@amaeranthos asked: EMMETT AND ROSALIE
( the original prompt was five times kiss; instead, it's five cars. there's a point here, trust me ).
i. the 'she-devil' aka the 1948 ford super deluxe: rosalie's hands grip the steering wheel tight as she turns down the barely paved road, nearly skirting across dirt and pebbles as her freshly manicured foot dares to step further on the gas. her father, the real one, would only let her drive down the street of their neighborhood at most in his car to amuse her; always telling her that she needed to be safe and slow. she had hated it then. but now? she would give anything to be in the same room as him again. carlisle, the other father, had admittedly been more accommodating, even when he knew she drove out further than the safety of their home until finally giving his blessing for her to leave and not look back unless she wanted to. still, rosalie wasn't naive. she still played her part as a young, innocent black woman alone in the south and was smart about where she choose to joyride, choosing empty back streets that didn't get much traffic the deeper she got into the mountainous woods.
although the crimson red ford she had picked out for herself was hard not to notice, always drawing attention towards her whenever she pulled into town. it was the perfect fit for a devil's spawn.
as she continues her late night drive, rosalie suddenly feels her body tense - the knuckles of her fist growing red the more her bands bent the steering wheel. the car jerks to an abrupt halt due to her foot slamming on the brake, her honey eyes darting wildly across the road as every fiber of her being screams at her to turn away and don’t look back - to ignore the lingering scent she smells. rose sits there, frozen as the smell of fresh human blood burns at her nose and nearly drives her mad with hunger.
then it hits her. she hasn't eaten today.
carefully, the young woman pulls onto the side of the ride before shutting off the engine, its roar replaced by the sound of rustling tree leaves, owls, and various insects. rosalie steps into the cool, night air before slamming her car door shut, her nose crinkling at the outdoor smell as she closes her eyes, concentrating. it's hard filtering out all of the noise, her ears straining while she tries to focus on what she was looking for and - there! rasp breathing, a slowing heart beat...and a roar of a large beast. her head unnaturally whips to the right towards the sound and she's gone.
nothing good could be found in these mountains yet she races through them anyway, letting her senses guide her forward until she finally reaches what she seeks. it wasn’t unusual to stumble upon remnants of a camping trip gone wrong while out hunting; what was rare, however, was for the human to not only still be alive but have the attacker, large and monstrous, still looming over them. there's a part of rosalie that can’t help but be secretly annoyed that it just had to maul someone before it became dinner for her. she whistles harshly in order to redirect its attention and it works. the black bear rises on its hind legs once it spots her, bearing its fangs and letting out a threatening roar causing her to bear her own in return.
the two beast circle each other in the camp clearing until the bear charges in her direction, nearly stomping over the dying man in the process.
rosalie can sense its strength but thankfully she’s much quicker, already leaping onto its back before it can even fully swipe a paw at her. the vampire's thighs wrap around its neck effortlessly, an audible 'SNAP' heard when she jerks her legs left with a hard twist. the bear slowly falls limp until it collapses onto the grass, leaving her panting from both the adrenaline and trying to resist the temptation that laid bleeding out a few feet away from her. her sharp nails dig into the bear's fur desperately and she needed to feed before she did something terrible - something she would regret. gradually her mouth begins to widen, the bones of her jaw stretching to an inhuman degree as she lowers herself to nearly cover its nape entirely.
the newborn's fangs glisten beautifully in the night and her bare, heaving shoulders shimmer like diamonds due to the moonlight illuminating the wrecked clearing. it was a both serene and horrifying sight, the woman looking both ethereal and demonic with eyes crazed with hunger right as she was about to bite do-
rosalie's head snaps up as a single word breaks the silence of the night. her eyes meet the soft, brown eyes of the stranger who stares straight at her despite being on the very edge of death. her face is frozen, both in fear and confusion, while she watches cautiously as he continues to deliriously mumble to himself on the ground. a cry for his momma. then a desperate plea to a sibling he couldn't fully choke out the name of. e all of this while staring at her for salvation. in a blink, she's kneeling closer to him - inspecting his face as the moon's light frames her head with a halo while she looks down at him.
❛ i...i can't help you. ’
her voice is quiet as she speaks to him, tender and sympathetic in its tone. he tries to speak but only chokes on his own blood, his unfocused eyes fluttering up at her like he knows her words are a lie. a small part of her wonders if she looked like this when carlisle had found her: frail and pathetic but also desperate and scared. had she begged for her life and then resented him for it? guilt itches at her throat at the thought or was it just the hunger? rose raises a hand to cover her nose, a futile attempt to stave off her own bloodlust while her mind struggles on what to do. was it better to kill him and end his suffering? or just leave him here and run away?
angel. why had he called her that? the word has her blinking back non-existent tears, the self-loathing she had for herself not letting her subsiding for a moment before she buries her sense of doubt. before she can change her mind, rosalie's already moving to lift the stranger onto her back before she dashes her way south to georgia where she last knew the cullens to be. rosalie doesn’t know if he’ll want this life. a selfish part of her prays that he’ll never look at her with the spite and hatred that she had put upon carlislie on her worst days.
ii. the 'lady' aka the 1957 porsche 356 speedster: it was a quiet sunday with half of the coven thankfully gone. esme was away at church and edward, ever the momma's boy, had decided to accompany her. rosalie still could never tell if the church going was an act for esme in order to help keep up the illusion of normalcy for the family or if the woman truly stilled believed. as for rosalie herself? she never dared stepped into a church since the day she had 'died', secretly afraid that she would burst into a ball of flame or be struck down on the spot even after being told that many of the religious myths around their kind was untrue. the point was proven by esme always returning home chipper and perfectly intact in her sunday best. the worst part was the annoying, stupid smirk edward would wear on his face, a clear sign that he knew about her secret, irrational fear. ugh.
alice and jasper were away for the weekend too - something about helping jasper with his 'cravings'. she mostly tuned it out when carlisle had explained it all, not really caring what the recent additions of their so-called family did with their time. that left only her, carlisle and...emmett. it was actually somewhat surprising that the latter was nowhere to be seen, he had an odd habit of following her around like a lost puppy on days like th- why am i even thinking about him?! rosalie snipes to herself, huffing and refocusing her attention on the 'mysteriously' broken fuel pump that was the current source of her frustration this morning. fucking edward.
❛ i swear, ms. hale. ’ a familiar southern drawl interrupts her violent thoughts towards her younger brother. speak of the devil. ❛ it's a beautiful day out and here you are under a hood of a car. ’
rosalie lifts her head from under the car hood to scowl at him, that warm, wide tooth grin of his instantly greeting her while his eyes twinkle like he's in on a joke she hasn't quite gotten yet. ❛ i reckon you like those cars more than us people. ’ he stretches out his hand, politely handing her the missing part she had spent all morning trying to find. she doesn't bother to press him on how he found this, simply crossing her arms as he walks away with a wave and boisterous laugh.
always one to have the last word, rosalie speaks her next words in a harsh, low whisper - but not low enough to escape the ear of another vampire. ❛ why wouldn't i? cars don't disappoint you - people do. ’
iii. the 'stallion' aka the 1970 chevelle ss: her head is buzzing, her throat feels as if it’s on fire, and her ability to keep up this family facade had waned a long fucking time ago. while she’s busy fighting against her own trembling hands as she searches for her keys, edward calls after her ⎯ deliberately ignoring the string of expletives and insults she mentally throws his way in the process. he’s urging her to calm down, to get out of the car - to at least wait for carlisle to return home if she doesn’t want to talk to any of them. as he speaks, honey-colored eyes briefly glance up to see esme standing nervously by the front door in her rearview mirror. their so-called mom, typically so calm and composed, radiates worry and panic as edward continues to do most of the talking. rosalie knows how much the woman disliked hostility and strife; she knows exactly why she dislikes it ⎯ yet rosalie screamed at her all the same when esme tried to stop her from leaving.
she would regret it later. she always did.
rosalie knows that somewhere, alice and jasper are also watching, listening, and she stubbornly resists whatever fucking weird bullshit jasper does to make people 'calm'. after multiple attempts, rose finally succeeds at shoving her car key into the ignition before shifting her chevelle ss into drive. she doesn’t look back as she slams on the gas and speeds away; she doesn’t know where she’s going, just determined to get away from this house - from this life she didn’t ask for - rather than reaching a specific destination. she drives for hours, days even, speeding through empty backroads until the car begins to finally crawl to a stop. she can only sit here alone, her hands tightening around the steering wheel while trying to keep herself from screaming. she doesn’t react when the passenger door opens hours later and another slides in; she had smelled him, as well as the canister of gas he was carrying, hours ago. they sit in silence before she finally decides to speak. ❛ i don’t need your help.’
rosalie wished she could’ve told carlisle those same words the night he had found her. maybe she wouldn't be frozen in this hell.
❛ i know you don’t.’ the voice responds easily, calmly - that southern drawl of his never wavering. she can see emmett looking out the window from the corner of her eye, a subtle grin growing on his face as if again, he's still in on some secret she hasn’t figured out yet. ❛ i wanted to help anyway.’
iv. the 'savannah' aka the 1974 ford bronco: after seven decades of living, three therapists, and countless self-help books, rosalie hale was finally beginning to realize that she didn't like change. a fear of the unknown had sent her packing up a mismatch of clothes and booking a frantic flight to italy at the tail end of the 70s without a world to her family. it's where she would spend the next eight years, bouncing around from city to city while she added another degree to her already impressively long resume. during her travels rose eventually reached out to carlisle to at least let him know her current whereabouts; the concern for her was evident in his voice but he always stuck true to letting her make her own decisions no matter where it led. she didn't tell him she missed him when they talked.
in truth, she misses all of them and she stews in her loneliness about it for another year. thinking of all them during a late night in a french villa she had bought for herself a few months prior. she misses shopping and bickering over latest fashion trends with her sister, talking for hours about anything and everything with her mother as they braided each others hair as well as quipping and sparring with her brothers. most of all, she missed him - even if he's exactly why she ran away.
fireworks shower the sky with a variety of colors, rose sighing wistfully as she tries to relax and enjoy the show. she can feel the heat of emmett's arm brushing against hers while they sat together on the hood of his car, a honey and cream ford bronco she had drove down to visit him in. she doesn't admit that it's a gift when she threw the keys into his hands or how the color instantly reminded her of his eyes when he was human. they sit and silence together before its broken, ❛ so while i've been traveling, i've been thinking.’
rosalie hums softly in acknowledgement but keeps her eyes on the beach, listening intently. everyone had their moment of leaving the 'nest' after they turned; emmett's had only taken longer than the rest of them. she visited from time to time, claiming that he kept annoying her about coming to see him when asked about it. it wasn't entirely the truth - but no one in the family ever pressed back on her words either. ❛ about what i want... about my feelings.’ he continues.
❛ and what's that? ’ rose hates how tight her throat feels when she responds, how she blinks back venom in her eyes and how her nails dig into the paint of the car with anxiety. her question is answered with silence until she flinches at his sudden touch on her cheek, snapping her neck towards him in surprise.
for most of the time she's known him, emmett's been an open book. you know what he feels just by looking at him. he was always the type to say what he meant. tonight's no different as he stares at her like he did all those years ago after he first woke up from his transformation: like she's heaven-sent. it terrified her then and it still terrifies her now.
❛ i...can't. i just...can't. ’ rosalie hates feeling weak - vulnerable. powerless. and there was nothing more powerless than another person holding her heart and shattering it. rose instinctively yanks herself away from him - but not missing the small flash of hurt across his face as she does so. before she can even process what she's doing, she's sliding off the car and running away as far away from him as possible...
the memory passes and rosalie finds herself still staring down at a notepad with various numbers neatly written in order - some of them crossed out once they became out of date. a therapist once suggested that she displayed avoidant tendencies - an observation she passionately rejected at the time...but was beginning to feel like had merit after another decade or two of self-reflection. she briefly glances up at herself in the mirror while she sits at her vanity, staring back at the girl still stuck in a moment, before rolling her eyes at herself and reaching for the phone receiver. anxiously, she dials one of the numbers and is nearly about to hang up in fear before it picks up on the second ring.
❛ hey rosalie. ’ rose can see the instant smile that blossoms across her face upon hearing his voice in the mirror and blushes. his accent has been slightly lost to time after all these years but she still enjoys the familiar twang that could be heard when he says her name.
❛ hi emmett. ’ she giggles back into the receiver, too happy to be peeved that alice the meddler probably hinted at her decision to call.
v. the 'ace' aka the 1970 ford mustang boss 429: cars, like people, each have personality or 'traits’ to them. some are too noisy or unreliable under stress. she disliked those with overt flashiness and no ounce of substance. sturdiness and consistency was key but not if style was compromised for the sake of it - rosalie hale did not do bland. jasper would often tease her about it whenever they visited a dealership together; mostly because she typically left unsatisfied by their meager selection. rose didn’t consider herself 'picky’, she simply knew what she deserved: the absolute best. she wanted a car that had it all: efficiency, beauty, smooth control, and most importantly, power. so similar to what people often do, she waited patiently for the ‘one’...except it just so happened to be a car rather than a person.
the ‘one’ for her had been a ford mustang, a 1970 boss 429 model to be it exact. it was her favorite model but they were absolutely rare beauties, only five hundred of them made during their production year. few things in life could make her of all people do a double take but the first time her eyes laid upon one, rosalie knew she had to have it in her collection. an embarrassing amount of years had been spent trying to find one up for auction and there were times when she felt like giving up in her search...until now. after thirty years of patiently waiting, rosalie had finally found someone willing to sell via a small enthusiast board online she had joined at the end of the millennium.
the internet was still such a strange concept to her but she was growing more and more in love with it every day - although she could truly do without the dial-up sounds. after the full transfer of ownership, rosalie did a third thorough inspection of the car to see what upgrades and fixes it would need in the future. regardless of whether emmett actually cared about these types of cars or not, he was faithfully listening to her explain every detail: from the type of car the engine would need to be replaced with for racing to the glorious white vinyl that made up the car’s reupholstered interior.
❛ i wish to go for a ride. ’ rosalie states as she drops the keys for the newly bought boss in his hands. ❛ you drive. ’
rose rarely let anyone drive cars in her collection - especially a new addition. if surprised by the decision, emmett didn’t make a show out of it.
an excited, mischievous grin immediately washes over her face once the beautiful purr of the engine cranks up. emmett just rolls his eyes with a laugh before shifting the car into drive and turning out of the cullen's driveway. she fiddles with the radio for awhile before settling on a station she knows they both like, propping her arm against the window after so she can enjoy the full blast of the wind through her hair. minutes turn into hours as they ride together and rosalie finds herself reflecting on a random memory from her past.
when she was just on the cusp of womanhood, still innocent and wide-eyed about love and her dreams for herself, she remembers her mother sitting her down once. most of the conversation was lost to time due a young, impressionable girl who thought she knew everything drowning out wisdom from someone she took for granted. but she does remember something specific her mother said to her that day: remember that love is an action word rosie.
she had never really thought about it much after, just writing it off as her mother nagging her about the future and skipping off to go about her day. years later with royce, rosalie had thought love to be in the form of lavish gifts and being paraded around town like a trophy. she had learned in the cruelest way that it wasn't.
❛ emmett. ’ rosalie begins quietly, turning her head slightly to inspect him with a furrowed brow. he was sitting back casually while he steered with one hand, fingers drumming absentmindedly to the beat of whatever song was playing on the radio. he smelt like vanilla and bourbon, the colors of autumn complimenting the plaid shirt he wore today. he looked handsome - he always did. ❛ i think i love you. ’
she turns back to her window once the words are said, her cloudy eyes remaining focused on the passing scenery as she fights the urge to dry heave or do something else overly dramatic. emmett's patient, letting his silence speak for itself before she feels his right hand tenderly embrace her left, squeezing it softly in quiet understanding. more time passes before she finally feels okay enough to face him again....just to see that trademark grin on his face as his eyes remain on the road. ❛ c'mon rose, you're just now figuring that out? ’
