a study-date and you promised you’d help me prepare for tomorrow’s audition.”
Bella lets out an “ahhh” and nods, cause yea, she did forget but now she remembers that she did in fact promise to run lines with Alice, and since she’s her best friend, she’s totally not off the hook cause she can’t remember what day of the week it is, let alone plans for said day. Alice chuckles and shoves her lightly as they continue down the sidewalk. The way is barely lit by dimmed street lights and the glow from several shops but Bella’s walked this path every night for seven months and before she knows it, they’re in front of the coffee shop.
“So, what’d you think about Mr. Cullen’s lesson tonight?” Alice asks conversationally as they make their way up the fire escape. Bella rummages through her jeans pocket for her keys and shrugs.
“I dunno.” She opens the door and holds it open for Alice before sliding in behind her, tossing her keys on the small table by the door. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love the classics, but I’m never going to be Caesar. Wish we could focus on more modern styles, ya know?” She shrugs out of her jacket and throws it over the side of the couch, watching as Alice does the same, along with her scarf and hat.
“That so wasn’t the point, Bella. The point was to know your character inside and out. That’s something that applies to traditional as well as modern styles.”
Bella purses her lips at Alice, duh clearly spelled out on her face as she plops down on the couch. “What I meant was that, the dialogue we worked on is so far from what I want to do. The inflections are different, the pacing.”
Alice nods in understanding, but Bella can still see the underlying arrogance in her eyes and she sighs. “I’m gettin’ a beer. You want one?” she asks as she heads to the small sectioned-off kitchen area of the studio.
“Bottled water if you have it!” Alice calls back and Bella rolls her eyes.
Fetching herself a bottle of the beer they had on sale at the corner market and one of the mini-sized bottles of water she tries to always have in stock for Alice, because yes, she’s that anal about her water, she returns to the living area and sits down beside her.
She takes the booklet Alice hands her and starts flipping through it, seeing the highlighted sections for Lady Macbeth. She looks up at Alice shrugging her shoulders, getting ready, her brow arched in question.
“Start at the top of page four,” Alice says, pulling her hair away from her face to fall against her back.
Bella takes a sip of her beer and places it on the table. After taking in a deep breath, she starts reading.
The walk home is her personal quiet time, as she calls it, time to reflect on that night’s lecture or scene. However, more often than not lately, the time is spent thinking about the enigma that is her acting coach, a one Mr. Edward Cullen.
Her breath is a solid cloud as she sighs, stuffing her hands into her jacket to shield them from the brisk November air as she shifts her shoulders to better distribute the weight of her pack. Edward—she thinks—liking the way the name sounds in her mind’s voice, is unlike anyone she has ever met while in New York, and definitely different from any of the other professors or academic instructors at NYU.
Mr. Cullen doesn’t strike her as the type to voluntarily sign up to be an acting coach for up and coming stars. Bella’s never really been one to categorize people by their appearance, but even if he wasn’t more talented than most of the people currently employed on the Broadway stage, the man could be a star based on his looks alone. Gorgeous green eyes framed with long lashes, pale skin marred perfectly with spatters of golden freckles, lips that captivate when they move to speak, and his voice. The man has a voice, so quiet and yet so commanding that Bella has found herself lost in the movement of his voice more than the man’s words on more than one occasion, his tone varying from light and appeasing to dark and menacing, the occasional slip of his southern roots blending his vowels. Why the hell the man is working as an instructor and not making a living acting, is a question she has always wanted to ask, but she knows it’s not her place as someone studying under him. She knows better than to ask such a personal question of someone so utterly professional.
“Bella!”
Pulled from her thoughts by the shrill voice, she turns to see Alice Brandon running toward her, barely dodging a kid on a moped speeding by her with a loud curse and a not too subtle offer of a certain finger.
She smiles as Alice finally reaches her, pack slung on her right shoulder, hair sticking out in all directions from under her knit cap. “Hey,” Bella says warmly, linking their arms together as they begin to walk again.
“You forgot, didn’t you?” Alice asks, but there’s no aggravation in her voice, just a warm acceptance of the fact that Bella is a little scatter brained and forgets almost anything that isn’t related to school or her acting.
She bites her lip and squints guiltily, looking down at Alice’s amused expression. “Uh, what’d I forget?”
Alice laughs, hitting Bella’s arm lightly as she pulls away to retrieve a small booklet from her bag. “Macbeth?” she says, tapping the book against Bella’s arm. “We totally had a study-date and you promised you’d help me prepare for tomorrow’s audition.”
Bella lets out an “ahhh” and nods, cause yea, she did forget but now she remembers that she did in fact promise to run lines with Alice, and since she’s her best friend, she’s totally not off the hook cause she can’t remember what day of the week it is, let alone plans for said day. Alice chuckles and shoves her lightly as they continue down the sidewalk. The way is barely lit by dimmed street lights and the glow from several shops but Bella’s walked this path every night for seven months and before she knows it, they’re in front of the coffee shop.
“So, what’d you think about Mr. Cullen’s lesson tonight?” Alice asks conversationally as they make their way up the fire escape. Bella rummages through her jeans pocket for her keys and shrugs.
“I dunno.” She opens the door and holds it open for Alice before sliding in behind her, tossing her keys on the small table by the door. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love the classics, but I’m never going to be Caesar. Wish we could focus on more modern styles, ya know?” She shrugs out of her jacket and throws it over the side of the couch, watching as Alice does the same, along with her scarf and hat.
“That so wasn’t the point, Bella. The point was to know your character inside and out. That’s something that applies to traditional as well as modern styles.”
Bella purses her lips at Alice, duh clearly spelled out on her face as she plops down on the couch. “What I meant was that, the dialogue we worked on is so far from what I want to do. The inflections are different, the pacing.”
Alice nods in understanding, but Bella can still see the underlying arrogance in her eyes and she sighs. “I’m gettin’ a beer. You want one?” she asks as she heads to the small sectioned-off kitchen area of the studio.
“Bottled water if you have it!” Alice calls back and Bella rolls her eyes.
Fetching herself a bottle of the beer they had on sale at the corner market and one of the mini-sized bottles of water she tries to always have in stock for Alice, because yes, she’s that anal about her water, she returns to the living area and sits down beside her.
She takes the booklet Alice hands her and starts flipping through it, seeing the highlighted sections for Lady Macbeth. She looks up at Alice shrugging her shoulders, getting ready, her brow arched in question.
“Start at the top of page four,” Alice says, pulling her hair away from her face to fall against her back.
Bella takes a sip of her beer and places it on the table. After taking in a deep breath, she starts reading.
His Goddess, Her Warrior
by: WhiteWolfLegend
I turn and continue my path down the empty street listening to the nightlife of drunks walking home with the sound of empty bottles of booze clattering against the hard surface. It was an odd chilly night for Texas
I instantly felt a connection to the mysterious vampire but by the time I could say something a thank you maybe the fucker was gone in the night, the human gone as well the only thing that I had to remember him by was the sting of the wound on my shoulder where he licked it, I knew it was him for a few reasons as his scent smelled like leather and rainforest. Though, I never saw him lick the wound closed I just knew he did it. That was the night my little pain in the ass showed itself, the voice in my head told me to run home something was wrong and when I did I found Vicky sobbing her heart out. She was alone and wanted to be loved, though Vicky may be tough and bitchy I knew she was like me on the inside. Broken and alone.
Stop… the voice whispered and I did, my head turning to the buzzing sound of the neon lights. It was the bar Vicky and I visited the first night we were here; it was a mix of country and rock and roll. I know a weird choice? But anyway my little gift never steered me wrong so I went in and walked up to the bar.
Lost and Found
by: Equivamp
“I’m not on the menu!” She swung the bottle at him.
Whether it was luck, fate, or he just didn’t expect a human to do something so stupid, her aim was true. The bottle hit his skull with enough force to shatter and leave his muddy blond buzz soaked in whiskey. She backed away wielding the jagged remains like some drunken bar brawler. She knew it would do no good… But if they were going to eat her, she wasn’t going to make it easy for them.
The female hissed not unlike Scarlett and her teeth gleamed with venom.
“No Charlotte, it’s okay.” The male gave his pretty companion a name. “I can’t watch Jay waste anymore. We’ll shove her down his throat, and if he wants to get back on the wagon once he’s eaten, we still got the cat.” He laughed.
She flinched as Charlotte grabbed her; the steel arms were akin to a bear trap… All she had left was waiting for the hunter.
The world seemed to spin as the vampires leapt back to the roofs with her in hand; she was beginning to regret the whiskey.
It was an unusual turn of events. Just another Seattle night getting blotto with the cat and suddenly vampires had kidnapped her. A meal on the go with a tiger-cat chaser.
Make it Stop
by: XquisiteProdigy
At fifteen, it had taken all of Edward’s strength to ask Bella to the dance, but he was shocked when she had said ‘yes.’
He was positive she was going to accept Jasper’s offer, the new blonde headed student who had transferred from California. Every girl in high school drooled over his bright blue eyes and wavy long hair. His cool surfer-dude demeanor was so unlike the rest of the Forks population, and Edward was surprised Bella didn’t fall for his charm.
I guess some prayers do come true, he thought.
He pulled down the hem of her dark blue dress, and told her how beautiful she looked. She giggled and a tremor ran through his body.
He winked at his date and grabbed her hand.
Edward was no prince charming, but it was this night that he realized Bella Swan was indeed his Cinderella.
Virgin Atlantic 009
by: DreamOfTheEndless
Bella wished she knew what he was looking for so she could offer him her services; help him find the mysterious treasure.
She couldn’t take her eyes off of him.
His lips were not plump, but the perfect lines were shaped in an adorable pout as he concentrated on finding the object of his quest.
Bella had a disturbingly strong, not to mention inappropriate, urge to know what his breath would feel like on her face.
Cinnamon and burnt amber.
His hair, a strange shade of shimmering brown, was tamed into a slick perfection, not a strand out of place. His clean shaven cheeks didn’t sport any evidence of stubble, exposing a razor sharp jawline.
He was flawless.
Spirit Guide
by: Jasper1863Hale
"If I’m not dying, then why would a ghost come to visit me? You’re not like a ghost of Christmas past or something, are you?”
Again, his eyebrow rose, casting me with a somewhat disapproving glance that could have easily rivaled my mother’s, but then it faded as another chuckle broke out from his lips.
“It’s April; I think I’m a little late, don’t you? However, I do like your reference to A Christmas Carol. Wonderful book, I was fond of that story as a boy. Though, I get the impression that you gained your knowledge from the TV rather than the book.”
I didn’t know much about this ghost other than his name and interest in books, but I did know that he was a confusing ghost.
“Wait…so how is it that you know my name and that you’re here right now? You said you’ve been waiting for me for a long time. Why?”
“I have been assigned to you. I’m your spirit guide."
