Twilight -- If You Can't Leave It Be (Might As Well Make It Bleed) [Edward/Tanya]
Title: If You Can't Leave It Be (Might As Well Make It Bleed)
Author: Mariusgirl
Fandom: Twilight
Pairing: Edward/Tanya
Word Count: 978
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Of course she knows. She makes it her business to know everything she can when it comes to Edward.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Notes: Takes place during Edward's brief exodus to Denali in Twilight. Unbeta'd. Title stolen from a Dashboard Confessional song of the same name. Somehow it just fits Tanya, she just can't let Edward's cold detachment to her go, and so she likes to push all his buttons when it comes to love and hate. Written for
t_w_c.
She hears him before she sees him - a streak of black against the pristine white backdrop - his breathing curiously sharp and punctuated.
For a moment, she remains in a crouched position with her back to him. She knows her prey has gotten away, bolted during her brief hesitation, but this knowledge doesn’t really irritate her as it should.
Slowly, almost agonizingly so, she stands and whirls to face the newcomer. His eyes - charcoal pits of unfathomable anger - bore into hers and she wonders what has brought him to the snow covered wilderness he has claimed to detest.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She can’t keep the itching smile from sketching her lips upward into a slight smirk as she takes in his disheveled appearance - sizing up her new prey.
His fiery bronze hair, wind tossed from running, seems to burn even brighter where the meek sunlight filtering through the snow topped trees falls across it. His clothing, obviously worn for the entirety of his journey, are wrinkled and smeared with dirt from an apparent, spontaneous, hunting trip along the way. But from the pitch black depths of his eyes, she knows whatever he had been hunting hadn’t been used for feeding.
Whatever has driven him here has obviously driven him toward the outer fringe of his self-control. She can almost see the grasp on his remaining control crumbling before her eyes - shredded and fraying at the edges - as he sends a scathing glare in her direction. Her smirk widens exponentially into a predatory grin, and she closes the distance between them in a flurry of strawberry blond locks and alabaster skin.
Edward rocks back, instinctively moving away from her, his hands coming up to keep her at a more comfortable distance with a look of slight revulsion written incredulously across his gaunt features.
“That’s not why I came here,” he hisses, taking another step back.
Tanya rolls her eyes, an amused chuckle drenched with scorn tears free from deep within her chest. “They why are you here, precisely? I know it’s not for the game; there are plenty of deer back home.”
He hesitates, his eyes flickering past her with desperate emotion - a primitive urge that she recognizes all too well canvassing across them like lightening in a storm. And for the first time, she watches as the last of his walls crumble into the trodden snow at their feet.
A low growl emanates from her throat and is echoed by an angrier one from him as she grabs him roughly by the collar and slams him into the nearest tree. A fine powder of white engulfs them, dusting their hair and clothing, and mingling with his thick black lashes.
“This isn’t…”
He begins to protest, but her lips crash into his, effectively stopping him midsentence.
One hand slides up into his hair, pulling him forward, while the other snakes around his lean torso, holding him in place. She can feel his fury emanating from every dead pore on his body, cold and calculating he’s waiting for her to let go.
When she finally does, his face is livid. She can’t help but smile. He’s every ounce the petulant child she remembers, but perhaps more sullen than before.
“So, tell me dear, what does bring you here if not for the company.”
“You’ve been talking to Carlisle, you already know,” he hisses through clenched teeth.
She laughs, high pitched and childish, and claps her hands together as if he has just told some wonderfully delightful joke.
Of course she knows. She makes it her business to know everything she can when it comes to Edward. “Oh, yes, you’re running from a silly human. Edward, dear, I thought you were more mature than that.” And so much better.
His fury cools from livid anger to cold detachment and he steps away from her, injecting a veritable distance of glacial ice between them. He makes a show of brushing the snow out of his hair, not yet trusting himself to speak. All the while trying to get a handle on what she’s thinking, what she’s planning on doing next, but Tanya has always been a tough nut to crack. Her mind is wound tight as a Gordian knot - impossible to fathom and irresistible to leave alone - and despite his growing disdain for her, he’s intrigued by the mystery she represents. Always has been.
Still, he hasn’t come here to finally give her what she so blatantly wants.
And judging by the way her lips now turn down into a dark scowl, she knows this, too. “Ever the masochist.”
He shrugs awkwardly and inclines his head slightly in her direction, as if that’s all the attention she warrants.
“When will you learn,” she muses aloud, clearly goading him into a reaction - wanting nothing more than to see him lose his temper so she can say I told you so. In some ways, she reminds him so much of Rosalie, in others - most actually - they are light years apart.
He hates it when she’s right. Even so, as he turns his full attention back to her, he keeps his face carefully blank - loath to admit defeat and unwilling to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s got him this time.
“I did not come here to engage in an exchange of wits. I was hoping for a bit of peace.”
She nods, her dark mood brightening, and he can almost see the wheels turning in her head. “Take all the time you need, Edward. You’re always welcome in my home.”
He glares, the implication not lost on him, before stalking off in the direction he came. From behind him, he can hear soft laughter echoing after him, and a galling voice, dripping with righteousness, follows him through the break in the trees.
“But you can’t run from yourself forever.”
Author: Mariusgirl
Fandom: Twilight
Pairing: Edward/Tanya
Word Count: 978
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Of course she knows. She makes it her business to know everything she can when it comes to Edward.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Notes: Takes place during Edward's brief exodus to Denali in Twilight. Unbeta'd. Title stolen from a Dashboard Confessional song of the same name. Somehow it just fits Tanya, she just can't let Edward's cold detachment to her go, and so she likes to push all his buttons when it comes to love and hate. Written for
t_w_c.
She hears him before she sees him - a streak of black against the pristine white backdrop - his breathing curiously sharp and punctuated.
For a moment, she remains in a crouched position with her back to him. She knows her prey has gotten away, bolted during her brief hesitation, but this knowledge doesn’t really irritate her as it should.
Slowly, almost agonizingly so, she stands and whirls to face the newcomer. His eyes - charcoal pits of unfathomable anger - bore into hers and she wonders what has brought him to the snow covered wilderness he has claimed to detest.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She can’t keep the itching smile from sketching her lips upward into a slight smirk as she takes in his disheveled appearance - sizing up her new prey.
His fiery bronze hair, wind tossed from running, seems to burn even brighter where the meek sunlight filtering through the snow topped trees falls across it. His clothing, obviously worn for the entirety of his journey, are wrinkled and smeared with dirt from an apparent, spontaneous, hunting trip along the way. But from the pitch black depths of his eyes, she knows whatever he had been hunting hadn’t been used for feeding.
Whatever has driven him here has obviously driven him toward the outer fringe of his self-control. She can almost see the grasp on his remaining control crumbling before her eyes - shredded and fraying at the edges - as he sends a scathing glare in her direction. Her smirk widens exponentially into a predatory grin, and she closes the distance between them in a flurry of strawberry blond locks and alabaster skin.
Edward rocks back, instinctively moving away from her, his hands coming up to keep her at a more comfortable distance with a look of slight revulsion written incredulously across his gaunt features.
“That’s not why I came here,” he hisses, taking another step back.
Tanya rolls her eyes, an amused chuckle drenched with scorn tears free from deep within her chest. “They why are you here, precisely? I know it’s not for the game; there are plenty of deer back home.”
He hesitates, his eyes flickering past her with desperate emotion - a primitive urge that she recognizes all too well canvassing across them like lightening in a storm. And for the first time, she watches as the last of his walls crumble into the trodden snow at their feet.
A low growl emanates from her throat and is echoed by an angrier one from him as she grabs him roughly by the collar and slams him into the nearest tree. A fine powder of white engulfs them, dusting their hair and clothing, and mingling with his thick black lashes.
“This isn’t…”
He begins to protest, but her lips crash into his, effectively stopping him midsentence.
One hand slides up into his hair, pulling him forward, while the other snakes around his lean torso, holding him in place. She can feel his fury emanating from every dead pore on his body, cold and calculating he’s waiting for her to let go.
When she finally does, his face is livid. She can’t help but smile. He’s every ounce the petulant child she remembers, but perhaps more sullen than before.
“So, tell me dear, what does bring you here if not for the company.”
“You’ve been talking to Carlisle, you already know,” he hisses through clenched teeth.
She laughs, high pitched and childish, and claps her hands together as if he has just told some wonderfully delightful joke.
Of course she knows. She makes it her business to know everything she can when it comes to Edward. “Oh, yes, you’re running from a silly human. Edward, dear, I thought you were more mature than that.” And so much better.
His fury cools from livid anger to cold detachment and he steps away from her, injecting a veritable distance of glacial ice between them. He makes a show of brushing the snow out of his hair, not yet trusting himself to speak. All the while trying to get a handle on what she’s thinking, what she’s planning on doing next, but Tanya has always been a tough nut to crack. Her mind is wound tight as a Gordian knot - impossible to fathom and irresistible to leave alone - and despite his growing disdain for her, he’s intrigued by the mystery she represents. Always has been.
Still, he hasn’t come here to finally give her what she so blatantly wants.
And judging by the way her lips now turn down into a dark scowl, she knows this, too. “Ever the masochist.”
He shrugs awkwardly and inclines his head slightly in her direction, as if that’s all the attention she warrants.
“When will you learn,” she muses aloud, clearly goading him into a reaction - wanting nothing more than to see him lose his temper so she can say I told you so. In some ways, she reminds him so much of Rosalie, in others - most actually - they are light years apart.
He hates it when she’s right. Even so, as he turns his full attention back to her, he keeps his face carefully blank - loath to admit defeat and unwilling to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s got him this time.
“I did not come here to engage in an exchange of wits. I was hoping for a bit of peace.”
She nods, her dark mood brightening, and he can almost see the wheels turning in her head. “Take all the time you need, Edward. You’re always welcome in my home.”
He glares, the implication not lost on him, before stalking off in the direction he came. From behind him, he can hear soft laughter echoing after him, and a galling voice, dripping with righteousness, follows him through the break in the trees.
“But you can’t run from yourself forever.”