Title: Devil's Angel Eyes
: Skychaser
: Edward/Bella
Picture #
: 46 - You can find all of the picture prompts here, just remove the spaces. http:/s748 . photobucket . com/albums/xx128/Fanficanon/100%20Pictures%20Contest/?action=view¤t=th92 . jpg
: T+ (Drinking, Swearing, Adult Content)
: None of the characters in this belong to me; quite unfortunately, they all belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Summary: (O/s) One drunken night brings a chance meeting in a gazebo that leads to a memory Edward will never forget. A little lemon drop, some pole dancing, shaken, not stirred, and this is what you get. People's Choice Honorable Mention in the 100 Pics FanficAnon Competition.

Submitted for the 100 Pictures An Anon Fanfic Competition

A/N: Hello all, just wanted to let you know that if you like this, feel free to wonder over to my profile and check out some of my other WIP's, or some of the other awesome entries from this competition. My recs?

Puppymama0909's "Empire State of Mind" - http:/www . fanfiction . net/s/6494769/1/Empire_State_of_Mind - A Jasperella work that is NOT for non-cannon folks only. A lovely piece of work that deserves your love.

Kd-masen's "Garden of Love" - http:/www . fanfiction . net/s/6495472/1/Garden_of_Love - A beautiful piece that squeezes the chest and brought tears of all sorts to my eyes. You won't believe it's a first work.

Rose Masen Cullen's "The Edge of the Earth" - http:/www . fanfiction . net/s/6495360/1/The_bEdge_b_of_the_bEarth_b - Gorgeous imagery and wonderful words. This piece won First place judges choice for a reason.

Also, if you're interested, come be my friend on facebook (http:/www . facebook . com/profile . php?id=100001828472672#!id=100001828472672) or follow me on Twitter - Sky_chaser. I have become the chained h00r of networking, tyvm.

Much love,

Devil's Angel Eyes

"We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly embracing each other."
Luciano de Crescenzo

"There! She said it, she said it!" Emmett crowed, his finger flying out straight and almost landing on the tip of the delicate nose in front of him. "Now you all drink!"

Pixie lips twisted down into a frown.

"You're a jackass." The curse was delicate, proper, and so very wrong, moving fluidly off of the rouge painted lips, but the scowl that turned them down was natural enough it didn't seem practiced. She swatted the fat finger out of her face.

"Just drink, princess," Emmett grinned and moved the offending finger to the shot glass on the wooden bedside table sitting in the middle of the human circle, littered with bent playing cards. The wooden frame tilted to one side when a giggling girl leaned forward and grabbed her own shot glass, placing the sugared rim to her lips and downing the liquid in a single smooth motion.

More giggles erupted as she slammed the glass back onto the table and continued rolling backwards until she lay face up on the ground. Her giggles barely cut through the harsh sounds that pulsated from the speakers and drowned out most other noises. After multiple slight nudges upward over the course of the evening, the stereo was much too loud for the college dorm, but the five drunken co-eds were much too wasted to care.

"Okay, evryyone elsse," Emmett slurred, crossing his arms over his chest. "Espeshly you," he nodded in Alice's direction as she fingered the glass. Her eyes cut over to Rosalie, who lay pressed up against Emmett's side, cards splayed across her thighs and her sixth shot balanced between her knees.

Rosalie's eyes lit up in a challenge at Alice's plea for help. She grinned wickedly and leaned over, her smooth red halter pulling above her hips as she grabbed the glass in between her teeth and threw her head backwards, the liquid spilling down her throat and her body stretching into an artful line that placed her nearly exposed breasts directly at her boyfriend's eye level.

Alice sighed and turned her attention to her last potential ally. Jasper simply leaned back against a non-existent surface, smiled, and lifted his whiskey shot in a toast.

"Cheers," he drawled, a hint of his south Texas accent appearing after his eighth shot.

"Well?" Emmett withdrew from Rosalie's advances, too interested in watching the rich girl's tenth shot of the night go down. Alice cringed, glancing at her best friend, who was obviously of no help to her at the moment. Isabella simply lay on her back, grinning incessantly as small spurts of laughter filtered through her smile. In the wake of a thirteen shot aftermath, the girl was apparently a bubbly mess.

"Fine." Pulling her spine straight, Alice lifted her head and downed the hard liquor, feeling the alcohol merge into her bloodstream and run straight for her head.

Then the only problem became her head, which decided it would feel better lying on the ground next to Isabella.

She hit the ground hard, the ceiling above her spinning as Isabella leaned up and, still giggling, finally showed some concern for her friend.

"'Lice, you 'kay?" she murmured, stroking the small black-haired girl's arm. Alice shook her head piteously; she had never done well with alcohol, and at this particular moment she could feel everything she had ever eaten in her life try to rise up her throat. A thump sounded in her head. God, had she hit the ground twice now?

A blue-eyed blonde appeared over her face. Oh. Jasper's boots.

"Isabella, I think you should take Alice out for some air," he said, lifting the small pixie from her place on the floor.

Understanding his suggestion as more a command than a recommendation, Isabella glanced up at Jasper and nodded her head. She drew as much solemnity into her face as she could, but she still couldn't quite wipe away the smile.

"Okay," she murmured, taking hold of Jasper's hand, pulling herself up, and placing the rest of her underneath Alice's arm. The dead weight of the small girl was heavy, but she concentrated as she pulled her through the living room and outside, onto the small front porch of the apartment-style dorm.

She let Alice slouch onto the concrete and sat beside her, the soft, dry air of a fading Arizona summer brushing past her cheeks and stirring her hair. Emmett's protests behind her faded as the sliding door shut and she breathed in deeply, glancing at the moon and wondering absently at the time.

A lilting smell touched her nose, one she could barely place at first. Tipsy curiosity roused her from her place next to her friend and carried her away from the apartment, into the dark.


He sucked in once, twice, and finally blew out, the tobacco flavored air rushing through his pores and taking everything else with it. His spine relaxed, folding backwards to press into the dry, cracked wood. The smoke cleared his lungs and his mind, leaving a blank canvas for his favorite part of the day to commence – the part that was his own.

The oval, slightly rotting, wooden gazebo was absolute solitude, especially at four in the morning on a Saturday. Absolute solitude was something he never received and, most certainly, never took for granted.

That is, until the sliding sound of bare feet on gritty gravel proved this night wasn't meant to be as solitary as he had hoped. He glanced up, eyes barely opening a crack at the smoky sweetness of his second cigarette that floated in the stale air around him.

She appeared from out of the darkness, seeming almost as slippery as the smoke itself, her eyes, obviously not quite adjusted to the absolute dark as his, searching through the haze.


He leaned back again, pulling the cigarette to his lips and watching when her eyes finally focused on the glowing embers.


He faintly saw her smile, leaning forward a bit, hair falling from around her shoulders and into her face. She sucked in a deep breath.

"It just smells so good out here," she moaned, swaying back and forth against the wooden pole. His eyes cracked open slightly at her tone, his eyebrow rising. She continued to sway, nearly dancing with the wooden pole. He might just have let her go – if he hadn't been afraid of her riddling her thighs with splinters. He took a lazy drag of his cigarette and, standing up, laid it on the bench beside him.

"Ah – hey, you?"

He approached, slowly at first, his eyes grazing over her body in the light filtering through holes in the ceiling. Two layered grey and white tanks were the only covering provided above her waist, and both had ridden above her bellybutton in the course of her motions. Her black, cloth shorts rode high on her small hips, leaving more than enough thigh in view, glimmering in the light of the pale moon.

Especially with the way she was now almost gyrating against the splintered wood.

"Um –" he reached out, awkward, completely unsure of where to place his hands. If only Vanessa could see him now.

"Hey, you know, you should probably stop. You're only going to end up with—"

"Shhhhhh," she finished for him, leaning heavily against the pole, pushing a sticky finger against his lips and peering up at him through her hair. "You go make those pretty smells," she whispered conspiratorially, interspersing every few words with a giggle, "and I'll dance to them, okay?"

He would have laughed outright if not for the absolute sincerity in her eyes and the Absolut vodka on her breath.

"Okay," he murmured in return, stepping backwards and pulling her arm with him. "Only if you promise to dance in here." She giggled again and began to step into the gazebo, tripping over her feet and falling into his arms.

"Hey!" She shoved him away and stumbled once. "You caught me!"

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he reclaimed his seat on the bench and picked up his dwindling cigarette.

"Yeah," he took a long draw and blew the remaining vapors in her direction. "So I did."

He watched her as she wandered a bit, swaying slightly to a beat he obviously couldn't hear and drawing long deep breaths in as he finished and shoved the butt into the side of the wood. Finally she turned toward him and gracelessly plopped down, nearly in his lap. Her arms leaned over his shoulder and began to run through his hair.

"What time is it?"she whispered, her eyes focused on whatever her tiny hands were doing. He smiled in spite of himself, finding the feel of her hands in his hair to be much more pleasant than he would have liked.

"Don't know," he held up both wrists, "don't have a watch."

"Oh," her answer was aimless, as were her hands, which were slowly beginning to course down his arms and his neck, until finally they almost reached the Promised Land. His hips jumped away from her, and she began to giggle again, only this time the giggle turned into a full-bodied laugh until she was on her back, her knees in the air. He stared.

When the laughter finally subsided, she laid her legs in front of her and, coincidentally, across his lap.

"I like … your name?" the words filtered through a long sigh, and it took him more than a few moments to derive any meaning from them.

"Edward." He didn't attempt to shake hands; her efforts to feel him up a few moments ago seemed to have put aside all necessary formalities. Besides, he honestly doubted she'd remember his name in the morning anyhow.

"Eddie," she sighed again. He scowled. He hated that nickname.

"Maybe we should get you home, miss …"

"C4," she muttered. This, also, took him a few moments to process. Well, fishing for her name and coming up with her apartment number was as good as any, he guessed.

"Come on. Why don't we see if we can't find a bed for you."

The girl nodded, readily standing up and throwing both arms around his neck, but she stopped as if she had remembered something.

"'Lice has to come inside!"

She began to pace off as quickly as she could. Feigning a few moments consideration, he finally followed. Only, he reasoned, to be sure she didn't fall into a crevice, or something.

They had only walked about ten yards when he found himself closing in on a bottom floor apartment where loud spurts of guitar strums seemed to leak from underneath the door frame. He watched as the girl flew to the sliding glass doors and threw one open, only to look back and gesture wildly for him to follow her.

Edward stopped, every sense in his upper brain telling him to simply go home. He could try to find the girl later. She would be fine; she obviously had other people inside, waiting for her. Vanessa was waiting on his call.

He was standing outside of her doorway.

Apparently his lower brain had decided that her high school style "feel-up" might have meant a trip beyond third base.

No! You will not take advantage of a drunk girl!

"Eddie!" a high pitched whine echoed from inside. Her face appeared after it; long, silky brown locks framing a heart-shaped face, perfectly thickened lips, bright red from obvious, constant biting, and stunningly bright brown eyes.

He was inside.

A tall blonde, currently fully clothed, but wrapped around a long silver cylindrical pole, flipped her hair behind her shoulder and grinned widely.

"Hi there," she purred, removing herself from the pole that sat in a large entryway into what looked to be the kitchen. The blonde threw herself in the lap of the giant drooling one on the floor. Another girl sat on a love seat in the corner, a glass in her hand that looked like it might be the only one in the room without liquor. A warm pressure suddenly laid itself on his shoulder.

"What's your pleasure?" a voice drawled, smiling, blonde, and distinctly Texan.

"Whiskey, if you've got it," he murmured, eyes back on the brunette nymph who had lured him here as easily as a love-begotten sailor. She was sitting, rather indelicately, in front of the stereo, flipping casually through songs, her cute little mouth twisted in frustration.

"Bells!" The large one that the blonde had fallen on leaned against a side wall. "It's your turn baby!"

"I know, Em, now shut up!" she yelled, her tone completely non-menacing as she flipped him off and went back to searching. Edward felt a cool glass slide into his hand.

"Thanks," he murmured absently. Her eyes lit up in an instant when the music turned into some kind of mixture he had never imagined, a cross between a sultry Alanis Morissette tune and some kind of R&B hit that almost didn't combine well. But her eyelids slid shut and he took a long sip of the whiskey, feeling the drink hit the pit of his stomach.

She began to sway, standing still at first, and then moving towards him, her small dancer's form perfection against the imperfect beat of … well, whatever shit they were listening to. He didn't care anymore. She was coming towards him, her eyes lit by the fire of alcohol and her peach, pale skin perfection in the soft, yellow light.

When she had finally intruded upon his space, she gently took hold of his wrist. He gladly followed, something in the back of his brain telling him he would follow her anywhere. Maybe it was the eyes, maybe the smile, but she was leading him towards a dangerous road he would gladly sprint down.

Suddenly, she pushed him down, into a wooden kitchen chair, he realized vaguely, as he stared at her lithe body, arms thrusting upwards, tank tops pushing in a separate direction from the waistband of her shorts and revealing a neatly sculpted abdomen. She stayed there for a few moments, seemingly lost in herself until her eyelids parted and she smiled at him.

"You make such pretty smells," she whispered, placing one finger under his chin. "Now I'll show you what pretty I can make."

Edward gulped. The girl was most definitely going to be the end of him. It was a good thing he didn't give a damn.

She stalked over to the pole, wrapping a well-formed leg around its length and sliding down until her ass almost hit the ground, her leg pointed above her and her head thrown backwards. In an instant, she pulled her entire body upwards, flexing against the pole, sliding against the pole, latching her arms onto the pole and pulling her entire body upwards so that her legs split around the pole, her toes pointed towards the ceiling.

"Pays to be a dancer, huh?" the blonde man murmured once in his ear.

Only those six words reached him as he watched her. Six words that registered and put aside any fears of her possibly having some kind of unknown STD from days walking street corners.

He was hooked, every cell on fire and his eyes almost glazed over as she did with more skill what he had unknowingly warned her against out at that gazebo. He was unwilling to blink, much less move his head in any way as she performed for him, splitting her legs against the pole and leaning over forward, placing her ass directly in his line of sight.

He wasn't sure he had ever been more turned on than he was in this moment, his eyes fixed on her form as she moved, slid, flexed, and bent, always on the pole. He would have given his last fucking cigarette to be that pole.

Finally, swinging herself in a wide circle around the pole, her toes flexed outwards in a perfect pointe, she came to a halt, bringing her eyes to meet his. Hers smoldered, slightly spent from her exertion, but still bright, still looking towards him as if he were the only thing left in her world.

She had the devil's angel eyes, all wrapped up in so much want, promising him that if he took it, he would never regret not going back.

He reached out one hand, taking hers as she started to straddle his lap, stumbling a bit.

"What's your name, my angel devil?"

She leaned her body against his, finally pressing herself into his chest and smiling. One hand ran through his hair, the other sliding up his thigh, this time unhindered. There was no way he was stopping this temptress in her tracks - not now, not ever.

But her hand halted of its own accord, lingering almost in the crevice between his thigh and everything he wanted her to touch, when she stroked his cheek and placed her mouth against his, hungrily kissing his lips. He returned the affection, using every bit of willpower he had to keep his hands planted firmly on her slim hips.

Finally, she broke the kiss, pulling sideways and leaving him panting slightly, her mouth trailing up his jawbone to his ear. She bit down lightly, forcing a low moan to escape from his lips. A giggle rang in his ear, followed by a name.

"Isa … bella," she whispered.

He felt the pressure of her head being laid down on his shoulder. A few moments later, a soft snore filled his ear.

Edward sighed, feeling the tension melt from his spine again as he relaxed under her slight weight.

What a number this one had done on him. Now … what to do with her?

He glanced around helplessly for a few moments, noticing that the blonde and the giant had already passed out on the threadbare couch, limbs twisted like pretzels. That was when the volume of the music was lowered to a more tolerable level and the blonde man stepped in front of him. He pointed towards a closed door.

"That's her room."

Edward glanced down at the creature in his arms, adjusting her until he could stand. She was surprisingly heavy for one so tiny. Before he moved, he turned toward the cowboy who had walked over to tend to the girl on the love seat.

"You trust me with her?" He raised an eyebrow. "You don't even know who I am."

The Texan smiled.

"I trust my Bells. And if she says you're alright, you're alright." Nodding in Edward's direction, he picked up the small, sick-looking girl and carried her towards the room in the opposite direction. Edward glanced down at his own burden.

She was passed out cold, one hand balled up in the corner of his shirt and the other laying across her chest. Carrying her to her room, he gently pulled back the covers on the well-made bed and laid her down, pulling the sheets back over her still form and smoothing her hair over her forehead.

It didn't make any sense, the tenderness he felt for the girl he had met only an hour ago, drunk, no less. But there was something in her, a sun that spread rays of freedom, grace, and a life he had never known, a sun that made him feel for her more strongly than he had ever felt about anything in his life.

She turned over and sighed in her sleep, pulling the blankets up to her chin. He grinned, seeing more of the angel in the smooth lines of her cheek. But he remembered the devil that lit her eyes, and he also wanted a taste of the devil more than anything. He was so stupid. The probability was better than not she wouldn't even remember his name.

Well … at least he knew her apartment number.

He leaned down, placing his lips gently against her forehead.

"Goodnight, Bella."

As he began to walk away, she shifted, a small hand shooting out from under the blankets and wrapping itself weakly around his wrist.

"Please stay … Edward."

He could never deny an angel.

Thank for reading. :) Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated, and if I get enough, I may one day expand this little o/s into something more. :)