A/N: Sucky summary, I know—sorry; I'm not very good at them. I'm not planning on any strange Twilight Vampire Male/OFFC romance, but one never knows what will happen within an obsession . . . well, you've been forewarned. Constructive criticism is welcome, but please: no flames. This is my first fanfic, so take that into consideration. Rated T just in case.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Saga and its characters (sniffle). The plotline is inspired by Evil Meg's Of Vampire's, Fangirls and Psyco Kittens (with permission, of course). I do not own the song "When You Wish Upon a Star." I only own Claire, Liza, Christa, Toi, and this particular plotline.

(Claire POV):

I sat curled up in my reading alcove with Twilight. It was a Friday night, and I had no intention of doing anything whatsoever over the weekend. It had been a stressful week—I had been teased more than usual. It wasn't that I was clumsy, or ugly, or stupid, or drastically different than other people. It was just that I was, for lack of a better word, a nerd. I had always cared about my studies, and as I result I did well in school. Reading was my favorite pastime, and I wasn't involved in any sort of organized sport's team. I didn't really care about fashion, and I had never had a boyfriend. Sure, I mean, I had a few friends. And I wasn't hated, just avoided. But I always felt different from other people my age, like an adult trapped in a child's body. I far enjoyed my own company to that of my peers.

"Oh Carlisle, why me?" I wondered out loud.

Carlisle was the only one who understood me—and after this realization hit a few months ago I had closely questioned my sanity, considering Carlisle was a fictional vampire. But it was true: he was smart, and that set him apart from others, like me. He didn't follow what others were doing, because he believed them to be wrong, like me. He had desperately craved someone to share life with, but didn't want to settle for just anyone, he wanted someone like himself, so he had been forced to walk alone . . . like me. (Not to mention that my addiction to him was also partly fueled by his unbelievable, godly sexiness.)

I sighed, and went back to reading. I had been made fun because of it, and I had been forced to see the school psychologist, but what I wanted more than anything was to meet Carlisle Cullen; to have him as a friend.

As cliché as it was, I saw a star shoot across the night sky. "Please?" I whispered. I wanted a friend, someone who wouldn't laugh at me just because I had freckles, or was un-athletic, or dressed conservatively, or was smart; I wanted Carlisle Cullen.

I was distracted from my Carlisle-filled daydreams by a burning feeling in my hands. My head snapped down and I saw that my book was glowing brightly, and the more brightly it glowed, the more the material seemed to slip out of my grasp. I was too distracted by this phenomenon to notice that, as the book disappeared, so did I. Before I could blink I found myself sitting in a pine-filled forest, a now cool and fully visible book in my hands, staring up at the four beautiful things I had dreamt of every night. Oh. My. Carlisle.

(Liza POV):

I threw the football back to my dad; perfect spiral, perfect aim—he caught it right at his chest. I loved football. I loved sports in general. They were the one thing I really excelled at. I had never been particularly smart (not that I was stupid: I was a B/C+ student), or good at video games, or had a good sense of style, or been pretty. That was the thing that bothered me.

A lot of people thought that since I liked sports I was a tomboy. That had never been the case: I just had never thought my features were nice enough to emphasize. My parents had always told me I was proportional, and my features were fairly even, but, even at sixteen, I was waiting for a more "womanly" figure, as my mom called it. I just thought I needed boobs and curves. Luckily, though, I was in shape, thanks to my obsessive sport activities. My hair was a medium brown, with a few natural low-lights, I had gray-hazel eyes, and my skin tone was stuck in the boring middle: neither pale nor tan—just middle-ish.

I had never gotten the sense that either of my parents were very proud of me. My two brothers, Aaron and Nick (they're twins), had always obviously been he favorites of my parents. They were smart, good-looking, obedient, and athletic. That's why I had originally started up any kind of sport: to show that I could excel, too. But soon I realized that no matter what I did, my parents would never praise me as much as my brothers. So I decided to pursue sports just for the fun of it; they could get me a scholarship one day, at least.

"Throw it higher, Liza! I'm gettin' tired bendin' down so much!" My dad called to me. I sighed; my best was just never enough. "Sorry, dad. I'll do better next time: I'm calling it quits for today."

I picked up the ball and went towards the house, and as my hand rested on the handle of the door, I heard my dad say to me, "Winners never quit, Liza, so I hope you're jump taking a break." I sighed again, making my way up the creaky stairs to my attic room.

I flopped down on my blue comforter and pulled a binder out from under my pillow. Upon opening it my eyes feasted on pictures of perfection: Emmett Cullen. He was strong. He was funny. He was smart. He was athletic. His family loved him. But on top of all this, he was gorgeous. He was able to excel at everything and be handsome on top of it. I guess this was why he was my favorite Twilight character. I wanted to be Emmett Cullen. I wanted to match him in everything.

I stared out my window at the rapidly darkening sky, as the vibrant colors of sunset blended into the purple of night. The stars hadn't come out yet, but when they did I knew they would be strewn across the inky sky, sparkling like diamonds. I closed my eyes, imagining the first star that would be out tonight, flickering like a white flame.

"Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight: I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight," I murmured. "Give me Emmett McCarty Cullen."

As I opened my eyes, a soft glow caught my eye. It was coming from a book that lay on my table. I cautiously went over to it, and picked the object up. It was my Twilight book, and it was burning like dry ice in my hands. I dropped it, and as it hit the floor it flipped opened and glowed brighter, forming a vortex that sucked me in. (A/N: Because I'm not insane . . . right ;) ) I screamed as I fell past blurred shapes and dark muted, colors, mirrors, clocks, and various pieces of furniture. In the part of my mind that completely flipping out in panic, a slight nostalgia pulled on my days of watching Alice in Wonderland.

After dropping through the vortex, I fell onto hard ground, and in a moment all the pain wash washed away; for standing in front of me were the beings that my dreams were made of. Oh. My. Carlisle.

(Toi POV):

I sat at my computer, reading the email I had already memorized: "I think we should be just friends. –Jake". I closed my eyes, and felt them grow hot behind the lids. He couldn't do this to me. It wasn't fair—the dance only days away. Couldn't he have waited until Saturday, to save me the embarrassment of being a wall flower? Before I could stop myself, I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks. I threw myself on my bed, sobbing into my pillow.

I had really, really loved him. He had been so different from all my other boyfriends—I thought this relationship would actually work out. I sighed, breaking the flow of my tears for a moment of thought. What had I done wrong? Was it because I wore so much black? Because of the bands I listened to? Because I dyed my hair black, streaked blue?

I shook my head in defeat, settling myself back into my desk chair, emptied of tears for the present. It was time for my drug to ease the pain, the mourning was over now: I needed to read Jasper/Bella fanfiction.

I loved the Twilight Series as a whole, but I loved Jasper Whitlock Hale even more. I always admired that he would be so selfless as to put up with everyone's emotions—even manipulate them to make his family's life better. Is sure needed his powers right now. My emotional train had just wrecked.

Jasper was my addiction: my drug and my antidote rolled up into one gorgeous vampire pill. Even before I had fully appreciated the self-sacrificing side of his nature, I had always loved how gentle he could appear to be, yet with defining male moments. Not to mention he was unbelievably hot.

My thoughts of Jasper mellowed the pain enough for me to see through the haze I had created. It was a beautiful night, the stars' piercing light in sharp contrast against the soft, enveloping darkness of the midnight sky.

"When you wish upon a star

Makes no difference who you are

Anything your heart desires

Will come to you"

I gave a small, quiet laugh. As long as the stars wouldn't judge me because of the way I dressed, unlike my bastard of an ex-boyfriend, I'd ask for my heart's desire. "Give me Jasper Whitlock Hale," I whispered.

I immediately felt some sort of pull to my Twilight book that was lying on my window seat. I went over to it, holding it in my lap. It began to grow hot, the pages of the book flipped open on their own accord, and I felt a sudden jerk upward from my navel. I was thrown into a vast, misty darkness—I was whizzing through it, flying. I suppose if every part of me hadn't been seized by panic it would have been fun.

The darkness suddenly began to fade, and I was lying on my back in the middle of a forest, looking up at four drop-dead gorgeous creatures. Oh. My. Carlisle.

(Christa POV):

I sat in my closet, sorting through a box of clothes I didn't even know I had: Burberry, Lacoste, Ralph Lauren, Calvin Cline—how had I not known I had these? I loved all these stores!

I stared down at what I was wearing: My Edward fan club shirt and red shorts. I was only mildly embarrassed that someone would see me like this—I usually was dressed so much more neatly. I took pride in my appearance: My ebony locks; my dark, flawless complexion; my tall, slender physique. I wasn't conceited—just playing up what I had been given. It would be shaming to not live up to my full potential.

I put down the box and walked over to my bed, sitting cross-legged on it in meditation. There was another thing that I cared to much more about than my physical appearance: Edward Cullen.

He defined perfection—heavenly would be a disgrace to him. Angels should bow before him: he was a god. So many times I had dreamed of running my fingers through his soft, bronze hair; tracing my fingers over his cold, pale flesh. We would be like night and day: the two reoccurring wonders of the world.

Out of all the Twilight obsessies I knew, I was the only one who wished Bella had died when she jumped off that cliff—then I could've captured Edward and forced him into matrimonial union! I had mapped out a whole plan. It was a long shot, I admit, but it was worth trying.

It wasn't only his angelic appearance that stopped my heart, however. It was his eloquent mannerisms; his fiery personality that shown through so many times in his blazing eyes; his strength of character; his want to be good.

I opened my eyes briefly, looking out at a speck of white light that flickered feebly against the stark black of night: the first star. "I want Edward Anthony Masen Cullen," I murmured, almost inaudibly.

Not a moment after my childish "wishing-upon-a-star", something burned against my hand. I drew it away sharply, looking over at my Twilight book that lay next to me. I picked it up, surprised it felt so hot—and that it glowed. I soon started to feel light-headed, and found myself falling though a tunnel of blinding white, hearing my screams echo off the walls. Eyes wide, my gaze darted around my prison. I was just about to throw up from fear when I landed on solid ground, my eyes resting on the material of all good dreams. Oh. My. Carlisle.

(Third Person POV):

The four girls stared up at them: gods. The glow of their perfection was hypnotizing, mouth-watering, heart-stopping. The four angel-incarnates stared down at them, perplexed. One raised a perfect brow, and that was enough to induce hysterics:

"OH MY EFFING CARLISLE!"

Christa shrieked in pleasure, grinning up at the man who had haunted her dreams. She threw herself at his feet, praying he would be kind enough to bestow his blessing on her. But just to be in his presence was enough.

Liza stared up at him, a hand on her hip. He was more muscular than she would have thought, but she was convinced it was him. Her idol stood there, a confused expression on his angel's face. She didn't know whether to jump, or yell, or throw herself at him; so she stood there, gaping, soaking in every aspect of him her imagination had failed to create.

Claire hyperventilated, staring up at his flawless features with a slight sense of guilt. Who was she, a mere mortal, to have her life graced with such beauty? She edged her way closer to him, not daring to get within more than a foot. But she couldn't help herself—this was the chance of a lifetime. She hesitantly reached out and brushed her fingertips against the hem of his pants, gasping when he didn't drift away like a mirage.

Toi looked at the other three girls: they were making fools of themselves. Did they have no respect for their angels? She turned to her angel: the man who she had compared every boyfriend she ever had to. His classic, pale beauty was rare, but his soul was even more invaluable. After taking a moment to let his presence wash over her, she stepped towards the four men.

"I'm Toi," she said, her eyes passing over them, "and you're the Cullens."

A/N: What do you guys think about it? Should I continue? Yes? No? Please review!