Hey, guys! I missed you!

Life is crazy for a lot of reasons right now, but... I am still here, still writing whenever I get the chance :).

This story won 3rd place in the "Top 10 Stories Completed in October 2021" on TwiFanFictionRecs, all thanks to YOU! You are honestly the best, thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading and voting.

While "Stuck in Limbo" is complete, there are still some parts of it that have been left untold. So I am trying to bring (at least some of) them to light via Bella's point of view.

This outtake takes place during Edward's and Bella's reunion in Rochester and it deals with Bella reading the rest of Edward's letters. I had a blast writing it, so I truly hope you like it ;).

Also, it has a TRIGGER WARNING, that you can find at the end of the chapter.

Endless thanks to CoppertopJ and gabby1017, they're incredible!

*Bella's Point of View*

2008

I wasn't sure what day this was. Or if it was dusk or dawn — although, going by the lively sounds coming from outside, it had to be the former.

But truth be told, it didn't matter anyway. Time had lost all meaning since Edward and I met again. I had tried to process the happiness surging in my veins, to make sense of its overwhelming intensity, but in the end I accepted the impossibility of this task. So now I lay here, naked and spent on the wooden floor of the bedroom, the only thing covering me being Edward's body, just basking in the newness of it all.

"Is it wrong that I would gladly spend the rest of my days here?" he murmured, the soft sound waves reverberating against my neck.

"I mean… if it wasn't for the thirst, what reason would we have to leave?"

He chuckled, but didn't move. He seemed content to just hold me for now.

"Are you tired?" I asked, and I didn't have to expand on what I meant, because he knew.

"My Bella, I spent three years without you. If you think I am tired after the first seven days, you couldn't be more wrong. I've got a lot more to unload."

As if to prove his point, he pressed himself against me, showing me how hard he still was.

"Mmmmm, so it seems."

"But I do love this," he continued. "If only you knew how many times I had been fantasizing about simply wrapping my arms around you... you'd think I'm a sap."

"Too late for that," I teased him, and he bit me lightly in response.

We laughed together, then our laughter dissolved into purrs and murmurs of adoration, as we began to kiss whatever was within our reach. My lips pressed against Edward's forehead, again and again and again, while his mouth trailed lazy paths on my collarbones.

"I love you so much…" he whispered, and before I knew it, we were one body, one conscience, exactly how we were supposed to be.

We made love slowly, without haste. After the first three days of rabid fucking, we finally found the will to be patient, and the payoff was exquisite. Edward was in no hurry as he moved inside me, at a pace that drove me crazy in the best way possible. If he could keep at it forever, I would not have minded. I had missed it — missed him — so much, that each second he was not inside me hurt, as if he was a vital part of me, and being without that part meant a certain death.

When midnight rolled in, Edward had his head trapped tightly between my thighs, working his tongue between my folds, taking in the result of our combined orgasms and ceaselessly telling me how good we tasted together. I knew he was right, if only because today I got to spend a delicious amount of time with his cock deep in my throat. This time, he didn't pull back until he made sure that I had come ten times in a row, with no pause in between.

I was a panting, heaving mess, when he retreated. He started kissing his way up my body, taking his time. My flesh trembled under this sensual avalanche, for all the right reasons. Minutes passed by in a heavenly rhythm, until we were finally face to face.

"You are spoiling me," I sighed, and my words got him to smile my favourite crooked smile. His eyes seemed playful too, despite them being coal black at this point. But he never, not even once, complained about the thirst — and I knew exactly why. Because deep down, I was aware of the fact that I was supposed to feed too. But just the thought of parting from him felt daunting. My brain knew its priorities — and all of them involved Edward, not blood.

"I can't help it, love. You make me greedy."

"Oh, I'd say you are the opposite of greedy."

"Make no mistake, I may not let you leave this apartment," he replied. "Ever."

"Isn't it convenient? Because I may never want to leave it."

He shook his head, obviously stifling a laugh, and I loved seeing him like this. So carefree. So relaxed. As if he had never got a taste of pain. But I knew that just a week ago, he had been in a completely different headspace, much like me. The turmoil felt like a distant memory now, as if years had passed since I last thought I might never even see Edward again. Since I last wrapped my own arms around me and closed my eyes, imagining I was inside his embrace. Since I felt his overpowering, ravishing scent in a crowd full of people, and saw his dark-gold eyes staring me down.

As I allowed myself to process the fact that all these things had happened painfully and recently, I remembered other things too — particularly how distraught Edward had been when he realized I had found his letters. It wasn't betrayal that had painted his face dark with sorrow, it was something else. Something that I was still trying to wrap my head around. I had not got to read more than three letters in his absence, but I knew there was a whole pile of them awaiting, their fragile contents still hidden.

I wrapped my limbs tighter around him, the mental image troubling my peace. My gesture could have been easily mistaken for a signal that I wanted more of him, but for one reason or another, he understood that this time, it was not only that.

"What is it?"

His voice was concerned, but still laced with the fog of lustfulness we had fallen into. I didn't want him to worry, so I decided not to avoid the truth.

"I was thinking about your letters."

"My letters…" he repeated. "What about them?"

"I don't know… I think I'd like to read them."

"What, now?"

I shrugged. My timing was a little off, considering the fact that just moments ago I was recovering from the frenzied string of orgasms he had offered me, but I could not hide my worried curiosity, now that it had crept inside my mind.

"Only if you don't mind it," I answered.

"I don't mind it, as I've told you already. But I meant it when I said they're not a joyful read, Bella. I don't want to upset you with them."

If he thought this might deter me from reading, he was wrong.

"Look, I'm not delusional," I began. "This week with you has been pure heaven, to say the least, but I know it doesn't erase the past and how we broke each other's hearts. I mean God, my heart finally feels whole again, and it is more than mended, but… I worry about yours."

"I am happy, sweetheart. Ecstatic, even. So please, don't worry about my heart — with you here, it finally feels at peace."

Edward leaned down for a short, delicate kiss, but the tension in my body made it obvious that I didn't want to back down. His lips pressed once more against mine before he sighed and got up.

"Wait here," he said.

I watched him disappear from the room, admiring the utter perfection of his naked form. Every muscle in his body was firm and strong, and had I had the faintest hint of talent at sculpting or painting, I would have spent hours upon hours creating artful odes to his flawlessness. He was the kind of muse that would have turned any artist insane, as they tried to capture his essence.

Edward was back in no time, carrying a stack of letters in his hands. He sat back on the floor, by my side, and I quickly crawled in his lap, with my back pressed against his chest. I had to make a conscious effort not to let his erection distract me.

"You asked for it," he grumbled, placing the pile on the ground, so that he could use his arms to surround my waist.

"Thank you, it means a lot."

"I'd much rather burn them, but you are welcome."

I reached to take the first piece of paper, caressing its creased margin with my finger.

"Never burn them," I countered. "They're part of you. And I love every part of you."

He didn't respond, but I felt his grip tightening around me as I unfolded the first piece of paper. His handwriting revealed itself to me, clean and cursive and beautiful, the black ink a little faded by the passing of time.

"That one's old," Edward informed me. "From two years ago. Around the same time I started writing to you."

I nodded, and I quickly got lost inside the world he had weaved with his words.

"My love,

I don't know whether I should be thankful or not for the fact that your ghost has finally left me alone. I had not expected this to happen when I first started writing these letters. And it troubles me, because I'm not quite sure if this has been a wise idea or not. It is not like I am at peace now, in the absence of your phantom. In fact, I don't even know how I feel.

This is not the numbness that has plagued me immediately after I left you. Every single day hurts and not running right back to you is a battle I am fighting regularly. I keep imagining myself knocking at your door, and begging, begging, begging for forgiveness. Forgiveness that I shall never receive.

But I am trying to remain realistic here. After all, I can't even bring myself to write your name down — yes, I am a coward like that. I would probably disintegrate if I saw you now. Although… I wouldn't exactly mind such a death. Seeing one's angel before parting from this world would be a blessing for anyone.

I can't help but wonder if you feel the tiniest fraction of what I feel. On one hand, I don't want you to. On the other hand, I know it was an inevitable, necessary evil. If you are hurting, I hope you know it won't always be like this. One day I'll be a speck in the great sands of your memory.

And I will still love you, even then.

Only yours,

Edward"

I didn't realize I was quivering until Edward said it out loud. I forced myself to keep still, but the new knot in my chest made it hard to do so. The only thing that helped — truly, actually helped — was the knowledge that he would never have to go through that kind of pain again. And he would never have to doubt himself like that a second time around.

"Fuck, this was a bad idea," he grunted, taking the paper out of my hand, crumpling it and throwing it away across the room, all in the span of half a second.

"No! You did warn me. I need to face it, Edward. I need to understand what you went through."

"But there's no use, angel. It'll only serve to worry you for things that are now part of the past, and I can't stand to see you worried."

"Those things happened. They are not pretty, and finally being together does not erase them. If we move forward, we need to acknowledge them, you know? Or else they might just catch up with us."

"They could not possibly catch up. I hold no resentments towards you, Bella, only love. And nothing can change that."

I turned my head around, to see him. Although his voice was warm and calm, the frown on his face gave him away.

"And I hold no resentments either," I assured him. "Not anymore. But I don't want to run away from your pain, so I am reading these, even if it breaks me."

I kept my eyes on him while I grabbed another letter from the pile, and eventually, he agreed with a nod. I unfolded it, not knowing what to expect, but feeling ready to face it, whatever it was.

"This is from 2007," Edward clarified, answering to a question I had not got to ask out loud. "It's kind of… petty, I suppose, so forgive me."

Curious, I gazed down at the ivory paper and started to read.

"My precious Bella,

Today I am pissed. And it is not because I haven't eaten in two weeks, as Tanya keeps telling me. At the other end there is William, who is convinced I just need to get laid. Of course, they all know nothing, and I might just leave this damned place behind, because it is only a hiding place, nothing more.

The reason behind my mood is different, and I would never share it with anyone, because most people would roll their eyes, without even trying to understand. I happen to know Rosalie called Eleazar, to ask him about a rare piece for the car she is repairing. He knew exactly how to help her, but their talk didn't stop there. No, they talked for at least an hour about what had been happening in their lives until that phone call.

And so help me God, Rosalie was actually nice. Pleasant, even, not even a trace of the venom she liked to spew in my presence. She was almost an entirely different person, if I have to be fair.

This should not have triggered me to such an extent, but it happened anyway. Hearing her voice in Eleazar's mind was enough to bring me back to that cursed house in Granite Falls, where nothing was ever right. It made me wonder if things would have been different, had it not been for Rosalie constantly encouraging your stubbornness. I know that, at the end of the day, you were the one making decisions, not her, but I'd be damned if she didn't play a somewhat important role in your thought process.

She was always there, dragging my name through mud. Never willing to have an actual conversation with me and listen to what I had to say. Vain and as shallow as a rain puddle. I never confronted her properly — because she was not entirely wrong in some instances, because it would have got you upset and because I liked to believe I was too much of a gentleman to start a heated argument with a lady who was not even my friend. And now I don't know if it was worth it.

I'm starting to think it wasn't.

I hate what life is without you.

And I love you.

Yours,

Edward"

He hid his face in my neck, sighing deeply, and I folded the paper right back, setting it aside. Reading this particular letter had triggered a deluge of distant memories of my own. Memories of how the friendship between me and Rosalie started.

I had always been somewhat aware of the fact that Edward was not her biggest fan, for obvious reasons, but he and I never got to talk about it properly. Years ago, my capacity to have an actual conversation with him was non-existent. And now… well, now we had been far too busy celebrating our reunion to bother ourselves with unpleasant discussions.

But we had to do it eventually. And with the elephant in the room proudly thumping around, released from the cage and waiting to be addressed, I realized that we had to do it sooner rather than later, despite the ominous threat of an uncomfortable conversation.

"I'm not proud," he admitted. "I really am not."

"Shhh, don't say that. This is not Judgment Day or anything of the sort."

"I know, but I wrote that letter in a fit of rage, it's not representative of—"

"I understand why you wrote it," I interrupted him. The last thing I wanted was for him to spiral into guilt. He had done plenty of that. "And… I think we need to talk about it."

I turned around in his lap, and grabbed his face in my hands. He looked so vulnerable now, the strong facade he had when he was out in the world nowhere to be seen.

"Edward, I would've been surprised if you didn't think that Rose was to blame, at least to an extent."

"I swear to you, I am aware now that she is not to blame for what happened to us."

"Let me finish," I pleaded. "I think I need to explain some things, now that this box has been opened."

He watched me with careful eyes, and I wondered where to start. Rose and Alice were my best friends and, quite frankly, my sisters. While Edward and Alice had always got along, the same could not be said about him and Rose. She certainly had not made things easy for him, but deep down, I really wanted to see the two of them get along. At one point or another, they would have to face each other again — it was up to me to make sure things would go smoothly.

"So the most important thing, I guess, is that… Rosalie doesn't hate you," I said after a while.

I felt his jaw tightening under my palm. He didn't reply.

"She doesn't," I insisted. "It's complicated, but trust me; I've lived with her for three years, I know how her mind works."

"Bella, it is what it is. She never liked me, and that's fine. We, as people, can't get along with everyone, that's not feasible."

A sense of anxiety washed over me, as I listened to him. He had already made up his mind about her, but I was not backing down.

"All right, let me start again," I said. "Rosalie has quite a black and white vision of the world. She knows that shades of gray exist, but she chooses not to see them. Maybe because it makes it easier for her to discern between right and wrong, I don't know. That's who she is. Carlisle thinks that her last night as a human has a lot to do with this. She was in this very city, Edward, when it all happened. And for her, there was no shade of gray when her own fiancé betrayed her. It fractured her mind in an irreparable way."

The tension in his jaws softened while I spoke, and I was grateful for the fact that he was willing to listen.

"Then came the gift of immortality, when she never asked for it," I added. "When she heard my story, it brought back her own experiences to the surface."

"Bella, Rosalie was raped. I never did such an atrocity to you, it is against who I am as a person. Against every value I believe in. It is incomparable."

"I agree! I completely agree. And my sister knows this. But remember, she sees things as black and white. When she met us, it all seemed obvious to her: I was a victim, and you were a predator. A different kind of predator, but a predator nonetheless, according to her. And in the midst of everyone whispering in my ear to give you another chance, when my heart was in shatters, she was the only one who told me that I owed it to myself to heal first, before making any decisions. Having someone on my side like that felt empowering."

"That's fair," he nodded, but a certain sense of dejection painted his face.

"That doesn't mean I agree with how she went about it. Back when you were still around, I was a little oblivious to how harshly she treated you. I mean I noticed it, but it never fully clicked, the way it was supposed to. I was so lost in my own world, in my own mourning, that everything else seemed pale, less significant in comparison. And I apologize for this now. If I could turn back time, I would stand up for you. Again and again and again."

He closed his eyes, shutting them tight. When he opened them back again, the gloom was gone.

"You know, when you left…" I started. "It was Rosalie that held me all night, although she had plans to go to New York for a few days with Emmett, and everything had already been paid for. And even though she saw me crumbling before her eyes, she never said anything bad about you. Not one bad word. If you ask me, I bet she was impressed — as if your decision had somehow shattered her own convictions about who you were. Then she taught me that it was all right to mourn for what I thought I had lost, because it left room for something better to grow. And when Alice cut my attempts to contact you in their tracks — since she probably knew that we both needed the time apart to understand what we had lost — it was Rose that told me to be patient. To give things time."

Edward's eyes were indecipherable now, but I could swear they were glistening.

"I guess she is more of a thorn than a rose, in regards to how she acts, but her intentions weren't malicious, at the end of the day. And I bet you will understand it better if you get to talk to her — I know she will listen this time around. If anything, she kept me afloat."

He took in my words, without interrupting me, and I felt more than a little anxious to reveal to him a part of my past that I was not exactly proud of. So instead of talking, I decided to show him. Without moving from his lap, I tried to clear my mind, getting rid of my thoughts one by one. When there was nothing but that obstinate barrier left, I made one final effort and snapped it in half, allowing my thoughts to return and flood his brain.

The memory was still clear, although I wanted it to be gone more than anything. The kaleidoscopic lights flashed from the pit of my memory, taking me back to that night in Paris. The night before I slipped. It was the night Alice and Rose decided to show me that dancing the night away surrounded by strangers could be unexpectedly therapeutic. I remembered the tight dress they had convinced me to wear, the thigh-high boots, the ridiculous red lipstick that tasted like cardboard.

And I remembered getting lost in the moment, once my feet reached the dance floor.

I had never been one to enjoy dancing — not in my mortal days, nor in my new life. My lack of coordination had prevented me from actually being good at it when I was a human. By the time the clumsiness was no longer a problem, I had already been programmed to believe that this activity was simply not for me. But that particular winter night, I realized that I could be good at it, if I wanted to. Swinging to the rhythm, inhaling the pulse of the crowd — these things served to dim the usual tumult I was feeling at the time.

It wasn't until I felt two arms surrounding me from behind that things started to spiral. I didn't know whose arms they were, but they felt warm and sensual as they wrapped around me. And for one reason or another, I didn't push the stranger away. Not when he brought me closer to his warm and unfamiliar body, nor when he explicitly told me that he wanted to take me to his place and have his way with me. I just stood there, moving from side to side, my mind too numb to react.

Edward's grip on me brought me back to reality. His fingers were almost digging in the flesh of my waist.

"What are you showing me?" he muttered.

"My heart, relax. Nothing happened. Nothing ever could. Let me show you the rest."

He exhaled, regaining his composure. I let go of my shield once more, allowing the memory to untwine. The song was reaching its ending point when someone grabbed my wrist — this time, the touch was familiar. Looking up, I saw Rosalie, looking at me as if she had caught me with my hand inside the proverbial cookie jar.

"We go, now," she said, leaving no room for compromise.

I followed her outside the club, where Alice was already waiting for us.

"Hurting for your mate is not an excuse to act foolish," Rose said, once the music was no longer blaring loudly from every corner.

"I was dancing. Isn't this why you brought me here?"

"Dancing with a dude who's itching to rub his dick against your ass? Fascinating."

"I didn't do anything wrong, I—"

"Listen," she cut me off. "I know you're going through a lot, but do yourself a solid and don't try something you'll regret later down the line. You're technically single, yes, but you and I both know that you are taken in every other regard."

The image faded slowly from my mind, and when I reached to press myself closer to Edward, my shield snapped back into place.

"For the record, I wouldn't have done anything," I offered truthfully. "We might have not been together at the time, but every cell in my body was aware that I belonged to you. Regardless, Rose had no way of reading my mind, so she wanted to make sure I didn't forget that."

His previous irritation seemed tamer now.

"Who would have thought…" he pondered. "I might have to talk to her soon then."

"I will give her a heads-up — and even a lesson in good manners, if I have to. Although there is a chance Alice is doing exactly that as we speak."

"Thank you for telling me this. For telling me everything, in fact. I know there are still so many things we need to talk about, but this is a great start."

"Thank you for listening all the way through."

I rushed to press my lips on his, and his mouth opened, to take my tongue in. It seemed that some of his previous outrage was still left, going by the way he grabbed the nape of my neck and brought me closer, until my breasts mashed forcefully against the robust planes of his chest.

I was surprised when he stopped mid-kiss, reaching somewhere behind me.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought we were reading letters, so here's another one," he answered, handing me an unopened folded paper.

Curious to discover what secrets it protected, I unraveled it, mesmerized yet again by Edward's flawless handwriting — the kind that no modern man was capable of reproducing without considerable effort.

"My beautiful Bella,

There are times when I can go for months without doing a single thing to please myself. Then there are times when a particular detail or memory catches me unprepared and throws me off the loop completely, leaving me a dysfunctional ball of hypersexuality for inordinate amounts of time. I would be embarrassed if I was capable of feeling something other than extreme, shameless, brazen arousal.

This time around, it was a trivial thought that started it all — not even a thought of my own, but the thought of a stranger. A few days ago, I happened to pass by a man who was trying to decide which lingerie set he wanted to get for his wife. I made the passing mistake of imagining myself buying lingerie for you, and everything spiraled from there.

I was completely out of control for the first twenty-four hours. I pictured you wearing at least one hundred different sets of lingerie, while I sat in the bathtub and rubbed myself raw, releasing so much venom you would think there would be nothing left. And for each image my mind came up with, a dozen new fantasies bloomed from it, each of them getting more and more titillating.

One in particular made me come three times in the past hour. It features you, wearing a transparent black bra that leaves your perfect breasts exposed, a lace garter belt, and thin stockings. You've got no underwear on, so your wetness is spread copiously all over your thighs. You step into this bathtub, where I'm writing this letter from, and without a word, you lean over me and take me into your hot mouth. And you begin sucking me like your own life depends on it. You're hungry, so very hungry, and nothing can sate your appetite like my cock can. And before you realize what's happening, I turn you around and—"

"Oh, fuck this," I whispered, dropping the letter and pushing Edward on his back without any second thoughts. "I had no idea you wrote this stuff."

He smiled wide, obviously enjoying how hot and bothered his words made me.

"Oh, there's more where that came from, love."

"God, there is more?"

"So much more. And so much filthier too…"

I moaned at his promise, and he had no time to react, for I was already licking my way down his body, rushing to get to his imposing erection.

"Please, read the rest of the letter for me," I managed breathlessly and moved my lips in large circles on his balls. "Read it until you come in my mouth, Edward… I want to hear your voice."

It was his turn to groan, and the sound got deeper once I moved my mouth upwards, so that I could get his tip inside my mouth.

"You'll be the death of me," he let out, and I heard the recognizable sound of paper being unfurled. His free hand was already in my hair, guiding me further down his cock. "Take it all in and listen to me."

He didn't have to ask me twice.

I was already listening.

That's it for now ;).

What were your thoughts on this chapter? Did it bring back some nostalgia?

Would you like to read more BPOV outtakes?

Super-curious to find out! You all know how much I love reading and responding to your reviews.

Whatever you do, stay safe and happy!

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains one brief mention of rape. Proceed with care.