#i love my idiot French men in Milan

[kentos-filmcamera]

stargirl interlude (jean kirstein x fem!reader)

I just want to see you shine 'cause I know you are a star, girl

pairing: french supermodel!jean kirstein x fem supermodel!reader summary: Jean has been modeling in the high ranks for years now. It gives good money, but all that has been surging lately has been bad; worthless people, rude directors and so much more. Until you come along, but getting you to finally notice his advances was so much harder than he ever thought it would be. wc: 4.3k warnings: nsfw (MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI), TW: the french/france, both you and Jean are supermodels, afab reader, she/her pronouns, idiots to lovers, very brief mention of the ED problem in the modeling industry, reader is painfully oblivious, kitchen sex, mentions of alcohol, smoking, hickies (markings), fingering, oral (m! receiving), praise, petnames (pretty girl, star, baby girl, my girl) ,some humor sprinkled in, Jean is a fucking idiot in love who would take a bullet for you, pussydrunk!Jean

inspired by: stargirl interlude - the weeknd, lana del rey

A/N: if you didn't know, jean boy here is my sidepiece. my sneaky link. nanami is jealous as i'm typing this. but anyways, happy jean day everyone! enjoy this filth >:) @cirigiri here's the fic babe. (edit: TUMBLR YOU MF WHY YOU PLAYING WITH ME YO WHY TF DID YOU MESS UP THAT SHIT HOURS AFTER I HAD PUBLISHED IT)

“Can we talk?”

Jean Kirstein has worked in the fashion industry for around three years, has made a name for himself in the time being; his attitude, his cocky smile, his height and built, and his versatility that allowed him to adapt to different designers’ styles of the runway; Jacquemus’ lightness and minimalism, Versace’s aggressiveness and the specific instructions for Moschino, to name a few. But over the years, he kept seeing frivolous things. Cold stares his way, women cutting weight, men cutting weight and muscle, scolded by their superiors for something they simply couldn’t control. He adored his job… but it was too much sometimes. Unbearable, even.

Jean was born in a glamorous environment. He, himself, and his family weren't glamorous. But he made himself surrounded by fashion and modeling, bouncing around New York and Paris, where his family was originally from. He had seen countless fashion weeks, eccentric people decorating the streets, strutting down the irregular, rundown pavement as if they were actually getting paid for it. His mom enjoyed everything with shiny eyes and turned to him and said ‘that could be you!’. This wasn’t the dream, nor the destiny his mom had sold to him.

Until he met you.

Word had spread around Milan of a rookie that had gotten herself booked for Versace fall/winter twenty-two as one of her first gigs. He heard all sorts of things, how you were unique, beautiful, ugly, fat, disgusting, attractive, eye-catching, an eyesore, just to mention a few. Everything that could be mentioned about someone, was said about you. But nothing could have prepared him for when he first saw you. He worked around models, but you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen. You belonged on the cover of every single magazine in the world. You deserved to be opening that show, share that fucking spotlight with one of the Hadids, who looked like average women next to you. Hell, he should share the spotlight with you, his thin frame towering over yours.

You sat poised in your makeup chair, lightly chatting with the girl next to you. Even over all the makeup, he could see you were nervous, by the way your cheeks tightened when you smiled. The light fidget on your hand gave it away too, your thumbs fighting each other at a steady, synchronized pace. He found it odd that nobody offered you a cigarette, but most models were sober this time of year to endure the hardships of rehearsing and walking under the blinding lights of the runway that dawned upon them.

As the girl got called to her makeup, you sat there, looking around at everyone else getting ready. You caught his eye, and he didn’t notice soon enough to look away, but you waved at him with a tiny smile, before guiding your attention to somewhere else.

“You’ve been drooling for like five hours, go talk to her” Connie whispered to him on the way to the makeup station. Jean jolted and whipped his head towards his best friend, who just winked and headed off behind some curtains. Jean looked back at you, and you were still sitting there, alone. Taking a deep breath, he decided to seize his chances before anyone else took interest in you.

“Hi!” You waved, and he swore he was going to faint. He wanted to pinch himself awake as a wave of warmness suddenly invaded his system. And he understood, without not even knowing you much. You weren’t frivolous, you were just happy to be there.

“Hey” He finally answered, his smile growing by the second. “I’m Jean Kirstein”

“Oh, I know!” You giggled “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, really” You leaned your head to the side and smiled brightly.

For a second, the world in his eyes froze, and it was just your laughter echoing, your smile lighting up the room, and your appearance chiseled by the gods themselves.

“Likewise” He winked and kissed the back of your hand.

It took him what seemed to be light-years of speaking to you to figure out one thing; he was never going to figure you out. You were an enigma. A sweet dilemma that drew a poor philosopher in and stuck with him until his death bed, where he realized the only thing he knew about it was that he shouldn’t even have tried figuring you out. But that massive unit of time had only been a few months. Sitting together on planes, exploring the cities together with his guidance, shopping together, going out for meals, holding hands. Suddenly, you became the ‘it couple’, the couple every teenage girl wanted her and her future boyfriend to look like walking down the street.

But the truth was, you weren’t even a couple! There were no physical affections. At all. It was driving him insane. He couldn’t hold you while you cried your frustrations out, just pat your back and soothe you with a phrase that now only belonged to you ‘Don’t cry, you’re a star, my girl’. It was more than obvious he couldn’t kiss you and cup your beautiful face in his soft hands. You went to get matching manicures often. He posed with you for your Instagram and didn’t when you took candids of him. You even made it as a couple to Vanity Fair’s thirty under thirty.

You had known each other for a year already, and if it was even possible, you were more oblivious now. And he was just as head over heels, if not more than he was at the beginning. It was so frustrating, he involuntarily started pushing you away. Didn’t sit with you while waiting for a show, and made his way to castings on Uber or on a ride that you weren’t giving.

“I don’t know what I did wrong!” You sobbed to your best friend on the phone. Instead of seeing each other five or six times a week, they were down to only two. You felt as if your soul was being crushed and stripped away from your body.

“I think…” Your friend said cautiously “He’s in love with you. But since apparently, you don’t reciprocate his feelings, he’s moved on”

“Huh?” You whispered back, sitting up and staring at the faint view of the Eiffel Tower from your apartment window. You were in Paris for a few days for some fittings. Jean offered his apartment for you to stay in, but it wasn’t as appealing since he wasn’t around.

“You’re an idiot. Think about it, or you’ll lose him” Your friend gave you an ultimatum before the line went dead.

Oh fuck. They were right; Jean was in love with you. And you… were in love with him too. But you also weren’t the smartest. How you always wanted to be around him, even when you wanted other people to be left alone, your involuntary cuddling when you fell asleep next to him, how anything he said bubbled a smile out of your tummy, how he could soothe and dry your tears with simple words. He did what many couldn’t even dream of doing since you were… complicated, to say the least. But even then, Jean had you all figured out already.

And there you found yourself, your finger shivering as it pressed on Jean’s contact.

“Hello?” You heard on the other line that there was some background noise.

You took a deep inhale “Can we talk?”

Jean looked around, watching as his friends drank their dignity away as if he wasn’t just doing the same. In the lack of an answer, your mind scrambled all over the place, trying to make it up “I-I mean, if you’re not busy or anything”

“I’ll be there in an hour tops, okay?” By your tone, he was instantly concerned. But he had to give himself more credit, not run back to you as soon as he heard a whine coming from that pretty little mouth he loved so much. He also had to get sober as soon as possible, he didn’t want you to feel bad that he went to a dinner party without you. You also sounded serious… and a bit queasy.

“Okay…” You replied, a voice so small he looked away from his phone to make sure he was speaking to the right person. Before he could ask if anything was wrong, you hung up.

You just sat there on your bed, eyes empty staring at the wall in front of you. After a while, you shook your head and slipped out of bed, retracting your feet back into bed as the cold floor sent a negative reaction that had you feeling around for your slippers. Finally stepping out of the comfort of the duvet, you pick your hair back and yawning. You were still tired even though you were just laying down in bed, but the nerves ran you over like a truck and left you flat on the ground. You served yourself a glass of water, trying to wash over the up-and-coming nausea wave. You still went ahead and prepared some spicy noodles, sitting on the marble kitchen island, the cold surface producing shivers all over your bare legs.

Minutes seemed eternal when you waited for him. You paced around the house, washed your dishes, brushed your teeth, and only resorted to sit by the windowsill with a candle scenting the whole apartment as you waited for who you considered your best friend until half an hour ago.

Jean panted, forcing the keys into the keyhole with shaky hands. He was sobered up slightly, but still was very late. Two hours later than what he said, in fact. That wasn’t an issue for him, even as a model, his daily routine wasn’t as extensive as yours, and you had the Vanity Fair party the next day. He was greeted by the soft aroma of your favorite candle, which he enjoyed as much as you did. He closed the door carefully, in case you were asleep. He squinted at the sound of steps, a soft blow, and the burnt scent of a candle after being turned off filled the air.

He called out for you quietly, looking around for any object to defend himself in case of anything.

“In the kitchen!” You called back, and the tension of an intruder relieved itself, but the expectation of whatever you were about to tell him, proved itself to be ten times worse. He took a deep inhale, feeling his chest inflate before it started to deflate as he walked towards the kitchen. You were sitting on the marble island once more, wearing an oversized hoodie and some old yoga shorts. But he still found you to be the prettiest sight in the world.

“Hey…” He said with a rare nervous smile, sitting down on one of the stools. “What’s up? Is everything okay?”

“Do you like me?”

Any alcohol drained out of his system the second he suffered the dejavú. Once again, while looking directly at your face, Jean’s world froze. But it was still foreign from the last time, your face didn’t carry your dashing smile, and you looked visibly tired, or… concerned? Were you concerned about his answer? Your friendship. Involuntarily, he stood up, a sour taste on his mind, and turned to face the nearest window; the one above the sink. If you called out to him, he wouldn’t be able to hear you, the loud erratic thumping of his heart overshadowing any other noise. He had imagined this moment a thousand times, how he finally revealed his intentions with you and you were so overjoyed, he even pictured himself on one knee. But his imagination didn’t reach him, coming back to his apartment, tipsy, and you cornering him in the kitchen at three in the morning wasn’t one of the ways he had pictured it.

“No.” He replied after a few moments of silence. You sat up straight and took a deep breath in, clearing your throat, your heart dropping to the underworld. You opened your mouth to say something, but he turned his head back to partially face you. “I’m in love with you. I thought I made it clear enough”

His words slapped you in the face. “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot” You blurted out. He turned around and reached out to comfort you. He was too good. “I like you too. But I never imagined you liked me back until someone pointed it out to me” You didn’t even dare to look at him.

Jean still reached out to you like a lifeline, extending his arms to cup your face in his hands. Took all his chances and kissed you. His eyes were closed more in fear rather than anything else. Until you kissed him back, slow and steady. All his thoughts melted as your lips moved against his in perfect harmony. All his insecurities, problems, and questions evaporated. He swore he was almost going to collapse into your arms.

You broke away, chest rising and falling. “I don’t want to lose you” You sighed, and Jean just smiled, his tender touch on your back soothing you.

“You’re never going to”

He leaned in, your hands resting on his cheeks as you deepened the kiss, a moan leaving your lips as squeezed your ass. “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought of doing things like this with you” He sighed, his hands traveling inside your hoodie. Oh, how many nights had Jean Kirstein thought of you in the most lustful ways, a tight grip on his cock and a hand over his mouth to cover the sounds his mouth produced as a reaction to the images his mind created.

“Why don’t we make them true, then?” Your voice now had a certain husk that caught him off guard, but only sent blood rushing down his body. He crashed his lips into yours, the surprise making you groan slightly. He bit your bottom lip, tugging on it lightly before lowering himself to kiss your neck. “Hm, feels so good– but, Jean” You stumbled between moans. “We have the party tomorrow”

“Let your makeup artist have a run for their money” He whispered against your neck, electrifying goosebumps running down the area. You sighed into his lips as he kissed and suckled on different spots, your hands holding firmly onto his back, legs wrapped around his waist. He broke away and tugged on the hoodie, giving you pleading eyes. You nodded and helped him take off the garment.

He had seen your naked torso multiple times, but each one just made him just want him more. “You’re the most beautiful woman on this planet” He finally admitted to you, his hands kneading your breast as evened out the darker spots around your neck. You moaned in response, your fingers raking and tugging through the length down his nape.

A sudden spurt of boldness itched your hand, guiding itself to grip the growing bulge on his skinny jeans. Jean ripped himself away from you, and removed his jacket, throwing it somewhere in the room, and you took the opportunity to remove his shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it somewhere else. You kissed him again, breathing in Le Labo’s Santal 33 cologne, the woody leather accents clouding your mind. As you slipped off your yoga pants you didn’t realize how desperate you were for this. For anything with him. Your body had awakened a hidden desire, so deep within you, that you didn’t even know you had it. Against your complaints, he broke a millimeter away from your lips, setting aside everything inside his pockets by the sink, except for a golden packaged rubber.

‘Oh, so you’re horseface’s new friend!” A tall guy with his hair picked back greeted you.

“Huh?” You leaned your head to the side. Was he talking about Jean?

The man seemed drawn aback by your reaction “You haven’t?… Oooh” He nodded, crossing his arms “You’ll figure it out eventually”

He set the large condom next to both of you and plunged in and kissed you, just before you connected the dots. Oh shit!

“Hey” Jean called out for you “Everything okay?” He searched for your eyes, glimmering with lust and excitement.

“More than okay” You nodded, and kissed his cheek, your hand traveling down his softly toned abs, your finger teasingly playing the hand of his boxers.

“C’mon baby girl, don’t tease me like that” He whined. The power you had over him was something he couldn’t really explain. But he would do anything to feel your warm hand on his cock, pumping it to empty all the sticky white goodness inside your mouth. You winked and slipped a hand inside his black boxers, the precum stain you identified with touch surprising you. As you circled your thumb around the tip, you heard Jean’s breathing hitch. He was putty under your touch, and you had barely started doing something— no, anything to him. You started to jerk him off a bit, his hips thrusting forward for more friction as his hands dug onto your hips. He was so needy, that he felt embarrassed enough to hide his face in the crook of your neck.

“Ah, ‘wanna fuck you so bad” Jean muttered, the pace on your hand quickened, breathing in upon the heated contact of his fingertips rising up your inner thigh to your clothed cunt. “I really want to make this pussy mine” His thumb pressed against your clit, the sudden pressure and pleasure making you squeal. He started rubbing in a circling motion, the fabric between his touch was making you frustrated. You wanted more. You needed more.

“Please fuck me” You sighed, not tolerating the wait as much as you wanted to.

“Let me prep you first, ‘mkay? I don’t ‘wanna hurt you” He kissed your forehead, slipping the panties off. He threw them somewhere, and they landed on the kitchen lamp, making you both burst down laughing. It faded out as you really took some time to look at each other. His hair was all over the place, and his lips were a bit puffy from all the kissing and tugging between the two of you. Nevertheless, he looked ecstatic. You chuckled as he looked at you, hypnotized, and reached out to caress your cheeks, his thumb tracing out every curve of your body.

“You’re amazing” Jean sighed, his thumb circling around your needy clit. You closed your eyes and threw your head back, allowing yourself to be completely taken care of. It made him smile, really, how much you trusted him. He teased your entrance with his finger, and the second he gained the approving nod, his ministrations had you mewling loudly. In the list of things you thought about him, the fact he was so good at fingering wasn’t on your list. Your mind sometimes wondered about his sexual abilities but never reached any conclusions.

“So great for me” Jean praised you with a forehead kiss as he added a second finger, your back hitting the hard surface and instantly arching up. “I wish you could look at yourself right now, making a mess on the countertop, taking my fingers so well”

“Ah, Jean, so good” You breathed out, looking up at him with glossy eyes. “Can I cum?”

“Who am I to deny my sweet girl anything?“ He smiled, leaning in to kiss you sweetly “You think we can try another one?”

You weighed the options in your head “Let’s try, please be careful” You muttered, and propped yourself up with your forearms in expectation. He was so careful, that barely any strong difference that might make you want to back up was felt, and with the pace he resumed, you felt yourself melting back down into the countertop, moaning and panting. Without any warning at all, your high hit you like a truck, squeezing around the long digits stretching out your swollen cunt. For a second, Jean thought he was going to cum too, just by the angle he had you in.

“You okay sweetheart? Shall we stop here?” He said, helping you sit back up, noticing you were holding your back.

You shook your head. “The island absolutely destroyed my back. Can we… try another position?” You were as honest as you could with him.

“Whatever my girl wants” He smiled, and leaned down slightly to kiss you so sweetly, his comforting lips making you forget about the pain in your back. Still not breaking away from the kiss, you extended your arm out and blindly patted the table, searching for the condom. You took the wrapper in your hands and opened it, tossing it to the ground. Holding the condom in one hand and pulling his boxers down with the other, a hum came out of his lips as he was released from the discomfort the tight material of his underwear brought him. You gave him long, strong strokes, finally confirming the theory you had earlier: he didn’t have a horse face in the slightest. It wasn’t surprising his cock was almost shaven clean, but by its length and girth, it was almost a third leg. How did he hide it under the tightest pants in history that designers liked to fit his skinny legs in?

You wondered before you slipped in the condom. He broke away to observe your movements, but you never broke eye contact. Your challenging eyes made him feel both small, and at home.

“Turn around, pretty girl,” He rasped softly, bending you down a little as you obliged to his command.

“Just— be careful, okay?” You looked back at him, brows slightly furrowed in. He kissed your shoulder and massaged your tummy.

“Of course. You guide me though, tell me how you feel, please” He positioned himself against your entrance, the heat emanating from you making him suck in a breath. Slowly, he slipped it in, easily the amount of slick that ran down your thighs, even. The two of you moaned as you let your upper bodies rest against the marble. “Fuck, you’re so tight for me” He moaned, taking a second for himself as well.

Not even in his wildest dreams, he would have imagined he was eventually going to fuck you, nor that your pussy would feel so good hugging his cock and pulsating around it. “You okay? It’s almost all the way in, good job” He asked when he didn’t receive any reactions back.

You made a small ‘mhm’, but he decided to stop just for a second. You couldn’t even process the sensations going through your body, staring at your belly and running up your spine. “You’re doing so well, my star” He leaned down and kissed your back, his hands against your waist and hips calming you down. “Want me to move? Can I?” Eager as always, as soon as you nodded, he started a steady pace, comfortable enough for the both of you. As you exited the shock, you entered a seemingly endless wave of pleasure that made your body go limp and a smile widened across your face.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this” You praised him between moans. “More. Gimme more” Unable to stop his chaotic nature, Jean pushed his whole length in, desperate to hit that spot that made you milk out his cock. You yelped, and he apologized profusely with words and kisses, but he couldn’t stop. He wasn’t going to. The feeling of your pussy tightening around him was clouding his vision, coaxing sounds he didn’t even know he had in him. He took your right leg and raised it to rest against the surface, allowing him to get a better angle. He was so intoxicated with your moans, the heat rising up to his cheeks, that spongy spot he hit was transporting him to another reality.

“Fuck, fuck. You’re making me feel so good, you’re perfect” Jean almost cried out as he pounded into you. “I love your— my wet cunt so much” He sounded pathetic as he thrust slower but deeper into you, squeezing out loud cries.

“Y-you’re going to make me cum” You whined, feeling the orgasm build up rapidly. With force, Jean ripped you away from the countertop and held you tight against him before resuming a faster pace. Your back against his chest was soothing the intensity of your impending doom.

“Do it, cum on my cock. Make it yours” He ordered, his hand taking yours and traveling both down your belly and pressing against it. The sensation sent you over the edge as you moaned out his name incessantly. But he didn’t want to stop.

“You feel so tight, my girl” He moaned “Ah, suck my cock, please. I want to cum on that pretty mouth” He flipped you around in a second. You lowered yourself, getting rid of the condom full of precum before kissing his swollen tip, circling it with small kitten licks before fitting as much of it as you could inside your mouth without severely gagging. It didn’t take him long to moan out your name and shoot splurges of white down your throat.

“Good girl, s’good for me” Jean smiled when you stood up, showing him your empty mouth. “You’re the best”

“I’ve got another question” You admitted. “What are we?”

“I dunno. According to Vogue, I should put the ring on soon” He joked, taking you to the sofa and turning on the vinyl player on the other side of the living room.

You took a good look at him under the moonlight and sighed. “You’re so handsome”

He just smiled and winked, massaging your back before the two of you sat naked on the couch. He lit a cigarette, took a puff, and passed it to you. “Wait, what are we wearing tomorrow?”

[chocoluckchipz]

A Soulmate for Christmas - 1

No one but you see your soulmate mark. Not unless your soulmate touches it, and even then, it only glows for a moment. Most consider that a blessing, but Marinette would say it’s a blessed curse. Because how was she supposed to find the boy who left a black cat mark on her hand fifteen years ago in the city that wasn't even located in France? So when she finds a model flaunting the mark she put on him all those years back in a magazine, she has hope for a moment. That is until she notices the article discuss his imminent engagement to someone else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, what’s the emergency?"

Marinette’s hand emerged from under the covers, pointing in the direction of her desk. "The new Paris Fashion. Page thirty."

Alya whistled upon reaching the said page. "Looking good, M Agreste. Good enough to turn my best friend into a hot mess with a single picture."

"This isn’t funny, Al. Look at his chest!"

"Pure lean muscle. Perfectly toned. He's growing up nicely. Though, I fail to see why this is a big enough emergency for you to make me bail on lunch with Nino."

"Look. At. His. Chest." Marinette crawled out from under the comforter and stomped toward Alya, pointing at the particular spot on the picture. "This. Look at this."

"A ladybug tattoo? So—Wait!" Alya looked up at Marinette, her finger pointing to the ladybug mark painted on his chest. "Are you telling me that’s his—" 

"Right where I put it!" Marinette cried, ducking back under her covers. "See? He exists! I told you. I can’t believe you were doubting me all this time!"

"Well, excuse me, but you were five, and he sounded too good to be true. Little boys don’t usually go out of their way to help crying girls they don’t know find their flirting grandmas at a fashion show in Milan. Little boys don’t kiss said little girl’s hand as a farewell while they are at it. And they certainly don’t ask for the girl to kiss their soulmate mark into existence as close to their heart as she possibly could. ‘So, they won’t forget her,’ right?"

"So, he could always keep me close to his heart," Marinette corrected. "But that doesn’t matter now. You were right. That boy doesn’t exist anymore, and this one isn’t as good as I thought he was, so whatever. I’ll get over him and move on. There are plenty of guys out there. One of them is bound to like me more than money, fame, and prestige."

"What do you mean? Shouldn’t you be happy your crush is your soulmate?"

With a pitiful groan slipping her lips, Marinette buried her face into her pillow. "Ugh! I can’t believe I ever felt guilty for crushing on him. I thought I was a horrible person betraying my soulmate for some handsome, sexy supermodel. Foolish me. He doesn’t deserve any of my attention."

"Marinette, seriously. What do you mean?"

"Read the article."

Alya fell silent as soon as she noticed the title. "‘Paris’ most eligible bachelor reveals… a long-time secret relationship with his childhood friend Kagami Tsurugi. Doesn’t deny Christmas Eve engagement rumour.’ Oh."

"And you know what the worst part is?"

"What can be worse than discovering that your long-time crush is your long-lost soulmate and then finding out he’s been not only dating someone else but very likely will propose… tonight?"

"How about being at the same party at the same time. As a waitress."

Alya swore under her breath and put the magazine down. "Mayor Bourgeois’ Christmas Gala?"

Marinette nodded. "The article said they both confirmed they will be attending. I'll get a front-row seat to my soulmate's proposal to someone else. Lucky me."

"Then don’t go," she said, sitting down beside Marinette. "I’ll go in your place."

Marinette couldn’t let her do that. Nino was going to propose tonight, so Alya couldn’t be anywhere but with him. "You’re spending your first Christmas with Nino’s family. I’m not standing in the way of that."

"I can spend New Year Day with them."

"You’re going to the French Alps with your family that weekend. Don’t try to weasel out of it. Your mom has been planning that trip for months. Nora’s flying in specifically for it."

"I’m not trying to weasel out. I’m trying to help you, M."

"And I appreciate it, but I’m not making you go instead of me."

"What about your father?"

"The doctor said he shouldn’t be getting up for at least another week or his leg might not heal properly and he’ll end up with a prospect of a surgery which we’re trying to avoid."

"Then, I’m sure Rose or Juleka wouldn’t mind stepping in."

"No." Marinette sat up on her bed. "They have plans, and I’m not going to ruin them. I’ll just have to grow a pair and face him like the strong, independent woman I am. Or rather go help Maman and avoid him at all cost. He’s not even going to recognize me anyway. I didn’t. Not until I saw that photo."

"That’s true. I doubt he remembers much about you. You were babies when you met, so just stay away from him and keep your hands covered. That way even if you accidentally touch he won’t see it. A pair of gloves perhaps?"

"Mayor has uniforms for all the servers, even those coming in with the caterers, so no gloves for me. But as long as I do my job and pretend like I’m not in the same room with my soulmate who clearly didn't think me worthy enough to search for and instead decided to date this very famous, very influential, extremely rich girl from his own circle, I should be fine."

"I’m so sorry, M." Alya wrapped her arms around Marinette, bringing her into her chest for a cuddle. "Men are stupid. Some more than the others. Especially the rich and spoiled ones."

Marinette scoffed bitterly. "Don’t I know it. I got plenty of examples from being in the same class as Chloe Bourgeois for years." 

"Isn’t Adrien Chloe’s friend?"

"I think so. I was hoping Adrien wasn't like her. Clearly, that isn't the case."

"You'll get over him soon, and we'll find you a nice, handsome, smart man who will cherish and love you for who you are."

"Soulmates are so last century anyway, right?" Marinette swallowed back the knot in her throat. No matter how much she tried to convince herself, this hurt. "I’m sure he doesn’t even remember meeting me. We were five. Who would be holding on to a memory of a random girl in Milan? And even if he did remember me, he probably thinks I live there. I thought my soulmate lived in Milan until he decided to show off his stupid soulmate mark to the whole world. Who does that, anyway? Those are supposed to be one of the most intimate of details of one’s life. You don’t just show it to everyone, and certainly not to the whole world while announcing your engagement to someone else." 

Her eyes fell to her hand where, invisible to everyone but her, an image of a black cat lay, a mark Adrien Agreste left there more than a decade ago with his first kiss to her skin. Just like a mark of a ladybug appeared on his chest when her lips touched it upon his request. He said he wanted to keep her close to his heart, so it would be easier for him to find her.

What a load of BS.

"Have you ever thought that, perhaps, that could’ve been a message to you?" Alya asked. "He went through the trouble of painting over his soulmate mark for the photoshoot so others could see it. It has to mean something. No one is dumb enough to think that if Adrien Agreste releases topless photos while announcing something as big as a possible engagement, there would be at least one person in France, or even Europe for that matter, who wouldn't see it. He knew his soulmate would see it."

Marinette laughed. Bitterly. "Yeah, a great message. ‘Here is my soulmate mark, my dear soulmate. In all the years I knew you existed, I didn’t bother to find you. But I did make sure that this picture, in which I showcase to the whole world the mark you left me, came along with an article where I discuss how much I love my girlfriend you'll never compare to in status, money or looks. Not that I even care about your feelings, announcing that an engagement is in the near future for me and my darling childhood friend.’ Yeah. This is definitely a message, Alya. He says ‘Screw you, Marinette. I’m better off with Kagami Tsurugi, and I thought you should know that.’"

Alya wrapped her arms around her tighter. "First of all, only brainless idiots would take status and money over love. Second, you’re the prettiest, smartest, and the most successful woman I've ever known, and third, you're an amazing and wonderful person who's on her way to becoming one of the best designers in Paris, so don’t you bring yourself down because of a stupid man who doesn't realize what he lost."

"It's my fault anyway. That's what I get for letting that stupid, cute boy kiss my stupid hand at a stupid fashion show in stupid Milan."

"You were five, M. And he was a dashing gentleman, helping you find your grandmother in a strange city you got lost in. You couldn't have known he's your soulmate. No one could have."

"Right. And he won’t recognize me, so I’ll be fine. He won’t even look a waitress’ way. Nothing to worry about. I’m very much certain the only person he’ll be looking at will be his future bride-to-be, so I have absolutely nothing to be scared of. Not that I’m scared, because I’m not. I just don’t want to be humiliated. Not that I’m already humiliated, but at least no one knows about it. That'll be awful if anyone else finds out—"

Alya grabbed her face and turned to look at her. "Marinette, breathe. Calm down."

She took a few deep breaths and tried to relax. Alya was right. This was fine. She’d be fine. Everything would be just peachy.

"As long as he doesn’t touch your right hand, no one will know. I still insist I go instead of you. Nino will understand—" 

"No. I’ll go. I can do it."

"Yes, you can, and you’ll be fine, but if anything happens, you have my number. I’ll be there in five minutes. You got me?"

Marinette nodded, pulling Alya into a hug. She was an amazing friend, and Nino and she were going to be insanely happy together. One day perhaps, Marinette would meet someone too. Someone who, just like her, was betrayed by their soulmate. Or someone who had lost theirs. Someone who would be kind and gentle and, like her, would just want to be happy. 

Someone who was not Adrien Agreste. 

Next >

Read it on A03, FF.net. WattPad

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[godshood-archived]

cher     vc     can     anyone     c     me     .     i’m     rosie     (     she     /     her     )     though     i     will     respond     to     any     number     of     profanities     with     sum     special     luv     for     village     idiot     !     i’m     not     hard     to     please     .     i     see     a     woman     going     feral     in     a     movie     ,     i     believe     that     movie     is     humanity’s     greatest     cinematic     achievement     .     who     am     i     ,     if     not     a     hole     for     henry     cavill     ?     umm     like     this     to     validate     me     or     to     get     sum     plotting     going     though     you     can     always     reach     me     on     discord     at     elizabeth debicki is 6′3#7585     n     ummmm     below     are     the     sewer     rats     !

case     file          :          ramorini     ,     luciano          my     god     ,     whose     performance     am     i     watching

associations          :          shoulders     worn     with     the     weight     of     the     world     —     an     atlas     too     young     and     endured     too     long     .     scars     like     ghosts     on     the     skin     telling     of     tribulations     from     a     past     life     long     forgotten     .     a     lack     of     decorum     rejected     seemingly     centuries     past     .

1938     ,     italy          what     is     this     space     between     myself     and     myself

memoir          :          palms     made     to     crumble     empires     and     leave     ruins     in     smoke     .     a     wreckoning     ,      a     monster     made     even     before     the     curse     of     a     family     legacy     .     the     wicked     ways     of     a     grandfather     who     saw     no     child     in     pleading     blue     eyes     —     marrow     and     flesh     to     be     molded     .     bloodied     flesh     ,     teeth     bared     ,     veins     of     ruined     ash     .     sanity     and     solace     in     siblings     he     held     too     tight     .     what     does     it     mean     to     be     human     ,     if     you     never     truly     were     ?     years     spent     lost     in     a     hatred     for     a     self     not     his     own     to     claim     .     wishes     his     hands     were     made     for     more     than     the     calamity     of     ruining     but     wishing     is     a     faithless     practice     .

full   name          :          luciano     dante     ramorini

nicknames          :          luc     ,     occasionally     luci     though     don’t     expect     to     not     get     punched     in     the     gut     for     it

birthdate          :          december     19

hometown          :          milan     ,     italy

current   location          :          sacred     heart     academy      ,      wales

languages   spoken          :          italian      ,      english      ,      latin

distinguishing   features          :          a     general     unapproachable     attitude

physical   ailments          :          n/a

neurological   conditions          :          n/a

positive          :          iconoclastic     ,     candid

negative          :          amoral     ,     parlous

fears          :          succombing     to     a     darkness     within     him     that     grows     ,     clawing     ,     begging     to     be     let     out

aspirations          :          escaping     this     life

likes          :          rock     music     ,     the     comfort     of     being     alone     ,     the     mutt     he     took     into     his     home     affectionately     named     bowie     ,     ice     baths

dislikes          :          questions     of     morality     ,     mint     chocolate     ,     having     his     head     crowded     with     thoughts     he     doesn’t     dare     to     say     out     loud     ,     movie     adaptations     of     books

case     file          :          del     bosque     ,     cressida          mouthful     of     white     hot     fire     ,     tongue     coated     in     poison

associations          :          a     scream     towards     nothingness     ;     throat     made     raw     and     hoarse     .     nightmares     from     a     past     life     that     awaken     your     body     in     a     heave     all     sweat     kissed     and     ribs     rattling     .     pomegranate     juice     sticky     where     it     runs     from     a     fist     clenched     too     tight     .

1938     ,     cuba          there’s     a     hunger     in     me     ,     something     vicious

memoir          :          born     where     womanhood     was     defined     by     having     a     voyeuristic     relationship     with     pain     ——     am     i     suffering     beautifully     ?     is     my     agony     lovable     ?     lived     too     long     as     a     carefully     constructed     performance     piece     to     those     who     would   see     themselves     as     supeior     and     power     (     taken     ,     not     granted     .     never     granted     )     promised     a     ceasation     of     begging     to     be     believed     ,     recognized     ,     acknowledged     .     a   willingness   to     burn     villages     to     the     ground     ,     drain     people     of     their     blood     ,     and     see     to     the     ruin     of     empires     but     still     thinks     men     to     be     the     worst     monster     of     all     .     years     have     not     granted     control     over     her     blood     lust     and     greed     for     power     .     a     stubborn     refusal     to     be     tamed     .

full   name          :          cressida     irene     del     bosque

nicknames          :          none

birthdate          :          november     14

hometown          :          santa     cruz     del     norte     ,     cuba

current   location          :          sacred     heart     academy      ,      wales

languages   spoken          :          spanish      ,      english

distinguishing   features          :          an     unassuming     ,     innocent     face

physical   ailments          :          n/a

neurological   conditions          :          n/a

positive          :          reticent     ,     sycophantic

negative          :          choleric     ,     scelestic

fears          :          completely     losing     her     humanity

aspirations          :          to     make     a     mark     on     the     world     where     it     counts

likes          :          milk     baths     with     orange     peels     and     flower     petals     ,     overcast     skies     teasing     rain     ,     whiskey     and     coke     ,     receiving     gifts     and     praise

dislikes          :          taking     orders     from     those     deemed     less     than     her     ,     religion     ,     being     threatened     or     challenged     ,     sacrificing     fashion     for     warmth

case     file          :          stafford     ,     delphine          there’s     something     off     about     that     girl     .     borderline

associations          :          wild     flowers     wilting     in     a     cracked     vase     ;     dry     petals     at     the     base     .     a     nightgown     torn     as     barefeet     trek     through     an     unforgiving     forest     —     thorns     catching     at     satin     and     lace     .     nosebleeds     after     a     moment     of     acute     stillness     ,     static     loud    where     it     hums     in    your     head     and     then     ,     suddenly     ,     quiet     .

1951     ,     france          any     little     shock     could     push     her     right     over     the     edge

memoir          :          old     money     ,     silver     spoon     to     quiet     bird     song     cries     to     the     tune     of     begging     for     love     ,     to     be     seen     .     striking     hands     and     wicked     tongues     .     neighbour’s     whispers     quelled     by     forced     smiles     and     chaste     family     portraits     .     made     to     be     docile     ,     seen     and     never     heard     .     fifteen     and     clinging     to     girlhood     ,     tabloids     racing     to     cover     the     story     :     grisly     home     murder     ,     young     daughter     only     survivor     .     when     they     ask     ,     she     cannot     say     what     happened     —     memory     thick     and     foggy     ,     blood     -     scented     ,     tasting     of     ash     .     distant     relatives     a     new     home     and     she’s     safe     now     ;     save     for     the     blackouts     ,     coming     to     and     finding     blood     that     is     not     her     own     .

full   name          :          delphine     ried     stafford

nicknames          :          dels

birthdate          :          july     5

hometown          :          nice     ,     france

current   location          :          sacred     heart     academy      ,      wales

languages   spoken          :          french     ,     english

distinguishing   features          :          a     shy     smile     almost     always     hidden     away

physical   ailments          :          n/a

neurological   conditions          :          dissociation

positive          :          seraphic     ,     stoic

negative          :          diffident     ,     heterotelic

fears          :          becoming     as     her     parents     were

aspirations          :          raise     a     family     and     give     them     the     world

likes          :          the     smell     of     ocean     air     ,     anything     chocolate     with     a     special     reverence     for     croissants     ,     art     nouveau     ,     tchaikovsky’s     valse     sentimentale

dislikes          :          regressing     into     a     self     she     doesn’t     recognize     ,     having     her     picture     taken     ,     unnecessary     cruelty     ,     whipped     cream     in     beverages

[bornoffside]

Begin Again - Antoine Griezmann (3)

@youcancallmeaphrodite not very happy with this one but the next will be better, I promise :P 

It was a beautiful city. The only way it could be more enjoyable was if the tremendous amount of pressure he felt was non-existent. But that wasn’t the case, and Antoine released a deep breath as he made his way through the halls of the San Siro, following his teammates out of the changing room.

Atlético were in good form, and it was an exciting thing to be involved in a Champions League final…again. But that was exactly it. Again. They had been here before, in this exact same position, and it had ended in heartbreak. Real Madrid were no easy team to beat, and Antoine huffed out a long and shaky breath at the thought of losing again.

Sure, it wouldn’t be the end of the world…but that wasn’t the point. It was hard to get to this stage of the competition, and even harder to do it twice in 3 years against the exact same club, who also happened to be your domestic rival. But the team were hungry for this victory, they wanted to win more than anyth-

“Amor! How about a kiss for good luck?”

Antoine’s head turned toward the familiar voice, his brows furrowing in confusion. Cristiano Ronaldo was usually quiet before a match, his focus was outstanding, and the tunnel was currently full of men so it left the Frenchmen guessing.

“No thanks, I’m lucky enough without one.”

Chuckles rang out between the Real Madrid players, drawing attention from the rival players in the tunnel. It was only then that they noticed the Portuguese winger with his arm thrown over a much smaller frame. She wasn’t short, but Cristiano was tall and he had plenty of muscle for her to hide behind.

“Are you hitting on my doctor again, Cris?”

Cristiano snorted lightly at the teasing voice, knowing that the woman beside him had probably gone ten different shades of red as soon as Sergio opened his mouth.

The Real Madrid captain made his way through the line his teammates had formed, weaving his way to the front where the referees waited. Nadine watched as he gave each of his players a ‘bro-hug’ and air kiss. It didn’t make sense that he could do both of those and still look manly, but nobody questioned Sergio. He gently pried Nadine out from under Cristiano’s arm and did the same to her.

“A kiss for good luck.” He explained with a wink and a grin, mocking Cristiano’s earlier words.  

The winger rolled his eyes but a small smirk tugged at his lips when her cheeks lit up. Sergio greeted the referees who had come to stand in front of them, the final team preparations were coming to an end and Nadine remembered that she should be leaving soon. She opened her mouth to say goodbye but stopped when her eyes caught a familiar face.

Of course she knew who he was, and how far he had come, but for some reason she had forgotten that he would be there. Nadine didn’t always go to games, she had other patients to work with, so the last time she had seen him had been when they were young teenagers. In a strange way she was proud of the little boy from Mâcon that proved his doubters wrong.

Yes, Antoine had done well for himself and she was happy for him…but that didn’t mean she wanted a reunion any time soon. In fact, if she never had a reunion with him it would be too soon. It wasn’t that she hated him or anything, she just didn’t want her past coming back up again. She hadn’t enjoyed it back then, and she wouldn’t enjoy it now either.

She almost grimaced at the memories that ran through her head, or maybe she did grimace considering how Cristiano was staring at her. Nadine quickly shook the thoughts from her mind, offering the Portuguese a small reassuring smile, but he was smarter than most gave him credit for.

Cristiano glanced in the direction she had been staring, curious to see what had made her nervous. He could read her quite well after all of the time they had spent together over the past year. The way she had shrunk back, her shoulders tensing and head ducking down slightly…she was avoiding something, or in this case -someone.

His lip twitched in annoyance when he spotted the Frenchman he would be playing against. In truth, he respected Antoine as a player -the kid had done well for himself. But almost everyone in the locker room knew he didn’t like anything else about him. It wasn’t because they had been competing more and more often, but rather because of the things he had heard from his favourite doctor.

Cristiano was a little smug about the fact that Nadine had trusted him with that information. She never spoke about men romantically usually, not around him anyway. The closest she had come was whenever Sergio was mentioned, so he was definitely smug that she had decided to trust him and told him about her schoolgirl crush.

Was she too good for Antoine in his opinion? Of course.

No woman should ever be bullied (no man should either, but he was taught to treat women with even more respect), especially not one as harmless and sweet as the German. With that in mind, he threw his arm over Nadine’s shoulders yet again, and shepherded her towards the exit. She would be on the bench with the other medical staff, so with a final ‘good luck’ to the winger, she made her way out of the tunnel.

Nadine was silently grateful that Cristiano had blocked Antoine’s line of sight, he already was starting to get that perplexed look on his face, where his thick brows furrowed an he tilted his head like a confused puppy. Her features looked similar to those of her teen years, and even though she had lost some of the baby fat around her face, she didn’t doubt that he could probably recognise her if he really tried. Then again, she wasn’t a particularly memorable girl back in their school days, so perhaps he hadn’t even remembered her at all.    

Either way she would avoid him the next time he was near her, the last thing she wanted was to make it easier for him to identify her. Especially near Cris, the things she had told the winger had condemned Antoine in his eyes, and Cristiano could be very petty when it came to defending his friends. She was just grateful that Sergio himself didn’t know, those two when they ganged up on people were a force to be reckoned with.

No, no…it wasn’t only in her best interests to steer clear of Antoine, it was in his best interests too. And despite the past, she would never want to make the Frenchman’s life hard. There was still that feeling…the one people had when they didn’t want to disappoint their crush. Everyone knew that feeling, and she had thought that it was no longer a problem.

She was wrong.

Halftime.

They were already 1-0 down thanks to Sergio Ramos, and Antoine huffed in annoyance as he made his way off the pitch. He told himself that he was fully focused on the job at hand, but there was still that niggling thought in his mind. He thought it was her, he was almost sure of it. But there was still that ‘what if’ that floated around his mind. Maybe he was just seeing things, trying to find some familiarity in this foreign city. Something to calm him and remind him of home…

But what were the chances? And why would she be in Milan, associating with Real Madrid? Why would she be working with them in the first place? Nadine had never shown any interest in football when he knew her.

When he knew her…did he really know her? No, he knew her name and he knew she was a clever girl who kept to herself mostly, but he didn’t know her. She could have loved football all along, she could have had a talent for singing, she could have gone skydiving every weekend and played golf with the president for all he knew!

Now he was annoyed at himself for more than just his performance in the first half. In fact, he was so annoyed that he hadn’t even realised that he had already passed his designated change room. But it seemed like someone was watching over him that day, because there she was, a few steps ahead of him.

“Nadine?”

He hadn’t spoken very loudly, worried that maybe he was wrong, but Antoine knew the moment the woman’s tense frame faltered in its stride, that he was right. It was her. It had been, what? 10, 11 years? He could hardly remember…but he couldn’t stop the happy grin from making its way across his face. He hadn’t kept in contact with anyone from his old school, not after all that had happened. Antoine knew that the only reason his old ‘friends’ had tried to contact him was because he had officially made it in the world of professional football. He wasn’t good enough for them when the French teams rejected him, but all of a sudden they all seemed to remember who he was and how much they all missed him.

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew what they wanted and he wasn’t going to give it to them. So to finally see someone from his hometown who he genuinely held no ill-feelings for…well, it was a pleasant surprise.  

Which was why his smile slipped straight off of his face when he noticed her continue walking, a lot faster than she had before. Was she…trying to get away from him?

“Wait, Nadine!”

She rounded a corner, ignoring his plea completely…and by the time he reached it, she was gone. His shoulders slumped in disappointment, pale eyes searching the hallway desperately and finding nothing.

“Grizi!”

Antoine looked back to see Koke calling him over with a curious look on his face. Sending a final glance at the hallway, he tried to accept the fact that he wouldn’t be seeing her there.

But she wasn’t there as a fan, she was there with his rivals. So he quirked a small smile. Why? Because Madrid could be a very small city under the right circumstances.

[mmflibrary]

Janey’s Adventures and Fights

I’m too old for this shit. You would think I would be better at comforting people after 800 years, but no. Crying people make me uncomfortable. They always have. Even during the plague years when everyone cried because everybody was dead or dying, I still hated it.

           But here I am. Sitting on the ground in front of some frat house consoling a drunk Lucy because no one complimented her winged eyeliner. Ugh.

“I worked so hard on it” blubbered Lucy as fat tears rolled out of her eyes and onto my t-shirt.

“I know you did baby, some people just can’t appreciate art.” I told Lucy as I combed my fingers through her soft hair. And Lucy was art. She was gorgeous and put in a lot of effort to look that way. She spent hours doing her makeup every morning and went to the gym every Monday Wednesday and Friday after her classes. She was kind as well. If she was alive during the Salem witch trails she would be hung for being to beautiful and for bewitching all the men in a different way.

People during the Salem witch trials were idiots. They never actually caught any witches. At least I’m pretty sure they didn’t. I chose not to stick around and find out.

“I love you Janey. You are my favorite” Lucy slurred into my shoulder and then passed out. I froze. No one had told me they loved me in a long time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This whole mess started 4 months ago.

I was starting a new life at a college in Ithaca, New York. I usually get 4 to 8 years out of one location before people get nosey and try to learn about my life. I chose Ithaca because I thought the name sounded cool. I enrolled in Ithaca College with fake paper work. I had perfected forgery spells in the early 1800’s in order to travel across borders easier. Even though my papers were impeccable, and I never did enough magic to draw attention to myself, I still caught someone’s eye.

 In my 800 years I have learned that other people’s curiosity is very dangerous. Once someone decides to get to know me, they realize my life doesn’t add up in a neat little package like everyone else’s. So when someone starts following me, I get antsy. I don’t get attached to place or people anymore because there is no point when everything changes so quickly and people don’t last very long. When someone starts to get attached to me I push them in another direction or extract myself from the situation all together. I knew this creepy kid was following me but I figured he was just a weirdo whose memory I would have to wipe at some point.

But you know what? I was tired of moving around. I worked hard on my essay to get into Ithaca College and I had already moved my stuff into my dorm so I didn’t want to leave again. Why should I let some creep ruin my hard work and the possibility that I could live in one place for eight years?

           The kid, who was about 6’ 5”, followed me around campus and to my dorm for a week straight. I kept getting glances of him out of the corner of my eye. He was tan, pretty muscular, looked like he played some sort of sport and was the “drank protein shakes because they tasted good” type. His stupidly large shadow was beginning to annoy me. He clearly wanted something and it was hard for me to do my magic with someone watching so closely all the time.

So on a Thursday afternoon in September I decided to resolve the situation. I slipped into the English department building where there was only one exit and entrance. Once inside, I went into the ladies restroom where I knew he couldn’t see me, and threw on a disguise spell and walked out. Tall kid was waiting at the end of the hall. I walked by him and he didn’t even blink at me, which I found weird for two reasons. One this disguise was a particularly hot girl who should have at least gotten a glance from this boy and two it’s weird when people don’t blink. Just the air passing over his face from me walking by should have made him blink. But he didn’t.

           Tall Kid stayed in the building waiting for me to emerge from the bathroom for over an hour. I sat in my disguise sipping coffee at the on campus Starbucks across from the English building, and waited for him to figure out that I wasn’t still in the bathroom. When he finally did come out he was sprinting and his face was beet red. An older woman was yelling curses at him as he rushed from the building.

“You pervert!” the enraged woman yelled after him as he tore through campus to escape. I burst out laughing and got up to follow Tall Kid. I took my coffee with me. I pulled my penny board out of my backpack (it fit thanks to a rather handy expansion spell I picked up in Greece during the height of the Ottoman empire). I calmly boarded after Tall Kid from a respectable distance until he reached a house off campus.

The house looked too nice for a college student to afford. But maybe he came from rich parents. It was painted a pristine white with white pillars along the front of the house. Blue shutters outlined the evenly spaced windows on the first and second floor. The front door was a bloody red color and had a large light hanging over the front porch. I think it was in the colonial style or something. I knew watching all those home make over shows would come in handy. The front yard was immaculate as well. The grass was uniformly cut and the hedges that acted as a natural fence along the sides of the yard we all the same height. Not one leaf was out of place.

Once again I was confused. Leaves were falling from trees in the yards adjacent to Tall Kid’s house but not a single stray leaf landed in his yard. It was late September practically October. His grass should be wilting and the bushes should not be this green. Winter was coming fast and early this year. I could feel it in the air. After 800 years I have become very good ar gaging the seasons. Abnormalities in nature always sparked my curiosity and now Tall Kid had my interest. That was a precarious position to be in.

I have never been one for thinking ahead. So now that I was curious I had to find out the answers. “Well no time like the present” I muttered to myself. I put my penny board back in backpack, waved my hand over my body, and transformed back into my normal body right in front of his house. I learned early in my life that if people spot things that seem strange they generally just rationalize it. Blame it on the lighting or their eyes. If they try to tell people they saw something magical, no one will believe them. So when a lady across the street looked over at me mid transformation, I simply smiled and waved. She squinted, then waved back and walked away rubbing her eyes.

I walked through Tall Kid’s too green grass, instead of using the perfect brick walkway, and knocked on his front door.

Tall Kid did not answer the door. A short gorgeous blonde girl did.

“Hello” she said leaning against the doorframe. “Can I help you?”

In my experience, that question was usually said with sarcasm but she seemed to mean it earnestly. God she was beautiful. She was about 5’ even and her hair was in soft long ringlets, which reached just below her shoulders. Her makeup was movie star perfect and accented her cheekbones and bright green eyes. Her lipstick was the same color as her skirt. She was wearing a maroon skirt and black lace leggings with a cream-colored button up top and a sparking gold chain necklace with a small gold cat hanging on it. Her outfit looked like she had just jumped off a runway in Milan during fashion week.

“Damn you’re pretty.” I blurted at her.

She giggled and looked down blushing. “Aw thanks! You think that now but you should see me without all this makeup on. That’s an image no one wants to see!” She smiled and dimples appeared on her cheeks. I smiled back at her, but didn’t believe her for one minute. Her eyes were green and beautiful and I wanted to see her in very light with or without makeup any time she would let me. But that wasn’t what I came here for.

           “Anyway were you looking for someone or something?” she asked as she looked back up at me. God her dimples were distracting.

“Uhhh Yes. Yes I was looking for a kid. Does a tall kid; about 6’ 5” live here? He’s got brown hair and the classic douche hair cut. You know, long on top but shaved on the sides?” She blinked at me for a second then burst out laughing. Once her boisterous laughter had subsided she turned her back to me and yelled into the house.

“Theo!” she yelled. “Theo I told you that hair cut made you look like a dick! Come to the door! Someone with sense is here to talk to you!” She turned back to face me.

“He’ll be down in a minute. He is usually getting ready to go to the gym at this time. I’m Lucy by the way. Lucy Danvers” She stuck out her hand. Even her nail polish was expertly done in a French manicure.

“I’m Janey. Nice to meet you.” I said as I wrapped my hand around hers. At that moment I saw Tall Kid, whose name was apparently Theo, walking toward the front door looking down at his phone. When he looked up he froze.

“You! What ? how ? did you? What are you doing here? Did you follow me? Did you know I was following you? What is going on? Lucy do you know this girl?” Theo sputtered as he rushed to the door grabbing Lucy by her wrist and pulling Lucy away from me. Theo was wearing one of those pointless tank tops that expose your rib cage and your waste instead of just having regular armholes. He looked like a “bro” as the kids referred to it these days.

“I do not know her Theo. Wait. You were following her? What are you doing following strangers Theo? What’s wrong with you?” Lucy asked as she tried to pull away from Theo’s grip on her wrist. Her face started to get red with anger. She was so pale and little.  

“Lucy I think she might be a mage, an unregistered mage.” He tried to whisper but I was still standing close enough to hear. Lucy looked back at me with a quizzical expression from behind Theo.

“No way. She couldn’t be this old and not be registered. She would be oozing magic out of her ears without training at the Registry.” Lucy tried to lean closer to me as if to try and gage me better but Theo held her back still keeping a grip on her wrist. I decided right then that I did not like Theo. He was glaring at Lucy like he was upset she would argue with him.

“What the fuck is a Mage?” I asked to take Theo’s attention away from Lucy and back onto me. He shouldn’t look at her like that.

Theo pivoted toward me and then looked me from head to toe. He pushed Lucy further behind him and then glared at me.  “I think you are a Mage. Someone who can perform magical acts. Every Mage is required to be registered and trained by the Registry in order to receive their Refinement Device. But I know you aren’t registered because I tried to look you up when I saw you doing such blatant magic in our History of the English Language class last Wednesday. That is a clear violation of Registry Mandate 632 and you should be held accountable.”

I tried to remember what I did last Wednesday but came up blank. My memory has always been shitty. It’s why I was even taking History of the English Language, so that I could try and jog some of my memories about my time in England. So far it was just boring. I barely remembered who the professor was and I sure as shit did not remember Theo in that class nor did I remember performing any magic. I stared back at Theo trying to look as innocent as possible.

“Refresh my memory, if you would, cause I am sure this is all just a big misunderstanding. What exactly is Registry Mandate 632?” I had used my sweetest voice and kindest fake smile in hopes he would calm down and lessen the glare he was giving me. It didn’t work. Theo huffed dramatically and leaned over me as if trying to intimidate me with his height (I am 5’ 4” so he had a foot on me).

“Registry Mandate 632 states that no Mage shall perform any magic within the vicinity of any non-magical person. If a Mage is caught performing magic in the vicinity of any non-magical person the Mage will surrender their Refinement Device as reprimand for a length of time to be decided upon by the Mages of the High Court pending a trial.” Damn it sounded like he knew these mandate things by heart. I must have accidentally offended their magical culture here in Ithaca. Weird though because I hadn’t seen any large-scale magical organization since the rise of the Spanish as they explored the world in the 15th and 16th Centuries.

“And what exactly did I do last Wednesday?” I asked Theo as I widened my eyes attempting to be as nonthreatening as possible. I don’t think my innocent act worked because Theo stepped closer to me and put his finger in my face.

“You didn’t spill your coffee.” He said it like he had caught me red handed. His finger was still in my face. I was still trying the innocent look but I was starting to doubt my ability to convince Theo to leave me alone while only using conventional means. He seemed like a dog with a bone that didn’t know how to drop it. I decided the innocent act wasn’t going to get me out of this. So I dropped the act and gave him my best cold stare. Napoleon Bonaparte once told me that look was colder than Russia in winter.

“Boy. If you don’t move your finger in the next five seconds I’m gonna stick it up your ass.” Theo startled and dropped his finger. I guess he wasn’t used to people threatening him. “Good. Now last time I checked it was considered polite not to spill coffee in the middle of a crowded lecture hall. So explain to me what makes it okay, in your tiny brain, to just go around accusing people of being magic and following them for a week straight?” Theo opened his mouth to respond but I was mad now so I just talked right over him. “Also, if I was someone who was trying to keep magic a secret, like you seem to be trying to do, don’t you think it would be smart to have proof before you start disclosing information about some Magical Registry to anyone who walks up to your front door? I would think said Magical Registry would not be to pleased with someone who is failing so spectacularly to keep its secrets.” Theo went pale and stepped back.

Lucy’s jaw was hanging open and she still looked cute. Theo seemed frozen so I stepped around him and entered the house.

If this guy was trying to learn about me then I was going to learn all about him too.