Sunday, April 15, 2018
Fics for you!
Behind a painted smile lies secrets many wish to keep. A modern nightmare. Warning: drug use and sexual situations some might find uncomfortable.
The summary says it all ... or does it?
Bella moves in next to the Cullens. Phil is Bella’s stepfather, he’s a senator, and Ed Sr, Edward’s dad, is his campaign manager. Phil is running for re-election.
Edward has a gut reaction that something is amiss with Bella. He sees her actions as destructive. He wants to know why...he becomes curious as to what is happening.
The sun beats down on us, baking my skin. I'm already baked, like Lays.
"I see you," I repeat, lips softly pressing the words forward. They come out breathy, dreamy. My smile stretches, gets trapped under my front teeth. Lashes flutter close, covering dilated pupils as my body folds and uncoils in a lazy cat stretch.
"You didn't use sunscreen, did you?" His fingers gently press the skin on my warm shoulders. A giggle bubbles up from my gut. Head shaking, I twist myself until I'm pressed against his warm chest.
"Nobody wears that stuff."
His answering laugh is soft, exasperated. "I should take you home."
My eyes are open now. He's staring down at me, propped up on his elbow. Light filters down through the gaps in his soft, sun-bleached hair. His eyes are like the ocean – open, deep, and so, so blue. "No," I smile, walking my fingers playfully up his tanned bicep. "Not yet."
His eyes sweep my face, tongue reaching out to wet his pink bottom lip. He wants to kiss me. I want him to, too. My hand curves around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in salt-stiff tresses. "Someone might see," his words say worry, his eyes say want.
I pull him closer, lifting my chest to press against his. "I don't care."
His sigh is heavy against my lips. I can practically taste the mint he ate earlier. "I can get into a lot of trouble for this." He knows this, yet he's still leaning over me, staring at my mouth, my chest, my legs. I've already won.
"It's just a kiss, Jasper." I reason, shifting my face so our noses touch. "I promise I won't tell anyone."
He gives in. Our mouths fuse together in a warm, salty kiss. The first one is gentle, apprehensive. The second is hungry. I'm gathered into his arms and held against his chest as he consumes me.
"You're trouble," he pants against my mouth. I am. He knows this. Basically, the whole school knows it.
'A senior has no business with a sophomore,' Riley – my older brother by two years – always tells me. He's heard the rumors, the whisperings. He knows it's all true, though he does try to prevent it from happening. He has threatened to pummel any guy that touches me. Although wary of potential bodily harm, I have been touched… many times.
"Please," I gasp into Jasper's mouth, "touch me."
His soft hands curl into fists against my back. "Not here," he murmurs against my mouth. Seconds later, I'm yanked to my feet and towed to his truck.
Seniors may have no business with me, but I sure do have business with them.
PS Not for the faint of heart. This Bella is self-destructive. But why??
Click here to read Prey.
Fics for you!
It had been hours since the sky darkened, but the activity on the dusty street had increased in the last thirty minutes. I'd watched four different men pass by, hurrying into the adjacent building from where we were camped out. Each arrived separately, scurrying by with their head down, only looking around seconds before darting into the doorway undetected. At least they thought they were undetected. My team had been here for the last twenty-two hours waiting for this moment.
The intelligence group had intercepted communication last week while monitoring local radio chatter indicating Jamil Amari would be in attendance tonight. Amari was the leader of a large terror cell operating out of Iraq, and we'd been trying to capture him for two years. Once the chatter was confirmed, my team was brought in, Alpha Company of the 1st Battalion, Army Special Forces.
This particular apartment building had been hit by an IED less than ten months ago. The explosion killed six and leveled a good portion of the building. With no money to repair the structure, it lay dormant. Until tonight. This is what we trained for, why we were considered the elite.
Just as we were about to leave the square, gunfire erupted behind us.
"Take cover!" I yelled at my team.
Suddenly, a searing pain erupted in my right arm as a bullet hit me. In a split second, the team returned fire. I pushed myself up from where I'd fallen and grabbed my gun, holding it in my left hand.
"Come on; we have to go." Jasper pulled me up and pushed me into a run. I pushed the pain from my mind. I'd deal with that when I had time, and now was definitely not the right time.
"Captain, look at me," Newton said as he knelt in front of me, pulling his bag from his back. From his pack he pulled bandages, iodine, a small suture kit, and other things I couldn't name.
"I'm fine," I gritted through clenched teeth. It was painful, but I'd live. The bullet had gone straight through and looked as if only stitches would be needed.
"I'm going to do my best to stop the bleeding, and then we can get back on the move." He tore the sleeve from my shirt, wrapped my arm with gauze, and then used the sleeve to tie off my arm. I groaned at the pressure but continued to breathe through it. "Look at me. Follow my finger." I rolled my eyes, shoved his hand out of my face, and stood.
"Let's move out," I commanded.
"I'm fine," I said as I held up a hand to try to ward them off.
"I'll be the judge of that, Captain Cullen," a soft, alto voice answered.
Click here to read Stolen Heart.
Fics for You!
He was the beautiful blond-haired stranger from the bar, and she was the pretty brunette bar-maid who couldn't resist him. Together, they burned. Apart, they were cold. As cold as the ice cream trickling over the fingers of a little boy with strawberry hair. There are a million different flavors of ice cream out there worth trying, or maybe just one; Neapolitan. Carlisle & Bella
He was the beautiful blond-haired stranger from the bar, and she was the pretty brunette barmaid who couldn't resist him. Together, they burned. Apart, they were cold. As cold as the ice cream trickling over the fingers of a little boy with strawberry hair. There are a million different flavors of ice cream out there worth trying, or maybe just one; Neapolitan.
~ oOo ~
August 27th, 2011 - BELLA
"Excuse me! Excuse me, Sir! You've left your…huh. All right then."
Bella picked up the wallet, looking up just in time to see the back of its owner as he left the bar. It had been a busy night, so she hadn't even gotten a good look at his face. If he came back looking it was pretty unlikely she'd recognize him.
"Hey Bells, what'cha got there?"
"Wallet. Some guy left it behind. I'll put it in the lost and found before I lock up."
Bella loved her job at Jake's bar but it wasn't exactly helping her pay off any of her crippling student loans. Everyone encouraged kids to go to college, but it seemed nobody wanted to help pay off the debts it engendered.
At eighteen, Bella had planned to own her own business one day. But at twenty-four, she was nowhere near that goal. She was currently working five nights a week at JBs, the other two at a grill down the street.
Laden with a mop, bucket, and a boatload of self-professed singing talent, Bella got to work on the floor, So lost in her duet with Johnny Cash was she, that Bella didn't notice the click of the doors opening forty minutes later, or the soft clearing of a throat until it was repeated.
"Holy shit on a cracker!" She gasped, spinning around.
So, something about Bella you should know; she was clumsy. Almost morbidly so.
With that in mind, it was no surprise to Bella when her food caught a wet patch, and her flailing legs sent her crashing to the floor, taking the mop bucket with her.
"Ow," Bella groaned, grimacing at the feel of dirty, cocktail-floor water seeping into her t-shirt and jeans. Everything hurt, and she already knew the phone number in her back pocket would now be illegible. Not that she was that sad about it; the guy it belonged to, a regular patron at JBs, was a bit too gothic for her taste.
"I am so sorry! I was trying not to make you jump. Obviously failed there, Cullen. Well done."
Despite her predicament, Bella couldn't help but snort in amusement at the guy mumbling to himself. She peered up at him, now crouching over her prone form, and tried – failing miserably – to hide the crimson flush spreading over her entire face.
He was beautiful.
Like, not in the womanly way. But he had the most artfully designed face she'd ever seen. A strong, angular jaw, covered with a healthy growth of dark blond scruff and a pair of oh-so-kissable lips – currently pursed in a wince. His nose was annoyingly straight, settled between a pair of piercing, gray-blue eyes, and a thick set of brows groomed to perfection.
In hindsight, attempting to push herself up on the wet wood was a dumb idea. With her brain scrambled by the stranger's closeness, this notion didn't occur to her until she was already careening back towards the floor; this time, taking said stranger with her. They landed amidst the puddle of dirty mop water in a tangle of limbs, emitting a series of grunted curses and groans.
"Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Bella whined.
"I'm so, so sorry. God, I knew I should've just left it 'til tomorrow. It's not like I need my wallet tonight, anyway."
A lightbulb went on.
"Ah, so you're the guy in the booth. Your wallet's behind the bar."
Dammit, why do guys always have better brows than me? Bella wondered idly, torn between wanting to smack this guy, ask him where he got his eyebrows done, and wanting to kiss him stupid.
"Miss? Are you okay? Did you hit your head?"
And he's got a gorgeous voice, to boot. Fuck a duck.
"I'm good!" She chimed. "Sorry, let me just—"
"All right, seeing as I'm on top of you already, introductions. I'm Bella Swan, Finder Of Wallet."
He chuckled, the sound making Bella's stomach twist pleasantly. "Carlisle Cullen, Loser Of Wallet. And apparently, Menace To Pretty Bartenders.”
PS ... Carlisle IS NOT her father in law or anything like that. This is an adorable fic with great characters and one of the best Swan families, ever.
Click here to read Neapolitan.
Fics for you!
Ignorance is supposed to be bliss, but in Isabella Swan's experience, it leads to unwise choices and unnecessarily tragic outcomes . . . and there is nothing blissful about either. (Previously posted as A Forbidden Love. This is a Twific version of the extended, published version.)
Period piece lovers, this one is for you.
Isabella is forced to flee her childhood home after the unfortunate beath of her father at the hands of that rake ... James Hunter.
Charles’ eyes flickered open. "You must flee to Worthington Hall, Isabella," he said between rasping breaths. "Before that devil returns for you."
"I can't leave you like this," she said, even knowing she must. Lord Hunter might be devoid of honour, but in this instance, she feared he would be true to his word.
Her father reached for her hand, his grip feeble. "Take your mother's pearls with you, but don't show them to anyone but Carlisle. He will keep you safe."
The bond formed between Bella's father, Sir Charles Swan, a military officer knighted for services to his king and country, and Lord Carlisle Cullen, the Duke of Worthington, had been forged during the war against Napoleon. The two men corresponded regularly, but it had been many years since the Duke had visited Swan Manor.
"Very well, Papa. I shall go to Uncle Carlisle," Bella said, unsure if she should use her childhood name for the Duke or if it might be inappropriate after so long.
"Promise me you will trust no one else. No one."
Tears blurred Bella's vision as her father's eyes closed, and his hand went limp.
Click here to read Innocence.
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