So this is my first Twilight fanfiction here. I sort of just wanted to get this first chapter out since I've have a bunch of ideas floating around and I wanted to get them out. I might change some things around and add in more stuff as I get more time to do so and have a more clear vision but this is the first chapter for right now.
This is an Alternate Universe unlike the one in Twilight for a couple reasons.
Vampire lore is different in this fanfic. They don't sparkle and they're not as hard as statues. I tried to make it different, but in no way am I saying that it's going to biologically make sense. How vampires operate will be revealed in the story but all I can say is that they won't be like normal Twilight vampires.
Edward is also a big change in this fanfic. In this reality he doesn't exactly hate being a vampire, and he's not so moody about it. He has his reasons for accepting the fact that he's a vampire and can't be a human. All of that will also be revealed as the story goes on.
Disclaimer ahead, there will be an eventual pregnancy so if you don't like that in Twilight fanfics, just stop reading here so you can save yourself the annoyance of dropping it later on down the line.
Also I don't want any art work or anything like that done for this.
STEPHENIE MEYER OWNS THE TWILIGHT UNIVERSE AND ALL OF THE CHARACTERS.
The young girl, who was clearly not of legal age to be in the bar, leaned closer and smiled. "So... how about it?"
Edward turned to face her, his expression blank. "Excuse me?"
Her tone grew a little sharper, tinged with annoyance. "Weren't you listening to what I was saying?"
Her voice grated on his heightened senses, almost like nails on a chalkboard, though he was careful not to betray his discomfort.
"Not particularly, no," Edward replied, his tone flat and unamused.
What was her name? He briefly considered plucking it from her thoughts but ultimately decided he didn't care enough to bother. Regardless, she seemed determined, her nervousness barely masked by a thin layer of bravado as she pressed on.
"Well, I was just asking if I could buy you a drink, and then, you know... maybe we could get to know each other?" Her voice wavered slightly as she spoke, the cracks in her confidence showing under his unyielding, scrutinizing stare.
Edward allowed the silence to linger just long enough to make her squirm before replying, "No, thank you."
The girl seemed baffled by his polite refusal and edged closer, her movement invading the personal space he valued so dearly. The audacity of humans was sometimes impressive, though rarely in ways he appreciated.
"Come on, don't be like that," she coaxed, attempting a sultry tone that landed far from its intended mark. "Can I see that ring you've got on your necklace?"
Her hand reached toward him, fingers stretching out to grasp the delicate chain around his neck. Edward's reflexes were instantaneous. His hand shot out, encircling her wrist with a grip that was firm but controlled. He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper that dripped menace.
"I'd rather take a stake to the heart."
The girl's face paled, her courage crumbling under his cold, piercing gaze. She yanked her hand free, her reaction a mixture of indignation and fear as she slapped him hard across the face before storming off. The sting of her palm didn't faze him in the slightest; he'd endured far worse.
Edward shrugged, indifferent. At least she hadn't managed to touch the ring—his mother's ring—which remained safely secured on its chain around his neck. He traced a finger over the smooth metal absently, a small comfort in a world that often felt empty.
Edward Masen had a secret. One that no one would ever believe.
He was a vampire.
A real-life vampire—the kind that drained humans of their blood, with superhuman strength and speed. But that was where the similarities between fact and fiction ended.
Garlic? Laughable. Crucifixes? Worthless. Silver and holy water? Equally ineffective. And, as he had just told that girl, a stake to the heart wouldn't do much damage either.
The very idea of fearing such things amused him. Fear itself had become an alien concept, one he hadn't felt in decades. Life as a vampire was many things, but frightening? Rarely. If anything, it was tedious.
When he was first turned, the thrill of his new existence had been intoxicating. The limitations of his human life fell away, replaced with boundless power and freedom. He could do as he pleased, unshackled from the constraints of his human responsibilities and obligations. But immortality came with its own price, and the centuries had dulled the allure. Loneliness crept in, persistent and unyielding.
He'd been offered companionship over the years—invites to join covens, small factions vampires formed for mutual benefit. But Edward had always declined. Covens meant leaders, and Edward had no interest in submitting to anyone's authority. Autonomy was his creed. Right or wrong, his decisions were his own, and he guarded that freedom fiercely.
Rising from his seat at the bar, Edward made his way to the exit, resigning himself to the fact that tonight would not yield a meal. It was no matter; he'd fed recently and wasn't yet driven by the gnawing hunger that could make a vampire reckless.
Initially, he'd hoped for a quick snack—a lowlife whose thoughts revealed deeds dark enough to justify their end. Reading minds made such choices almost laughably easy. At first, the ability had been overwhelming, a cacophony of voices that threatened to drive him mad. It was like a swarm of bees buzzing incessantly in his skull. Over time, he'd learned to muffle the noise, to tune out the background chatter and focus only on what he needed to hear.
The skill set him apart from most of his kind. While other vampires treated humans as mere food, he couldn't help but see them as individuals, each with their own fears, desires, and memories. Draining a victim's blood wasn't just an act of survival; it was an intimate invasion of their mind. He saw their terror, felt their sorrow, and glimpsed the faces of loved ones left behind. It was a burden he hadn't asked for but couldn't escape.
So, he hunted selectively, targeting those whose crimes outweighed the cost of their lives. Drug dealers, murderers, predators. It wasn't altruism—far from it. The practice was entirely self-serving, a way to avoid the crushing guilt that came with indiscriminate killing. Vampires were selfish by nature, and in that, Edward was no different.
The night air was cool as he stepped outside, his senses alert to the sounds and smells of the city. He adjusted the collar of his coat and began walking, his stride unhurried but purposeful. There would be other nights, other opportunities to feed.
The thoughts struck him unexpectedly, a tidal wave of sadism and malice so overwhelming it almost made him falter mid-step. The sheer brutality bleeding through their minds was nauseating. A group of men, crude and vile, were pursuing a frantic young woman who ran as though her very life depended on it—and for good reason. Their intentions were as dark as their twisted thoughts revealed.
Edward was no hero. He had never aspired to be one. He was a vampire—a killer—but he was also a man. And no man with even a shred of decency could allow such creatures to carry out the horrors they envisioned.
Without hesitation, he sprang into action.
It was strange. The men's thoughts were deafeningly clear, their vile plans and past atrocities replaying like a sickening montage in his mind. Yet, the young woman they chased was silent—a void. He could see her clearly in their thoughts: long, dark hair flying wildly as she ran, terror etched into every movement. But there was nothing from her—no thoughts, no inner cries of fear, nothing.
Perhaps she was too frightened, her mind reduced to primal instinct as she fled for her life. Whatever the cause, Edward didn't dwell on it. He focused instead on closing the two-mile gap between them, a distance he covered effortlessly in half a minute.
"Come on, sweetheart, there's no need to run," the ring leader, a man named Lonnie, crooned, his voice laced with sickly mockery.
"You got nowhere else to go," one of his lackeys added, chuckling with sinister glee.
Edward's stomach churned in disgust as their thoughts betrayed a history of depravity—heinous crimes against other women, each memory more vile than the last. He vowed silently that these men would not escape.
"And what do we have here?" Edward's voice cut through the night like a blade, making his presence known.
The men froze, startled by the sudden interruption. They turned to face him, and their initial shock melted into smug relief when they saw what appeared to be just one unarmed young man.
"Who the fuck are you?" one of Lonnie's lackeys barked, his bravado masking a flicker of unease.
"Hey, tough guy," Lonnie said, laughing dismissively. "Get lost before you end up in something you don't wanna be a part of."
Edward stepped closer, his movements unnervingly slow and deliberate. There was a predatory grace to him that set every nerve in their bodies on edge.
"I'm warning you," Lonnie snarled, pulling a knife from his belt.
Before the man could react, Edward moved with inhuman speed, snatching the blade from his hand as if plucking a leaf from the air. He held it up, inspecting it with feigned curiosity.
"This," Edward said in a voice as cold as ice, "is what you were planning to use on her?"
Lonnie's confidence crumbled. "H-How…" he stammered, his eyes wide with terror. "How did you do that?"
"Lonnie, is it?" Edward's calm use of his name sent shivers down their spines.
"What are you, man? A cop?" another lackey asked, his voice cracking.
Edward chuckled darkly, the sound devoid of humor. "Oh, I'm much worse."
Their fear was palpable now, thick and cloying in the air.
"You're wanted in several states for crimes so vile, the devil himself would blush. If the cops had found you tonight, you might've had a chance. But you didn't get the cops. You got me."
Panic overtook them, paralyzing them in place.
"Here's what's going to happen," Edward said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "You're going to run. Run far away from this young woman. Run as though your lives depend on it. Because they do. And don't bother hiding. I will find you. No matter where you go, I'll be there."
They didn't wait for further clarification. Scrambling drunkenly, the three men bolted into the darkness. Their stumbling, panicked retreat was almost pitiful to watch.
Edward let them go—for now. He preferred to give his prey a head start. The chase, after all, was often more enjoyable than the catch.
As he turned to pursue them, a gentle tug on the back of his coat stopped him. He hadn't expected the young woman to linger, let alone approach him. He had no intention of interacting with her. Saving her wasn't about recognition or gratitude. It was simply the right thing to do.
"T-Thank you," she said, her voice trembling with both fear and relief.
"It was no problem," Edward replied without turning, his tone dismissive. He stepped forward, ready to begin his hunt.
"You saved me…" she whispered again, her voice breaking.
"I did what anyone else would've done," he said, though he knew it wasn't true.
"I was so scared, and… and…" Her words faltered, and he could sense the tears welling in her eyes, the sobs threatening to spill over.
Edward hesitated, torn between annoyance and an uncharacteristic urge to comfort her. When he finally turned to face her, the sight that met him was more shocking than anything he had encountered in his long, immortal existence.
Her face.
It was pale—undoubtedly from the ordeal—but hauntingly familiar. A heart-shaped face framed by soft, long dark waves of hair. Pouty lips, slightly too full for her delicate features. A small, button nose dusted with freckles. And her eyes…
Her eyes were pools of molten chocolate, brimming with warmth and vulnerability. They were unlike anything he had seen in decades.
Except he had seen them before.
Eighty-eight years ago, in 1918, those eyes and that face belonged to the woman he had been arranged to spend the rest of his human life with.