Summary: They say, “If you love something, you should let it go, if comes back to you, it's yours… if not, then…” you get my point. The thing was he did always come back, so why does it still feel as if he isn’t mine? Now, all I feel I’m left with are memories and the consequences of broken promises…
“Morning, Nana,” I cheerfully greeted the silver-haired woman with a kiss to her rosy cheek. The first guests of the holiday season had already arrived, and she was standing in the massive industrial-sized kitchen, kneading the dough for her famous homemade buttermilk biscuits and gravy.
Izzy B’s Oasis Bed and Breakfast Mountainside Resort was a vacation hot spot and weekend getaway to some of the most influential people in the world, and Shelly’s homemade buttermilk biscuits and sausage gravy were a big part of why they kept coming back over the years; well, that and our strict policy on privacy.
For a few months every year, I closed down to the general public, and only allowed the country’s most powerful and influential people and Hollywood A-listers, along with their families and friends, to come in and shed their make-up and everyday facades in order to relax and get away from it all…without having to be accosted and harassed by overenthusiastic fans.
And they absolutely loved it.
Of course, that may have something to do with the paparazzi not being allowed within five hundred miles of this place.
Title: Beyond the Quiet Room Author: givemesomevamp Rating: Mature for language and a bit of violence
“I already told you the area is unoccupied.” The boy’s tone was sullen, bored, and inspired a sudden need for violence. But I had my orders: sit and observe. They might pass over us all together. If Emmett hadn’t been so damn impatient, I wouldn’t be flitting around branches like an overgrown tweety bird.
Mocking bird. I could hear Pumpkin correct just on the edge of my consciousness. I flipped my favorite bird in her general direction, hoping the image accompanied the gesture.
Nope, but it’s the thought that counts after all. Suddenly I could see her sitting in Jasper’s lap, laughing as she whispered in his ear. Then she flipped me the double bird. Jasper’s hand, which had been securely nestled in Pumpkin’s cleavage, joined her for the win a second before he latched onto her neck; the thought and corresponding image was thankfully cut off. Nobody needs to see all of that shit. It’s bad enough to hear it all the time, especially with the Great and Powerful Emo broadcasting his lovey-dovey, horny cocktail to anything living in our little compound as Puddin’ calls it. The first addition was Garrett’s and Kate’s place; the next was my little love nest. And thank fuck for the extra walls. Without them, we’d have driven each other made years ago.
You know you like it.
“Son-” Carlisle began, withholding a longsuffering sigh with his classic iron will. Of course, his patented patient I-know-better-than-you is patronizing as hell, but in this one case, it’s well deserved. “Emmett and Rosalie’s scent is still fresh. They should be within your range.”
“Carlisle, they’ve never blocked me successfully.” Like hell they haven’t. “They could have spread their scent more thoroughly through less dignified ways.” Says the virgin. I’m surprised he can’t hear my eyes rolling, but I’m thankful as well. No one needs a self-righteous centurion digging around in their minds.
Rating: The full fic is rated M/NC-17. However, this futuretake is T
“Oh, no,” Edward mumbles as our car rolls to a stop. “No, no, no.”
“What?” I ask, pausing Plants Vs. Zombies on my phone and turning to look at him.
His nostrils flare, and without an answer, he throws his seatbelt off, scrambles out of the car, and marches up the front walkway of the house... or house-in-progress, as it were.
I get out of the car much more slowly and step up beside him, laying a hand on his tense back.
“It’s all wrong.” A muscle jumps in his cheek as that chiseled jaw of his clenches tight.
I wanna bite it.
Rubbing circles on his back, knowing it helps calm him, I rest my cheek on his bicep. “What’s all wrong, babe?”
“The framework,” he says, flinging his hand toward the house. “They’ve only put in room for a single front door. I’ve always, always wanted you to have French doors.”
I hide my smile in the sleeve of his gray sweater. “Well… can it be fixed?”
“I don’t know. I need to call the builders.”
Edward shakes his head and abuses the screen of his phone as he dials the number he needs. I watch him pace in the driveway for a moment, and then I shield my eyes so I can look up at the large structure in front of me.
We come by pretty frequently to check on the house he designed for us all those years ago. It’s gone through some revisions over time, of course, but it’s still essentially the same. Five bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, a game room, a sunken living room, and a kitchen most chefs would kill for.
I’m still a disaster in the kitchen, so I guess Edward will be the one enjoying that.
I never really wanted a house this big, but he’s been adamant about it for years. He wants us to raise a family here and never have to move again.
Summary: Thriller/Supernatural. Katniss had been fooling herself into believing her nightmares weren’t more than just a trick of her subconscious. They had clearly been a warning—a warning that she should’ve listened—but now it was too late. “You can’t run, Katniss. You. Are. Mine.”
Dedication: To my dear Ro, for her friendship and introducing me to a new fandom. This plot bunny wouldn’t be possible without you. I hope you like it. xo
Effie chuckled and set the cup down. Her porcelain hands grabbed Katniss’ and squeezed them in comfort, and then she turned them over to look at her palms. After a few more minutes in silence, she let out a long sigh.
“I don’t fully understand what the dreams mean, my dear. I’m rather concerned about them. I wish you could move to holy ground, but being that your father never married your mother through the church…”
Katniss gulped. “You’re scaring me.”
The holy ground was the residence surrounding the abbey, but you needed to be a member of the church and abide by all their laws in order to live there. Since neither her father nor mother ever had any religious beliefs, their marriage was never blessed by any member of the church. Katniss was, for all intents and purposes, a bastard child, someone not worthy to set foot on that consecrated land.
Effie gave her a sad smile and cupped her cheeks. She pulled her face closer, and Katniss leaned over the table. She felt the old woman’s lips move over her forehead before she planted a sweet kiss against her skin.
“Your mother will keep you safe.”
“She’s rarely home. Ever since Dad passed away...” She looked down at her lap and bit her lip. “She’s rarely home,” she repeated in a whisper, feeling the tears pooling in her eyes.
Summary: Kol struggles with his thoughts upon feeling the pull to his mate. With Klaus's help, he finds the courage to go after her.
Kol breathed out hard, looking up at his brother. “And if the girl I am tied to does not give in, not ever, hmm? Brother, what becomes of me then?” He hated the idea of being weakened. All he’d ever wanted, deep down, was for those he cared for to give a bloody damn about him. He knew that Klaus did, but that was his brother. And only one of them, at that. What if this mate of his, his other half, the one he knew he would care for above all else, did not return his affections and never did? It was his greatest fear realized and magnified. This was why he was holding back.
Klaus smiled softly, a rare action. His hand clasped his brother’s and he looked into his eyes, very serious. “She will, brother. Even if she does resist, there will come a time that she cannot do so any longer. It is the same with Caroline. Each day, I can feel her resistance to the idea of us weaken. It gives me hope, and it gives me the strength to carry on as I have.”
Blowing out a breath, Kol tried one last time. But the words were hollow, his heart, soul, and mind not believing them quite as fervently as he had just minutes earlier. “I do not want to give in to the pull.” His voice was a whisper, stubborn as a mule at that.
Klaus chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder, turning to guide him toward their house so that his brother could pack and leave—the sooner, the better. If the pull was calling to him when he hadn’t even met her yet, then something was probably wrong. But he would not tell this to Kol, not when he knew that he already had him turning around to the idea. “You may feel that way now, brother,” he told him, “but once you see her, you will wonder why you ever felt that way. Cherish the bond, Kol. It is one fast disappearing for our kind, and we, as originals, and therefore our mates have the pleasure and the burden of feeling it the most.”
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