Friday, July 5, 2013

Flash Fic Friday is here!


Each Friday a new prompt will be posted along with the previous week's winners.

How does it work? Each Friday one admin of TLS
posts a picture prompt here to the blog. Using this image, entries are
created by commenting on this post. Submissions must be 100-300 words
ONLY. No more, no less. The entries are then judged and we post the
winners here, each Friday, to share with all of you.


You will have until next Wednesday at 9 p.m. EST to submit your entry.

Picture prompt and judge this week is Twilover76

Please leave your submission in the comment section at the bottom of the post using this format:
Your name (use your Twitter, Facebook or FFN name)
Your link to your FFN profile if you choose to share it
Submissions will be judged on Thursdays and on Friday the winning entry will be posted here, on the TLS blog.
This feature is open to everyone, so come one, come all!


Thank you to all who entered this week, I enjoyed reading every single entry. Each of you embodied what the gif represented so well that I wanted to recognize all of you! I hope all of you have a wonderful week and thank you again for your words. Love, PAWsPeaches



Word Count: 300

“What’re you doing up here?”

Trying to breathe.

“I drank too much.”

“Me too.”

The bed dips. Your head presses into the pillow, turned to watch me. Our eyes shaded in the dark.

“I want everyone to go home.”

I never wanted them here at all.

“It’s your party. You can kick them out.”

“Yeah, but I feel bad. They’ve come to say goodbye.”

Don’t say that word.

You play with my fingers, counting my nails, tracing my knuckles. “I can’t believe I’m finally going. What are you gonna do without me?”

You’re the blood flowing through my veins, my heart’s beat. The air that sinks into my lungs and lifts my chest in a rhythm of your making. My vital signs.

“I will most likely die.”

You laugh.

I’m not joking.

“You will not. I’ll be back before you know it.”

It’s not enough.

“I’ll miss you.” Your voice is weighted with intoxicated sleep.

A childhood spent in each other pockets yet my words have fallen through a hole in the lining. They dissolve unrequited on my tongue.

“I’ll miss you too.” A whisper only I hear.


I wake and wipe the dust of the night from my eyes. You’re gone.

An impression in the crumpled sheets is all that’s left with the heaviness of things unspoken.

Curling against your pillow, the scent of rivers and bonfires stutters a weak pulse that fades with the memory.

My fingers are clasped around my knees, pulling me tighter to hold the pieces together, when I see it.

Your scrawl, sliding up the inside of my knee in black marker, jump-starts everything.

I couldn’t leave without telling you. I've only ever wanted you.

I chase the sunrise to give you my words before you leave.

I love you. Take me with you.


Word Count: 300

Seeing you walk into the bar makes my fingers falter on the strings.

You're more beautiful than ever.

My heart hammers against my ribcage as our eyes lock before you make your way to a table near the stage.

I haven't seen you in a month.

We've always fought like brother and sister, but this time was different.

I couldn't deal with your asshat of a boyfriend anymore, and you got tired of being in the middle.

Unfortunately, I was the one who had to go.

The small smile you give me makes warmth take root in my chest; I grin down at my guitar as I begin singing the next verse.


Removing my sweaty sock cap and running a hand through my hair as you approach me, I brace myself for whatever you've come here to say. We both said hurtful things to each other, but I can't lose you all together.

"Hey." You’re smiling.


"Great set tonight."

"Thanks." My hand rubs the back of my neck. A nervous habit.

"I'm sorry," we both say at the same time.

"You go."

"I broke up with Jake. You were right about him."

"Oh, that's..." awesome "...too bad."

Your familiar snort relaxes me. "Yeah, well. I really am sorry for the things I said, and...I just want my best friend back. I miss you, Edward."

Best friend.

It's now or never. This last month just about killed me.

"Thing is..." The skin on my neck may not survive the night. "I really wanna be more than just friends."

Your wide brown eyes shimmer in the low light just before you launch yourself at me, your hand replacing mine on the back of my neck.

Catching you is second nature. Hugging you again helps me breathe.

Kissing everything.


Word Count: 300


I flip the tab on the beer can and hand it over, taking a seat at his side.

“Tell me again what happened?”

When he’d called me from the club, all I could hear was Pit Bull rapping in the background.

He sighs a familiar sigh. Everything about Edward is familiar, my best friend since second grade when Mikey Newton snuck a caterpillar down my dress and Edward shoved a stink bug down his throat, instantly becoming, “My Hero.”

I’ve never been more than “My Homegirl,” to him.

“She said she was moving to L.A. and didn’t see the point in staying together. Then she admitted that she was fucking her agent. The confession was preceded by an “I’m sorry,” so I suppose it’s okay.” He shrugs and takes a drink from his can.

If his sarcastic streak is still intact, it can’t be that bad. I’m the one who usually mends his broken heart, yet I’m never the one who gets to keep it.

I trail a hand over his muscular arm, wondering how it would feel to trace the path with my mouth.

“Tanya was high-maintenance, Edward. You need someone as easygoing as you are.”

We open the sleeper sofa and watch a movie, falling asleep halfway through - also something familiar.

I wake to honking horns and blaring sirens seeping through the window.

Edward lies flat on his back, gazing at me in a manner that’s not at all familiar.

He reaches out and tangles our fingers together. “How long have we been friends, Bella?”

“Fifteen years.”

“Fifteen years,” he echoes. “It’s taken me that long to see…”

I know where he’s going. I know everything about Edward. I’ve been waiting for him to see.

Our fingers laced together, they mimic what both our hearts finally feel.


Words: 297

Getting into a fight always seems like a better idea before it starts than when you’re laying on your back licking your wounds and begging for no broken bones.

“Oh my god! Edward!” Bella leans down next to me, her hand covering her mouth as sobs threaten to escape. Her eyes pleading for me to be okay.

“I’m fine, just looking at the stars,” I force out a laugh as I see the guy that tried to feel up my best friend huff and walk away. He won the fight, but Bella ended up by my side not his. I can’t complain much.

“Edward Cullen!” She smiles as tears fill her eyes. I tug her down on the grass next to me.

She lays down and looks up at the stars with me, not saying anything for awhile. I know she’s organizing her thoughts, because being her best friend comes with the privilege of knowing everything about her. So I wait, I give her the time she needs.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“But I do. You saved me from a guy that doesn’t know the meaning of the word no. You always do E, even at the first house party of our senior year you risked social suicide to save me.”

I look at her and I know, I can’t hold it back anymore. My hearts starts pounding as I spill my guts. “Bella, I will always save you. You’re everything to me. I wish you would see the selfishness in my actions. Because the thing is, I really want to be more than just friends.”

I hold my breathe as she twists her hands with mine and gives me her secret smile. “Oh Edward Cullen, I thought you’d never ask.”


Word Count: 300

She opened the expected letter with apprehension. One per week while he was away, but this one felt heavy. She had sensed a shift in tone over the last few weeks, but refused to read too much into it.

~ A Serious Request For My BFF ~


This is my last letter before I return home. I just want to say thank you for keeping your promise. For writing me. Being away has been tough, but your words helped close the distance of time and space. I love you to death, like, literally. You know that, right? You’ve been my closest, dearest friend for … well, forever. You know me better than I know myself (that pisses me off – you know that, too). You’ve been my cheerleader, and my reality check. You know my scars and who put them there. You know my darkest desires and deepest secrets.

But one thing you don’t know is this: I want more.

I want to call you mine in the most complete sense of the word. I don’t want to continue knowing all these things about you, about us, and just keep it at that. I don’t want to pretend to be happy with what I get from you, and what I get to share with you. I’m not happy any more. I feel like I can’t love with my whole heart until I can love with the part I have reserved for you. It’s not fair, really. Or right.

I’ve thought so much about us. I know there’s more to our story, don’t you?

Have I ruined everything?

I know you love me, too. So, I guess I’m calling you out here.

~ E.

She stood frozen in shock, elation, and anticipation.

He comes home tomorrow.

He’s wrong. She knew. She’s known for a while.


  1. @mystiquejewled
    Word Count: 300

    He wore a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt, both soaked by the rain. He ran a hand through his hair, spraying droplets of water everywhere.

    I instinctively jerked my knee away as water flew in my direction. The movement attracted his attention, his startling green eyes snapping up to mine.

    His emerald eyes wandered down my body and a hot blush immediately coated my cheeks. His eyes met mine again and a crooked smile spread across his face.

    “Sorry.” He smirked. “Can I…sit with you?”

    “Y-yes.” I stuttered.

    He grinned and plopped down next to me, sighing contently. He extended his long legs in front of him.

    I quickly turned away from him. For a while, we rode in silence. Until I felt it.

    His fingers gently brushed down the side of my thigh. I gasped and my eyes snapped towards him. He stared back, his expression completely nonchalant.

    Tingles spread across my body and I had to repress a sigh. His fingers brazenly trailed up my thigh and my hand instinctively grabbed his, halting his progress.

    His lips turned upwards at the corner. He laughed softly and nodded, pulling back.

    The bus slowed to a stop once more and he got up, walking to the door. Before he got off he shot me a wink and another breathtaking smile. “Can’t wait to see you again.”

    I had no idea what he meant until I got up to get off at my own stop and a folded piece of paper fell to the ground. I picked it up, my heart pounding in my chest when I saw the row of numbers listed. I had no idea when he’d written them. Below it was a small message:

    You’re beautiful. Hope to see you again, Bus-girl.

  2. @Twilightladies1
    Word Count 300

    You seem so cool and controlled. How is this not eating away at you too?

    I thought we had something—something more. But you're here wearing his ring like I'm nothing.

    Like we didn’t share a wonderful kiss last night.

    Like you didn’t ask me back to your place.

    Like I didn’t spend the night wrapped in your arms.

    Your eyes meet mine, and your smile falters.

    You look away quickly before anyone notices.

    What would they say if they knew you were screwing the help?

    Hurt, shame, and anger bubble in my stomach as I turn away from you, unable to see your fake smile anymore. I thought you would have been able to look past status and money.

    I hate that I was wrong.

    I avoid you for the rest of my shift. I do as I’m told: keeping glasses full and canapés circulating. I hear your laughter across the garden, the sound like an arrow through my heart.

    The end of the night arrives, and I take my wages. Hopefully I can avoid future jobs here.

    As I step into the cab, I hear you. “Wait!”

    I turn, watching you run from the house. "Can we share?'

    We live nowhere near each other, but I hate saying no to you. I nod and you get in. I follow, sitting as far away as I can.

    You pay no attention and slide over. You take my hand in yours and place it on your leg, higher than either of us would deem appropriate.

    The heat radiating through your dress throws me back to the previous night - soft lips against mine, whimpers as my fingers found their way beneath your panties.

    I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t do that again.

    Pulling my hand away, I mutter “Don’t.”

  3. Name: CullensTwiMistress
    FF link:

    Word count: 300
    Deft fingers on creamy, bare skin. He tickles, firm, but soft. Ghosting, they glide up slowly, methodically, under the ruffled fabric of her skirt.

    She shifts her hips, opening up to him.

    He slowly pushes higher, until he reaches what he seeks.

    Humming, she looks ahead to the other cars passing by. They have no idea that the man sitting next to her has his fingers buried inside.

    Bella licks her lips, and looks at the striking man sitting beside her. This is too good to be real. Excitement bubbles in her chest as he presses and circles, drawing out her pleasure for his own gain.

    He smirks as he whizzes by another car. The top is down and although they cannot see, he knows what he’s doing is wrong, yet feels so right.

    Wetness seeps from her core, her panties pushed to the side, also drenched. His fingers are relentless against her flesh as she presses her clenched fist against her parted lips to stifle her screams as she comes undone.

    Long, wet fingers leave a trail on her thigh then get pushed between her lips as she sucks them dry. Tangy sweetness on her tongue, she closes her eyes and crosses her legs, pulling her skirt back in place.

    His eyes haven’t left the highway. He hasn’t even spoken one word to her. Not since he picked her up and promised his ex-wife he’d bring her home.

    “This is my house, Mister Cullen. Same time next week?” she asks, before getting out of the car.

    He nods in confirmation. “Have a good night, Isabella.” And watches as the eighteen year old babysitter skips to the front door to her house.

    He knows what he did was wrong, but he can’t help himself.

    Next week couldn’t come soon enough.

  4. @everydaybella89
    Words: 248

    Your hands are too high on my thigh to be appropriate for a funeral. I’m not sure if it’s for my benefit or yours. You hate goodbyes and you have bad experience with funerals. They make you think of her, and that’s a wound I can never heal.

    On the other hand, you are here for me. You know I barely knew him, and none of those memories are good. You also know that I’m putting on a brave face for my family. I’ve never told them what he did to me. They think he was nice—the perfect son, husband, father. Only you and I know the truth, and the truth is that I’m not sorry to see him go.

    Your fingers on my skin remind me of the now and of the way you helped me over him. They remind me of the way you were patient and kind with me, even when I wasn’t with you. They banish the memories of what he did to me and how he made me feel. His fingers made me feel disgusting, where yours make me feel alive. They remind me of the good times in front of us, not the bad times that we’re burying.

    I wrap my fingers around yours and nestle them between my thighs. I want to hide them until this torture is over and we can get out of here.

    You tighten your grip—holding me together—and I know where my future is.

  5. @ Quinnskylark
    Words: 300 (sort of an outtake from my OS, Take Up Thy Cross)

    He's so naughty. So wonderfully, beautifully, dirty.

    No one else on the bus knows what Edward is doing to me, as they sit happily oblivious to his hand snaking it's way up my skirt. Here we are, on the way to a youth purity convention, and the leader is about to slip his fingers into me.

    If the kids knew what we're doing, they'd be traumatized. I don't believe this virginity stuff that I preach to the girls group every Wednesday night. How can I be expected to accept the ludicrous idea? He feels so fantastic inside of me.

    Thankfully, it's dark enough outside that none of the kids can see what's going on right under their noses. Wait! Noses! I wonder if they can smell my arousal. I know that Edward can. He tells me that it's his favorite perfume, and he wishes he could bathe in it. God, his words are wicked. In the best possible way.

    I can't take the teasing anymore. Spreading my legs, I push his hand closer to where it belongs. His expert fingers find me ready and wanton, and he slips past my lace panties and into my wet heat. My gasp is inaudible over the hum of the bus engine, but he still knows what he's doing to me.

    "Come for me, Isabella." Edward's warm breath tickles my ear and sends a shiver down my spine. And I come. I always come for him. My walls clamp down on his fingers and his groan keeps the waves of orgasm rushing in.

    When my body relaxes against the seat, Edward removes his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean.

    He smiles and stands, turning to the kids. "Here we are," he says. "Are you ready to worship our Savior, guys?"

  6. “Goddamn it,” I growled as I slammed the door to my family’s car. My head was pounding and my fists were clenching, how dare that fucking dean tell me I couldn’t graduate early! I have my credits, I’m 18, I want out of this prep school bullshit.

    “Rough day,” a velvety voice makes me jump, and I see my family driver sitting in the backseat. “Sorry I didn’t mean to frighten you, the seats back here are more comfortable than up front.”

    How I didn’t feel the electricity in the air I don’t know, but looking at him makes my stomach flip. Being this close, it was making my heart pick up.

    “Want to talk about it?” he asked, his hand innocently resting on my knee. I looked at his hand, then his face. If I didn’t do this now, I would regret it tonight as I screamed his name in the darkness of my room, all alone.

    “No,” I whispered as I moved his hand where I wanted him. “I want you to make me forget.”

    “Bella,” he sounded unsure, but his hand sure wasn’t as it traced the outline of my panties. I knew he could feel the dampness he’d caused, how couldn’t he.

    “Edward stop over thinking this, I see the way you look at me. Does my catholic school girl outfit make you think of me when you’re alone?” I asked pulling my skirt up so he could see the lace of my panties.

    “Yes,” he croaked.

    “Then let’s not make this a fantasy anymore shall we? I’m perfectly legal and I’ve never wanted someone as bad as I want you.”

    I went for his belt buckle and his eyes changed from hesitant to determined. He slipped his fingers inside me as I stroked his cock.

    Words: 300

  7. @o_oza
    Word count: 242

    “I’ve never done this before.” Edward shifts in his seat. His necktie is suddenly too tight, and the temperature seems to be rising. He feels like all eyes are on him, yet he knows the only person in the restaurant paying him any mind is the brunette sitting across the table. She cocks an eyebrow, and he goes on the defense. “I’ve done it. I’ve just never…” The words die in his throat. They are still in public, and he knows some things are better left unsaid. “It’s not that I can’t get any.”

    Bella takes mercy on the man and slides into the booth next to him. It’s not the first time someone young, attractive, and well-off has requested her services. She doesn’t care why. She’s only interested in the money.

    “Everyone has their reasons, Edward. I’m not here to judge; I’m here to make your wildest dreams come true.”

    Taking his hand, Bella places it on the exposed skin of her knee. Edward slides his hand higher, until his finger brushes the soft lace of her panties.

    “Is this okay?” he whispers.

    Bella laughs under her breath. “Honey, for the price you’re paying, nothing is off limits.”

    Her words put Edward into motion. He throws enough cash on the table to cover their untouched drinks and takes Bella’s hand. “Let’s go.”

    They slip out of the restaurant unnoticed, leaving no clue as to what is in store for the evening.

  8. The wind shifted then, and my thinking halted as the familiar scent drifted past. Eyes tense, I began searching the rows ahead for its origin. Circling lights amid the darkness of the amphitheater flashed faces into focus, yet none looked back in my direction. The music began to build as the band found their rhythm. I needed mine.

    Without warning a hand met my shoulder. I breathed sharply as lips brought themselves below my ear, exhaling warmth and mystery onto my untouched skin. Unable to turn I glanced to my left, trying to gain sight of the presence that had now consumed my senses. Eyes holding emeralds stared ahead under disheveled bronze hair that sent nerves into a frenzy of uncontrollable need.

    “You came,” he whispered, sitting beside me. The crowd around us remained standing, shielding us from the outside.

    “Do you remember?” he spoke again, placing his hand just above my knee.

    Turning to meet his gaze, I breathed sharply, realizing Edward was the stranger at my side. It had been four months since he had left me, at that very same place, the one that had mocked me until now, when I had finally given in to my hurt and decided to take my life back—on my terms. He had sent tickets to his show two weeks prior, arriving in a simple white envelope with no explanation. I hadn’t thought about what it meant. I had resolved myself to an existence without him. But the hurt he caused no longer hurt. It made me burn with a passion for more. And I wanted him to feel the way I had that night.

    "Do you like to hurt?" I whispered.

    "I do," he replied as I pushed his hand closer to where I needed him.

    "Then hurt me."

  9. Nuttyginger
    Word Count: 300


    Those moments as you wake are bliss. They can't be found anywhere else. As I stretch out, I feel a delicious ache that speaks of a debaucherous night where my body was played like a fine violin. I can't help but smile.

    "I told you, you'd feel me even when I wasn't in you."

    And just like that, my bliss evaporates. Edward stands, leaning against the doorjamb of his en-suite. His body is the thing of Greek statues and sonnets. The smile on his face is a look of smug satisfaction that not even his low-slung towel and wet body can distract from.

    I school my features to protect my already fractured heart. Edward wants me only as his in-house booty call. I see him as so much more.

    '"Never again," I vow silently, but who am I kidding?

    I glance at his bed side clock.

    "Shit, why didn't you wake me?"

    He shrugs his shoulders before dropping his towel.



    Family breakfast is a mandatory requirement in the Masen-Swan household - like some bastardized modern-day version of The Walton’s.

    I feel him before I see him. Warm fingertips slip down my arm leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. I shiver to my core. He's my kryptonite. Slowly, he sinks into the seat beside me, his nose brushing up my neck to my ear.

    "Do you still feel me?" he asks, sucking my earlobe into his mouth.

    I gasp, pushing him away as Renee sits opposite us.

    Edward's hand finds my thigh, inching higher.

    "We have an announcement." Ed starts.

    "I'm pregnant."

    I push Edwards hand away and hurry away from the table. Tears fill my eyes. Hopes are crushed, and I feel dirty. There is more than just sex between us now. There's blood too.

  10. @GeekChicFF
    Word count: 300

    The scenery whizzes by, greens and browns blending together as I keep my gaze fixed on the window.

    I can't look at you.

    Your warm hand rests on my thigh, just above my knee-high boots. They kill my feet, but I love the way you look at me when I wear them to school. How you lick your lips when I walk past you to reach my desk.

    Sitting in the back row, no one can see when I grasp your hand and move it under my skirt.

    You love chaperoning class trips.

    I bite my lip in anticipation at your sharp inhale as you come into contact with the damp fabric of my little cotton panties.

    One long finger hooks under the elastic, gliding through the wetness, spreading, pressing.

    I’ve had the most elaborate dreams starring those fingers. You talk with your hands in class. Your fingers distract me from learning the facts that you tick off on them.

    My teeth press even harder into my bottom lip as your probing finger slides easily inside.

    My eyes fall shut as I keep my face angled toward the window.

    If I looked at you now, I'd give us away.

    I want to see your sea-green eyes. I want to watch your lips part, your tongue snaking out to wet them as you feel what you do to me.

    A second finger slips inside, and a strangled whimper escapes me.

    Your thumb can’t reach my clit from this angle, but you use the heel of your hand, and it’s perfect.

    Pressure and friction combine and combust until I shatter silently around you.

    You wipe your fingers on the underside of my skirt, but I know you want to taste them.

    Your sharp jaw ticks in my periphery, and I whisper, “Tonight.”

  11. @LittleGreyAche

    "Where have you been?"

    He intends to sound accusatory as he grabs my knee, pulling me across the seat - but all I hear is need, buried deep in his throat.

    He's all buttoned up, crisp black on clean white. Hair just cut. Sunglasses on.

    Eye contact is delicate and volatile matter here.

    "You're always hiding." He slides his hand higher, just under sunshine yellow skirt cotton, studying me, watching me twist my waterbottle cap in my lap. "Why?"

    Acuteness, endowment, and the promise of total destruction radiate from his touch.

    "Where do you go, little poet?"

    Long, strong, never-calloused fingertips brush my teenage skin while I pour all my wishing into wringing the bottle's neck, while Eric Packer simply does what he loves best -

    I don't need to be one of his wonder-geniuses to know -

    This is dangerous.

    He finds patterns in my breathing, in my thoughts and heartbeats, and claims them his.

    I deny it.

    But they are.

    "Look at me," he says, his regard heavy under sunglasses. "Stop hiding."

    Taking his familiar right hand under mine, I bring it under my pristine skirt and press his palm where my pulse is pounding. Giving him what he seeks, the patterns in me that tremble undeniably possessed, I take his glasses and put them on myself.

    Now, I'm real.

    And his bare eyes are so blue.

    I can't marry you, I nearly scream.

    Marriage is a contract, and it will find me out, and you won't want me anymore...

    "All night sex in the minaret wasn't enough?" I ask instead. "Sunrise in the chapel? Being my first, right here in this car wasn't enough? Being my only, ever?"

    His propensity toward obscene instinct has him above me in the next beat.

    Even his stillness is threatening.

    Especially this stillness.

    "No," he says, staring through lenses, pushing hard etween my legs. He lays his right hand on my neck.

    "I'm going to make you my wife," he whispers. "And then I'm going to bottle-fuck you."

    Through the lush daze of cool leather seats and the weight of him like a god, I remember desperately twisting my waterbottle, wishing through aching.

    "Slowly," he continues.

    He means to warn.

    "With my sunglasses on."

    But all I hear is yearning.