Summary: Bella has a surprise for her mom on New Year's Eve. She's not the only one who's got a surprise in store for the New Year, come to find. And sometimes, on New Year's Day, all the surprises can be good!

"Mom," Bella said, her voice trembling. "Guess where we are?"

I looked at my Bella. She was holding onto her phone like it was the only thing that she could hold onto. She clutched it desperately, and her knuckles were white.

Bella listened for a few seconds, then her face became piqued with annoyance.

"No, no, Ma!" she said, "We didn't go to New York City to watch the ball drop! Don't tell Phil that! We came ... we came ..."

Bella looked at me.

"We came here, Mom," she whispered.

I smiled lightly at Bella, letting her know it was okay, and that this was real, and that, yes, she was home. Home in a place she'd never been to before: Milwaukee. So this was an alien home for her, but it was still home, because she hadn't seen her mother since ... May of this year: May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December ... seven months that Bella's been my little charge, but also seven months since she's seen her own mother, whom she loves. And a lot has happened in those seven months: moving in with me (well, technically, into my parent's house), getting accepted to Dartmouth on a full four-year scholarship ... I wonder how that happened. Don't ask ... moving into her dorm room at college, mostly by herself, and meeting her really mean college roommate...

Oh, her college roommate was me. What a strange coincidence!

Or for Bella, anyway. She hasn't really learned that you can ask for such things, or even who to ask. You ask sweetly and insistently enough, things usually go your way.

Like, for example: this.

Bella didn't ask to come here. She didn't even know that she could ask. She didn't see it as a possibility. But that's okay. I did.

You should have seen her on Christmas day when I gave her this present. She didn't even know what an itinerary was. I had to explain it to her.

But when she finally understood ...

You know: she could supply a family a year's worth of water when she gets to crying like that.

Bella really is a very sweet girl.

"No, Mom!" Bella continued. "Here! We're at ..." She paused, trying to remember the name of the airport.

"Mitchell Airport," I supplied, at the same time she recollected and told her mother: "Mitchell Airport," she said. "Mom! We're in Milwaukee!"

The smile on Bella's face threatened to break through the tight control she had.

And then her smile trembled, and my Bella fell apart and was crying. With happiness.


"Bella! Bella!" Renée nearly shrieked, and she ran around the rental before I could even park in their little, tiny visitor's parking spot, ripping open the passenger door and then ripping poor Bella out of the passenger seat...

Or trying to. You can't rip somebody out of their seat when their buckled in. And Bella can't unbuckle herself when her mother's putting at her daughter with all her might.

Bella looked at me, helplessly, then back to her mother. "Mom! Mom! Just ... chill! Jeez!"

Renée did not chill. She undid the belt buckle herself and pulled Bella out of the car.

Then the bear hug and waterworks.

It was slightly ... amusing to watch from the driver's seat. I waited, very patiently, for one of them to break the embrace.

Hm. My patience was all of ten seconds, or two eternities, it felt like, and nobody showed any signs ... whoops! No, Renée was crying, and ... yes, there goes Bella, too.

I sighed. Well, now I know where Bella gets it from. Weepy women can be so trying at times, I swear. You'd never see that between me and my mom.

Well, me and Esmé. My mom died having me.

Maybe that's why people always found me so cold. I just never connected with anybody on an emotional level.

If I didn't connect, then I wouldn't feel sad when they died, see?

Bella and Renée didn't seem to share my view. That was fine, I guess, but it can be 'interesting' for me to watch two grown women put their hearts so obviously on their sleeves.

I got out of the now-parked car, and watched them for a moment.

"I'll just get the luggage," I said eventually. I don't think the crying girls? women? heard me.

"I'll help with that, Rosalie."


I thought Emmett, a linebacker for Tolland High School and then second draft for the NFL was big, but then I met Phil, Renée's boyfriend.

People think baseball players are tall, thin guys. They are half-right. Phil's a professional baseball player, now with the Milwaukee Brewers, his first break into the 'Bigs,' and he is easily the size and weight of three other men, tall, tall, tall and, slight exaggeration, but almost as wide as I am tall.

Definitely wider than the (very) pregnant Renée.

"Thank you, Phil," I said, smiling politely.

Our meetings were always colored by our first, in that trailer park where Bella and her mom had lived back outside of Tolland. Bella had called me, weeping and distraught, and I raced right over there that May night, not knowing what happened, but knowing that she needed me, and I see Phil and Bella coming out of the woods, her crying and I ...

I thought the worst.

I lost all sense of reason and saw red, rather than seeing what I just knew what happened, what he did to my Bella, and I screamed and barreled right into him, knocking him into the dirt, and was on top of him in a flash, ready to scratch his face off.

It was Bella who stopped me. Phil was thunderstruck, paralyzed in confusion, although I supposed he could have knocked me off him, easily, and knocked me down and out. But he didn't.

Bella stopped me, and explained that he went and got her from the woods when she left the traiier crying.

And then she explained why.

My Bella was leaving me, moving to Milwaukee, and she was so happy for her mom, and so ... distraught. She couldn't see herself without me, but she couldn't say 'No, Mom, stay in this dump in Tolland,' and why would she ask that of her mom, anyway.

So we had a long, long talk, me, and Bella's family, after that.

And then the media showed up.

A senator's daughter 'attacked' in a trailer park?

The police were always coming round there, but when they identified me ...

Channel 3, Channel 8 and Channel 30's news trucks probably broke every law of the highway to get to the 'breaking news' story.

Going to school the next morning was ... 'interesting.' I had to let Bella out of the car way before we got to the school so she wouldn't be savaged by the paparazzi, like I was. I spent three hours answering the same questions, over and over again, every second my temper reigned in tightly as I gave my sound-bite answers, making sure Daddy's reputation wasn't tarnished by my rather impulsive display.

That was the first time Bella walked to school, part way, anyway. And the last.

Nothing kills media's interest like a cool, in control, self-possessed young woman who has all the right, boring answers to every one of their provocative questions.

But then it hurt somebody else, unexpected, so much worse: Lauren.

'When that was happening to me, did you ever tear down in your Explorer to rescue me from that Hell, Rosalie? Ever?' she screamed at me in the lunch room, much to the shock and glee of every single Tolland High School student who was witnessing Lauren's breakdown.

And me explaining that was kindergarden and none of us knew what was happening did not help at all.

'Yes, you did! Yes, YOU DID! And you did NOTHING, Rosalie Hale, NOTHING as my dad ... my dad ... r-raped me every fucking day, and NOBODY DID A FUCKING THING!"

And I did what I could, then. I held her and held her as she cried, and kissed her head and wouldn't let her go, even as she screamed she hated me for rescuing Bella when I didn't rescue her.

An interesting day for everybody. School security didn't know if I were dangerous and needed to be torn off Lauren, and they moved to break us apart, and that just sent Lauren into hysterics. That backed them off ... to a safe three-meter distance. Hysterical Lauren was a force to be reckoned with.

So I held her and told her I was sorry, and that I was her friend, and that I loved her, and was there for her now.

Seeing me hold Lauren, kissing her, hugging her, as she cried? The rumors that flew after that.

Lauren and I were apparently labeled a 'thing.' And the propositions we got from boys trying to 'straighten' us out?

Lauren had a whole new appreciation of the 'gay-thing' that Bella and I had.

And Bella, my jealous little Bella, tried to survive Lauren's new ... closeness to me as best as she could, but I could see it was hard for her, even though I assured her, daily that there was nothing sexual in this at all.

You try telling your jealous girlfriend something, something that she witnessed every minute of, and you might understand how ... hard it was on Bella, this whole time leading to her mother leaving her.

All the while being afraid that her Rosalie, her very reason for being, was leaving her, too. And to top it off, leaving her for Lauren, the relationship-wrecker, and you might understand that Bella was feeling more than a bit of trepidation as she watched the situation unfold around her.

For Bella, it was always an emotional wringer.

But ... I liked that. I liked that Bella dared to live, to hope, whereas everybody else, including me, just passed through life. Every moment was a desperate one, but at least, for her, it was a moment, whereas everybody was left wondering where their lives went. Bella may be swept along through the tidal wave of her life, but at least she lived it, and tried to swim, tried to keep her head above water.

That she seemed to fail to do that ... well, that's why she had me, right? to grab her by the hair and force her to breathe when she seemed incapable of doing just that.

Unlike Renée. Renée always pretended to be getting by, when she just ... couldn't.

I'm glad she found Phil, the big lug, and he chose to the right thing by Renée. An up-and-comer fully twenty years her junior ... he could've abandoned Renée so easily.

But Eros' arrow hit its mark in Phil's heart: he had it really bad for Renée, and you could tell by the look of devotion he had in his eyes whenever he looked at his girlfriend.

Bella's mom.

The big lug and I carried the luggages up to their tiny apartment.

A pro baseball player? Tons of money, right? Unless you're like the most of the rest of the team, and not on first rotation of the batting list.

Phil's big break was to be not a second-stringer but a third-stringer on a triple-A team that had never won a pennant.

But he was in the Bigs, and he was so, so happy, chasing his dream while he could, his adoring love by his side.

Bella and Renée: they knew how to love with all their heart, and both Phil and I are so grateful for that. Phil with his 'aw-shucks!' expression, and me with my bemused one.

Which I was wearing now.

"Uh, guys?" Phil said, "uh, you can break it up an come inside any time. It is warmer inside, you know."

Bella and Renée broke apart, reluctantly, and smiled at us in embarrassment.

Bella wiped her eyes on her shirt sleeve and sniffled.

I sighed, and filed that one away for later use: give Bella shirts that I don't mind getting snot over when she goes to visit her mom.

"Hello, Mrs. Swan," I said, extending my hand politely.

Renée looked at my offered hand, and her tongue came out, ... just like Bella's does when she's really embarrassed.

"Hello, Rosalie," Renée said. "Good to see you again."

I smiled at her.

"... And you've taken good care of Bella!" Renée enthused. Bella blushed. "She's put on some meat on those bones!"

Did I mention Bella blushed? I think the snow started to melt, and I actually felt the heat coming through Bella's scarf.

"You have, too, Mrs. Swan," I observed. "You're due next month?"

"Yeah," Renée blushed herself, coquettishly.

"Boy or girl?" I asked. "Or did you not want to know?"

Renée rubbed her tummy. "A girl," she beamed. "I guess I'm good at making girls."

"Mom!" Bella shouted.

"Guys! Guys!" Phil laughed, "C'mon! C'mon inside!"

I gave Phil an arch look. None of the people he addressed are 'guys,' but I let it pass. It was his way, and I let him herd us all inside to the indoor warmth away from the single-digit Milwaukee weather, with a slight breeze that cut right through our warm Connecticut clothing.

Seriously, how do people live out in these desolate wastelands they call 'God's country'? I mean, 'God's country'? Wisconsin? I'm like: why?


New Year's eve was special for the Swan family, with one Dwyer and one Hale. I made it a baby shower day for Renée, because the Brewers? Give Renée a baby shower? Do these little boy-men even know that women have babies? And how they're made?

"Uh, I wear a condo for safe-sex, yeah."

I think that's the extent of their education on interaction with women. Oh, and dude, it's pronounced 'condom,' for God's sake!

"OMG! Don't say that word out loud!"


So, for our own private baby shower, Bella and Renée cooed over the presents I packed. Lots of clothes and some toys, and I got to watch the two Swans act like little girls, opening presents as if they were for them.

I watched Phil, too. He was having manly fun with it all, but you could tell he was a bit lost, more Bella's age, but unable to relate to either the mother or the daughter.

"You happy to be a daddy soon, Phil?" I asked him.

He turned red, which was cute to watch, the guy a size of a Mac truck blushing.

"Uh, yeah," he said, then he looked away for a second. "Scared, you know? I mean, I think I'd know what to do if the baby were a boy, but a girl ...?"

I smiled at him, trying to give him some confidence to a guy who knew really well to hit a ball really hard, and that's about it. "I'm sure you'll do just fine, Phil."

"Really?" he asked dubiously.

"Sure," I said. "Every little girl loves her Daddy. In her eyes, you can do no wrong, so, ... just do your best, do what you say you'll do, and don't break her heart, and you'll do just fine. You'll be her hero, Phil, you know that?"

"Really?" Phil said again, surprised.

I didn't know really, having seen so many girls' hearts broken or crushed by their daddies, like: mine, and Lauren's, and Jess' and Bella's ... all of us from broken families from dads who died ... or should have before they hurt their girl ... but Phil looked like a guy with his heart in the right place, and he needed the boost now, not the harsh reality the world was waiting to spring on him.

He'd be a good daddy if he didn't break his little girl's heart.

"Yeah," I said, and patted his arm affectionately.

Bella and Renée were looking at us.

"Shucks!" Phil said, and kicked at the carpet.

I smiled, then yawned. "Look," I said, "I'm really, really tired. Maybe I'll take a nap?"

Bella whispered in Renée ear: "Rosalie hates air travel."

That was the truth. Flying on commercial air has convinced me we've handed over the country to the Nazis, now known as the TSA. I have never been so humiliated in my whole fucking life. Do those mall cops flunk-outs know who the fuck they were feeling up?

And it was no consolation whatsoever that I was given equal-treatment under the Patriot Act. Fucking everyone's treated like a criminal, but everybody just went along with it.

I wanted to give those bastards and cows a reason to treat me like a criminal.

But Bella reined in my natural instinct to 'search' those TSA creeps right back.

Almost handed that guy his wand back, shoving it right into his paunch.

But I didn't.

So the self-restraint was ... exhausting.

But then standing in line for the rental?

I wanted to turn on my fellow travelers, too.

Next time, swear to God, I'm chartering a plane. It can't be all that much more to spare us the fucking embarrassment, can it?

Or maybe I'll just buy a Bentley. They come with drivers, don't they? It'd be longer than the two-and-a-half hour flight, but ...

I sighed. I was really tired.

"'Course!" Phil offered gallantly. "We have the fold-out couch here, I hope that's okay. Since you two are girls, it should be okay for you to sleep here, too, Bella, right?"

Bella was very careful not to look at me, try as I might to catch her eye.

Probably a good thing: I think both of us would've burst out laughing at Phil's innocent comment.

"Yes, Phil," I answered for us both. "That should be fine."

"'Kay," he said happily and oblivious.

Renée didn't look so clueless. Her smile, as she looked between Bella and me, was wry.

"Renée," Phil said, "you should probably get a nap in, too."

Renée smiled up at Phil. "'Kay," she said, adoration in her eyes for her man, "need to pee first."

Phil rolled his eyes, but gallantly offered a hand, which Renée took delicately with both of hers. Phil hoisted her up easily, one-handed, and Renée shot right up. I'm surprised he didn't dislocate one of her shoulders.

Bella and I opened up the couch and made the bed with the linens that Phil supplied (after Renée had to show him where the bed linens were ... amazing that linens would be stored in a linen closet, of all places. Quite the surprise for Phil, at any rate), and rummaged through our luggage for comfy (and safe) sleeping things. Flannel pajamas. They were soft and warm.

Just like my Bella. I wrapped her in my arms.

"Thank you, Rosalie," Bella said.

"You're welcome," I said.

"This is the best Christmas present I ever got in my whole, entire life," she said.

"Yes, I know, sweetie," I said, "that's why I got it for you."

I kissed her head, and I slept, my Bella in my arms.


"Hey, Rosalie, wake up."


I opened one eye, then closed my eyes and snuggled back into Bella.

"Phil," I whispered coolly above Bella's head, my eyes still closed. "Fair warning: next time you touch me while I'm sleeping, I break your arm."

Phil removed his hand from my shoulder. I peeked at him again. He looked like he had just got stung by a whole hive of angry hornets.

"Uh," he mumbled, embarrassed.

I chuckled lightly, taking away a very, little tiny bit of the sting.

But it was good for boys to learn how to treat a girl, especially me.

"Bella," I said, "time to wake up."

"Uhhh!" she moaned.

I laughed as I purred.

My Bella is such a cutie, when she tries to fight me waking her up.

Correction: she's a cutie at all times, particularly when she thinks she can get her way, even for one-half of a second's extra sleep.

"Wake up, you sleepy-head!" I scolded, "It's ..." I paused. "Phil," I called out.

"What?" he called from the kitchen.

"What time is it?" I asked loudly.

Lovely: shouting across the house.

The Dwyer-Swan household didn't stand on ceremony like the House Cullen did.

Mom and Dad were very proper New Englanders. They didn't get angry at a breach. But a soft word from them carried more force and weight than parents who shouted at their children. Esmé looks like this sweet mom, and she is, but she set the standard, and you lived up to it, because you didn't want to disappoint her. You just didn't want to do that. Her disappointed look hurt more than any other punishment another parent could mete out, because you knew you disappointed her, and her disappointment was this: "Rosalie, I know you can do better than that. I know you are better than this."

And she was right. She always was.

"It's ten o'clock," Phil said.

"Ah," I said. "What are we doing to bring in the New Year? We celebrating it here?"

Bella moaned and grimaced at our shouting. I kissed the crown of her head lightly.

"Nnnn!" she complained.

I think Bella loves sleep more than she loves me. I'd be jealous, if I didn't think it was so damn cute.

"Nah," Phil said. He sounded busy in the kitchen. "I was thinking we'd go downtown for First Night."

Downtown Milwaukee. The Metropolis of the Midwest (or they wanted to be, Chicagoans would debate that point). In sub-freezing weather. Just ... marvelous.

I put on my 'oh, this will be so much fun!' face.

"You hear that, Bella?" I said. "We have to get ready for a First Night out? Won't that be fun?"

"Yeah," Bella breathed. "You guys go have fun."

Okay, what's it with the word 'guys'? Did Bella just catch MidWestern-speak disease?

"Uh, huh," I said.

Then shoved Bella off the bed.


That woke her up.

"Jeez! Rosalie Hale!" Bella shouted.

Phil came running from the kitchen. "Everyone okay?" he asked, all concerned.

I was smirking at Bella's furious glare.

"Yeah," I said, "Bella just fell out of bed."

"Oh," Phil said. "Still doing that, Bella?"

"What?" Bella stammered.

"She used to ... well, never mind." Phil stopped himself at Bella's angry hand-waving.

Phil offered his hand to her. "You okay?"

Bella glared at him, and used the side of the fold-out bed to pull herself up.

She glowered at both of us, then "Hmmph!" turned heel and stormed off to the bathroom.

Phil looked after her, then turned to me and shrugged.

"Girls. I just don't get them," he said, and shambled off to the kitchen.

I snickered and threw my head back onto my pillow. I had a few more moments of sleep while Bella took care of her business in the bathroom.


It was


cold. We were all standing around in the center of downtown Milwaukee, pretending to have fun, pretending not to be bitterly cold. All hundreds of us, maybe even a thousand people braved the cold, standing around, saying to each other absolutely nothing as we watched our breath freeze on our scarves, our cheeks hurting with our 'isn't this a lovely evening' fake smiles plastered on our faces.

And to stand around for what? I didn't see a ball to drop anywhere.

Then people where chanting, raucously, 'Ten ... nine ... eight...!' on some cue I missed.

And then the fireworks.

They weren't ... bad. They were ... okay. I mean, they were maybe on par with Hartford's firework display, maybe subpar to that, but Hartford's New Year's fireworks weren't much to write home about either. New York City? In Times Square?

There was a fucking bringing in the fucking New Year.

Milwaukee's was ... eh.

"Happy New Year!" I said politely to my extended family, as it was.

Renée smile was frozen on her face under her scarf. I was beginning to be afraid that that might be literally true.

Bella just shivered, looking cold.

My poor baby! I thought.

Maybe I could warm her up later tonight. That might make this outing worth it for her.

How I'd warm her up?

I don't know if the usual meaning applied here, even with what she could come up with her rather vivid imagination.

Suddenly Phil brayed like a donkey ... you know: an ass.

"WOOOOOT!" he shouted, and ran from us all.

What had gotten into him? I wondered.

And then I saw him barrel to a bunch of other guys of his same age and build.

Our Beloved Milwaukee Brewers?

And then, after they slammed into each other and high and low fived each other, they ...

Okay. Imagine crazy stupid, some of them drunk, guys. Boys. Guess what they did?

They threw off their coats, and ... okay, ripped off their shirts!

And they stood around, hooting and hollering and laughing out loud.

I looked over at Renée. She was looking at Phil with wonder in her eyes.

"Okay,..." I said incredulously, "and this is ... cool? For guys to do?"

Renée didn't take her eyes off Phil. "Rosalie," she chuckled, closed-mouthed against the cold, "please don't ask me to explain men and what they do."

Phil came back, so pumped that his pecks looked like they had pecks.

"That was so fu-..." he looked at us, then changed course quickly. "That was so awesome, man!" he shouted joyfully.

"Yes, Phil," Renée said, "it was. Can we go now? I need to pee."

Phil's smile didn't dim one watt. "Sure, sure, let's get you girls home!" and he put his coat on over his naked and broad shoulders and shepherded us back to his car, a beater 1999 Subaru Legacy that looked that it had seen better days, but had never and would never see the word 'quit.'


"Good night, girls," Phil said, and Renée kissed Bella on the head.

They made to go to their ... can you call that closet a 'bedroom'?

"Um, excuse me," I said.

They stopped.

Bella looked at me, confused.

"Um," I said, "I wanted Bella to have a special New Year with her family," I said, I felt the heat rising up my neck, "but I also ... wanted to do this in the presence of your mom, Bella."

"D-do what?" Bella asked, now really scared.

I got on my knees.

"Bella Swan," I said.

"R-rosa-..." Bella gasped.

I took out the ring, it was a small band with a quarter carat. Just fifteen-hundred dollars, but more would have been too much for Bella.

"Will you marry me?"

Bella looked at the ring, and looked at me.

She sat down on the bed, hard, and started to cry. She was bawling by the time I sat next to her, holding her in my arms.

"Uh," Phil whispered to Renée in a voice that unintentionally carried through the whole apartment. "Do they know they're both girls?"

"Yes, Phil," Renée said patiently. "I think they know they're girls."

"Uh ..." Phil said helplessly.

"Let's go to bed," Renée suggested. "Huh?" she prodded.

"Huh?" Phil said. "Uh, okay."

And they left us.

Bella didn't answer. She just cried and cried.

She didn't need to. But she let me put the ring on her finger.

And she cried even harder as I did.


Bella was still crying. I actually had to dress her in her silly little, demure little checkered flannel pajamas.

Me, I managed dressing myself in my pjs just fine, even as Bella clung to me, the little clinger.

I got us into that stupid, uncomfortable fold-out bed and under the covers.

There was no place in the world I'd rather be right now, though, than in that stupid, uncomfortable fold-out bed.

"I love you, Bella Swan," I whispered.

Bella sniffles turned into wails. "I ... I ... I l-lo-love youuuuuuuuuu," she wailed.

"Shh, sweetie," I said. "Sleep, baby, just sleep."

Bella cried in my arms. I passed her a tissue. I think she nearly blew her brains out her nose.

I whispered into her ear, when she stilled and her breathing became soft and even: "Happy New Year, my love."

And I kissed her sweet little head as I held her.

My Bella.


A/N: Happy New Year, my dears.

Sad news. ffn busted me and removed my Merry Christmas one-shot as it violates the ratings guidelines. I'm looking to post it elsewhere, like on my literotica-dot-com profile, but ...

But I am so tempted right now to write two words: "Fuck it." Especially after they took away my privilege of publishing new stories for a week, so this story, called Happy New Year, didn't come out yesterday, like I wanted, but now. So I hope you like this story anyway, even though it's a couple of days delayed. :(

My girls love each other, in the weird way that they do, and that love manifests itself like it does here, and it also manifests itself physically, and I don't know how to neuter my writing, because I may as well neuter Bella and Rosalie.

Not here, but elsewhere? Like in Ridden?

Sylvia Plath writes: "The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt," and I don't know if I can write, and write well, if I'm censoring myself.

And one of the reviews on Merry Christmas?

From: Michi the Mischievous "Somebody needs their Thorazine or Klonopin upped and it ain't the characters."

I don't need to read personal attacks from reviewers, thanks: I do a pretty darn good job of that to myself already.

So, I'm suffering self-doubt right now. How will that turn out? Does that mean I'll stop writing here and write only on literotica? I don't know. I don't think so, but this is a blow to me, and to my writing.

I don't need you to do anything for me ... except if you want to: pray for me. I'll spend some quiet time, look for a job, and maybe turn myself into somebody's quiet little secretary. And maybe I'll write part-time on ffn, as you so love my BellaRose stories, and thank you for telling me that, and part-time on literotica the spicier bits with a note on my ffn chapter "(fade to black)" and in the a/n: "chapter continues on literotica." But that just feels so hackneyed... no, I don't think I could do that slice-and-dice approach to telling a story, after all.

I really don't know what to do or to think right now, so I'll just snuggle up to my pillow under the covers and have myself a sulky think tonight. ... idk, maybe I'll pick up Bloodbuzz, again, that sweet, sad, (and now s.m.e.x-free) story. But I guess my Rosalie fucks a preteen cheerleader will never see the light of day on this site. Oh, well.

`phfina shrugs.

Sorry to bum you out, but I'm bummed, myself, and I don't know how else to tell you of my change in tone from now on, ... or from my silence.

I love you, my lovelies.

Happy New Year.

kisses, `phfina

p.s. Did you like my story?

... and the happy ending to this:


YES! Merry Christmas posted on literotica

So, I wrote this smexy, BDSM BellaRose story on ffn. The Powers That Be got wind of it and the banned it. The content violated their ratings policy. :(

BUT I sent it to literotica, and after much deliberation, they published it. YES!

The link to the story is here: literotica-dot-com-slash-s-slash-merry-christmas-8

It's a sweet, little smexy piece, with love, ... and bondage.