#so i suit either my natural blonde or ginger | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

batarella · 4 years ago

Text

The Prince of Gotham (Jason Todd x Reader)

absolutely love love love this one. Thank you again for the suggestions from my dearest friends in the taglist. You are all so amazingly talented.

PRESENTING THE DAMNED PRINCE OF GOTHAM. I MEAN IS THERE EVEN A HOTTER VERSION OF JAYBIRD THAN THIS????

WORDS: 4509 WARNINGS: UNPROTECTED SEX. ORAL SEX FEMALE RECEIVING. FUCKING AGAINST THE AQUARIUM IN HIS ROOM. THE POOR FISH.

Masterlist

Call him damned, or whatever the tabloids call him as Bruce Wayne’s forgotten son, the son he almost never talks about. Jason Todd will be damned for all that was left of his second life.

The glass was cold on his lips, even colder between his fingers. The Falcones were here again. At least one of them running their mouths at another million-dollar loss. He placed the glass onto a waiter’s tray and placed his firm hands into his jacket pockets.

Miguel came over to him, whispering about a blackjack table with an unruly foreigner throwing the cards at the other players. Surprised it wasn’t of the Falcones, Jason whispered something back. And the next thing he knew, Miguel was taking the culprit into the suite.

No one has crossed him too much. Yet. And not much has happened, either. At least by now, something should have happened. Penguin’s goons. Two Face’s. A worthwhile encounter with any of the beautiful women catching his eye. But there had been nothing. Nothing worth thinking twice about.

A crime lord. In Batman’s fucking city. It’s a death wish not many can escape from, not many can succeed in. The Dark Knight will eventually find some dirt on you, but him? His son? He’ll take it as a free pass. He smiled at a photographer taking a quick photo of him, straightening his jacket. The papers have been all over him tonight, more often than the past week. Just yesterday he saw an article about how he’s now up against Dick Grayson as the most sought-after Wayne bachelor.

The nightly performance should be up soon. He was told they’d bring in a number of beautiful women who usually danced at the bars on the outskirts of Gotham, so it should be something these strip club enthusiast pigs haven’t seen so often. Jason walked over behind the booths.

“Mr. Todd!” A man came to him with a crouched back, ginger hair and freckles that covered half his face. Stretching his hand out that wasn’t holding his camera, Jason firmly shook it. “Jimmy Olsen from the Daily Planet. Is it okay if I ask a few questions?”

“Ask away.”

“Proprietorship over the Iceberg Lounge costs millions of dollars, Mr. Todd. Did you have any financial assistance from Mr. Wayne in your investments?”

He wanted to scoff.

“No. I’m all on my own.”

“Are you involved in any of Wayne Enterprises’ operations, then?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Then what other means of income did you have prior to the Iceberg?”

Blackmail. Robbery. Decapitating drug lords’ heads. Among others.

“My father taught me how to invest in the stock market with more accurate predictions than the average person.”

“You’re not so often mentioned by Mr. Wayne.”

“Well, I am the second eldest son. And there may have been a falling out at the time I was wrongfully declared legally dead. But now? I assume Bruce will have plenty of good things to say about me.”

“Mr. Wayne has not released any statement about your ownership of the Iceberg, Mr. Todd. The media has gone rampant after the Mr. Wayne’s absence in the Lounge’s opening ceremony.”

He wasn’t invited.

“I’m sure he was busy.”

“And your siblings?”

“They should be as well.”

“Last question, Mr. Todd. Will all eight of Mr. Wayne’s children have an equal share of his wealth?”

Huh. He’s never thought of that. “Perhaps. What are people saying?”

“Mr. Wayne is currently worth eighty billion dollars. That would mean you’d inherit ten billion dollars along with your other siblings.”

Shit. Maybe threatening Bruce with his identity a few days back wasn’t the brightest idea.

“Right now, I’m worth more than any of my siblings,” Jason smiled at the camera. “And if Mr. Wayne does give me an eighth of his fortune, I’d be sure to give you guys a first at an interview as the youngest new billionaire.”

Kylie Jenner can suck it.

The music started blaring out from the speakers. Burlesque music. He took another glass of champagne from a waiter and nodded at Jimmy Olsen. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Todd!” he exclaimed.

Jason’s eyes were on stage. Five women with feathers around their arms twirled, moving their legs so gracefully to the music. They only had so much clothes on. Sipping into his glass, he moved closer to the stage.

A kiss may be grand but it won't pay the rental

On your humble flat, or help you at the automat

Men grow cold as girls grow old

And we all lose our charms in the end

But square cut or pear shaped

These rocks don't lose their shape

Diamonds are a girl's best friend

You caught his eye more than anyone else in the damn room.

You were staring right at him, then with your soft, lace covered hands, you ran it over the side of your cheek, over your red-stained lips. You were covered in red. And the wig you had, a short blonde one, you had that Marilyn Monroe look he always had a thing for. You reminded him of Isabel, the flight attendant he once dated. But you? On stage with your legs covered in the most intricate fish nets, you were definitely something else.

You looked at him again. Perhaps you knew who he was. Your mouth so slightly parted, and the feathers grazed against your glistening lips. Jason smiled at you. You didn’t smile back. At the next move, you moved to the other side of the stage and faced away from him.

Jason then walked over to your side, standing beside a booth. You were looking at the business moguls drooling over you at their table. But then your eyes darted to him again, this time with the slightest smirk. You turned around, along with the rest of the dancers, and bent over.

Jason’s eyebrow quirked up at the sight of your ass, but he kept silent, drinking his wine. Your eyes were immediately on him the moment you stood back up. He held his glass up at you, smiling, and you ignored him once again.

Biting his lip, he watched you throw out your feather scarf over your shoulder, holding onto another dancer’s waist as you grinded onto her, so slowly with the song changing to something a bit more seductive. You then walked off the stage and continued your choreography holding your scarves over people’s necks.

You walked over to the Falcones, avoiding their grabby hands. You almost kissed the best looking one in the group, your chest so close to the tip of his nose. Rolling his eyes, Jason sipped on his glass.

But then you turned to him, your lips subtly curving up. You were making your way to him, most probably knowing he owned the place, because you walked ever so slowly to his way, cheekily winking at all the other men fawning over you.

And when you’d stood in front of him, smelling like sweet, yet strong rose petals in a garden, the tension was immense. You were absolutely gorgeous. And his eyes were all over you.

Slowly, ever so slowly, you put your face so closely to his while your delicate fingers drew a line across his shoulders, his collarbone, over the muscles on his arms. He pretended not to be so shaken, standing still with the glass between his lips.

You were enjoying yourself just as much as Jason did. But he was practically growling in hunger as you swayed your hips, momentarily pushing your ass to his crotch but not near enough to actually touch it. Jason couldn’t care less about all the other people around him. As far as he knew, you were the only one in the room.

Then you placed your scarf around his neck, your forehead so slightly brushing against his. Your breath was hot, too hot, and your body was glistening under the pale blue light. Jason licked his lips before you left to go back on stage.

Looking down at the red feathered scarf around his neck, Jason walked over backstage just before the number came to an end.

-----

“Mr. Todd!”

A large woman with a fur coat big enough to have been from an actual bear came up to him. “Did you enjoy my girls?”

“I did,” Jason said. “Where are they?”

“They’re just about to finish up at the dressing room. Would you like to meet one of them?”

“Send them all out to the casinos for the night. I’m sure all the guests would be delighted to have them around at the lounge,” Jason said. “If they want to, of course.”

“They would love to. If you can excuse me, Mr. Todd.”

Jason nodded at the woman who then walked into the dressing room. He waited outside, just by one of the slot machines.

The girls walked out of the room, now dressed in long gowns, their backs bare and the slits on their legs high up to their thighs. You no longer wore your wig, but your natural hair looked even better on you, if Jason had to say. You were the last to come out, and the seductive, shameless demeanor you once had was now replaced with a shy, silent, yet beautiful disposition. Your dress was the same color red as his Red Hood mask. He loved it.

You caught his eye, stopping your tracks, then you brought your purse up to your torso as if you were covering yourself from him.

Jason walked over to you, stretching out his hand. You looked at his arms, then at his face. You didn’t smile at him, but slowly, you held his hand for a firm shake.

But he didn’t shake it. Instead, he brought it up to his lips, delicately pressing it against the back of your hand as if you were so fragile. But you sighed at his gesture, and you couldn’t help but step closer.

“Jason Todd,” he said, still not letting go of your hand.

“Y/FN.”

Your voice was sweeter than your scent.

“You were amazing out there, Y/N.”

“I didn’t realize I was dancing for the Iceberg’s new owner, Mr. Todd.”

“Call me Jason. Please.”

So you didn’t know who he was, and still you danced for him like no one else. Interesting.

“A drink?”

You nodded. Jason motioned for a waiter to his direction and he took two glasses from the tray, handing one out to you. “Walk with me, Y/N.”

Your lips stained the glass’s rim with a faint coral. He looked away before you’d catch him staring too much at it.

“How do you find the place?”

“It’s perfect, much better than when Mr. Cobblepot owned the place.”

“So you’ve danced here before?”

“A few times. I didn’t like it as much. Who knew a handsome young bachelor such as you would turn the place so much more interesting?”

Your eyes were piercing. And every so often, as you walked past the crowd, he’d catch you looking at him longer than you should.

“Being one of Bruce Wayne’s wards has its perks.”

“You are definitely different from your siblings.”

“In a good way?”

“In the best way.”

You’ve reached the dance floor, where drunken socialites had a glass on one hand while holding onto some businessman or crime lord half their height with the other. The live band was playing jazz music for now, and with the lights coming to a dim, Jason stretched out his hand for you again. “Dance with me, Ms. Y/N?”

Placing your glasses onto a waiter’s tray, you took it, and he placed his hand on your waist, yours on his shoulder. And with the other, he held your fingers with a slight brush against your thumb.

“You must do this with a whole number of women, sir.”

Sir. You didn’t say it the way you called him Mr. Todd. You said it seductively. Oh, he definitely had that kink.

“On the contrary, I don’t.”

“So the Prince of Gotham isn’t a stud after all?”

“Not at all. But women don’t hate me, that’s for sure.”

His grip on your waist tightened, and you were pulling him closer. “I sure hope you like me, Ms. Y/LN.”

“Call me Y/N, and I think I like you just fine.”

The smell of rose petals yet again. Your faces were so close, and you danced at a slower pace than everyone else in the room. “I’d like to get to know you better. You have a show tomorrow night, Y/N?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Dinner. With me at the rooftop lounge. I’ll reserve a special table with the best view.”

“Just thought you should know, I cannot be reeled in over wealth and gifts.”

“Not that kind of woman, huh?”

You smirked. “I don’t think so.”

“Is that a no?”

“If you weren’t so rich, or if you weren’t so alike to your playboy father, maybe I’d immediately say yes.”

He twirled you around so skillfully you almost squealed. “Then let me prove to you I’m no rich playboy.”

“You have the whole night.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, smirking as you looked into his eyes. You were warm, and even if you weren’t so immensely sexy, he was still so drawn to you, he’ll make sure to make the night worthwhile.

The song ended, and reluctantly, he pulled away from you, but not without a kiss to your hand once again.

“You may not be that kind of girl, but what if I take you up to my room?”

He watched your face, looking for any signs of hesitation. Even at just the slightest bit of pressure, he wouldn’t push it. But the wide smile on your face and the enthusiastic nod reassured him. “Lead the way.”

Jason held out his elbow for you to take, and you wrapped your hand around your bicep as you walked to the back of the room, to the elevators no one was supposed to go into. He heard whispers from socialites left and right, how he was taking a burlesque girl up to his room. They’ll call you cheap, for sure. But even if they had half the charm you had, he’d pick you in a crowd of hundreds in a heartbeat.

You didn’t seem to mind. You walked into the elevator, still holding onto his arm, and you walked out into a hall of glass walls and crystal statues. At the end of the hall was the door to his room. And with no one around, Jason led you inside.

You placed your purse on a console table, marveling over the immensely luxurious bedroom. The walls were still of the same crystal-like glass, blue all over the walls. There was a couch and living area to the left, and right in front was his own liquor bar, which he walked over to immediately after pulling out a seat for you to take. Behind it was a beautiful aquarium, large enough to fill up the whole wall. Walking over to it, watching the fish move around the corals and seaweed, Jason took out a bottle of champagne and poured both of you a new glass.

“You have quite the exquisite taste.”

“I’m hoping that doesn’t turn you off as much.”

Handing you a glass, you clinked it against his and sipped. “Your charm makes up for it. I take it you weren’t born with a silver spoon up your ass?”

He laughed. “No. Glad you should mention that. I grew up in the streets, in fact.”

“You and I both.”

Another lipstick stain on the rim of your glass, and your eyes still on the fish of the aquarium. He had to stop staring so much.

“Where’s your next performance?”

“I’m not so sure yet. Our manager usually tells us of our performances on the day.”

“Call me. I’d love to watch you again.”

Smiling as you walked over to the liquor bar’s stool, Jason put his arm on the bar’s surface. “Why me?”

He was flustered. “Well, other than the fact that your beauty absolutely captivates me, red happens to be my favorite color.”

“A way with words, you have, Jason Todd.”

You both placed your empty glasses on the table, and Jason started to put his face nearer to yours, leaning towards you from the other side of the bar. You were pushing your ass out, leaning towards him in turn. With a brush of his fingers against your cheek, you bit your lips.

“May I take another step at convincing you over that date?”

“Take as many measures as you want.”

You were first to lean in to his lips, and you were warm, so soft, and incredibly addicting. That rosy smell was now mixed with the faint remnants of champagne. He breathed in, walking over to your side at the table so he could roam his hands around your hair, your neck, your waist. He stopped, and you went on to kiss his neck, and he leaned over to push on the lever under your seat so you’d be elevated up to his height. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed him again and you felt his hand snake up your thigh.

“You sure those-“ you breathed. “-socialites downstairs wouldn’t mind?”

“I don’t care.” He smiled at you. Jason took off his suit jacket and you worked him off his tie. His red dress shirt was a shade lighter than your dress, and all you could think about were the thick muscles he had on under his clothes, how huge he was compared to any other man you’ve ever been with. Your hands on his face, you spread your legs so he could settle himself between them.

Shit, this was hot. Your heavy breaths, your gasps, the slight mewl when he’d bite into your neck, he lifted you up on your thighs and carried you to the other side of the liquor bar. Now sitting taller than him, he could nip at your chest easily, biting into your collarbone. Your legs were hooked around his waist and with neither of you fixing the straps of your dress falling down your shoulder, you moaned in delight when his hands squeezed onto your thighs.

With your help, he fiddled with his belt buckle and unzipped his pants, never leaving your lips while he was at it. Hiking your dress up to your waist, he groaned when your hand suddenly started to pump his length.

“You really got it all, Mr. Todd,” you winked.

“Like what you see?”

“Yes, sir.”

He swore his dick twitched.

Then he started attacking your neck, the top of your breast. He pushed your dress down so he could bite into the skin of your now exposed breasts. Of course you weren’t wearing a bra. He didn’t know what he expected. Eyes closed shut, moaning even louder, he tipped over a few glasses when he leaned his weight over you. Your legs were in the air, and you were holding onto him so you wouldn’t fall off.

Kneeling down, your fingers locked onto his hair, Jason looked up at you as he pushed you further toward the edge of the surface, your exposed ass cold against the bar. He kneaded your thighs, so skillfully well you could probably cum just as that, then the cheeky bastard started biting at the hem of your stockings.

Smiling down at him, you watched him pull them down your legs with his teeth, before he’d traced his burning hot tongue up the skin of your inner thighs. Your thongs were thin enough for him to know you’d feel his breath if he ghosted his mouth over you, so that was exactly what he did. And watching your reactions, and the way you pulled even tighter into his hair, he stood back up to pull your lips back to his.

You bit at his lip, feeling the tip of his warm cock play with your folds.

And when he’d slid inside you, your nails raked onto his back, nevermind his shirt to protect him. You weren’t so shy anymore when you suddenly tore his shirt open, the buttons flying to whatever direction to the ground. Smiling as he thrusted inside you, your nails traced the outlines of his abs. So fucking hot…

He probably heard another glass break, but he didn’t care. Jason picked you up once again, turned around, then pushed your back flat against the aquarium’s glass. The fish were frantically swimming around in panic, especially when he started pounding against you and the window shook in loud thuds. You screamed, and with a bite onto your neck, the tip of his cock hit that side of your tight walls clenching around him to hard, he wanted to break the glass.

He moaned into your ear, effortlessly keeping you up with his hands on your thighs. He thrusted into you, gaining speed the more you screamed and moaned his name. He caught your lips, bit onto them even when he didn’t want you to be quiet. This was fucking hotter than anything he’s ever experienced.

And he didn’t want this to end so quickly. Not with you. Something to captivating within you made him want to take his sweet time, enjoy your body he was lucky enough to have at the first night. He didn’t want this to be just for tonight, no. He wanted you to come back, to make you feel so good you’ll have to say yes to that date. So he lifted you up once again, his cock still lodged inside you, and he carried you into bed.

Fuck, you were so hot splayed out on his bed like that, your thighs drenched and your hair a mess. Jason took his dress shirt off, throwing it to the floor, then he helped you slide off of your dress, your thongs, your stockings, and fucking hell, you were beautiful.

Jason took off his pants, and before you could pull him in, he leaned over to the side of the bed and pressed on two buttons. One of them dimmed the lights to a sexy, seductive red glare, and the other put on some music. Some slow rap song he didn’t have the liberty of choosing, and it made you giggle. You obviously didn’t want him fiddling around with more buttons, so you pulled onto his shoulders and hooked both your legs around him.

Moaning, your hands gripping onto the sheets, Jason kissed your breasts and midriff so breathily slow that it made you a writhing mess. He leaned over to your cunt, breathing against it to make you jolt, then he lapped his tongue over you so gently your back arched high up to the air. He inserted a finger, then another, and you were screaming his name over and over, shaking each time he thrusted inside you. “Fuck,” he moaned, before lapping at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

Yes. Moan. Scream. Twitch at his touch. Just watching you would’ve been enough to get him off. The lights, the room, the music, it was all perfect. “Is that a yes on that date now?”

“If you don’t continue fucking me right now, I might never call you.”

He laughed and went back up to your lips, grinding against you so deliciously slow, his shaft grazing up your cunt, he held onto you as you jolted up. Suddenly, he flipped you over, and you squealed as he held your ass up, licking his fingers as he played with your pussy. You buried your head against the soft pillows and moaned as he slid back inside you, hands roughly gripping onto your hips.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!!!” you screamed, and with his arm holding onto your shoulders, he held you up, keeping that sexy arch of your back intact with his other hand, and with your head falling to his shoulder, he pulled you up for a kiss. Hands all over your breasts, skin so flustered and over stimulated, you felt burning. Jason bit your lip too hard when he felt your already tight pussy clench around him. Forehead against yours, he looked right into your eyes and snapped his hips into your ass, making you shriek.

“Fuck! Do that again, sir!”

Fucking hell.

He did it again. And again. And again and again.

He’s never been so intimate with a stranger, never took so much time to make them feel good. And even when he’d just met you, something didn’t want him to make this a single night of quick, meaningless sex to keep him going through the day. Something wanted him to make this more than that.

So he kissed you, long and hard. And with your limbs trembling and shaking hard enough to make you fall, he held you up, holding himself back from the immense pain and pleasure that went with you clenching so hard around him, he hissed and gave in.

He came, and you both fell to the bed, his chest pressed against your back, he sloppily kept up with his thrusts and rode out his high. He shuddered, spilling so much of his load inside you. Fuck, this was too good for him. He kissed your shoulders, your back, then your cheek. You looked amazing, and undoubtably grateful. Jason turned you around, legs around his body, and kept kissing you all throughout the night.

Fucking a stranger, sure. But making love to one? Not exactly what people would have in mind. But somehow, with you, nothing has ever felt better. Nothing felt so right.

And eventually, when the ripe beginnings of sunshine had met his window, you kissed him once again before walking back over to pick your clothes from the ground. “My phone’s over there,” you pointed to your purse. “Give me your number.”

Pinching your butt cheek, Jason took your phone. He then gave you his and you put your number with a little heart next to your name.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a night like that with someone I barely know.”

“Neither have I.”

Smiling, and with your clothes back on, you leaned over to him and kissed him, before walking out of the room. Biting the inside of his gums, he put on his clothes, walked over to the liquor bar, then turned over to face the fish.

A push on the remote he had opened the screens behind the aquarium. His hand in his pockets, he watched as the glass unfolded.

“You alright there, Cobblepot?”

“You. Fucking. Tool,” Penguin growled from behind the glass, his clothes and hair a mess. Probably from almost tearing them out from his skin in frustration.

“Shut up. At least I had the decency to shut the glass and the one way mirror. You didn’t see anything.”

The stout man looked absolutely traumatized. “And you just forgot to turn the sounds off?”

“Oh,” he sipped on his wine. “Whoops.”

Taglist: everyartistwas-firstanamateur @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx @supremehaunter @ burning-alive @lucy-roo roseangel013bf @ loxbbg reclusive-chicken-nuggethttp-cherries shadowsndaisiesriver9noble zphilophobiazannoylinglyaries @knightfall05x

#jason todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #prince of gotham #red hood and the outlaws #prince of gotham smut #batarella #batarella smut #batarella smut one shots

542 notes · View notes

bookwyrminspiration · 3 years ago

Note

greetings *curtseies??*

i am here wondering how to erect an e-statue does that exist i don’t know i don’t know

anyways to my actual question, do you think marella did something to her hair on the stellarlune cover or… cause she’s a natural blonde, not ginger? or is that maybe not even marella at all??

well, greetings to you too! *slightly bemused head nod in acknowledgement of the curtsy* (question: what is the curtsy for? what inspired it?)

I don't know how to erect an e-statue either nor what that would entail in the slightest. From my 30 second search of the internet I have found no evidence that something like that exists. my intention when suggesting an e-statue in my partner's honor was more as a commemoration of their brief visit to this side of The Tungles, so perhaps something more suited to the internet would be better. we could draw a shrine instead or something, idk.

but now onto your actual question!! and it definitely seems to be one that a lot of the fandom is asking, so I'll probably have a lot of the same explanations that everyone else has come up with.

based on past art of the characters, Marella's hair seems to be a lot more red than before. In Laura's art, she's as blonde as Sophie and Keefe, no underlying red hues at all. But now she's a lot closer to Dex's color, a strawberry blond. And I have a few possible explanations for that

1. She's done something to alter her appearance. It's been shown throughout the series that elves are more than capable of changing their hair/eye/skin color as they please, so Marella may have taken an elixir that darkened up the color of her hair to a more red hue. She's also shown little to no aversion to that kind of thing as far as I can remember, so maybe it's cosmetic and for fun. Maybe she had to change her appearance to blend in. I'm not personally convinced this is the reason, but it is possible.

2. it's the lighting. Marella's entire figure seems to be shrouded in more shadows than Sophie, so perhaps that's making her hair seem a lot darker than it is. If we compare their skin colors, which were very similar in Laura's art if I'm remembering correctly, Marella seems to have her entire face in shadows, and part of that could be affecting her hair. The most obvious part is that section of hair directly to the right of Sophie's head, and Sophie is really well lit compared to the shadows of Marella, which might be making it seem more dramatic than it is. I don't think this is a convincing argument either, but it may have an effect.

Then there's the reason that I personally find most convincing, and it's simply that it makes her look different than Sophie. It's a subtle change, still noticeable for us who are familiar with her previous art and descriptions, but she's still passable as kind of blond. If you look at the cover as a whole, you can see her instead as a darker blonde, or a blonde with a red undertone. She's definitely not as light blonde as Sophie is, but unless you're paying really close attention (which the whole fandom has been) she can be written off as blonde while still looking distinct from Sophie. That is, if you're looking at her hair as a whole and how it looks when under better light (towards the top of her head) instead of just the shadowed part (which is in her armpit). It's not entirely fair to compare the darkest part to Sophie's lightest, though it is set up so that those parts are closest together which I think is exacerbating the effect.

I think if Marella was given the light blonde we've come to associate her with she's look really similar to Sophie in this cover. The only main difference would be what they were wearing, style of hair (which isn't as noticeable of a difference when it's being whipped about like that), and eye color/shape. Overall, they'd look practically the same and that's not what's wanted!! These are supposed to be distinct characters, and while we can distinguish them in writing by manner of speech, abilities, etc, it's a lot more limited in a single drawing. We know the difference, but new readers won't.

So with 2 blondes on the cover, one had to be altered slightly to give them a distinction. As Sophie is the main character, it's more important for her to stay the same, so Marella ends up with a small, but noticeable change to make their differences more obvious. I mean, we all still recognized her, despite the bemusement.

I do think it is Marella though, as the combination of ice blue eyes, almost blonde hair, lots of little braids, and holding a torch are all Marella things. Though I am curious why she's holding a torch instead of being one.

Excellent question!! I guess we'll have to wait until November 8th to read the book and find out what on earth (or maybe not on earth given elves can travel through space, but I still think it's on earth) is happening in this scene.

TL;DR: I think Marella's hair is different to make her more distinct from Sophie, but she's still passable as blonde when you look at her hair as a whole. The really red and shadowed part is right next to the brightest blonde of Sophie's, so it makes it look more dramatic than it is.

#marella's design on this cover is my favorite out of all the characters on all the covers #something about her is just so satisfying #i think it's her eyes #the way they're drawn is fascinating #but back to the point #these are the same things others have been saying #so the general consensus is 'huh that's strange and probably to make her different from sophie'#and also 'wow marella looks great with red hair i'm going to change my pfp to her'#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #quil's queries #nonsie #kotlc stellarlune #marella redek

15 notes · View notes

solarianvoidthearoace · 3 years ago

Text

Excerpt#1 of my Gerry Keay/OC Magical/Mythical CollegeAU

CN/TW: Social Anxiety, discussion of mental illness, discussion of past trauma, awkward coming-out, miscommunication, misunderstanding, it/its pronouns for Michael Shelley, he/they pronouns for Gerry, they/them pronouns for OC, narrative mention of Mary Keay, mention of alcohol, mythical people living in a parallel society and amongst humans, original character talking German (two sentences; extrapolable from context)

“But sure, you're seeming nice so no problem.” Heaving a relieved sigh, Gerry followed them into the room. The two taking seats in the lower rows of the auditorium, seeing as Gerry’s companion wore glasses. Unpacking their notepads, pencil cases, and Gerry setting up his laptop. There was still time until the lecture was set to begin, so Gerry turned to his table neighbour,

“Your look sends very mixed signals, if I’m being honest.” They grinned, propping their chin up on the back of their hand,

“All the right ones, apparently”, demonstratively looking Gerry up and down. Making them look away, clearing his throat. They laughed,

“Not flirting, don’t worry. I’m Yanis.” He tried masking his relieved sigh best they could,

“Gerry.”

They did pay attention to the lecture, still, Gerry found out a bit more about his dyed ginger saviour. Yanis was in the same semester and some of the same courses has he was. Though they didn’t study for the same engineering degree, there was a decent overlap. Some courses Gerry needed for his software engineering degree much the same as Yanis needed for mechanical engineering. They easily offered they could study together. Yanis having been at the campus since they started their degree and knowing the ins and outs of it.

Having easily found common ground in their discipline of study, as well as their taste in music, Gerry had no qualms following Yanis to the canteen for a late breakfast. They kept chatting, switching back and forth between languages.

“So what if you’re 31?”, Yanis shrugged,

“I also had to take care of my health first. Plus we’re both neurodivergent so starting a college degree at all is more stressful to us. It’s not like anyone is rushing you.” Gerry rolled their eyes,

“Still. Being autist and depressed doesn’t exactly help my case here. That’s ignoring the ADHD and trauma.” A painted-black nail flicked his nose,

“Nope. None of that, you’re not demanded to keep pace with anyone and if your personal reasons bared you from even looking into college education until you were 25, then that’s how it is. Besides, it’s eight years between us. Don’t be dramatic.” Gerry tried to glare but they simply raised a brow in challenge, shutting him right up. While they weren’t in the same major, they compared their course schedules some more and found they were in the same philosophy and ethics courses for their minor. Gerry having decided to not put that on hold and taking the according courses in his semester in Germany as well.

By the end of the day, Gerry felt they had a better handle on his new college-everyday and possibly even made a friend. Which raised a few problems all of its own.

While Gerry had no problem with Yanis finding out what concretely had delayed his life so much, they had another problem. Gerry wasn’t human. And neither was their best friend Michael, for the matter, it being a changeling and his nature chaotic to a fault. Gerry themself was, depending on what one believed, involuntarily threatening to humans.

His mother having been a hulder, a mythical being almost looking like a human. The feature most telling of their mythical nature, though, the fact that they look hollow if seen in the right light, from the right angle. Akin to forest spirits, hulders were drawn by their nature to lure townspeople into forests. Not inherently malicious, of course, their blonde hair and fair skin drawing mostly men in.

With an established mythical society existing in parallel to the non-magical human society, there were laws and proper paperwork surrounding magical and mythical people’s “otherness” and characteristics.

Characteristics which were the life-long obsession of his mother. Her trying to create offspring of her own that would be inherently dangerous to humans and as malicious as she had been. Gerry hated thinking about his father almost more than he hated his mother. But matter of fact was, being half-hulder, and his father having been a river-nix, Gerry was… alluring. Drawing people in without them realising as much if he acted the wrong kind of way towards them. Gerry forced to be constantly mindful of their nature, as to not accidentally harm someone.

Which was why they usually didn’t make friends. Having to make sure the person wasn’t human as to not endanger them.

And yet, they got stuck with Yanis. Gerry was glad it was autumn, the chance of light hitting him in just the wrong way dwindling. But he couldn’t help their worried unease, recognising Yanis and them grew closer.

It wasn’t that Gerry was set out to avoid Yanis, having taken them up on an invitation to lunch and even to revise notes and study together. But Gerry had a bad feeling about it, especially when he grew to see them as a friend. They did try bringing some more distance between them, an attempt so he didn’t need to outright evade Yanis. Declining their invitations more often than not, excusing themself and finding reasons to convince himself it was the right thing to do.

Having forced himself to take a step back, Gerry caught themself looking for them. It had started so he could more easily get around them, trying to deter Yanis from inviting him in the first place so they didn’t have to turn them down as often.

Gerry wasn’t oblivious to their whole demeanour getting muted once it had clicked that he was trying to push distance between them. But seeing Yanis less cheery and energetic made Gerry realise some things about them.

Yanis wasn’t much smaller than him, a few inches at most. But they carried themself in a way that made them stand out. Gerry had learned Yanis had chronic pain, making it hard on them to be on their feet the entire day. Rarely, they wore leg braces, limiting their range of motion further than their chronic pain already did. Still, Yanis was confident and most days glossing over their frequent aches with relative ease. It had been more apparent when they hadn’t been upset but the way Yanis walked was… with purpose. Every step seeming deliberate and not to be questioned. While that cocksure confident way to carry oneself wasn’t all that remarkable, it stood out in Yanis.

And Gerry needed a good long while to figure out why.

Michael had badgered them to get out and socialise. It was the last week before winter break and there was a social happening of the engineering faculty. Gerry had put on a nice button shirt and proper slacks before touching up their black nail polish and putting on a hint of eyeliner.

Yes, he was cautious not to accidentally draw humans in but that didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to tart themself up. Gerry hadn’t even really planned to talk to anyone, if they were being honest. Just mingling among people and feeling alone in the crowd instead of feeling alone by himself.

That was, until aquamarine and black varnished fingers held a bottle in his field of vision. Gerry couldn’t fight down his smile before closing their eyes. Shaking his head, they just let it happen. Let that gentle affection wash over him for just a moment.

“Thought you might be here tonight”, Yanis held out the drink,

“The crown cap is still sealed.” Gerry pulled a face as to not smile despite themself. He sighed,

“You’re quite persistent.” Yanis raised a rather expressive brow at him,

“If you honestly wanted me gone, you would have told me. So I dare say you don’t want me completely gone. It’s nice having someone who can keep up with my ADHD jumping through topics, plus being able to overlook what allistics call me weird for.” When he finally took the bottle, their smile turned from friendly to bright. He bit his lip, trying to hide it behind the bottle. Yanis offered them their bottle opener.

“Got me there. And yes, having a neurodivergent friend is quite unwinding”, he admitted. Opening the drink, Gerry took them in. A proper once-over. They weren’t primped either but certainly had put thought into their casual suit not clashing with their once-again stark-red hair. Gerry having seen Yanis cycling through vibrant red washing out to ginger, before they went back to dyed poppy-red.

Gerry felt admittedly awkward standing together with them. Very much aware of how they had avoided them after all. Nursing their drinks, they kept quiet. Even though Gerry noticed Yanis also taking in his appearance. After some time he sighed,

“I’m sorry. It’s…”, they broke off, shaking his head.

“Complicated?”, Yanis offered with a huff,

“That’s one way to put it, I suppose.” Gerry raised a brow at them. Before he could ask what they were referring to, though, Yanis turned to him properly.

“Did you notice there’s a dance floor?” They blinked in surprise,

“Uh… yea, I did.” Yanis snorted, taking his empty bottle from them and depositing the glass on a nearby tray for used tableware.

“So, can you dance?”, Yanis’ smile inviting and warm,

“And would you dance with me?” Gerry froze, biting his lip and looking away. He knew they shouldn’t. They were very much aware that Yanis needed to keep their distance from him. He swallowed thickly,

“I can dance but…” Yanis hummed expectantly.

“We shouldn’t, okay? I don’t want to elaborate on that.” Yanis’ face cleared as they gave a soft ‘oh’ of understanding.

When Gerry looked back at them, Yanis was looking at them. The expression in their eyes making him pause. A glint of intent, resolve. But their overall demeanour had changed as well. That deliberate way they carried themself was back, not in a way that intimidated. But even standing next to Gerry, he could see they were moving with an intent, with a conscious focus on the way they moved to get there.

Yanis licked their lip,

“I will respect your turndown. But I would like you to know that I know.” Gerry froze. Raising a brow, Yanis’ tone turned gentler still,

“And I really don’t want to push you towards anything. Or put you up to anything.” Gerry felt his amusement bubbling up when Yanis said as much. The idea of someone human inciting a mythical or magical person to anything at all seemed a bit laughable.

“I’m aromantic myself”, they shrugged,

“And asexual.” Their smile turning into a bit of a smirk, cheeky just around the edges. Gerry’s face cleared in surprise, his jaw dropping a bit. His amusement freezing over with a faint ‘oh’ of their own. Before he grimaced,

“I am aromantic, yes, but that’s not it. I’m sorry, you’re a really nice person. You have been nothing but friendly and a reliable friend at that. It’s…”

Yanis closed their eyes, brows raised, before they snorted.

“Let me stop you right there. I know you have been avoiding me, I have respected that you were avoiding me”, they looked him in the eye,

“If you want me gone, I won’t bother you again. I’ll be out of your hair and we don’t have to even talk again.” Gerry felt his face fall, nervously biting his lip once more. Yanis wasn’t done just yet,

“But if you would like to, I want to get to know you”, a short jerk of their head,

“Properly get to know you. I think both our first gut feeling about the other was that we could become pretty great friends. And that’s all I’m suggesting.” Gerry needed a moment to process that. To let sink in that Yanis was really just curious about his friendship. Something they had so far always had to be wary around. At least until Gerry knew whether the person in question was human. Yanis huffed,

“While you process whether to give us a try, I’ll get us new drinks.” Gerry blinked, then nodded when they realised Yanis was waiting on his okay. Another one of those bright friendly smiles before they turned away. Gerry didn’t know what it was but they followed Yanis with his eyes. Their red hair easy to make out even in the crowd.

Just as he was about to turn away, he noticed something. Yanis was a very body-aware person, conscious and deliberate to a point it might seem standoffish. They had explained how it related to their chronic back and joint pain. But as Gerry watched them move through the crowd, he realised just how easily they moved around people. Almost light-footed, turning out of others’ ways with ease.

Despite them being almost as tall as him, and dressed in dark clothes, something about Yanis’ way through the crowd seemed almost airy.

It didn’t fit. It should have clashed immensely.

As they moved back towards him, Gerry realised what had been so weird about Yanis’ bodily confidence. They didn’t seem to make way for themself. Not at all. While that sureness was clear as day, written all over their most minute movements.

The way Yanis moved was the harsh opposite. Gerry was tempted to call it floaty. He knew they could make a way for themself through people, had witnessed as much a few times in the bustle of the campus. But how Yanis moved around people seemed just as natural.

Not even the slightest touch between them and the people around, as if some shimmer was keeping Yanis from being touchable. Kept up their airy strut, as if they weren’t turning and stepping around people.

The contrast did not make sense. And seeing as Gerry’s best friend was a changeling, well, if things didn’t make sense, it was likely some faerie or other was involved.

Which, on the one hand, would mean Yanis was safe from his own magic. But on the other hand it would raise so many more questions around them. About them.

Gerry couldn’t help his sceptical look when Yanis returned. Frowning at them, unsure whether to trust what they had seen.

“You're looking at me like that again”, Yanis raised a brow at him. Gerry gnawed his bottom lip,

“You’re a bit of a mystery, if I’m being honest.” But took the offered bottle none the less. Yanis’ warm smile returned,

“Well, I suppose it’s on you whether you care to figure me out, then.” An easy shrug as they raised a brow at him.

Gerry didn’t reply. They had not clue what to reply to that. And what they wanted to reply in the first place. Yanis didn’t push him. Much to Gerry’s relief. They fell back into companionable silence, emptying their drinks. When the bottles were empty, Yanis looked at him for a long moment. Searching their face. Yanis’ expression fell a bit, their smile not reaching their eyes anymore. Still, they only grimaced a little before sighing,

“So… have a good night, then.” Taking his empty bottle to take it away with their own, Yanis turned to go. Looking back over their shoulder,

“I guess I’ll see you around.” And with a final shrug and smile, they were gone in the crowd. Gerry stared after them before he closed their eyes and sighed. Silently cursing themself, he turned away from the crowd as well. One hand coming up to cover his mouth. Yanis had been right, if Gerry really had wanted them gone, he could have told them as much anytime. If they had wanted Yanis gone, he could have told them as much when they literally offered to leave him alone.

But Gerry didn’t. Because Gerry hadn’t and still didn’t want them gone.

They spent another few minutes turning things over in his head. What he had to consider if they really tried building a genuine friendship with Yanis.

Once he started looking around for them, Gerry regretted their delay. Not able to make out the red shock of hair, Gerry pulled out his phone. If he couldn’t find Yanis, he might at least tell Michael about his hunch. They had been friends for forever but Gerry still wasn’t all that confident to make out people that were connected to faerie. It was his best idea at the moment but he might just as well be off. Asking Michael for his opinion was a solid thing, also maybe it could distract Gerry if they really didn’t find Yanis again. Which meant Gerry would have to approach them around their next shared lecture.

Pocketing their phone, he looked up and around once more.

And huffed in amusement, Yanis standing almost directly in his line of vision. Albeit turned from them and leaning with their chin propped up over a bar table. Despite having avoided them, Gerry knew their usual posture well enough to see Yanis had to adjust to their pain at the moment. Holding their weight cautiously and reducing tension in their back and legs. Coincidentally, Yanis was looking at their own phone when Gerry came closer. And if he wasn’t mistaken, they were looking at the recent chat chronic between the two of them. The small frown pulling down the corner of Yanis’ lips gave Gerry a weird boost of confidence.

As he stepped up to the table, Yanis looked up.

“Du schon wieder”, they raised a brow but their frown had vanished. The quip good natured and accompanied by a small smile. Gerry couldn’t help smiling themself. With a slight head-tilt, he shrugged,

“Well, I can admit that I went looking for you.” Feeling a blush creep up on him, they tried fighting down his smile. Yanis turned to them fully, still with one elbow leaning on the table, they raised a brow. Giving Gerry a once-over. A short jerk of their head,

“Okay, und?” Gerry took a deep breath,

“You wanted to dance with me”, he shrugged,

“How about that invitation?” Yanis’ smile brightened a bit, stepping away from the table and coming closer. They offered him a hand,

“Your lead or mine?”

8 notes · View notes

shinobirain24 · 3 years ago

Text

Iceberg Week 2021: Day 2 (July7)- Romeo and Juliet AU Pt. 1

Note: This fanfic is actually going to be a modern version of Romeo and Juliet. Where Weiss is the mafia's daughter and Neptune is the son of a police captain. I know it wasn't the best, but I would like to release it to share with you fellow viewers. Sorry for the late submission. I thought I should cut it into two parts

By wolfstyle2074

"Two Households, both alike and in dignity. When the differences have settled in cold blood. Love cannot be killed. The story of two young lovers seek out a way to escape with their lives when first sight came to light. Between law and crime, it was always conflict, questions of the choices we make in the war of blood..."

"Uh, Ren. Can we repeated that please? The background is getting sizzled?" Nora, a ginger-haired girl holding the camera, then interrupted as Ren, a raven-haired boy is speaking with a microphone in his hands. He is a reporter for a boarding school writing a story about two runaways fighting for their lives. "Um, Nora, are you okay?"

He asked. Seeing Nora wiping the tears off his eyes. Hearing the story kinda got her emotional. "Yeah, I just wished they'd be here to appreciate how you write this story."

"Don't worry, Nora. Neither of them will be forgotten. I am sure they will appreciate what you did to remember them." Ren said. Walking towards Nora and patted her on the head to cheer her up. "Wanna get some ice cream on the way out? I am sure it will make you feels better." Ren asked. Nora then rose her head up from the camera and smiled and nodded to the suggestion. "Yeah, I am sure it's fine. This is our last year in the Academy, sooner or later we will graduate." Nora said.

"You have read my mind, Nora." Ren said walking out together with Nora out of the school building. "Two years, and it was the story that made headlines that involves forbidden love between law and crime."

"Something tells me you will make a great novelist." Nora encouraged. The school bell rings. The one bell that rings from one transition to another, the sound that will haunt the students forever.

-2 years ago-

Captain Saturn Vasilias of the New York Police Force was in his cab to his destination for the assignment he was in. "10-2, we got a cartel in the dust facility, Ever Dust Inc., five males, two females on the road." One line have said from the radio. Saturn then picks up and speaks through the mic. "10-2 unit 6, close all the roads and don't let them escape." Saturn responded.

After driving at full speed, knowing he might have much time to prevent the crime of robbery in the dust facility and caught up with two cargo tricks in front of the entrance. The bombing was non-stop. The Schnee Family were a known crime family that illegally sells dust for weapons, their empire grew large since then. Saturn has been researching about them for years, but none of the family members has been caught. However, one of them, a young woman has been reporting about them and giving them tips since then, our of fear for the safety of her younger younger siblings, and would suffer the same fate. The woman then became an undercover informant.

Saturn then got off his cab, and takes out a megaphone as he spoke to an old man, who is in his 50s or 60s, wearing a casual suit, which is the sign of him being a ringleader of the cartel. "Jacques Schnee, you are under arrest for the robbery and numerous murders!" Saturn announced.

"Your father before you was a fool to think you could win this round!" Jacques retorts after ordering his men to raise their guns and pointed at him. "You never learn, haven't you, cold-blooded man?!"

Saturn's son, Jupiter has been behind his father this whole time and also pointed his sniper gun at him, mostly the main boss are the main targets. "Jupiter, you cannot draw weapons at him, you'll be charged with firearms! And you don't have a permit for that!" Saturn scolded him. "Relax, dad. Mom taught me a lot. Plus, this is the first time we have a father-son day in your fight." Jupiter remarks. But Saturn wasn't pleased. "Get ready, old man! Either you and your buddies come quietly and peacefully, or you'll regret it!" Jupiter warned.

"Peace? Peace is the very word I hate, as I hate all Vasilias'! Come at me then! Winter!" Jacques stated as he gave a hand signal to his men for gunfire. And called out his daughter, Winter to lead the gunfire. She came out and gave a signal to fire. Saturn and Jupiter hid behind the left side of the cab as the bullets created holes from a right side of the door. Jupiter then came out of hiding and shot back.

Jacques hid in his cargo for his own safety. And Saturn shots back at his arch-enemy. "Blasted Schnees, they don't know when to quit." Jupiter scoffed. Kept firing one after the other. Later, after a scuffle, Jacques got away in his own cargo. But the rest of his men have been caught, and some of the stolen dust has been recovered, but the rest were stolen.

Lydia, Saturn's wife, and Jupiter's mother, and a lawyer, cleaned some of the wounds they received from gunshots. Luckily they survived. But knowing her, she feared for her family's wellbeing and would scold them for getting too reckless. "Honestly, Saturn. You have enough damages for one day! And you, Jupiter, try not to get in the way for your father's patrol the next time."

"Sorry, Mom." Said Jupiter, crossing his arms.

"Sorry, honey. I'll make it up to you by making dinner tonight." He winces a little as Lydia puts rubbing alcohol on his bleeding shoulder. "Ah!" He hissed. "I am just glad Neptune wasn't here to witness this, it would've been traumatizing for him. Knowing how sensitive he was."

"I hope so too. Good thing our dear boy is at home minding his business." Lydia breathes in relief to know that her son is safe at home, or so she thought.

Later that afternoon, Neptune is in his bedroom doing his homework. Having headphones covering his ears with the music in his head. Then a knock on his window. It was a blonde-haired young man his age. Neptune then hears the knock and walks over to the window for a greeting. And opens the window. "Dude!" Neptune greets, and Sun jumps into the bedroom and gave him a handshake. "It's been a while."

"How've you been?" Asked Neptune. Sun then break away and gave him some stolen IDs with photos of him and Neptune. With different names that were related to crime empires. For Neptune, it's Kaman Aquors, and for Sun, it's Solar Reign. "What's with the fake IDs?" Asked Neptune. Sun smirked proudly as he thought of a great idea, or in Neptune's case, a bad idea. "Duh, I heard the Schnees are having a secret meeting for an auction. Where the stinking rich gathered around to buy stolen dust."

"Dude, no. I said it once, and I will say it again. No way. I cannot sneak out there and go to this auction. Dad will worry, and Mom, she'll be grounding me for a year if I ever go. I don't like how things were going as much as you do, but this is a bad idea." Neptune objects.

"Come on, Dude think of it as an undercover assignment. Think about it, once we have evidence to where Jacques Schnee is hiding, it will be the end of his empire. And plus, your dad will be so psyched, he will wanna make you part of his squad." Neptune then thought about it, his father has been stressing out for years fighting against the Schnees for their dangerous methods of running the business.

It worried him one bit as he saw his father feeling fatigued, coming home with wounds. Neptune then proceeds to think about the idea. Although it might get them into trouble, but it would give them the advantage for him to finally convince Saturn to rest up a bit. Neptune has no other choice but to accept the invitation. "Alright, if we're going to do this, we need a disguise. Knowing the Schnees, they would probably be after my family for being law enforcement."

"Alright! I knew you come around!" They high-fived. Later, Lydia came into her son's bedroom with dinner on the tray. "Sweetie, sorry your father and I are-Ah!" Lydia dropped her tray and it scattered into bits of vegetables and sushi. And saw that her son is gone and the window opened. "Oh my god! Saturn, he ran out again!" This is not the first time her sons have snuck out the bedroom window.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Weiss, the heiress to the Schnee has arrived to her room to get ready to meet her mother. Since she came back from a business trip. "More tea, Miss Schnee?" Asked her butler, Klein who have been close to her since she was young. The only family member she had been interacting with is with her elder sister. "Your sister had returned from her business trip."

"Thank you Klein. You know, it's funny. Living in a private island with no one but your family. This is absolutely isolation for the matter. Father had some shady dealings. Mother appoints lawyers in cases of my father on trial. While my brother wasn't around, just with my father. "Well, it's natural to be alone sometimes, my dear. But at the same time, it wasn't okay. Hopefully your mother will get the time off and you can have a bond with her."

"Good idea. But in the meantime, I have to think about what to do for the rest of the day." Then Weiss hears footsteps. It was her elder sister, Winter. The main heir to the Schnee Mafia. Although neither of the sisters agree to this. They acted like they were used to this. Winter came back in a sweet after finishing tipping off the police. Without their father knowing it. "One more thing there and done." Winter sighs in relief.

Weiss is happy to see her sister appear in her room. "Winter!" Said Weiss. As she ran and embrace her sister once more. "How are you today my sister?" Winter said. Weiss broke away. "Not so bad." Weiss replied. "Welcome home, Miss Schnee. How are your shifts with your father?" Klein curtsied. But Winter said, "Klein, there's no need for you to address me. But it's good to see you too." Winter assured. Winter hates the life she is living right now and wants her father out of the picture to provide the freedom for her siblings.

"Did you know that Mother will be arriving soon?" Asked Weiss. But Winter was adamant and never wants to speak about their mother. But reluctantly, she had to keep her sister at Bay to not be down on suspicion. "Yes, I have heard. But for who knows how long." Winter responded. But their mother appeared before her. "I am right here you know." Sighed their mother.

"An evening with you, Mother." Sighed their mother, Willow. Willow walks over to Weiss, who she has been expecting to appear before her. With Winter ignored a bit. But to her relief. "To what will do I owe you, Mother?" Asked Weiss.

"I age forgotten that you are reaching adulthood at this time, darling." Said Willow. "Still, you look very lovely."

"Ah, yes. Weiss has been growing up with her studies and was ready to apply for a university at this age. But at the same time, she-"

"I know this is too much to ask, Weiss. But have you ever thought of marriage?" Weiss was a bit stunned for a moment. Never she thought her parents would ask of this. But was aware her mother had been arranged to marry her father at Weiss' age. "Not exactly, Mother. I haven't thought of that. Anything you want to add?"

"Oh, for goodness sake, Mother. Marriage? I thought we were over this. Weiss is young and you can't just arrange someone to marry her. That's objectifying her." Winter argued in her sister's defense. Knowing that it was a ludicrous solution.

"Your father has been running out of men for the run-ins at some point. Therefore we need to combine our empires. And your father has already picked out the best suitor for your sister." Willow argued back. And Winter can tell in the eyes of her mother that she is just too much into pleasing her husband. "The auctions start tomorrow and the selection, Henry Marigold will be there to seek her out. His father will be the solution to our problems." Said Willow.

"Um, Mother. I don't know about this. Maybe Winter is right. Never met him. And he probably won't like me anyway." Weiss took Winter's side, unsure if she should take the opportunity of pleasing, or the opportunity of arrangement. But then again, she has not seen either of her parents, or her younger brother. "I have not yet met this person. But since this might be the option to get out the manor, even for a moment. This might be her chance. "If it means it will help our family, then I will see to it. Give me time to get to know this person." Weiss said. And Willow clasped her hands in joy. "Splendid, starting tomorrow, we will get you ready." Willow gestures Klein to follow, leaving Weiss and Winter alone in the same room. Winter shook her head in disapproval.

"Weiss are you sure about this. Think about it. You can't have this. What about your dreams of university? You can't throw that away. What if this person was a tyrant?" Winter asked, unsure how is her sister going to deal with this. Normally Winter would defend her to keep her out of harm's way. Informing police in secret in hopes she would put her father in jail. But the thought of her sister in exploitation is the horror she wished she wouldn't have to hear. If two empires merged by union would mean bigger chaos with crime all over. And it would lead to square one. Another thing she has to report.

"I don't know, but no matter what, I'll have to keep and eye on things, just to be safe." Said Winter, this could be a chance to expose some darker secrets.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neptune and Sun have entered the auction without fail. Using the fake IDs with the names of the previous rich men Sun had stolen from before he arrived in New York. Wearing tuxes and mask to keep themselves covered. To not blow their cover.

The private island of Schnee was no problem to find. Since Neptune had been hacking in computers all his life, he has no issue to find the transmission networks of the island. Most of the time the wealth has been building private islands for isolated reasons, and they have the most secured equipment. "Must've taken a lot of money to build this place." Said Sun.

Neptune looks around while seeing people in dresses and tuxes, masks and jewelry. Chandeliers hanging from the ceilings. Portraits of Jacques in a series of timelines. What a show-off. Only a few portraits of him and his family. Tables with such beautiful silver cloths. "Tell me about it, sooner we take the photos, the sooner we get out of here. Here, every day the auctions were illegally run by the Schnee Mafia. Empires gathered to buy the most expensive loads of dust and weaponry." Neptune replied.

"I'll see if they got any contracts that are related to this. We need a list of surnames just to be sure." Said Sun. Neptune nods, "Good idea, I'll talk to some guests, see what they know. I'll also record anything on the way." Suggested Neptune. Sun then pats him on the shoulder for some luck for him. And left his side to go upstairs. Neptune came to look around for some whispering crowds. But someone who came across him when his eyes got caught, distracting him.

A young, white-haired woman his age wearing a dark blue dress, and silver necklace. A mask matching her dress with teal gems attached. The woman looked at him and gave him a smile. Neptune cannot make out for what he was feeling, as if a fever began to make his heart pound in his chest. But then the gaze was interrupted when a dark blue-haired young man, whose hair was combed to the side approached her before him. "Are you Weiss, how do you do?" Asked the man.

"Henry Marigold, I presumed?" Weiss asked. Henry then smiled and lend her his hand. "Indeed I am, I hope you can do me the offer in this dance."

"Of course." Sighed Weiss. Neptune is left disappointed at he was beaten to it. But decides to wait for the right moment to see what Weiss knows about the empire. While Weiss wants this to end, growing exhausted that Henry talks about himself and never asked Weiss of what she likes, or what hobbies. Finally, she has enough, and Weiss excused herself for some fresh air. Neptune takes this chance to approach her. "Evening Miss. How is tonight?" Asked Neptune.

Weiss rolled her eyes and thought she was about to get a round of boredom. Things did not go as planned. "Terrible, I thought tonight would go so well, but I felt like nothing, as if everything died down a bit." Weiss replied. Then Neptune offers her his hand. Weiss looks a bit surprised. "I hope you don't mind if I offer you this dance. If that's okay with you?" Neptune asked. He was a terrible dancer, if he can mimic the moves by watching the crowd of dancers, then he could pull this off. Weiss is a bit shocked, but felt flattered that a man asked if she would like to dance. His eyes captivated her in his gaze. The charming smile he drew on his face.

"Actually, I would love that." Weiss replies and takes his hand, and was pulled into the dancefloor. Trying his best to watch his steps while seeing how the others dance their hearts out. Weiss then gazed into his eyes. Meanwhile, a security guard whispered into Weiss' younger brother, Whitley's ear, and was shocked to see who was on the dancefloor with his older sister. "There's a dog scorching on the House of Schnee? No, absolutely not. By the length and honor of my kin, I shall take this by my own hand." Whitley was about to make a scene to expose Neptune, until he was stopped by his father. "Ah, son! It's a pleasure to see you're enjoying this party!"

"Father, don't you see who that was? That commoner is nothing more than that son of the cop who's been chasing you for years." Whispered Whitley. But Jacques refrains him from taking action. "Look as long as we don't create a scene. If we have blood drenched on our hands, we would be hunted down by his father. So just do me a favor and keep it down. I'll sent someone to take care of him by the morning." Said Jacques, then Whitley unwillingly complied and left without a word, defeated. But not before giving Neptune (who did not notice and whispers into Weiss' ear, as she giggles) a dirty look and then turned his head and went to his bedroom.

Then Weiss is escorted into the courtyard by Neptune to have a moment alone with him. "So, you don't see much of what went all in those kind of parties?" Asked Neptune as he sat near the fountain near Weiss. "Most of the time, I would stay in my mansion, the only times I went outside the island is when I have classes to attend. I always dreamed of going to university. But with my parents having different plans for me, I am not sure if that's happening any time soon."

"Really? I always wanted to study at a university too. When I was a kid, I always wanted to study in NYU." Neptune blushed as he looked at her once more. The more they chat, the more enchanting the night has become. Neptune seemed to forget for why he was here. Something about the girl he was staring at seemed familiar to him, but this is the first time they have met. "The last thing I wanted was a life of success and a bit of freedom, even if that freedom cannot last. I never saw my parents often, nor my brother when they're busy on the line of work. Surely I knew those kind of things were illegal. But how am I supposed to argue with that? Of course, I wasn't allow off this island to know more." Weiss sighs.

"I'm sorry, I guess it wasn't fair that you've been living here all your life. But hey, look on the bright side. How was this night now?" Asked Neptune. Weiss then blushed and giggled. "I guess it's okay, for now. Maybe tonight wasn't so bad when you came along. Something tells me you weren't from around here." Weiss questioned. Not sure if it's another one of those suitors her father had sent, but she didn't mind since he seemed to approach her sincerely.

"Oh, yeah. I was sent here. Just for inspection. It was getting boring to me, but meeting you, it got less boring." Neptune replied. Soon, neither of them realized they are getting closer and drew their faces nearer, and their lips touched to one another. Weiss caressed his cheek as they have kissed for a few minutes. It was like fireworks exploded in their hearts. But it was interrupted when Winter showed up in front of him. "Sister, what was the meaning of this?!" Confronted Winter.

Weiss and Neptune broke away. Weiss tried to find a way to make excuses. Although Winter does not mind letting her sister having a great time. But at the same time, she knew she have to pull her away to not let her face her father's wrath. "Come, Father is expecting you." Winter grabs her hand and pulls her away. Neptune follows and saw that Winter has escorted Weiss to her father, his father's arch-enemy, Jacques Schnee. Winter then whispers something to her ear. "I must warn you, his name is Neptune, and he is a Vasilias." Weiss is in shock and looks at Neptune with despair. Feeling she was tricked by a boy who enchanted her in this party. At least Winter did not tell her father about the kiss. Neptune was about to leave, but not before seeing Weiss smiling at him, a sign that they will meet again. Neptune still couldn't believe she was a Schnee, but he was happy to have met her. Sun then approaches him. "Hey man, where have you been?"

"Um..." Before Neptune can say anything, Sun smirked at the side of him he has been seeing. He could tell Neptune has been lovestruck. "Oh, I see what was going on here." He sang. "You've been infatuated." Neptune jolts at the state of blushing. Then waved his hand in defense. "No no no! That can't be true! I was just lost that's all."

"Really, I won't tell your dad. Just tell me about that girl you've been swooning with." Sun asked. Neptune wasn't sure how to describe to him. He would be a bit shocked to find out it was a Schnee he was dancing with. "How am I going to put with this. Okay, just keep calm when I say this. But the girl I was dancing with, she was a Schnee." Sun's eyes have bungled at a state of shock. Then shook his head and tries to set the record straight. "Dude, she is way out of your league, did you forget that her dad is a criminal, deadly mastermind?" Sun reminds him, but Neptune huffed in response. But manages to change the subject. "Dude, let's just get back to that later, right now we have to get out of here. Trying to get answers from her and she never knew much. But you can tell she has been living on this island too much. And her dad would've probably sent the guards by morning.

"Fine, you and I need a serious talk when we head back to New York." Sun sighs. One night, they were hiding somewhere in the jungle where the manor took place. Even if the trees are fake. Neptune then snuck into the gardens of the Schnee Manor to see Weiss standing on the balcony of her room. "The glimpse of her in front of the moon can't be more beautiful than the moon at sight. Her eyes matches the icy waters. And Weiss is the moon in the sight of my eyes."

"Oh Neptune, Neptune..." Weiss said as she thought of that name after the party after it grew quiet as the guests left. "She speaks." He said quietly. "Wherefore art thou my Neptune? Deny my father and refuse my name. For what is a name if thou wilt be? But be sworn my love and I won't be a Schnee."

"I defy my name too!" Neptune shouted as Weiss jolted in shock to see him below the balcony. "Goodness!" Weiss gasped in shock. She never expected him to meet her again. But worries what her father will do. "Neptune, what are you doing here? If Father finds out you're still here, he will kill you." Weiss whispered in a harsh tone. But Neptune uses a pillar to climb onto the balcony to speak with her.

"I know, but as a son of a cop. Unlike your father, my dad is more of an overprotective type. I knew you are form this family. But it doesn't matter, I just want to get to know you more. Therefore I also defy my name and would be preferred to be called by my first name." Neptune explains.

"For years both the Schnee and the Vasilias have been at war with one another and they were still at war now. It came to the point where I knew I cannot see you. But I want to know you as well. My father has been committing crimes I wished I should've stopped. There was nothing I can do. It was a never-ending bloodshed." Weiss adds, turning away for a bit. As Neptune listens.

"Last thing I wanted was this war to end. Although you are a Schnee, I don't see you as one, just a woman with culture and personality." He then lift her chin, gently as he follows. "So, maybe we can meet in New York, I know I can't stay here and get caught. I can take you anywhere you want. Just say the word and I'll do it."

"I would love that. But knowing my father, I will always get surrounded by security. Or in some cases, my sister, since she was older than me."

"Maybe I can come up with the sneakiest plan for us to escape security and we can hang out a bit more. Without both our parents' knowing." Neptune suggested.

Weiss has been thinking about it, she cannot stand being in the crowd of security. She knew her parents would forbid her from seeing him because he has Vasilias blood in his veins. But there was a side of him no one has ever seen. "Perhaps I will think about it. see if we can meet. I will give word to my sister. After all, maybe she can help with that." Said Weiss. Knowing her sister will be staying for a few weeks. Neptune then smiled as a response as they leaned in closer and kissed again. "Weiss! Where are you?!" Winter called. Once again, they break away from each other and Weiss knew she has to get back inside. "Coming, Winter!" Weiss called back. Then push Neptune away to get him to hide. "Quick, hide! Before security comes!" Weiss urges him until he fell off the balcony and landed on the bushes in the garden. "I'm okay!" Said Neptune.

The next day, Neptune returned home, only to find his parents waiting for him in the living room of his house. "Where have you've been, Neptune?! Do you have any idea how worried sick your mother has been?!" Scolded Saturn, he was not one to be harsh on his children, but never took his youngest for being a rebellious type. "Oh, hey dad. Sorry I am late, I was just out for a walk..." He said, nervously. But Saturn was a bit suspicious. "The thing is, I got bored and I couldn't help but feel a bit dizzy in my own home and thought I could get some fresh air. I didn't realized it was late and my phone has died." Neptune lied.

Saturn then approaches his son. And then places his hand on hos father's shoulder and sighs. "I am sorry, son. It wasn't fair for you to be kept in the house all day. We are worried for you, that's all." Saturn apologized.

"Are you sure you're not lying, bro?" Asked Jupiter, suspicious about his brother's whereabouts before he came back. He saw red in his face. It was a sign he was lying at some point. The last time Jupiter snuck out, his little brother was too honest enough to snitch on his brother.

"Just don't do it again. Next time just tell us, okay sweetie?" Asked Lydia. They were just going to let this slide and let this go, being the caring parents they are. Lydia then walks over to her husband and son and embraced them. Jupiter decides to let this go this time. But thought that the next time Neptune snuck out, he would have to follow him to see what he was doing.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the weekdays, Weiss and Neptune would have to escape security with the excuses of school activities after school. Only to sneak out of the school building and go on dates. First, Neptune has been taking her out to the movies on her request. Seeing a romantic movie about Titanic. How an upper-class woman has been forced into an arranged marriage, only to fall in love with a lower-class man who saw her as a person.

"Even with those differences, they found each other." Weiss teared up as she saw the ending as the love of the main protagonist's life has died from hyperthermia. Neptune wrapped his arms around her to comfort her. Weiss felt better after the ending. Unbeknownst to them, a curious ginger-haired girl takes a picture without a flash of light. They heard a click, but saw nothing as the young photographer hid from them.

Another day past and they were at a mall. But wrong move, Jacques' security team arrived to search for Weiss, but they hid in another shopping center, where they bribed the manager to help them escape. After they exit the building using an emergency exit, Neptune and Weiss laughed a bit. Thinking how awkward this say went.

The next day, they were at a park while avoiding some eyes that might see them. Suddenly, some classmates they never recognized in their school approached them and asked them to take a photo for the school yearbook. "Can we take a photo of you guys?" Asked a raven-haired boy. They gladly accepted and Weiss and Neptune posed together. Not thinking twice before, cause they were having too much of a great time. Then Neptune spotted his brother looking for him. He then yanks Weiss with him and ran off before Jupiter could see them.

The next date, Neptune has to sneak out of his house. But not before his older brother notice and decides to follow him. Neptune has taken Weiss to a cafe, where she can try some latte, something her father would not allow her too. "I don't know, I wasn't allow to have some caffeine." Weiss said with hesitance. But Neptune insisted to make her feel good about being outside of the island and some relief from isolation. "Come on, one taste cannot hurt."

Weiss took one sip of the straw and felt the flavors on her tongue. And felt the cool but tasty features of the latte. "Oh, that was blistering, but sweet. What else can you show me? I cannot believe we hadn't been caught yet." Weiss giggled.

"I cannot believe it either." That is, until a voice interrupted them. "A-ha! I knew you were lying this whole time, Neptune." They then turned to see Jupiter standing before them. He is not happy to see him with Weiss, knowing she was a Schnee and he hates the family that committed the crimes against his. And seeing him with the daughter of the Schnee family made him furious. "Neptune, who is this? He looks like my sister's age." Asked Weiss as Neptune stood in front of Weiss to prevent Jupiter form doing anything to her. As he approaches his brother. "What were you thinking, she is a Schnee for crying out loud! Her family are criminals and they hunted down our family for years!" Jupiter shouted as they crowd from different tables are watching. "Jupiter, I can explain!" Neptune defended. But Jupiter grabs his wrist, tightly. "Home, now." Jupiter hissed.

"Gee, do you have to be this scary?" Neptune flinched. Then Jupiter turned to Weiss in pure anger. "And you, tell your sister to meet me in Times Square. And stay away from my brother, or else..." Weiss looked at him in shock as his face grew a bit frightening. Neptune then looked at her with sadness. "I'm sorry, Weiss." Neptune apologized, before being dragged away from her and then back home. At least Jupiter is not going to tell their parents about the relationship. But decided to keep Neptune watched 24/7. To not let the daughter of the criminals see him again, fearing she will use him for their father's information.

After two weeks, Neptune received a text from Weiss. Telling him they need to talk and to meet him at Central Park. Neptune manages to block the cameras hidden beneath the walls meant to keep an eye on him. Jupiter has no idea what hit him. Then jumps out of the window again. Ran in to Weiss at the Central Park.

"Hey, Snow Angel. What's up?" Before Neptune can ask a bit more. Weiss started to tear up. "I'm sorry, I cannot see you anymore, Neptune." Weiss wipes her tears from her eyes. "It was a mistake, I never should've met you." Neptune is appalled to hear that she won't be seeing him anymore as he thought he did something wrong to make things worse. "What do you mean, did I do something wrong. Please, Weiss. I want to know what I did wrong." Neptune pleaded, wanting to comfort her and console her. As he gets closer to her, she pushes him away.

"The truth is, I am getting married." Neptune thought his ears were playing tricks when Weiss mentions she was getting married. "My father planned this from the start, he knew you were at the party that night. And the fact that you were the son of a cop, he was furious. He told me he knew about our dates. And if I don't go with the plan of marrying the son of another mafia, he would kill your father and you." Weiss explains. Neptune is shocked. He never knew her father would gone too far.

"Weiss." Neptune then wrapped her arms around her. But Weiss wants to protest this. But her feelings of warmth from him are too strong and she allows herself to, as if it were the last time before she meets her fate. "I'm sorry, I am sure that we cannot see each other again. But it was for the best if you're alive and your family as well. I think this is goodbye, Neptune." Weiss then turns away and walks away to depart from him.

But Neptune did not just stand there and watch, instead he stopped her and she turned back to look at him. "Neptune, I told you. We're different. I am the criminal's daughter, and your the son of the police captain. We're just not meant to be. I enjoyed these times together."

Neptune did not take these words to heart as he then decides to defy the opposites. He then brings out a small box wrapped in a ribbon. "Weiss, I don't care about any of that. Like I said, I defy my name and renounce the name of Vasilias. Just like you said, you also defied the name of Schnee. Therefore for me, you're just Weiss. And I won't define you by name. And I won't be preferred by the name Vasilias. I am Neptune, and only Neptune."

"Neptune. Somehow you managed to convince me. And for some reason, I have no regrets meeting you. The stars, the ocean, and the night sky, it will always remind me of the night we met. I also dreamed not only for university, but to also see you there. Where we can be free of our differences."

Weiss then looks up in the night sky and Neptune turned to the gift box. It was the perfect place for the right moment. Even if it is too early. His family will not like this, and her family will not like this either. But now would be a matter of time to ask her something. In hopes to free her from the Mafia life under her father's rule. "Weiss, I know we have met for a couple of days and months, but I was hoping I will ask you this."

Weiss then turned to Neptune who had knelt down and he opened the box to reveal a golden ring. Not expensive, but it was enough for Weiss to know the love he has for her. The real love she has wanted for a long time. "Neptune, you know we can't."

"I know, but I want to be the one to make you happy. If you let me, I'll try my best to give what I can give you. I will free you from this, and when we run, and cut ties with our families completely, this way, you can settle. Weiss Schnee, will you marry me, and join me in the flow of time?" Neptune's eye sparkled. Weiss can never be happier than before, as she wrapped her arms around him as he slips the ring in her finger. The least they have to do is survive their family feuds.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next afternoon, Winter and Jupiter are in a middle of a gun showdown as they came into a Mexican stand-off. "This time we will settle this once and for all, Schnee." Jupiter then cocks his rifle as he was the master marksman. But Winter has ready her gun after filling her bullets with her pistol. "You should appreciate when I became an informant for your father. I just want this war to end as much as you do."

"But not with you. These past few years were a streak of humiliation. Your father will not get away any longer without his secret weapon, mainly you. How does my father tolerate you this easily?" Jupiter snared. Glaring at her with such hatred. "Stop!" Then Neptune came in between them. "What are you doing, little bro?! Get out of the way!"

Neptune then turned to Jupiter. "No, bro! Let me handle this!" Then he turned to Winter. "I'm sorry my brother has been causing trouble for you! But for min and Weiss' sake, stand down!" Pleaded Neptune. Jupiter refuses to go down without a fight. And starts firing the gun, then Winter got behind the rails and shots back while Neptune and Jupiter also hid. "Sorry, Neptune, but this war has to come to an end."

Winter did not waste time to fire back. Jupiter then emerges and shots back. Neptune then fights back by tugging onto Jupiter's gun. "Let go of the gun, Neptune!" Jupiter yelled. "I'm doing this for the good of the family!"

"Good by foot!" Neptune retorted. Winter then lowers her weapon as she was about to say something. "Don't you realized this war has gone too far?! You and Winter have the power to stop this! If not for Dad, do it for me!" Pleaded Neptune as they kept fighting over the gun. Finally, Jupiter knocks out Neptune. Both are once again in position.

#rwby iceberg #rwby icy seas #weiss x neptune #weiss schnee x neptune vasilias #ice planet #weiss schnee #neptune vasilias #icebergweek2021

11 notes · View notes

socketz · 4 years ago

Text

All is Pain in Poetry, But, Oh, The Play Goes On; Chapter One.

A Dead Poets Society Fanfiction story!

Charlie Dalton x Female!OC

Warnings : Mentions of Abuse, slight *slight* signs of it, mentions of bullying, name-calling I suppose, profanity, smoking, just some people bein’ mean :/

Word Count : like 11k (I’m pretty sure)

Summary : It’s the introductory day, unpleasant to speak the least, and Jane rejoins a few familiar faces.

Authors Note : There is like barely any Charlie content in this chapter (forgive me, pls) simply because it is the first, and I have so many plans for this being a sloooow burner. Anyways, I love Nuwanda, Meeksy, Pittsie, Neil, Todd, and Knox. Cameron can die. I also just realised that there’s no Pittsie in this chapter :// it’s okay though, our long boy will be there in the second, I promise.

Chapter One, The Summer Was No Better, But Hell-ton’s Surely Death.

“Come, now, Jane.” Father called, his suit elated to a perfect crisp. His face contorted with that of a ghostly scowl, drawn down and impossible to relieve. Father was not an impressionable person, though most certainly easy to disappoint.

I made my way, wordlessly, to fall beside him, and found my complexion flushed with something of a gentle scarlet hue, nerves to embrace oneself in a mantra of lightly peppered sweat. My uniform - a dreadful thing, really - had been fitted during the summer; ‘You are but a young Lady, now, Jane,’ Father had insisted, ‘It is only right to find your clothing of a perfect fit.’ Though it had hardly mattered the years before, smothered within the lies my Father somehow wriggled us out of, and I could bitterly recall that it mattered not then, either.

I felt ridiculous, swaddled in the warmth of a blazer, littered with perfectly aligned badges - meaningless copper circles, infused with the reminder of every stupid achievement I had picked up throughout my years - and long, iron-pressed, grey trousers - enclosed with a tight-fitting belt, for the weight I had seemed to loose beneath the summer heat had made an alarming appearance, and it seemed all too improper to alter them a mere seventy-two hours before the introductory day. The shirt - blouse, as I had never before become accustomed to occupying - was of a snug fit, particularly comfortable upon my partially flat breast, the tie hardly a bump higher than the other boys’.

My shoes, shining with a fresh layer of polish, squeaked upon the echoing floor of the filling hall, and I found a breath slipping from my clenched jaw. It would merely be the same routine as every year had solemnly been. And, - I had no doubt about this, you understand - I knew I would grow to loathe it all the same.

“Chin up, Jane.” Father scolded, a sharp pinch to the back of my arm. I hardly reacted, ripping myself away from such a close proximity, and fixed my expression with something blank, jaw set and teeth grinding. The walls, the candles - the scentless gloom that filled the air - reminded me of nothing other than Death. Than everything morose and unethical.

The bench was cold, lifeless, and I found a sour taste to elope my grimace, subliminally displeased to be trapped within the grounds of Hell-ton for another draining, horrible, year. A low level of murmurs ran along the sea of suited heads, and I nearly - almost, though not quite - found an ache of sympathy for the innocent youths, trembling nervously, within the front row. Such excitement, I sighed, such naivety. They shall be ruined, it seemed clear, by the haunting excrement Hell-ton deemed ‘successful methoding.’

There was a poke to my side, the ratty whisper of an antagonizing tone. “Feels good to be home, huh?” Peter taunted, undoubtedly pleased to rid of myself for the better side of ten months.

My silence remained, an ache to the clench in my jaw, and I simply hoped that his teasing would soon dissolve upon quiet nothingness. Though, as he prodded my side - supposedly the older twin, mind you - and he mumbled crude names within my ear, I found it reasonable that a lack of response would do little to deter his act of childishness.

“Rat.” He whispered, prodding my side once again - a jab sure to leave an inklet of a mark. “God, I can’t wait to get rid of you. Two months by your side is enough to push me over the edge. I’d surely contemplated killing myself-”

“Oh, why don’t you, then?” I snapped, a glare surely cut to burn. Of course, I didn’t mean it, though I found myself unwilling to project any kind of apology. He hardly deserved it, and I - as well as him, it seemed - had had just about enough of his relentless bullying. “Leave me alone, Peter.” I said.

He scoffed something bitter, “At least I’d be missed, Snot-face.” He bit.

I doubted it was much of a lie, and settled for a roll of the eyes. “Fuck off, Mutt.”

“Billy-no-mates.” He hissed.

“Worthless narcissist.” I sneered.

“Virgin.”

“Self aggrandising cunt.”

“Moron.”

“Boring, talentless, vegetable-” “Stop it!” Father snapped, another hushed whisper to intervene that of our own. I had hardly realised our spluttered, mumbled, argument, and the way in which it seemed to progress, “Both of you.” Father muttered, quiet and surely furious. And yet, although it seemed it was not I whom began the fight, at all, my hair was ragged by Father's rough grip, and I were forced to attain a regularly seated position. I hissed upon the contact, a scowl to thunder my expression. “You will not embarrass me again, Jane.” He sneered.

My silence loomed once more, and his grip released roughly, a violent jerk to my neck as he did so. Jane, I thought, an internally suppressed scoff, It’s always Jane’s fault.

The blare of a riveting shrill erupted from the southern doors, clunking open in their heavy weight, and the bagpipes - those terrible things, awful, truly - began their entrance. A sigh slipped the breach of my lips, for I knew this mantra, and I knew it well. In a kind of solemnly delightful way, I suppose I was enthralled to enjoy my final experience of such liberal torture - it was my last year, after all.

A pair of first-years trailed to the front of the line, followed by a blonde boy - of whom’s name I had forgotten, though he wore glasses, and was rather small - from my own year. The dreadful musician was to follow, and I decided to pay him no mind - perhaps ignorantly so - as the banners began to flutter forth.

Tradition - upheld by none other than the snobby, pristine and particularly ginger Mr Cameron, a boy of whom mine own experiences seemed rather potently bad.

Discipline - a familiar, soft, face. An expression of boredom, nonetheless, though I found a certain fondness about Knox, and thus my gaze seemed to brighten. He was a gentle boy, kind, sensitive.

Honour - I hardly recognized him, though his… his similarity - a striking thing, one must admit - to Peter’s level in intelligence seemed all too familiar, through the grave number of classes we had shared across the years.

Excellence - Neil Perry, a boy in which I knew little of, yet heard so much about. The sweetest of souls, the saddest of smiles - trapped, was Perry, in a loop his parents laid down. Perhaps I found a little of myself engulfed within his big brown eyes, upon the rare occurrence we happened to share a glance - always a grin, always a wave. Polite, the boy was, and nothing but the fact. For my life was nothing but the script in which I had been given, raised upon lies and bred to know no freedom, and he was much the same.

There was a curt breath of silence, and the boys shuffled into line. It seemed the song had finished - a heavenly notion - and the perplexing weight of Mr Nolan’s tone - a sound no better than that of nails to a chalkboard - fell upon the seated audience. “Ladies, and Gentlemen.” He said. Oh, how I hated his voice. “Boys.” The summer had been long, tedious, and I liked it no more than I could have, and yet still - still, despite the liberal torture, and the inevitable bullying of mine own blood - it were of a better nature than this.

This, of course, that was Mr Nolan, and his lengthy speeches, drawled upon every sentiment with a mean glare, or a calculating stare.

“The light of knowledge.” He declared, tone blank, devastatingly boring. For although I could not shed a glance to the nervous boys, perched stoically, within the front row, and their expression remained ambiguous, I knew the routine all too well. There was a loud rip of applause, and I knew - within a moment's notice, as Father glared pointedly for my compliance - that the first candle had been lit.

The boys, aligned to the front, circled to their seats, maneuvering among my peripheral vision. The ruckus had died down, and I slumped - only slightly, as to deter from a kind of beating - unto myself, lightly distracted by my heavy-lidded eyes. Oh, I scolded, how stupid I had been, to lie awake all night reading.

Nolan began his speech, undoubtedly much the same as it always seemed to be, and I took a deliberately long moment to gaze upon the great array of teachers. It would seem, I noticed, with a harshly contained grin, that they were all particularly deathly looking. Perhaps, over the course of the summer, they had been returned to their graves, where their corpses lay to rest for the period of time - only to be dug up again as the school year returned. They seemed so withered, so pale - lifeless. Though I supposed it was particularly fitting, really; deathly teachers for a murderous school.

“Gentlemen,” Nolan bellowed, “What are the four pillars?”

Another sigh, I breathed, standing among the sonorous chorus of muffled shuffling. “Tradition, Honor, Discipline, Excellence.” We sang, a recital of the faculty’s pounding, and took our seats once more.

His rambling continued, and I found myself physically incapable of paying it any mind - one would simply drift into a noticeable dream of slumber - as I drank in the sullen scowls of the boys reluctantly returning. I, myself, reciprocated a glance of hidden blue, and I knew that they simply loathed the man - Nolan - much the same as I.

It was rather strange, really - the way in which my attendance to Hell-ton came about. For I was eleven: much the same nervous, wilted, and shelled child as the boys of the front row, and my application was riddled with lies.

Name : Peter Joseph Darling, the first line read. Only, as I had continually pestered my Father upon, my name was Jane Elizabeth Darling, and my twin brother - Peter, you understand - should have been clothed within the uniform, instead. ‘He hasn’t the mind of you, Jane.’ Father had scoffed, mocking, as though I should have known better. Though I still didn’t understand. ‘Welton is an excellent opportunity, and they have accepted you, through the name of your brother.’ My misunderstanding, as I came to dislodge many a month later, were perfectly reasonable. Why was I, a girl, to attend an all boys boarding school, with the faux persona of my twin brother? It seemed strange, though - in my foolish naivety that youth would always bring - I found no reason to protest upon my Father’s wishes, and complied nonetheless.

I was a late bloomer - much as my Mother had been, as old relatives would jest - and thus my identity was easily concealed - hair to be cut, in a similar style to the other little boys, and my figure hidden by the tatter of oversized suits.

I became - rather unfortunately, on mine own behalf - one of the best students ever to attend Hell-ton. ‘Top grades,’ Father would boast - as though he had ever congratulated me, before - ‘our Jane is something truly spectacular. The top of every class, and a routine winner in almost every sporting category.’ Though what he said was true, it made it no less frustrating and mortifying, as he would babble on about my achievements, and leave no room for a word in edgeways. It seemed the only time he could bother to call, were if my report card had yet to arrive, or there was something - unexplained, you understand - for myself to receive the blame.

‘Jane.’ He would bellow, tone furious over the line, ‘Your report card.’ He would then say, as though it were I who sent them off. ‘Where is it? It had better be here tomorrow, young Lady.’

Sometimes, I hated my Father, too. He made it frustratingly difficult not to - though, admittedly, I tried little to stop my fury.

It seemed, however, that his plan were not entirely fool-proof. For when I did begin to develop breasts - as flat as they may be -, with little curves, and a more womanly figure, it was surely something noticeable. And my hair had grown out, over the months of neglect, and I allowed the soft blonde curls to have their way - and, suddenly, I looked far more a girl than ever before.

My face, although chiselled by my petite weight, grew more round, less sharp - feminine. The rise of my cheekbones increased, and my eyelashes found a natural curve. Perhaps I could have considered myself pretty, if it weren’t for the insistent teasing Peter had enforced upon me. Thus, instead, I depicted myself ordinary, and decided to move on.

Nolan, upon discovering my true identity - though how such a thing had gone unnoticed, before, I had no idea - riddled himself sick with rage. His expulsion threat was vengeful, and he loathed my Father’s guts. Such conflict had only truly occurred eighteen or so months before, and thus the tension seemed inevitably thick, whenever I found myself surrounded by the ever-depressing company of Nolan. I discovered a true beating upon Father’s account, for poorly concealing his awfully supported lies - ‘You cannot even pretend - not for a godforsaken moment - to be a boy,’ he had yelled, as I spat my blood upon the floor, ‘You shall learn to listen to me, Jane.’ And teach me to listen, he surely had.

Fortunately, though I hardly see such as fortunate, at all, Nolan had - somewhat reluctantly, somewhat pretentiously - decided that my education be isolated, and my attendance a nuisance. My grades - my high, substantial, grades - seemed enough to access his persuasion; my lack of discussion and silent account another contributing factor; my sporting ability and lack of complaint a cherry on top for it all, as it should so seem. He found himself obliging to my continuation at Hell-ton, and I - perhaps expectedly - were undoubtedly disappointed. To leave such hellish faculty would be something joyous - greatly anticipated. Alas, there I was, sat - again - among the rows of morose expressions and pressuring parents.

My dormitory, that year, was to be separated. Not a roommate, neither a shared bathroom - utter isolation. I minded not for the quiet, nor the lack of company, though it should seem the segregated seating within lesson perched a little too far, for my liking. It was rather ridiculous, I should have thought, that male brains were incapable of focusing upon the task at hand with a female sat to their left. Pathetic! Utterly, truly, pathetic.

I had been branded a number of grilling rules - mandatory to abide by, you understand.

1. No perfume.

2. Hair is to be kept up, tied tightly, and not disruptive.

My hair, you see, was not a particularly easy tamer. Rampant blonde curlage, spilling from every direction. I could hardly control it on the better days, never mind every day.

3. Skirts, or dresses, to be worn below the knee (if at all) and shoulders should remain contained at all times.

4. No make up.

5. No fraternizing with other students.

6. Meals are to be eaten alone, or not at all.

7. Curfew is at 8:30PM.

8. Toiletry business should be contained to a seperate bathroom, use the locker room provided - NOT the male students’.

The list truly seemed to go on, and on, and it surely rambled for far too long - I had merely shared a glance with such paper, and thrown it to my bag in retaliation. Meals to be eaten alone? I had hardly the chance to converse between lessons - never mind during - and no longer could I discuss, nor listen in upon, with others among meals? It was true bullshit, for I knew such were never applied to me before - before they discovered my true identity. And the curfew - eight-thirty p.m - was utterly ridiculous. What was I to do for thirty minutes more, idle within my room, with not but a roommate to keep me company? The boys’ curfew was hardly nine p.m, anyhow - they were always allowed an extra number of minutes or so, and I knew - I hated it, but I knew - that I would have not but a choice to comply.

To enjoy my stay, - at Hell-ton, you understand - seemed merely impossible - as a woman. Or, rather, to be known as a woman. For although its endeavours were painfully unbearable for the boys, it was all so much worse for I. The rules and regulations simply doubled in their length, and the eyes of concentration, inflicted by those of great authority, I found only to increase. Depressingly so.

Oh, how I hated it all.

“Jane,” Father hissed; a sharp jab to my side, and a smirking Peter. “Pay attention, would you?” He whispered, a furious glint to his icy blue glare. The roar of applause began to die down, and I found myself gathering my hands at the final few claps, settling within the silence once more.

Nolan spoke again, his tone ever-droned, ever-dull. “As you know,” he said, chin tilted with a fauxly embodied confidence I hardly understood his deserving of, “our beloved Mr. Portius - of the English department - retired last term.” Mr Portius were nothing more than a rotting corpse with the political beliefs of all things dreadful. An awful man, truly. “You will have the opportunity later to meet his replacement,” He said, turning something gradual - no doubt riddled with arthritis, and with marrowing bones - to meet the seat of the said replacement. “Mr. John Keating.”

Keating stood, and his stature was comfortably acceptable. He were of something small - noticeably shorter than the other corpses - and his expression dripped in kindness. His thin lips played a soft smile, and his eyes gazed tenderly - calculating, but gentle, nonetheless - upon the great array of prying students.

“Himself an honours graduate of this school,” Nolan droned on. “And who, for the past several years, has been teaching at the highly regarded Chester School, in London.”

He was good, then, it seemed. The low rumble of shuffling rang among the hall, as students and parents, alike, maneuvered their gaze to fumble upon his position of casual confidence. Another, small, round of applause was to follow, and I - for perhaps the first time - voluntarily joined in.

Keating took his seat, and the clapping drew to a close.

“As I’m sure you are aware,” Nolan continued, addressing the audience with that monotonous death. “This year may seem a little different.” His gaze wandered, scrutinizing - harrowing - and settled upon I - upon Father, Peter, and I. I held his glare, cold and stubborn, for I would never have allowed myself to succumb to the fright in which he inflicted upon others. “This year, there is to be a girl in attendance.”

A low hum of mumbles rang out, and the subtle gasps of distraught Mothers were something pathetically blatant. I found myself deeply suppressing the urge to scoff; I were a girl before, in the years of my previous attendance, thus what did it matter, now?

“Miss Darling,” He bellowed, tone fit to carry among the greatest disturbance. A moment of nothingness graced the hall, as the murmurs of concerned Mothers, and outraged Fathers, simply rose in their volume. “Miss Darling.” Nolan echoed, his tone of something hauntingly venomous. A sigh slipped from upon my lips, and I rose to my feet with a glance of perfect nonchalance.

Silence.

The corner of my mouth found a quiver, for - Oh - were they all so frightened of me that they should hardly breathe? The smirk was riddled with amusement, bloomed from the very depth of my stomach, for their quiet hatred, and their burning silence, were all so wonderfully foolish.

Nolan sneered, gaze writhing with gauging disgust - sewn by the tattle of hierarchy, and of misogyny. “Miss Darling is to accommodate her own - separate - housing,” he began, dislodging his stare and addressing his crowd. “There will be no contact between herself, and the boys. You needn’t worry for their concentration, Ladies and Gentlemen.” His wry smile was something sickening, as it danced upon his wrinkled lips.

Die, I thought, die with your pathetic beliefs, and die a horrible death.

~*~

The breeze of the fresh air seemed so close, so delicious, as we approached the ever-slow line, all smiles and polite passing greetings, yet so unfortunately far. I trailed after Father, step slow and gradual, certain his discussion would be tense, and it would be awful. “Mr. Nolan,” Father greeted, somewhat sheepishly, somewhat humorously. The old gargoyle glanced - unappreciative - to his nervously outstretched hand, shaking it with something of a pointedly stern glare.

“Frank.” He nodded, tight-lipped and utterly infuriating. For although I held no sympathy for my Father, nor for the manner in which Nolan depicted respectable as he addressed him, the mere sight of his wrinkled person found my scowl something deep, something noticeable.

“Wonderful ceremony, as always.” Father smiled. “And I must thank you for allowing my Jane into your school.” He said, as though it were not I who attended the years before.

“Yes, yes,” Nolan smiled, a ghostly thing, with a hollow foreground. “Well, I’m sure she is aware of the expectations, yes?” His stare fell upon myself, as I nodded silently, unable to erase the distaste within my gaze. “I will warn you, Miss Darling,” He continued, features to crease with that of an aggravated scowl. “Not to cross me. One wrong move,” He threatened, a wonky kind of finger held before me, “and you’re out.”

One morning, I thought; one morning, you shall never wake up - and, oh, that morning will be such a blissful morning.

Biting my tongue, I spoke with a faux sentiment, cheery toned and smiling kindly. “Of course, Sir.” I said. “I won’t let you down.” Fuck you, I wished to spit, though I simply turned upon my heel, and I stumbled away from his cautiously prying eyes, gripped by the harsh digits of Father’s stern hold.

“You’ll see yourself to your room, I suspect.” Father said, tone withdrawn and utterly blank. Cold - Father, he was a cold man. My silence remained, though I nodded responsively, and allowed a solemn breath to slip the breach of my lips. The days, such melancholic tales, of summer - they were bad. They were awful - but at least they were not quite as lonely. A gentle sting graced the back of my eyes, and my jaw set achingly; an overwhelming urge to dispel my bitten tears a wave of unwanted suddenness. Wretched. For I did not want to be alone, I did not wish to be consumed by the ever-growing loneliness that life enforced upon me - I wished to be happy, free. Myself.

Not Peter, not Miss Darling - Jane. Just Jane.

I bit back the tears - I swallowed them whole, and I winced as they clawed upon my throat, cautious as to speak, for their wounds may crack in my tone, and damage my composure. But my smile, it was forced, and my eyes, they were glossy. “Do not disappoint me, Jane.” Father said. “I expect nothing but the best.” And with that, he was gone.

Not but a mutter of goodbye; not but a touch of parental affection - nothing. The glaze upon my expression dropped slightly, a drooped frown to occupy my solemn features, and the smirk Peter threw over his shoulder - barreled beside my Father, with his strides large, confident - merely seemed to ache the clench of my throat.

God, my conscience spat, don’t be pathetic.

And so, I balled my hands into fists, and I shoved them into my pockets; watched my Father leave, and I attempted to scrape together every time he told me he loved me. I came up with nothing - not but an utter of affection - and I remained true to my scowl, caught among the breeze, and the bustle of crying children, and loving parents. Perhaps I could have been jealous, as I glanced to the first years, embraced by the doting adoration of their guardians - though how could I force myself to envy a thing I had never known?

The answer? I couldn’t. And so, I didn’t.

I allowed my shoulders to sink, and I returned my gaze to the retreating vehicle - the vehicle that ached a certain - particularly ignored - part of myself. I wondered of Mother - a brief moment, though striking, nonetheless - and I pondered what she would be like. For - yes, - she was gone, and to think of such was simply barbaric, but a girl could dream. A girl could dream that she were loved, and that all of which could have been, would be so wonderful. Maybe if Mother were here, I thought, I wouldn’t feel so lonely.

And, perhaps wishful thinking were foolish, and a dream unworthy of time - but it helped. It dulled the ache, though maybe only that little bit, and that were enough for me.

The car was gone, lost among the mass of chaotic departure, and I found myself staring absently upon the horizon. How beautiful the sky did seem, I thought, and how well it masked destruction.

My luggage had been dropped - previously - within my room, by Peter’s graceful volunteer. And, albeit reasonably, I were slightly fearful for the mess I would grow to discover, as I entered the living quarters - for I knew, and I knew it well, that Peter loathed me greatly, and he would do anything to tip me off. Perhaps that would be enough, I smiled, sadly, and to myself, to trigger the release of all things morose and bitterly withheld.

Nevertheless, I found myself glumly retreating, making my way - pushed, knocked, and shoved, by bags, by luggage, and apologetic elbows - through the courtyard, and through the entrance of the school. My silence was something looming - it hung above my head, I could feel it - and it only seemed to darken with the realisation that this was reality, and that my stay would surely get no better.

Oh, how I ached for something good - something nice, to carry me through my days.

“Jane?” A familiar tone called, though I daren’t glance around for it’s owner. Silence. Silence. Silence - ‘tis your only company, I thought, know no better, feel no different. “Jane!” They called once more - Knox. I found myself sighing, for I knew I could not evade his greeting forever, and he was much too polite, much too kind, to simply ignore. “Hey,” He smiled, gentle and friendly.

The scowl crumbled from my features, and I plastered on a joyous smile - teeth bared and glistening; believable. “Knox!” I chirped, allowing my expression to elope with a sense of delight. Our paths had crossed a number of times upon the past years, and thus a kind of acquaintance was to be formed. Nothing special, nothing particularly close, but he was a nice boy - a delightful chat. “How’s your summer?” I asked.

“Great.” He sighed, grin riddled with a dream. “Busy,” he added, “but great.”

My smile softened, “Oh, yeah?” I said, and he nodded subtly, smirk uneven and boyish - always boyish.

“Yeah.” He sighed, again, before drawing his eyebrows to a loose pinch, “What about you, Darl’?” He asked, “Nobody heard from you all summer. Where’d you go for two months?” I shrugged something light - nowhere, I thought to admit, though what fell from my tongue was nothing but another lie.

“I went home.” I said, “Back to England.” ‘Twas nothing of a home - not for me.

I was beaten by my Father, and I was bullied by my brother - I was bed bound with the illness of my own crepent mind, and I found myself unable to answer the ringing phone, though I am awfully sorry for your inconvenience, Mr Overstreet - I shall be sure to spit my blood before I say ‘Hello’, yes?

Of course, my thoughts remained thoughts, and my expression a blank nothingness behind my smile, behind my eyes. “That sounds wonderful.” He said, those dough brown orbs shining with a kind of genuineness - so honest, so true, I almost felt bad. “I bet it was nice, there, was it? Such beautiful scenery, and I bet the tea was good.” His smile was infectious, and I breathed a supple laugh.

“The tea was perfect,” I said, “though the scenery - if we’re discussing the same London, here - was filled with nothing but Homelessness, and pollution.”

“Oh,” He frowned, “that’s too bad.”

Too bad? I thought; Too bad? Knoxie, my summer was horrifying.

I shrugged gently, “It’s alright.” I said, “I’m used to it.” Though to which context I had attempted to console, I held little knowledge of.

He smiled once more, “I’d only expect you to be.” He said, beginning to wander away; one step, two steps, three steps, four. His gaze fixed upon myself, he smiled - his eyes, they smiled - and he said: “You comin’?” With a nod of nonchalant amusement.

I raised an eyebrow, “Where to, Overstreet?”

“Why, to the guys, of course.” He grinned.

And by guys, I, fortunately, knew that he meant his friends: Neil Perry (the kind boy, of whom I shared a likeliness for terrible Fathers and passion for things they did not approve); Gerard Pitts (Pittsie, of whom was simply too tall for his own good - terrible at sport, though he surely tried his best); Richard Cameron (the ginger one, with a permanent foot rammed so far up his ass, it shall simply never be recovered); Steven Meeks (a blonde - with a tinge of red, as he had argued against last year - headed boy, riddled with curls - as was I - and the brains of something magnificent), and Charles Dalton (a typically chaotic and utterly unpredictable mess, with substantial grades, and a great yearn for women - not their love, you understand, but merely their attention - and a fascinating dedication to the saxophone).

I had come to know them all - at a distance, though some a little more than others, as was Knox, and was Meeks - and thus found myself trailing comfortably behind the tall boy, his jacket swaying among the ruffle of his movement.

The stairwell was something utterly cramped - a nauseating kind of warmth emitted from such, and I scowled bitterly through my ascent - our footsteps drowned among the chaos of rambling conversations, clatters of luggage - curses; groans; yells; cheers; animosity. Ah, the fresh stench of testosterone, and cologne. Expensive cologne - always expensive, always lathered.

The crowd seemed mostly polite, peering me no mind and abiding about their business as though they held not a care in the world for the female presence - for such, I was grateful. I were far too exhausted to handle gawking boys - by the hundreds, mind you - with any ounce of grace.

Knox held a relaxed pace, he leaned into it, as though persistently O.K, and unbothered by the great deal of shit in the word. I almost envied his carelessness, though found myself unable to ponder my digression any which further, for he paused, and then he bounded through the familiarity of the open doorway. A rush of excitement eloped within him, it seemed, as he threw himself to tackle - rather boyishly, rather fondly - a stumbling Charlie Dalton.

The pair fell to the ground, a great thud among the ruckus, and erupted with a childish kind of laughter. I brushed my shoulder upon the doorframe, watching the scene unfold, as they lay - a little breathless, with their laughs drawn to silent breathing - and they smiled toothy, giddy, smiles. A sort of grin embraced my expression, and the moment played on.

“Jesus, Knoxious.” Charlie breathed, the subtlety of a laugh to follow, “I’ve not seen you move like that since-” He paused, another laugh ripping from his throat, “Shit, not since little Ginny tried it with you, back in eighth grade!”

Knox let out a little snicker, “Don’t remind me.” He said, spoken with a slight shudder. The tickle of a laugh slipped from my lips, and the fluttered noise seemed to catch the attention of the red-faced boys. “Oh, yeah,” Knox mumbled, scrambling to his feet. Or, rather, attempting to - as the brunette beside him tugged to the collar of his coat, dragging him back to the ground with a great huff, and a startled yelp.

Charlie stood, instead, and he smirked that classic Dalton smirk. One corner of his mouth found a higher rest that the other, perched comfortably with a flirted sense of amusement. “Miss Darling.” He said, and he offered a hand, “Welcome back.” I took his hand, a roll of my eyes, and shook it thoroughly.

“Yeah, yeah, Dalton.” I scoffed, an eyebrow raised. “Quit the formalities, okay?” His smile feathered futherly full, genuine, and it seemed that the idea of loneliness grew that little bit more unbearable. For the guys - all of them, perhaps even the red-headed bastard - they could be such graciously wonderful company. And although I knew it were dangerous, and that I simply should not have wished it; I found myself often dreaming of a life - a different one, somewhere else, where things had changed, yet certain company was much the same - in which I had befriended them all - and, oh, how colourful life did seem!

I longed, regularly, for their friendship - for the absence of my loneliness. But, as it should portray, life had other plans, and I had not but an ounce of energy to revoke against it.

The warmth of Charlie’s palm, curled around my own, in a growing spirit of lightly peppered sweat and heated touch, found me retracting my grip, and glancing, wordlessly, to the boy upon the floor. He was sat up, no longer reclined, with his knees bent, and his arms to drape upon them. He smiled, and I reciprocated the gesture softly - softly, for it were all I could manage to plaster aloft my expression.

“Hey, Charlie, I brought you some-” Meeks. I grinned, something wide, something wonderful, and I spun upon my heel. His eyes, they were bright, fixed largely behind the glint of his round glasses, a smile to his lips, and his hair was wild - curly as I, and graciously familiar. “Jane?” He said, a certain fondness about his tone. “When’d you get here?” He ushered, drawing me in for a tight, warming, embrace. Perhaps, throughout the list of their group, I found myself closest to Meeks. For he was witty, he was intelligent, and more of a brotherly figure than any twin I had ever known. I obliged comfortably, curled within his arms, as he withdrew, and he rested his grip upon the hunch of my shoulders. He smiled, “How was your summer?” And I simply knew for which I would have to lie - again.

“It was fine.” I smiled. Accompanied with many-a-blue-day, and many nights of darkening contemplation. Riddled by the tangle of silence, with nothingness; raised voices, and bruising discipline. I had done nothing wrong. I had done nothing wrong. “It was great.” I said.

He smiled kindly, that reassuring sense of Meeks I had needed during the bitter hue of summer’s company. “Good.” He said, releasing myself gently, and outstretching his grip. He turned to face Charlie, gentle in his smile, and spoke again: “I got you some more smokes, Dalton.” He grinned, “So you’ll stop moaning that we’re bummin’ ‘em.”

The boy in question scoffed, “You do.” He said, a smirk nonetheless, as he shovelled the packet into his inner-blazer pocket. “I’d say you owe me a couple more, Meeksy.”

“Take what you’re given.” He smirked, “Or you’ll get nothin’ at all.”

He merely smiled, an eyebrow raised, and he spoke lightly, a bounce to his words. “You have a good vacation, Stevo?” He said, “You’re pale as ever.”

“Always the joker.” Meeks offered, a mere mutter beneath his breath, “My summer was standard.” He shrugged lightly, “Studying, mostly. A little extra-reading, I suppose.”

“Riveting.” Knox scoffed, a dizzy arrival to his feet.

Charlie smirked, and he shook his head - wobbling slightly upon the draped arm of Knox’s weight. “So you’ll be smarter than last year?” He said, teasingly in his ways. Meeks’ response came witty, and it came fondly, though I paid it little mind, obtaining a subtle moment to study the features of the entangled pair before me.

Knox was far taller than Charlie, it should seem, with his arm slung around the brunette’s shoulders, and his features somewhat softer. His eyes, though similarly brown and kind, were lighter - a brightened tinge, infused with sensitivity. Charlie held mischief, and he held youth, among the deep swirl of his stare; his smirk was crude and it were sharp, uneven, and unfortunately attractive. Charlie was unfortunately attractive.

And, as I had hardly dared to notice, his smirk fluttered a widened stance, gaze shifting to meet that of mine own curious observation. An eyebrow raised, and he shot a wink to my stoic self - classically flirty, and ever the romantic - before grinning toothily, and rejoining the loose conversion between the other two boys.

“The other three here, yet?” Charlie asked, nodding serupticially to the open wind of the door.

Meeks shrugged something light, beginning to make his way - a saunter in his stride - to the opposing doorway, positioned directly before Dalton’s own. Charlie trailed suit, and I found myself obliging to the gentle push of Knox’s tender touch, as he guided my shoulders to cross the hallway, and he brushed his palms along the doorframe, gating us all in with a kind of casual amusement. I were pressed - rather tightly, mind you - between the heat of Charlie’s back, as he leaned upon the wooden frame, and Knox’s arm, held just above my head, as we peered on through.

“Rumour has it,” Charlie grinned, pointing with mock accusement, to Neil - his sharp features conveyed by a gentle, tender smile. “You did summer school.” The boy glanced up, straightening his position.

“Yep.” He breathed, “Chemistry.” And I felt undoubtedly sorry for him. “My Father thought I should get ahead.” There were a certain glaze - one I happened to notice, though not entirely potent - upon the mention of his Father, and I found mine own stare reciprocating a mixture of something kind, and something understanding. It should seem we had plenty in common - between our parents, and our inability to stand up against their trying discipline. Though perhaps Neil were not… Perhaps he were not physically harmed, as were I, it would do damage just the same.

His smile was toothy, brotherly, as he approached. He shook the outstretched hand of Dalton’s own, and said: “How was your summer, Slick?” With a mischievous kind of glint.

“Keen.” Came the reply, drowned in all things sinfully scandalous and unspoken.

The breath of a laugh slipped from Neil’s lips, a gentle shake of the head, and he retreated to his luggage, tossed carelessly upon his bed. Charlie followed, and I found myself trailing - helplessly - along.

“Meeks,” Charlie called, over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow, and a diligent grin, pointing to the boy with spoken commandment, “Door. Closed.” I smiled - beside myself, and frustratingly so - and Meeks spoke his reply.

“Yes, Sir.” He said, and the dark oak swung to a tight close.

Dalton took his seat upon the unmade, bare, mattress that was Neil’s single accommodation; Knox to rest backwards within the spare desk chair, withdrawn slightly from the weak table, and to the other side of the room, and Meeks assumed his position within the seat opposite Knox, facing outwardly at Neil’s desk. I stood, quietly, and I watched the room for the moment that passed, as everyone took their place.

The back of someone unfamiliar greeted me, his hair a dirty blonde. He hunched over his luggage, fiddling with this, and with that, and remained submerged within his own silence, undisturbed - or so it seemed - by the rather rowdy crowd of newcomers.

“Gentlemen,” Neil mocked, leaning gradually upon the dark radiator. “What are the four pillars?”

“Travesty. Horror. Decadence. Excrement.” They sang, a whispered quire of mocking upon the monstrosity Hell-ton dared to deem success. I grinned, despite myself, and took a seat upon the edge of the bed, slightly pushing the sharp edge of the leather-bound case.

Charlie spoke, a cigarette hung from between his lips, “‘kay,” He muttered, withdrawing the stick from between his muffled speech, and producing a lighter, “Study group.” He said. “Meeks aced Latin,” No surprise there, I thought, “Jane’s just… Jane.” He grinned, to which I rolled my eyes. “She’ll have aced everything.” He swung his legs to rest upon my lap, unreasonably comfortable, and he lay - utterly sprawled out - upon the bed. His touch was warm, it was cozy, and thus I did not protest. “I didn’t quite flunk English,” He continued, “So, if you want, we got our study group.”

He lit the cigarette, as a hum of agreement rang through the room. I remained true to my silence, for I knew I would simply not be allowed within such close proximity - neither to study, nor merely to talk. Pathetic, my conscience reminded, the misogyny were fucking pathetic.

“Alright,” Neil shrugged, “You comin’, Jane?” He asked. I glanced up, and upon meeting such a gentle expression, I smiled.

I spoke softly - I hated the way it sounded, but I said it nonetheless. “I can’t.” I sighed. “I got new rules, now, boys.”

Charlie scoffed, and Neil’s gaze seemed to soften - sympathetic, understanding. “Forget the rules.” Charlie said, handing his cigarette to myself, as I took it between my middle and first. “You’re coming.”

Through a breath of smoke, I scoffed, and I said: “I’ll be kicked out, Dalton.”

He smirked that uneven smirk, with a shrug to accompany, “For studying? C’mon, Darl’.” He challenged, “That’s a lame excuse.”

“I can’t.” I sighed, inhaling another deep breath of such chemical smoke, holding it within the depth of my throat - as the Dalton boy had taught me, back in eighth grade - and I exhaled tiresomely. I truly wished it could be simpler. I handed back the cigarette, and I focused myself upon Perry, as he smiled - something reassuring, and gentle.

“Well, Cameron asked, too.” Neil said, and a chorus of mumbled protests rang out - I found myself groaning something light, for the red-headed bastard were nothing but a stuck up prissy, and I liked nothing about him. “Anyone mind including him?”

I could practically hear the silent ‘Yes’ of the boys’ disagreement, as they sighed once more, and they remained true to the quiet. “What’s his specialty, bootlicking?” Charlie scoffed, lighting his cigarette once more.

“C’mon,” Neil tried. Always the kinder soul. “He’s your roommate.”

Charlie let out a breathy laugh, “That’s not my fault.” he said. And I did feel a little sorry for him, at times, for - indeed - Richard Cameron was his roommate, and the pair got on like butter in a sock.

In other words; they didn’t.

I grinned, riddled with slight amusement, for I knew Charlie held a special kind of talent for pissing Cameron off. He - regularly, you understand - played his saxophone, at all hours of the night. Only loud enough to disturb Richard, of course, but it was persistently frustrating for the ginger lad, nonetheless. Charlie would often steal his clothing, amidst his showers, and force the poor boy to return to his room in nothing but a towel - all kinds of impractical things, that I, for one, found utterly hilarious, and the school board did not agree with.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Meeks spoke, “My name is Steven Meeks.”

Glancing toward the newcomer, I smiled warmly, for he looked to be riddled with nerves, and shaken with anxiety. So fragile, did he seem.

“Oh, this is Todd Anderson.” Neil introduced, spinning him around with a soft touch. He turned to face Meeks, a light blush dusting his cheeks, and he reached out - as though nervous, I had noticed - to shake his hand.

Meeks shook it something small, “Nice to meet you.” He smiled, and let go of their grip.

“Nice to meet you.” Todd whispered, a tone so quiet, I almost missed it. He seemed polite, kind, and softly spoken. His lips quivered with an affable smile, docile and modest, and he shared a curt glance with I, a nervous nod to be sent.

I spoke quietly, though not quite as quiet as he, and I smiled, “I’m Jane.” I said, “Jane Darling.”

“Hello.” He mumbled, that faint dust of pinkish hue to elope his complexion once more.

“Charlie Dalton.” Charlie said, far louder than perhaps necessary (though I supposed it were just him, and that was that) with an azure of confidence radiating between his smirk. The boy, - Todd - he glanced with a curtly reigned frown, turning away with not but a word. The breath of a laugh slipped from my lips - for Charlie, his chaotic, messy, self, could seem so intimidating, so utterly confident, upon first glance - and I smiled with great amusement. His foot nudged my stomach lightly, and, upon glancing to his expression, I noticed a mockery of annoyance, ruined by his grin.

Another amused giggle fell from me, and I rolled my eyes - a natural reaction, you see - as I turned to meet the introduction of Knox. He leaned up, an awkward kind of crouch, over the back of the wooden chair, and shook Todd’s hand. “I’m Knox Overstreet.” He smiled, with a subtle nod to follow.

Overstreet fell back to rest within his chair, and Neil spoke with earnestness, although lightly uninterested upon the topic. “Todd’s brother was Jeffery Anderson.” He said, taking ahold of the cigarette Charlie had offered.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Charlie said, as though the name dared to ring a bell. I knew not for this Jeffery, nor his brother, as he stood before us, scoping his luggage once again. “Valedictorian.” Charlie continued. “National merit scholar.” Oh, I thought, oh, it was that Anderson.

Todd seemed to freeze slightly, his jaw drawn to a momentary clench, and I understood that such recognition were not of something unfamiliar to him. Meeks, his eyebrows raised, spoke with light teasing, “Ooh. Well,” he said, “Welcome to Hell-ton.”

A silent, shy, laugh reciprocated the boy’s reply, as Charlie - once more - made the pass of another loud statement. “It’s every bit as tough as they say,” he said, a tone of nonchalance to occupy. “Unless you’re Jane. She’s…” He trailed, a ribbing grin, “Well, like I said; she’s just Jane. A genius, like Meeks.”

I scoffed, swatting the boney shin of his leg, as he smirked something proud, and shot me a wink. “He excels in flattery, Todd,” I said, “Don’t mind him.”

Meeks snickered, “Yeah,” he agreed, “That’s why I help him with Latin.”

“And English,” I added, a mere mutter beneath my breath.

“And Trig,” Charlie coughed, another light kick to my stomach, with that same teasing glint to those deep, chocolate, eyes. He had taken back the cigarette, inhaling a rather deep toke upon the stick, before offering it to myself. I took it, gulping in the toxins with a sense of normality, as I leaned myself back upon the edge of the luggage.

A subtly sounded knock erupted from the opposing side of the wooden door, and I - reasonably so - found myself lightly panicking for the stick of illegal measures, wrapped within my fingers. I glanced to Charlie, a furrow upon my brows, and he took hold of the cigarette, maneuvering himself to extinguish the final few tokes of the lit thing. Neil, Charlie, and I, made an attempt to waft the smoke away; our hands batting the air somewhat foolishly. It would still smell, I thought, but I waved my hands anyway.

“It’s open,” Neil called, as Charlie rose to his feet, the corpse of the hidden cigarette perched beneath his shiny shoe.

The door opened, and an older man strode - masked by a great sense of authority - within the complex. “Father,” Neil all but spluttered, risen to a wobbly stand, “I thought you’d gone.” His gaze, it faltered, and a shine of something fearful riddled among his widened eyes. Mr Perry seemed stern, the kind of man whom found small talk to be his only communication, unless condescending, or belittling, and I didn’t quite like that.

“Mr Perry - Sir.” the boys each greeted, rising to a respectful stand, among the thickening tension within the air. I remained perched upon the bed, merely smiling something small.

The man nodded politely, tight lipped, with a grin of something powerful, and I found myself disliking the blankness behind his gaze, behind his eyes. “Keep your seats, fella’s,” He said, “keep your seats.” And so they did - Meeks, Knox, and Charlie, returning to their assigned seats, each somewhat displeased by the presence of the elder man. He glanced to myself, smile tightening distastefully, as mine only seemed to brighten - often, I enjoyed the act of making men squirm. “Miss Darling,” He said, a light bite to his tone, “I hope you are well.”

“Very well, thank you, Mr Perry.” I replied, somewhat nonchalantly, somewhat bemusedly.

“Good.” He said, gaze to flutter upon my frame - scrutinizing, with a sense of uncomfortability. My smile, it fell to a smirk, for I found great fondness among his displeasure. “Neil,” He continued, attention returning once more to his son, of whom stood, nervously, with a furrow in his brows. “I’ve just spoken to Mr Nolan.” He said, “I think that you’re taking too many extracurricular activities this semester, and I’ve decided that you should drop the school annual.”

I shifted my gaze, prominent with a frown, to meet the angered stare of Charlie, who merely sighed, a shake to his head. ‘Is he serious?’ I mouthed, somewhat silent among my breathing. The boy shrugged, nodding slightly in response. Unfortunately, his glare seemed to utter, and I found my scowl deepening. “But I’m the assistant editor, this year.” Neil attempted to reason, a glaze of solemn hurt, so potent, upon his features.

Mr Perry, a glance of perfect nonchalance, said: “Well, I’m sorry, Neil.” With not but a flicker of apathy. No, I thought, you’re not.

Neil tried again, “But - Father - I can’t! It wouldn’t be fair-”

“Fella’s,” Mr Perry interjected, a great wash of impatience to succumb to his expression, “Would you excuse us for a moment?”

There were a sudden gloom that hung about the air, thicker than the smoke that fell from our throats, as we smoked our cigarettes, and basked in the little freedom we could. Neil glanced, a sheepish kind of look, from his left, to his right - to nothing in particular, I could only assume - and the gentle thud of his Father’s footsteps were to be the only disrupance. I dared to spare another sharp exchange with Charlie, his jaw set, teeth clenched. He watched, deep orbs conflicted with a burning - obvious - distaste, as Mr Perry paused at the doorway, and Neil stuttered in his walk.

The boy left, and the smile his Father gave - perhaps something of reassurance, though I paid it no mind - were of nothing partially kind; tight, and thin-lipped. Charlie did not smile back, he glared, though something slightly softer, and awaited the retreat of Mr Perry’s moving figure.

A breath of silence dared to pass, and I wondered - perhaps selfishly, perhaps ignorantly - if this were how it felt to be a witness, and not a receiver. For I had never known the way it felt, to listen in upon hushed whispers of angered disputes, and the stumbled reply of someone ferociously terrified. It were usually I, whom stuttered my response, and cried silent tears, as the strike of powerful palms caressed the worn complexion of my cheek. Often, it stung. Though each time, less than the rest.

I found myself tracing the flush of my cheek - absentmindedly, you understand - with a gaze fallen to the floor. For although I were certainly glad that the bruises had healed, and the scabs didn’t leave scars, my conscience often recalled such moments, of inner battles, and of physical aches, upon the most wretched of times.

The summer was dreadful - as it had always seemed to be - and I held no doubt that the next break - Winter, I supposed - would be much the same. I dreaded it all, just as well. For who was I to defy the mighty hand of a man who’d taught me nothing but pain? I knew not how to love, but to hate - Oh, I could hate with great excellence.

“That guy’s a real jerk-off.” Charlie sighed, a mumble beneath his breath.

I smiled something small, saddened, “Yeah,” I said, “I wouldn’t invite him to tea, that’s for sure.”

He snorted, a toothy grin to follow, “Give it to him cold.” he suggested, leaning back among the pillows once more, his legs dangling - an awkward angle, surely - up off the side of the mattress. “Or leave some mushed up cookies at the bottom.” He had a nice smile, I cared to notice; bright, straight, teeth, with a perfectly even set - he looked, silly as it may seem, rather pretty, when he smiled. A true smile, however, not a smirk. His smirk were mischievous - older - and his smile withheld the youth he often projected.

“Too hot, maybe - burn his tongue.” I shrugged. “Though I’m doubtful he’d ever return my invite.”

“No,” Charlie sighed, “No, he wouldn’t.”

“It’s a shame, really,” I said, turning back to gaze upon the floor, a breath of faux despair dissolving upon my tongue, and I smiled. “I make a wonderful tea.”

“More of a liquor kinda guy, really.” He muttered, a shrug of faint amusement. “Or a Hot Chocolate.” He added, a moment of nothingness to follow, “Wouldn’t be Christmas without one, y’know?”

My grin merely heightened, for I knew the feeling all too well, and I nodded. “Of course.” I said, returning my gaze to lock with his bemused glint. “As long as you don’t make them with milk.”

He frowned, scoffed, and spoke with a tone of great offence. “How else am I supposed to make it?”

“With water!” I scoffed. Buffoon, I thought, and a disgusting one at that. To make his hot chocolate with milk - the audacity of the boy. “Hot water.” I then said, glancing to his scrunched expression - assuming that I, myself, withheld disgust much the same. “How’d you even heat up the milk?” I asked, another scrunch of distaste to follow.

“Jesus fuck,” He breathed, “The same way you heat up water?” He said, an incredulous kind of tone to pepper his words. His eyes widened, a placid glaze of disbelief to flutter his features, and I merely shook my head. Oh, he seemed so pretty - and, now, all was ruined.

“Disgraceful.” I muttered.

“Me?” He mocked, “You’re the weirdo that likes hot-water-chocolate!”

“You make it sound like a bad thing!” I defended.

“It is a bad thing! A damn shame, too.” He scoffed, a roll of his eyes, “I was just beginning to like you.” His smirk came sly and it came teasing, and I found myself unable to withhold my own, the slip of a gentle giggle to fall along with it.

“Only just?” I jeered, a fond kind of smile, “Well, shit, I better step up my game.”

Charlie shot me a wink - again - and swung to his feet, standing with a sudden wobble, as he said: “I’d say the same for myself, but my game is simply…” He paused, he grinned, “Perfect.” He said. I scoffed, rolling my eyes; for yes, he was a flirt - potentially the biggest flirt I had ever come to know, at that - but there was nothing perfect about him. Well, nothing but that smile, of course.

“Yeah, alright, Dalton.” I said, the ascent to my feet something clumsy - as always, it should so seem - and I stumbled a few steps, bashing my shoulder upon the chest of the boy, himself. He let out a breathy grunt, clasping me - far gentler than I supposed I had expected - at my elbow, for I jerked myself away, and I found my footing solely. A natural reaction, I thought to reason, and I pretended not to notice the brief flash of concern, as it washed across his face. “We should check on Neil.” I mumbled, tone far quieter than I should have liked - addressing the silence of the other three boys.

Todd glanced, - nervously, I noticed - with a quick kind of look, though returned to his luggage - a bag with nothing left to unpack - as though he were too busy to follow. Meeks merely nodded, Knox rising quietly from his position, and we wandered through the open doorway.

Charlie, the first to step out, leaned upon the cream wall, smug with his uneven, classic, smirk. I found myself positioned ever-slightly behind him, shoulder rested against the back of his arm, and Knox stood, hands in his pockets, to the right of I. Neil stared forward, jaw set, though soft - as he always seemed to be - and he dropped back against the wall, his head bouncing lightly upon such contact.

I frowned, silent within my thoughts, for although I wished to speak upon my concerns, I knew such would simply do nothing to help. “Why doesn’t he let you do what you want?” Charlie asked, brazen as ever.

Helpful, Dalton, I scoffed, internally, real helpful.

Neil turned to face us, an eyebrow raised, and his silence surely telling. “Yeah, Neil,” Knox added, a light tone of confidence to ooze between his words, “tell him off.”

My eyes rolled gravely, the comment slipping from upon my tongue before I caught the chance to reel it in. “God,” I sighed, “That’s a terrible idea.” I muttered, a shake to my head, “Don’t listen to them, Neil.”

Knox frowned, a glance of conflict to contort his handsome features, and he said: “Why? It couldn’t get any worse.” Oh, you fool, I thought - it could get so much worse. Of course it could.

“You don’t know that.” I said, a little too sharp for my liking. I softened my tone, “It’s best to just take it - take it ‘til you’re free.” I glanced once to Neil, his eyes fluttered shut, and I added - quietly, with a gentle stare. “Not long, now.”

There were a great beat of silence, a shake to his head, and the brunette returned his attention to the cream paint of the opposing wall, tone tender, tired. “Ten years is a lifetime.” He all but whispered, the slip of a crack to differentiate his tone. Something within my chest ached - a gentle squeeze, and my expression fell to a sympathetic furrow.

“No, Neil,” I said, a smile of something reassuring flashed his way, “you’ve the rest of your life to enjoy, to feel free. Ten years? Ten years is nothing.”

“It’s forever.” He mumbled, “I’ll be trapped forever.”

Knox shrugged smally, “It’s your life, Neil. Your future. You do with it what you want, that’s the way it goes.”

A mocking, bitterly tasted, laugh fell from the boy’s tongue, his eyebrows raised; fixture of disbelief. “Oh, that’s rich!” He scoffed, and my chest ached once more, throbbing slightly, for the weight of things all too familiar. I had witnessed this scene many-a-time before - only I were Neil, and Neil were I. “Like you guy’s defy your parents?” He continued, a hint of frustration to lick upon his tone, “Mr Future Lawyer, and Mr Future Banker.”

Charlie, another smug smirk slapped across his expression, said, with the breath of a laugh; “Okay, so I don’t like it any more than you do.”

Neil sighed, falling back to rest his head against the wall. “Well- Just don’t tell me how to talk to my Father.” He said, a trailed gaze to meet us all, “You guys are the same way.” And surely right he was. To defy was - to put it rather dramatically, though not entirely impossible - to die.

Knox let out a breathy, “Alright, alright, Jesus.” and Neil retracted his gaze, a glum grin to be shot my way. “So what are you gonna do, then?” He muttered, soft eyes laced with a thinly dispersed concern.

He fluttered his eyes shut, once more, and sighed. “What I have to do,” he mumbled, “Drop the annual.” I frowned a little, unable to miss the thick layer of sadness, as it wove between his features.

“Well,” Charlie began, “I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over it.”

I let out a breath, “Yeah,” I said, “It’s just a bunch of jerks trying to impress Nolan.”

His laugh rang fake, and it fell from his lips with great force - I practically winced. “I don’t care.” He lied. “I don’t give a damn about any of it.” But oh, of all the blindest men - anyone could read his mistruth.

There was a beat of silence, and I found myself reaching out, and placing a softly positioned hand upon the sleeve of his blazer, a curt squeeze of support - of companionship. “Well, uh,” Meeks stuttered, his breath a little warm upon the back of my neck. I flinched, be it only slight, from the sudden sensation, and bumped - once more, curse my soul - unto the frame of the Dalton boy himself. He merely raised an eyebrow, hand instinctively brushing upon my upper back, a stroke of miraculous comfort. I smiled, sheepishly, might I admit, and attempted to ignore the circular trail of his fingers upon the blazer, warped between my shoulder blades. “Latin?” Meeks offered, “Eight o’clock, tomorrow?”

A round of agreement followed around - Neil expressing the loudest, as he passed between Knox and I, and made his way through the doorway of his room.

“Todd,” The boy glanced up, fiddling with a small clock, and Meeks smiled, “You’re welcome to join us.” He offered, as Knox chimed in.

“Yeah,” He said, “Come along, Pal.”

Todd nodded, another shy movement, and he muttered a quiet: “Thanks.” And nothing more.

A breath left my lips, as the four remaining students - Meeks, Knox, Charlie, and I - turned away from the slowly closing door. I sighed, for I dreaded the condition to which Peter had left behind, upon his trail of Knightly destruction, and I wondered just what he had ruined, in the longer-than-necessary time he took, upon delivering mine own luggage to my dorm. “I’m gonna head back to my room.” I muttered, “Unpack, and all that.”

I dared to notice the hand, rested - still - between my shoulder blades, as Charlie spoke, softer than he had all day. “Sure.” He mumbled, “Know how to get there from here?” I merely nodded, for I did; it were up the stairs, the first right upon landing, and five doors to the left.

“See you in class, Jane,” Meeks smiled, a small wave to follow. I reciprocated, breathed a laugh.

“Yeah, and don’t forget - you’re coming to that study group.” Charlie grinned, a subtle wink, as he patted my back - thrice, upon counting - and I began to wander the trek within the distilled hallway. Their echoing footsteps, retreating to their own rooms, I could merely assume, drowned to something of a silent aubade, as I ascended the stairs, my shoes tapping gently upon the polished wood.

Perhaps, I thought, as I entered my hallway, and I strode to the oak of my door, this year could be better. Maybe it would be good, and not just fine. Shrug-worthy, would be a legible descriptive of past years - nothing but bland yearning, a great longing for freedom. Something tingled, deep within my bones, and I wondered if perhaps this year - maybe, just maybe - I would find it. The freedom, that is.

It sounded so wonderful, looked so serene. I discovered myself longing for it, all over again. And, as I swung open the wooden panel, a large kind of smirk tattled upon my teeth, I decided that I would do everything I could to achieve it. I swerved, among the piles of strewn clothing, of broken picture frames, and of smashed bottles - of perfume, might I add, despite their forbiddency - and I sat upon the naked, unmade bed, smiling. I cared not for the mess, the disgusting and blatant, disrespect, in which my brother had inflicted upon the scene - for I, Jane Elizabeth Darling, grew warm; warm with a sense of fulfilling passion.

This year would be different, I thought to myself; this year would be free. No longer was I Miss Darling, nor Peter - with a more feminine touch - Neither a future trophy wife, or a distraction amongst men - No. No, that year - beginning then, for if not then, when? - I was Jane. A bright, witty, independent, girl, with not but a man to influence her, and rag her around.

“I am Jane.” I said, and I liked the way it tasted.

#charlie dalton #charlie dalton fanfic #dead poets society #Neil Perry #nuwanda #nuwanda fanfic #todd anderson #knox overstreet #gerard pitts #pittsie #meeks #steven meeks #richard cameron #fanfiction #john keating #poetry

52 notes · View notes

aquariusrunes · 5 years ago

Text

The Superfriends AU (part 9)

The flashes were blinding and the large lights heated the room like a sauna. His palms were moist with sweat as he reached up and pulled at his collar. Colin had not been this nervous this morning. And Damian of course, said he had nothing to be nervous about when he had started to feel anxious. But he did. He’d obviously been too tired to properly panic when Violet dropped off the outfit he was currently wearing, this morning.

It had started when he unzipped the black garment bag. The intricate details embroidered on the expensive fabric immediately caught his eye and sent up the most alarming red flags. He’d never worn anything so expensive. Not even the suits Mr. Wayne had gotten tailored to his form for the handful of galas Damian had taken him to, cost as much as his current outfit.

The next anxiety laced arrow to hit him was when Damian had pointed out that Colin and Edna had yet to hold a real conversation. Their interactions with one another had completely ceased after his boyfriend’s introductions were finished.

And then there was Edna’s ability to influence Damian. She was one of the few members of his family he let himself be pushed around by. He willingly did her bidding as well as valued her opinion. And Colin had thought making sure Marinette had a good opinion of him was important, only to find out that Edna’s had more weight.

Now he stood sandwiched between the small woman who essentially invented fashion and one of the richest men in the world. Bruce had pated Colin on the shoulder when he first walked up to the two, a silent reassurance to the obviously panicked boy. The intimidating man now stood straight, shoulders squared with his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were not on his son, who was currently up on a platform surrounded by fake trees, instead his dark eyes had a strange shadow cast over them, reminding Colin of the man’s alter ego. He was carefully surveying the room, analyzing everyone who fell under his intense gaze.

On Colin’s right stood his boyfriend’s great aunt, her stance near identical to her nephew's. Her eyes were trained on Damian, unlike the boy’s father whose gaze was roaming the room. However, her glare was no less intimidating or fear inducing. Though, Colin couldn’t exactly blame the woman for her current enraged expression.

His eyes went back to his boyfriend, Damian was dressed in a top that resembled a toga, the one strap tank consisting of billowy semi-sheer fabric, tucked into slim dark grey pants, that Edna had whispered to him were a cigarette style. He also wore a well fitted silver blazer, the material of which was lighter than the pants. His face covered in metallic silver and soft brown makeup, he was too far to really see the details the makeup artist had done, but he could see an intricately drawn crescent moon done in silver eyeliner on Damian’s right cheek, as well as the matte midnight blue lipstick.

His hair had been wetted and dried a number of times before it was curled to Edna’s satisfaction. Now every time there was a pause in the camera’s flashes, a tall blonde woman would step up onto the platform and use a spray bottle to dampen Damian’s hair and then restyle it. Every time she tried to touch him though, he would aggressively react both physically and verbally. Colin had picked up on a few older female oriented insults, his boyfriend had a knack for talking like he just time traveled from Victorian London. The darker skinned boy eventually resorted to batting the bottle out of the woman’s grip as well as slapping her hands away.

Beyond the problems he was having with the stylist, Damian was also getting difficult with the photographer. Not necessarily on purpose, but Edna was still less than pleased.

Damian was a very handsome boy, not exactly what one would consider classically handsome, but his features were undeniably attractive. His naturally neutral expression was extremely attractive, and gave off an air of aloofness and mystery that most girls their age found irresistible. But very few people were aware of just how stunning the boy’s smile could be. Not the fake polite one he showed interviewers or those he couldn't be bothered with but had to interact with often enough to the point that forced him to be courteous. His real smile was absolutely breathtaking.

The photographer had been trying to get that breathtaking expression for about ten minutes. Colin could see how the man was grating on his boyfriend's nerves. Edna and the photographer were becoming increasingly frustrated as well, which was totally understandable in the redhead's mind. But he was sure that if either of them snapped at Damian the boy would storm out in a frustrated huff.

Poor Angel, he really was trying. He just had difficulty relaxing to the point where his natural smile could be displayed. He carried far too much tension around for sixteen year old, even with all his extracurriculars.

Colin watched the blonde woman fight against Damian once again, his bangs had fallen into his eyes and she needed to correct them. His boyfriend’s palm raised, slapping the purple spray bottle out of her hand, it bounced off the platform and rolled towards Colin, Edna, and Mr. Wayne.

It caused Bruce to let a low chuckle break from his lips, which took Colin far too much by surprise. He’d actually forgotten that his boyfriend’s father had been standing there. The wealthy man looked down at his Aunt’s unamused expression. “I did warn you about working with him.”

“Yes.” She grumbled. “Forgive me for having faith that a sixteen year old could stand not to act like a child for thirty minutes or so.” Her arms crossed tightly over her body. “Honestly, why are your boys always so difficult?”

“They aren’t difficult,” Bruce defended. “Just...different.”

Edna rolled her eyes at the man.

“Different, sure.” She huffed. “Luckily, I planned for Damian’s ‘differentness’ and have a solution at the ready.”

Bruce cocked his eyebrow, giving his aunt a questioning look. She smiled up at him before her gaze lowered to Colin, the boy’s face coated in just as much confusion as Bruce’s. “Colin dahling.” The woman walked forwards several steps, leaning down and picking up the purple bottle. “Come here please.” She motioned at him with a curl of her fingers and he was quick to follow her, doing as told like a little soldier.

“Yes ms-” He stopped himself. “Edna.” He finally said.

She smiled, patting his hand. “Colin could you be a dear and go help Damian with his hair?” The ginger tilted his head, looking back at the blonde woman as she stomped off the platform. Another series of flashes fired, as Damian positioned himself in whatever way the photographer told him to.

“His hair?” Colin asked. “I think it looks fine.” Truthfully he did. He wished Damian would wear it curly more often, but knew how unprofessional his boyfriend felt when he did.

“Could you just go push his bangs back and use the spray bottle to help his hair curl a little more. Please dahling, it would be a big help.” Edna held the bottle out to Colin.

“Um…” Colin looked back at Damian as another flash went off. “I guess?” He questioned. “Right now?”

His hands slowly took the purple bottle. “No no, in just a moment, when I walk over to look at the shots we have so far.”

“Yes ma’am.” Colin turned from the woman, facing Damian’s platform. His perplexed look melting away and being replaced with a smile as he saw Damian push his own bangs back, only for them to fall back into his eyes without the assistance of his ever precious hair gel.

He only had to wait a moment before Edna patted him on the shoulder before swaggering over to the photographer. Colin was quick to hop up onto the platform and over to his boyfriend, who looked less than pleased. His face was set in a scowl and his arms were tightly crossed. The closer Colin got though the more of the makeup he could make out. Damian’s eyes were traced in metallic off white eyeliner, the shade only varying slightly from the moon drawn on his cheek, and a range of soft browns were used for his eyeshadow. The color pellet suited him extremely well.

“You know,” He began, getting Damian’s attention. “You’re making this way more difficult than it has to be.”

Damian didn’t respond, he just rolled his eyes, directing his gaze elsewhere.

“It’d all go a lot quicker if you cooperated. It’d also be less painful too.” Once Colin was properly in front of his boyfriend he took note of the glitter highlighting his cheekbones, as well as a chain earrings that had been hooked onto his right ear, and a thick silver choker that resembled something out of the greek myths themselves around Damian’s neck.

Damian gave Colin a rather dry unamused look. “If that woman would stop touching me, everyone would be in less pain.”

“Dames,” Colin breathed. “She’s a stylist, it’s literally her job to touch you.” He rested his free hand on his hip. “She is getting paid to come up here and make sure that you continually look perfect throughout this shoot.”

The boy only huffed turning his head away once again.

“Your aunt is getting a little frustrated with you as well.” Colin’s gaze drifted across the room towards the woman. She was sitting in front of a computer with the tall balding photographer, neither seemed happy with the shots they had so far. Edna’s eyes slowly traveled up, locking onto Colin’s. It nearly gave him a heart attack.

He turned his attention back to his boyfriend. “I’m gonna spray you with this,” He held up the bottle. “And mess with your hair.” Damian’s eyebrow quirked up. “If you slap my hand, I will punch you in the face.”

Damian’s shoulders visibly tensed when the mist fell over him, but he relaxed once Colin moved to brush his bangs back. While a little less tense, the boy still stood incredibly still, almost like a statue. Colin’s hands moved quickly, doing his best to mimic how the first hair stylist had shaped Damian’s hair before the shoot had started. It didn’t look perfect but it looked better than it did when his bangs were hanging in his face. In fact, once Colin was done it started looking more messy, resembling the boy’s rare bedhead after a sleepless night. But it looked good, at least in Colin’s opinion.

He couldn’t stop his laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He snickered, running his fingers through Damian’s curls, repositioning them. “You should really consider wearing it curly more often.” He whispered.

“Absolutely not.” Damian was quick to refuse, but couldn’t stop the corner of his lips from quirking up. “Why are you up here anyway?” He asked.

Colin smirked as he continued his work. “Board of me already babe?”

Damian rolled his eyes, gaze dropped to the ground as he willed his blush to fade. He wasn’t great with nicknames, not when Colin used them. Shortenings of his name was fine, but it always got to him when more traditional pet names were used by his boyfriend. “No.” He muttered. “Just curious, after all Edna was rather clear about you and Jon not interfering while I work.”

“Your aunt asked me to come fix your hair.” Colin shrugged. “Probably because she knew you wouldn’t be near as cranky with me.”

“I am not being cranky.” The boy bit back, earning an unamused look from his freckled boyfriend.

“Dames.”

“I don’t like people touching me Colin, she knew this when she asked me to be her model.” Colin rolled his eyes, hands moving out of his boyfriend’s hair.

“Yeah, but you're also very mature for your age and should be able to suck it up for thirty minutes or so.” Colin crossed his arms. “Seriously Dames, this isn’t like a crowd of Wayne Ward Fangirls trying to grope you on the street. That woman is trying to do her job and by you being cranky, it’s making everything run very inefficient.”

“Are you implying I’m a bad model?”

“Course not.” The redhead sighed. “I’m implying that you’re acting like a child and it’s not cute.” He gave a small smile. “But other than your attitude, you’re doing a very good job.” Colin leaned forward and peck Damian’s cheek, the one not coated in eyeliner. “Just smile a little more.”

Colin turned, hopping off the platform, and turning back to watch once he was far enough to not be in the shot. He flashed the mixed race boy a blinding smile once he was out of the way and gave him a thumbs up. Damian returned the gesture with a soft smile, not noticing the flashes of the camera as he watched his boyfriend who, after a few minutes, started to make utterly ridiculous faces.

Edna and Bruce watched from their previous spot. Positions the same, backs straight, shoulders square, hands clasped behind them. Edna’s face cracked into a self satisfied smirk. Bruce’s eyes watching the scene before him critically.

“So that’s why Colin’s here.” He finally said.

“Fail safes are important dahling.”

“What would you have done if Damian hadn’t brought him along?”

“Please,” Edna looked up at her nephew. “Who do you think gave him the idea to invite the boy?”

…

Marinette watched her cousin and his boyfriend retreat down the hallway, Colin’s arms wound around one of Damian’s. The boy had mentioned in the elevator that he needed to go feed Titus and would be down in the cafeteria once he was finished. Colin quickly volunteered to go with him. Marinette assumed it was because of how moody Damian had gotten towards the end of the photoshoot. She could practically see the negative energy radiating off the boy. Jon and Chloé, who had also been in the elevator went straight to the Mode cafeteria. Marinette and Adrien had gotten off on the floor with all of their rooms like Colin and Damian. Marinette making the excuse that she needed to call her mom and Adrien saying he forgot something in his room.

Once she saw her cousin’s form round the corner of the hall she turned back around to look and see if Adrien had gone into his room yet or not. The door with a large number seven on it was firmly close, the blonde nowhere in sight. She turned back to her own door, took in a large breath to steal her nerves, then turned the knob and walked into the suite.

The room was large with a queen sized bed against a wall of floor to ceiling windows, the sheer black curtains were drawn currently. There was a fireplace in her room on the opposite wall, the one that her door was on. It was an electrical insert and so didn’t require a chimney. There was a flat screen tv above it and two red chairs in front of it. A silver rack was against the mainly empty wall, holding her mass of black garment bags. The west wall was mainly taken up by a large dresser vanity combo, which her accessory trunk was currently in front of.

Her room had been mostly left undisturbed since she first arrived, save for the bed, which she had messily made that morning. Mostly everything in the room was well organized, especially her garments and accessories to make things a little less stressful for her during the hectic week.

The large white comforter of her bed was wrinkled and had been pulled towards the center of the mattress, creating something that resembled a nest. In front of the mass of blankets, propped up on a couple of pillows was her tablet. Her nerves were on fire, but she still managed a smile when the head of her kawami popped up from behind the piece of technology. The small creature was quick to pause whatever video she had been watching, most likely a telenovela she had found on one of the streaming services Marinette’s family subscribed too. The girl had discovered relatively soon after becoming the wielder of the ladybug miraculous that the creature had a bit of an addiction to the television genre.

“Marinette!” Tikki beamed, flying up to her holder. “How is the photoshoot going?”

“Well…” Her smile tightened. “Well.” She reiterated. “I think it’s going well. Aunt E is unbelievably specific.” Marinette’s hands clutched the fabric of her sweatpants before releasing it, she repeated this process a few times. “She made some intern repaint a handful of leaves on a fake tree because it wasn't mossy enough. She also made a girl cry this morning, sooo we’ve been off to an interesting start.”

“Did you have to take your earrings off?” The tiny god asked, eyes large, searching her wielder’s face. She didn’t sound angry, necessarily, but Marinette knew she would be if she lied.

The bluenette bit down on her lower lip, gaze fluttering down to the floor. “Yes.” She said, voice laced with a heavy sigh. “But only for thirty minutes or so.”

“Marinette...” The kawami sighed.

“Edna was insistent I wear her earrings!” The girl quickly defended. “I tried Tikki, I really did but she was so-so...insistent.”

The small god stared at her obviously anxious choice. “That was very dangerous Marinette.” Her voice was still very gentle in nature.

“I know.” Marinette kept her eyes on her feet. “And I’m sorry, really sorry.”

Tikki was quiet for a long moment before letting out a large breath, flying a little closer to the girl. “You’ll have to have them off again for the rest of the shoot, won’t you?”

“Again, I am so sorry.”

“Marinette, having the earrings off is very dangerous.” Tikki reiterated. “Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“Of course I do.” Marinette scrunched her hands into her sweatpants again. “But I did think up a plan!” She added quickly. “Since I have to take them off again, I’m going to hide them here in my room. That way you can watch over them and they aren’t floating around in a room full of strangers.”

Tikki floated back down onto the bed. “I suppose that would be the best option. Do you know where you’ll hi-” A very solid knock came from her door, just two taps, but Marinette already knew who would be behind it. She walked to the door, then turned about to tell Tikki she wouldn’t need to hide, but the god had already vanished.

She opened the door, revealing one Adrien Agreste, a sheepish smile on his face. “Is yours half as mad as mine?” He asked as Marinette stepped aside, letting him into the room before shutting the door behind him.

“I’d say more disappointed, but I haven’t told her everything yet.”

Adrien winced at her words. “I can come back later once you have.” He offered, to which Marinette gave him a look.

“Definitely not.”

“Damn.”

“What happened to pretending it didn’t happen?” Suddenly Tikki was floating in the middle of the room again. “Acting like you didn’t know?! Not discussing it directly!?” The Kawami huffed. “Marinette there are only so many loopholes we can go through before you blatantly just break the rules!”

“I’m sorry!” Marinette whined. “But I didn’t know what to do!” She took several steps forward. “Edna made me take off my earrings and I had to give them to someone! I couldn’t just set them down somewhere and risk them getting stolen or falling on the floor or something! And yes, Edna offered to hold them or suggested I let Uncle Bruce do it but, full disclosure I don’t know if I trust either of them with a miraculous. Like Uncle Bruce is very curious and I just couldn’t risk it!” Both Adrien and Tikki were becoming mildly concerned with how red the girl was getting, her speech increasing in speed with every shade her face deepened in color. “And Edna well I just don’t think I could ever in good conscience hand the earrings over to her! I mean yes she knows but she doesn’t understand. And in the moment, I mean you have to agree that under those circumstances Adrien was the best option since we weren’t taking photos together. But we’ll have to after lunch so I told him I had a plan and so I’m going to hide our mirac-”

“PIGTAILS!” Marinette physically jumped back, colliding with the dresser. A small black cat like creature floating before her. “Take a breath girl.” He said. “Seriously, you’re going to pass out.” The creature turned his head towards Tikki. “Does she do this a lot?”

“It’s not a common occurrence, but it isn’t necessarily uncommon.” The red god replied.

“Good grief.” The black creature mumbled. “Look Pigtails, we aren’t mad. Under the circumstances, you did the best you could. Sometimes unpredictable stuff like this happens. I’m honestly surprised the kid’s pops hasn’t made him take the ring off during a photoshoot yet.”

“Marinette,” Adrien finally spoke. “You remember Plagg, right?”

The girl’s eyes were still wide, her heart rate still slowing form the shock that had just pulsed through her body. “Y-yeah. I remember him.”

“The two of you being aware of one another’s identities and interacting with each others miraculouses as civilians, it complicates things and if the past is anything to go by, makes things exceedingly more difficult. It’s why we find it better to keep personal things a secret. But I’m sure the guardian's already talked you through all of this stuff.”

Marinette nodded her head, taking a step forward.

“But,” Plagg let a breath out. “This is where we are now. And what’s most important is that the miraculouses are safe while the two of you can’t wear them. So, where’s this genius hiding spot of yours?”

“I-I’ll get it.” She mumbled, quickly darting across the room to where her portable sewing kit was.

Adrien and Tikki both kept their eyes locked on Plagg.

“That was surprisingly very insightful Plagg.” Tikki said, flying up to her partner.

“I can be smart!” He retorted. “I understand the importance of our miraculouses! I don’t just think about Cheese.”

“You just mainly think about it.” Adrien responded, pulling the tin of camembert out of his pocket and setting it down on the dresser.

“Well yeah.”

“Okay.” The three’s attention was directed towards Marinette as she sat down on the end of her bed, setting her now open sewing kit in her lap. Held tightly in her hands was a handmade Chat Noir doll.

“What is that?” Plagg asked.

“This,” Marinette held it up. “Is what I’m going to hide the miraculouses in.” She smiled, grabbing the small scissors out of her portable kit she flipped the doll on it’s side, looking for the seam before moving to cut it open.

“I-” Adrien’s head tilted. “I’m so confus-is that the doll Manon stole when she got akumatized?”

Marinette looked up at him, the doll’s side already open. “Yeah.” She blinked before digger her fingers into the doll to pull out some of the stuffing. “I didn’t really know what to do with them afterwards. I couldn’t just throw them away, so I put them all in a trunk. I let her play with them whenever I babysit. Well, Ladybug and Chat Noir don’t live in the trunk. They’re usually either on my desk or the shelf above my bed.”

Plagg had flown over and was now hovering above Marinette’s shoulder, Tikki sitting on her other one. “You’re going to put them inside of it?” The small black creature asked.

“Yup.”

“I have never seen either of those dolls in your room.” Adrien said, sitting down on the arm of one of the red chairs.

“That’s because I hide them when you come over.” She glanced up at him. “Last thing I needed was a nosy kitty teasing me about my dolls.”

“I am not nosy.”

“Adrien whenever Chat Noir is in my room about seventy-five percent of what he does is rummaged through my things.” She shot him a pointed look.

“I’m curious.”

“Your nosy.” The girl set the doll down in her lap on top of her sewing kit, she then reached up and carefully pulled out her earrings. She let out a sigh, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders as she slipped the jewelry inside the doll.

She then looked up at Adrien expectantly.

He stared at her for a long moment with blank eyes, blinking rapidly before finally asking. “Why’d you bring the Chat doll with you?”

Marinette’s cheeks tinted pink as she looked back down at the doll, she put some of the stuffing back in, that way the two miraculouses would be seperated. “I have my reasons.” She whispered.

“Sometimes when she’s trying to think things out she’ll talk to it.” Tikki supplied from Marinette’s shoulder. “The whole identity thing has been on her mind a lot lately so she’s been talking to him quite a bit.”

Marinette’s face grew more red as Plagg laughed. “That’s hilarious!” The creature cackled. “This one just confesses his undying love to the poster he has on the backside of his closet door.”

“Okay!” Adrien stood quickly, slipping his ring off his finger and placing it in Marinette’s waiting palm. “Let’s just hurry up and go get lunch.” He turned away from her quickly, trying to hide his own blush behind his hand.

Marinette silently slipped it into the doll, then replaced the rest of the stuffing. She was quick to thread a needle with some black thread then set to work repairing the doll.

Both Kawami’s watched the girl closely. “This is actually a pretty sound idea pigtails.” Plagg muttered. “Unless of course someone obsessed with dolls get akumatized. But Hawkmoth should be out of range so, we should be fine.”

Marinette hummed in agreement as she finished her stitch. “Good as new.” She whispered, twisting to set the doll in the middle of the small nest Tikki had made.

“Should we be worried that there aren’t any heroes in Paris right now?” The god of creation asked, unknowingly inciting panic in her chosen.

“Oh my god.” Marinette’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t have a lot of time before I left,” Adrien turned. “But I was able to get a message to Master Fu with Plagg’s help. So he knows we’re both gone.” Adrien stuck his hands into his pockets.

“If there’s trouble, then he’ll probably just call on one of the random holders you’ve been using every now and again.” Plagg added. “But I doubt Hawkmoth will try anything, and if he did, he'd probably call the akuma back once you two didn’t show.”

“That’s true.” Tikki whispered. “Not much use terrorizing Paris when the objects your after aren’t even there. Still though, now that you two are aware of one another’s identities, I implore you to avoid being out of the city at the same time in the future. Just in case.”

“Well it’s not like I planned on leaving.” Adrien said. “I found out like barely an hour before I boarded the plane to come here.”

“Just a tip for the future.” Tikki added.

“Are we watching Yo soy Betty, la fea?” The three looked back at the nest where Plagg had obviously made himself comfortable. “I love that show!” He looked up at Tikki excitedly. “Where are we right now?” He asked.

The Kawami sighed. “He’s staying here then?” She asked, looking between the two humans.

“We figured you’d both want to stay close to your miraculouses.” Marinette explained.

“And we also thought that since you two hadn't seen one another in awhile, you’d want to hang out and catch up.” He smiled sheepishly. “Do you mind?”

Tikki let out a small huff and rolled her eyes at the excited kitten rolling around in her nest. “I suppose not.” She slowly flew down and situated herself next to him. “But no cheese in my nest.”

“Ahh! Tikki! That’s not fair!”

…

It was so strange. Chloé Bourgeois, one of the most difficult and least liked people on the planet, a self given title, had only made two friends throughout her entire life. The first was Adrien, the two had known one another practically since they were in the womb. Literally. Emilie was pregnant on her wedding day, not that anyone save for maybe four people alive knew that, and Chloé was conceived after the reception. They’d always been pushed together, the girl’s mother lobbying hard for a relationship to bloom between the two. But Adrien was her oldest and dearest friend.

Sabrina was her second friend. She’d met her when she was ten. Chloé had made a girl at the park cry. The way Sabrina stared at her, eyes wide, drinking in the scene and raw emotions of anger and sadness radiating off the other two was one of the creepiest things Chloé has ever seen. So of course, she had yelled at Sabrina, she didn’t like the way she was being ogled at. The next day Sabrina had transferred into Chloé’s class. The ginger latched onto her, becoming a constant companion. Until Chloé tried to be better, then Sabrina moved on to Lila.

Yet, in under twenty-four hours Jon Kent had proclaimed himself her new best friend. She’d opened up to him more than anyone else she’d ever known, even her therapist of three years didn’t know as much about Chloé as this random boy from Kansas now did. And everytime she said something bad about herself he would correct her. Everytime she said something bad about someone else, he forced her to list three things she liked about them. She’d never known anyone like him. The strange spell he had over her was so confusing. She honestly had no idea how they had gotten here in such a short period of time. But she didn’t hate it.

She sat across from him at one of the circular tables in the Mode cafeteria, now dressed in her sweats with her hair up in a clip. The metallic makeup still decorating her face. Her lipstick stained the rim of the white mug she sipped her coffee from as she watched the boy across from her animatedly rant.

“Seriously though!” Jon banged his fist against the table, making both of their trays of food shake. He had been ranting about flannel the whole time they’d been in line. At this point, Chloé didn’t think anything was going to get him to stop.

“Plenty of high end designers resent the material, it’s got a stench of the midwest and middle class reeking off of it.” She sat her cup down. “My mother finds it personally offensive. She’d probably disown me if she ever saw me in it.”

Jon stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide and blank before he finally spoke. “I’m going to buy you so much flanel, what’s your favourite colors?”

“Gold, yellow, baby blue, and duke blue.” She crossed her arms. “Please God, don’t buy me anything. Especially flanel.”

“I’m gonna get you a yellow and blue one.” Chloé let out a large groan as the Kansan beamed at her.

“Hey Chlo.” She looked up, making eye contact with one Adrien Agreste. His smile radiating that pure sunshine he was famous for. “Hi Jon.”

“Hey Adrien.” Jon smiled back, sticking a spoonful of chocolate pudding in his mouth.

“Mind if we join you?” Chloé’s eyes immediately flicked behind the blonde where Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood, partially hidden behind the tall model, tray in her hand.

“Course not!” Jon chimed after a thick swallow. “Got a big table because I figured all six of us would want to sit together.” Adrien walked around the table to sit between Chloé and Jon, while Marinette sat between the two on the other side.

Chloé quickly noted the lack of earrings on her person. It was strange seeing her without them, she honestly couldn’t remember the last time she saw the girl’s naked lobes. Her eyes then darted to Adrien’s hand, now resting on the table. No ring.

They must have stashed the jewelry away somewhere safe before coming down. She was more than a little relieved that an anxiety inducing scene like the one this morning would not be repeated. She swore her heart rate quickened every time she saw the two slip their miraculouses into one another’s hands. But the idea of two of the most powerful things on earth being left unguarded somewhere in the Mode building was somewhat unsettling as well. She’d just have to trust in the two’s intuition she supposed. Not much else she could do anyway.

“So, what were the two of you chatting about?” Adrien asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over the table as the four began to eat their meals.

“Oh.” Jon perked up. “I was just talking about how I was gonna buy Chloé a whole bunch of flannels.” He smiled at her cheekily. “Then we can wear them around and match so everyone knows we’re best friends.”

“Definitely not.” Chloé snapped quickly as Adrien began to laugh.

“I think I would honestly give you one of my kidneys if you got this girl into flannel.” The blonde continued to laugh as he began cutting into what looked like chicken.

“It’s not the worst material in the world.” Marinette said, voice somewhat quiet. “It’s just hard to work with when your designing for people willing to pay millions.”

“Exactly what I said!” Chloé shouted.

“You said it smelled like the midwest and middle class.” Jon corrected.

“Yeah,” Chloé crosses her arms. “It’s the smell that makes it difficult to sell to millionaires.”

“I don’t even want to think of what my father would do if he saw me in flannel.” Adrien added before taking a bite of his food.

“Geez, what is with y’all’s parents?” Jon asked. “My dad wouldn’t have the slightest problem with me wearing flannel.”

“Does your dad regularly wear flannel though Jon?” Chloé asked.

“Well yeah,” the boy stirred his spoon around what remained in his small bowl of pudding. “But my mom kind of hates the fabric. But she doesn’t get mad at me when I wear it!”

“Ah, but you see young one,” Marinette interjected. “Your parents care about you.”

“My father cares!”

“That you look good.” Chloé snorted. “Seriously Adri, it’s okay that your dad doesn’t love you. In fact, I think I’ve been doing much better since I accepted the fact that my mother can’t stand me.” The table went silent, Chloé preoccupied with her coffee didn’t noticed until she had set her cup back down. “What?” She asked, looking around at the concerned faces surrounding her.

“Chlo…” Adrien reached out for her hand.

“She cares Chloé.” Marinette whispered. “On some level, all parents care about their kids.”

“She’s right.” Jon added. “She may not show it but your mother loves you Chloé.”

The blonde rolled her eyes, pulling her hand away from Adrien’s. “It’s really not that big of a deal anymore. I’ve accepted it and I’ve moved on.” She turned her face away from the group.

“Chloé-” Marinette was interrupted by a tray being slammed down on the table. They all looked up to see Damian who was pulling a chair up and sitting down between Marinette and Jon.

“I hate this.” He said, monotone voice laced with rage.

Colin quietly pulled up a seat, opting to sit between Adrien and Chloé. “Blood pressure dear.” The redhead mentioned, picking up a white mug that fizzed like a soft drink and taking a long sip from it.

“Hate what?” Marinette asked.

“This.” Damian’s eyes squinted, hands extending. “Did Enda tell you what she did?” He asked.

Marinette turned forward, fork poking at the pasta on her tray. “I think we’ve already established that Aunt E shared very little of what was happening during this trip with me.”

“Alexander Galbaki has these fraternal twins in his family.” Damian began to explain, fist clenched around his fork. “I forget their names, it’s like russian or german though. But their our age, a girl and a boy who are never seen not with one another.”

“I’m betting on a twincest situation.” Colin piped up, setting his cup down.

“Does that happen in real life?” Jon asked. “I thought it was just a fanfiction thing?”

Colin shook his head. “We looked up their instagram while Titus ate, they are like all over each other, it’s seriously nauseating.”

“What do these creeps have to do with Edna?” Chloé asked, leaning forward and resting her chin on her fist.

“Edna decided to have Marinette and I be her models for this after she found out that Galbaki is releasing a collection the same night as her runway!” Damian threw his hands out in front of him, his face clearly expressing that they should all be understanding his frustration.

“And the twins are headlining it?” Adrien finally asked.

“YES!” he screamed.

“Oh.” Marinette nodded. “She wants us to compete with them.” She nodded a little faster. “That makes sense.” She twirled some pasta on to her fork. “Why is this pissing you off?”

“She could have told us!” he stabbed his fork into his salad. “Seriously! If I had known I had a target on this trip I would have researched in advance.” He grumbled as he shoved his fork into his mouth.

“Vanya and Demitri.” Colin sounded, Damian’s phone in his hand. “See it’s gross,” He showed the phone to Chloé, the screen displaying two very pale teenagers with platinum blonde hair. The girl was in a very skimpy white bikini her long hair straightened and reaching her butt, black headband holding back her bangs and a pair of high end sunglasses covering her eyes. She was seated on the lap of another very pale teenager in a pair of black swim trunks. His almost white hair swept back, sunglasses covering his eyes as well. One of his hands was weaved around the girl’s waist, the other resting on her thigh.

“Okay ew.” Chloé mumbled as Colin shifted to show Adrien the picture.

“I mean,” The blonde scratched at his head. “Yeah, that doesn’t look great but it’s just one picture-”

“They are all over each other in pretty much every post.” Colin interjected. “It’s gross.”

“So stop looking at it.” Marinette stated matter-of-factly. “No one is making you insta stalk them.”

“We need to do research!” Damian growled. “I need to be ready to take them down at a moments notice.”

“Dames is just pissy because Demitri is taller than him.” Colin said with a roll of his eyes.

“He is a freakishly tall human being!”

Colin leaned over to Chloé. “He used to be like way short when he was little, even though he’s shot up like a weed he’s still got short man syndrome.” He whispered, the girl quickly covered her mouth to stifle her giggle.

“Speaking of insta stalking.” Chloé said through her breathy laugh. “Have we gotten any more updates on the drama back home?” She asked, question pointed towards Adrien. “Last I heard Lila was telling everyone she was Damian’s secret girlfriend?”

“Has she upgraded form unrequited love to secret girlfriend?” Marinette asked, eyebrow cocked as she leaned forward on her elbow.

“Something like that.” Adrien breathed tiredly. “According to Nino the girls have been asking none stop questions and the story just keep growing.”

“Growing how?” Colin asked, eyes narrowing.

“Well, for one she’s been referring to him exclusively as Dami-Bear.”

“Wow.” Damian stabbed at his salad again. “I hate that.” he shoved it into his mouth.

“And she also told a very long and dramatized story about the two of you in Grease last summer.” Adrien glanced to Colin and then Damian before his eyes landed on his tray of food. “Nino didn’t repeat verbatim, but it apparently wasn’t really family friendly.”

“Oh I’m gonna break her nose.” Chloé jumped when Colin’s fork snapped in half.

“Blood pressure darling.” Damian quipped, receiving only the dirtiest of looks from his boyfriend.

“It could be worse.” Jon held up his hand, like he was trying to calm Colin from across the table. “She could be posting this stuff online or something, at least it’s contained to their class, right?”

“I don't know.” Marinette hummed. “She’s got a lot of followers in school, not just our class.” She looked down at her food, brows knitted together. “Dames, you have international coverage, right?”

“That might just be the dumbest question you’ve ever asked me.”

The bluenette rolled her eyes. “Can I texted some friends from your phone?” She asked dryly. Damian only shrugged, gesturing across the table to Colin who still had the smartphone. The boy was quick to pass it over.

UNKNOWN: You arent gonna believe this

New Contact: ???

New Contact: who?

UNKNOWN: Its Marinette.

UNKNOWN: dont freak out

UNKNOWN: but Im textng from Damian Wayne’s Phone

Marinette held out the phone, leaning close to Damian and smiled wide. The boy looked up at his phone, camera app open and focusing on him and his cousin. His face remained expressionless but he held up a simple peace sign as she snapped the photo. Marinette then quickly sent it off to the number she was texting.

UNKNOWN: proof

New Contact: GIRL?!?!?!

New Contact: WTF!?!!?

_______________________________________________________________________

(part 1) (part 2) (part 2.5) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) - Here (part 10)

Photoshoot Part 2! I don’t know why I thought I could fit this all into one part. Like seriously, what was I thinking? I also miss calculated how long these three sections would be, the next Incredibles Cameo will be in the next part for sure. Writing has been kind of hard this week but my mind has been racing with ideas. So buckle up y’all cause there are now some big plot twists that have wormed their way into my mind and have been embedded in this fic. I’ll be curious to see if anyone can see them coming ;) Thank you all so much for the comments! They always make me smile and get me motivated to write more! As always if you have any questions about the story or AU feel free to ask, I love getting them and will happily answer any question you got! And if you want to be tagged let me know!

Can y’all guess who Mari is texting?

@graduatedmelon @northernbluetongue @violatiger8 @bamagirl513 @vixen-uchiha @beaversuenightly @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @todaylillypads @laurakinneylance @vgirl-10123 @wellcrud-blog-blog @silvergold-swirl @crazylittlemunchkin @an-ahez @queencommonsense @ladybug-182 @meganemily231 @driftingmoonlitpetals @kand-roo @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @theatreandcomicfreak @paradoxal-occurance @miraculousl4dybug @thanks-captain-obvious @sassydepression @multishipper1needshalp @wegan97 @surprisebishhhhhhhhh @redscarlet95 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @synnesstra @fandomkitty8 @tired-yeetling @saluteswifties @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @dast218 @naclychilli @royalchaoticfangirl @panda3506 @nataladriana9 @shreky-boi @my-name-is-michell @dawnwave16

219 notes · View notes

sugarbooger513 · 4 years ago

Text

Angel’s Rising- Chapter Two

I slide two pancakes onto my plate just as the girls make their way into the kitchen. They both smile and sit in front of the plates I already have made for them. Lilith takes a minute to tie her hair into a high ponytail before she starts eating, but Rose already has a mouthful. I chuckle and sit across from them.

“Girls,” I sigh and lean my face onto my hand, “can I ask you two some stuff before I get there?” “Of course, Aria! We’re so ready for you to see the class!” Rose grins widely at me.

“Okay. What should I watch out for? Just.. maybe some stuff that I should know so I’m not shocked when I get there.” Lilith snickers under her breath. “Kaminari is a mess. That boy doesn’t know his alphabet if he overuses that electricity quirk.” Rose turns a bit pink, but she’s quick to fire back. “Iida is the class rep. He’s a major hardass on anyone who isn’t Lilith.”

“Okay, okay. What about Mr. Aizawa? I seem to be stuck, ya know, with the teacher all day.” The twins look at each other with matching grins. I suddenly remember that he wasn’t pleased to hear that there are three of us. “Weeeell..” Rose looks at Lilith to finish her thought. “Mr. Aizawa tends to give the two of us detention. A lot. We actually have it today with him.” I facepalm.

“What the hell did you two do this time?” “I just ‘act like a moron’ apparently.” Rose laughs. “I’m a smartass.” Well, at least the two of them are honest with themselves. I sigh, making a mental note to stay after with them. “Okay, but you two haven’t told me what to watch for around him.” Lilith finishes her plate and waves me off. “He’s just moody. He likes sleep, and that seems to be his entire personality.” Rose’s next comment makes Lilith and I both choke on water. “Yeah, he’s totally someone you would date.”

“You’re gross, Rose. He’s like.. forty or something.” “He’s barely thirty, Lilith.” Lilith rolls her eyes and takes Rose’s plate from her. “Either way, Aria is barely twenty-two. Also, he can be an asshole.” “Girls,” I sigh and stand to take my plate to the sink, “don’t talk like I’m not right here. Rose, do not say stuff like that in front of any classmate. Lilith.. try to be a bit less.. rough around the edges.” Rose nods, and Lilith shrugs. At least I got some kind of acknowledgement.

The three of us walk out of the house when we hear mom start to stir upstairs. She isn’t going to be happy I made the girls something without making some for her, but I have work now. I listen to the girls bicker about a few classmates while we walk. Suddenly, my phone starts ringing, so I answer it without caring to look at the ID. Honestly, I think it’s mom calling about breakfast.

“What?” “Oh,” a male voice seems shocked, “Uh, bad time?” “Oh hell, I thought you were someone else! I am so so so sorry!” I facepalm as I realize that it was Aizawa calling me. Wow, I seem very rude. “It’s fine. I was just wondering if you’re a coffee drinker. I ordered one, but the woman brought me two.” I blink, slightly confused. “I mean, yeah I am.” “Good. I would hate for it to go to waste. It will be on my desk for you.” He hangs up, leaving me still confused.

“Who was that, Aria?” Rose budges me with her shoulder. “Yeah,” Lilith chuckles, “you seem flustered. Are you sure you’re single?” “Shut up, and yes I’m single. It was just Mr. Aizawa calling.” They both go wide eyed and look at each other. Still, they don’t press on because we make it to the school.

I haven’t been inside UA for a few years, so they lead the way to 1A. I suddenly remember that I’m wearing my hero uniform and feel a bit self conscious. I had to get a.. fitting body suit so that my quirk could work correctly. It definitely shows off more of my curves than I’m comfortable with. Lilith and Rose seem to notice my sudden mood shift, so they move on either side of me. I don’t know if they always remember that I’m a pro, but I don’t correct them.

They walk into the class ahead of em, and people automatically walk over to greet them. Of course, the first two are Kaminari and Iida. Iida notices me and waves kindly. “Did you bring them to school today?” Do they not know about me being the new assistant.

Before I can tell him, a gruff voice answers from behind me. “When the bell rings, you are to be in your seats.” The students hastily rush towards their seats. “Ms. Aria?” I turn and meet charcoal colored eyes. I feel my face warm a bit, but I smile and move my ginger hair from in front of my face. “Yes sir. You must be Mr. Aizawa.” I offer to shake his hand, but both of his have coffee cups in them. He seems rather unamused from my awkwardness, but he places one cup in my hand.

“That’s for you.” “T-thank you, sir.” He sips at his and walks over to his desk. “Class, this is Aria Beckett, or Pro Hero Doc. She-” A green haired boy jumps up excitedly and interrupts him. “Shes saved lives from any natural disaster around here! Her healing quirk is amazing, and she can even make it shoot from her hands, and turn into a bright light to blind people!” I flush heavily from someone actually knowing about my quirk. I’m certainly a more local hero. It’s weird to me having any attention.

“Sit down, Midoryia. However, Ms. Aria is the new teacher’s assistant in this class, so be polite to her. Just remember, she can also expel you guys.” He gives me a sideways glance before sighing. “You can introduce yourself if you want.” I shrugs, but lean against a table in front of all of the kids.

“Umm, Mr. Aizawa pretty much summed up my life. However, just in case you notice that I talk to these two more often, I want it to be known that my Rose and Lilith are my little sisters. I won’t treat them any different than I would the other twenty of you, but they go home with me at the end of the day.” “Holy shit,” I hear a blonde boy sigh, “you guys don’t look alike at all.”

“Bakugo, language.” I look back and notice Mr. Aizawa in.. a sleeping bag? Honestly, it looks like a really tall banana slug. “Al..righty then. Umm, my quirk is also called Angelic Aura. I’m nowhere near as powerful of a healer as Recovery girl, but I’m able to keep you on your feet if you need it. I don’t get as tired as she does, but you guys will get tired if I have to heal you.

I look at Lilith and Rose, who are giving each other proud smiles. It makes my heart fill with happiness seeing it. I sip at my coffee and glance at Aizawa over the rim of my glasses. He raises an eyebrow as he wiggles out of the sleeping bag. “What are we teaching today?” “Mic will be in here for English as soon as homeroom is over. You can come with me to the Teacher’s lounge until after lunch.” I nod and give him a friendly smile. He doesn’t return it, but I notice a bit of a confused look on his face.

Once the blonde man walks in, I follow Aizawa out into the hall. He stays quiet, sipping at his coffee as he leads down the hall. Once we get into the teacher’s lounge, he kicks the door shut and walks over to a couch. “So,” he plops down and let out a yawn, “can I ask for some help grading?” “Of course, Mr. Aizawa.” I sit beside him and take a stack of papers from beside his feet. He sighs as he digs out two pens and passes one to me.

It’s quiet with the two of us grading. I mean, there’s the occasional discussion of if they ‘technically’ got one or two right, but that’s all. Once we get to the English papers, both of us sigh. “I need a headache break.” I laugh at him, but he doesn’t look amused. Oops. I take the last few papers from him and start reading. “I was just-” “I can do them, sir. There’s tylenol in my bag if you need some.” He seems genuinely shocked from the offer, but declines it quietly. When I finish grading Tenya’s, which was really easy, I glance at Aizawa again. He has his head in one hand, rubbing his temple.

When I put them on the table in front of me, he glances at me. “Finished?” “No, I just have my sisters’, but you look in pain.” “I’m fine.” His attitude makes me chuckle a bit. “Don’t snap at me when I’m being friendly, sir. Come here.” He doesn’t budge, so I scoot closer to him. “What are you-” “Shh.” I swear, he’s acting like Lilith used to when I would help with her migraines. Still, he doesn’t move when I place both of my hands on the side of his head.

I can never get over how bright my quirk glows. “Close your eyes, or you’ll go blind.” He listens with a grunt. As soon as my quirk starts working, I see him physically relax. It doesn’t take long to help a headache, so I pull my hands away. His eyes open, and I notice that he seems.. brighter. “T-thank you, Doc.” “Call me Aria, please.”

“Aria? I knew I recognized that glow!”

@katgalle

#aizawa x oc #aizawa shouta #fanfiction #mha #bnha

6 notes · View notes

sunevial · 5 years ago

Text

Old, New, Borrowed, Blue

Commissioned by @hewhowalksbehind way too long ago.

I have commissions open here.

Something old.

From a practical standpoint, there wasn’t much left to worry about. The ceremony was small, just a handful of people from both sides of the family and friends who they couldn’t have kept away if they tried. Music and decorations had been handled by the church, and her family was making sure everything would be ready for the party at the new house. Laughter and chatter floated through the window, signaling that people had started to arrive. Inside was nearly as busy, the occasional shout or bumped furniture as her bridesmaids donned their outfits in the changing room two doors down. She could hear some pacing and muttering outside the room, possibly the priest going over his lines one last time.

If it wasn’t for the fact she didn’t want to cause a scene, Gale would have requested a spider in a heartbeat. There was a decent chance she still might. A large fuzzy friend to pet and scratch would make all of her problems disappear. It would also create several more problems in the process, as is to be expected when said spider is the size of a large dog, but at least those were familiar problems.

“That much tension in your shoulders will absolutely give you sore muscles in the morning,” Bookkeeper said, brushing a knot slowly and methodically out of Gale’s hair. Clicking her tongue, she deftly parted the strands and wove them into a bun fit for a proper lady. Her aunt looked shorter than normal, perhaps a necessity to better blend in with the ladies of the time, though her face was still plenty youthful. She was dressed in green and gold, a tasteful ensemble with just enough jewelry to show off her apparent wealth. “Not to mention your posture is atrocious.”

“Yes, right, sorry Aunt Nova,” Gale said with a wince, settling her shoulders back and relaxing into her aunt’s swift and precise hands. It certainly wasn’t the flashiest updo possible, but it was functional. More importantly, it could hold a veil. Dear gods, it would be holding a veil in just a manner of…minutes? Hours? What was time anymore? Did it ever exist?

That question may have been slightly rhetorical, given the nature of her family, but that was well beside the point.

The ghost of a smile appeared on Bookkeeper's face. It was the same expression Gale remembered from when she was small, curled up in her aunt’s lap and listening to her low voice roll around in her ears. Her first teacher, the one who methodically taught her letters and numbers and penmanship. To this day, she still had the best handwriting in town. “Don’t apologize to me, apologize to your soon to be husband for all of the massages you’re going to require.”

“If you’re really that nervous, I can get you some tea to calm your nerves,” her mom said, picking a few loose threads from the veil. To the wider world, she was the Witch, a member of a god’s court, utterly terrifying in her innocence. To her, she had always been just mom. Her dark brown hair showed just a few streaks of gray, though the majority was currently hidden under a sunhat. Though she knew it was all for show, a few creases were pressed around her eyes and cheeks, an attempt at showing her age. In a bit of a wardrobe change, she wore a conservative purple dress instead of her typical magenta.

“No, I’ll be quite fine,” Gale stammered, swallowing her words down along with the butterflies in her stomach. Her gaze was focused straight ahead, eyes glued to the mirror as the two women worked their proverbial magic.

Bookkeeper sniffed, biting a hairpin between her teeth as she began securing hair into place. “Lying is unbecoming of a bride, sweet miss.”

Gale sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to keep a strong face once that nickname was thrown out. “I don’t want the tea, but I’m…well, I feel like I’m looking over the edge of a cliff and my stomach is turning itself over.”

“Ginger it is,” Witch said, setting the veil to the side and opening the door to the linen closet. Though Gale didn’t dare turn her head, she was fairly certain that her mother wasn’t looking for an extra towel. Hardly a second later, a warm cup of tea was in Gale’s hands. “Not the best brew I’ve made, but it’ll do to settle the nausea.”

Trying to keep her hands from shaking, she drank down the entire cup in what felt like only a few gulps. The soothing and pleasantly spicy mixture slid down her throat, a welcome distraction to…well, everything. Her eyes flickered up towards her mother’s. “Were…were you like this on your wedding day?”

“I don’t think so,” her mom said, giving a warm smile as she took Gale’s hand into her own. “Then again, I married out of duty, because that is what happened to everyone back then. But I’d imagine if I did manage to marry for love, I’d probably be at least a little nervous.” She squeezed their hands together, palms warm and comforting. That pair of hands that cooked hearty meals, that mixed tinctures and remedies when she fell ill, that held her tight during all of the difficult times. An eclectic assortment of aunts and uncles had helped take the load off, but when the sun slipped behind the horizon and it was time for goodnight kisses, it was always just the two of them.

The Witch and the Witch’s daughter.

Gale gave a slight nod as her other hand fiddled with a bracelet around her right wrist. Thirteen silver beads were strung together on a thin red thread, each one etched with a different symbol. A gift, her first gift, painstakingly made by the combined efforts of Bookkeeper’s meticulous rune work and her mother’s gentle spellcraft. Worn proudly throughout her youth, the charm bracelet had grown with her, never sitting too tight or too loose on her wrist. It was meant to keep her shielded, to keep her warded, to keep her safe. It was a reminder just how different she was, how much her family had sacrificed for her, how much her mother had given just so she had a chance at life.

She never took it off. That wasn’t about to stop today.

Something new.

When Vincent asked her about her family, she had given the answer she had given everyone who thought to ask. Her mother was a midwife back in the old country, helping mothers deliver babies and keeping them well. She had married a soldier, though less out of love and more because she had no choice, and he ended up dying on the battlefield not even a few months into their marriage. The men of her village shunned her, and so unable to find a husband who would treat her well, she immigrated and decided to raise her daughter on her own. Aunts and uncles and other members of her extended family helped support the two of them throughout the years, effectively meaning that she had been raised by seven different people. So, yes, it was entirely necessary to invite them all. Leaving anyone out just wouldn’t feel right.

There was also the issue that Priestess might actually kill her for the insult, but that was another matter entirely.

“Alright, dear, turn around, let us get you buttoned up,” Priestess said, tapping her chin twice in thought. This was perhaps the first time Gale had ever seen her look this old, hair nearly entirely gray and face streaked with wrinkles. If anything, it only served to make her look even more intimidating, which was a feat in and of itself. Her gown was in tasteful yellows and greens, perfect for a spring wedding. “I do hope that magazine I found was correct. Fashion styles start to blur around this period, and the last thing I need is for you to be wearing something a decade too early.”

“I think it looks just fine, Aunt Trisha,” Gale said, complying absolutely immediately and turning away from the mirror. As she did, she could feel hands gently gather the fabric at her back and slowly button into place.

A light knock echoed through the room, followed by a voice Gale was always happy to hear. It was a voice that invited excitement, new opportunities, and typically the best presents if luck was in her favor. Even now, it was enough to raise her spirits at least a bit. “Am I allowed to come in now?”

“Yes, yes, get in here,” Priestess called, smoothing out the collar and sleeves. “Do remind me, are trains typically attached separately by this era in time?”

Not bothering to use the door, not that Gale actually expected him to use something like doorknobs in the first place, Advisor instead dropped in from the ceiling. It was honestly disconcerting to see him with light blond hair, even more so seeing it so short. Presumably not wanting to upstage the bride either, he had swapped his typical white coat and maroon shirt for a respectable tan suit and hat. Even with all of the changes, the very tail of his jacket still blew in a wind that was not there. He gave a quick glance over, the gears obviously turning in his head. “I believe that assumption can be made, otherwise doing without a train seems to be more than acceptable.”

“Excellent, because I would hate for this bit of lace to exist only to be soiled by dirt and mud,” Priestess replied, undoing a number of buttons that Gale wasn’t entirely sure were there a second ago and removing the fabric. “Stay still, dear, the sash is next, and this bow will not tie itself.”

Gale nodded her understanding, holding her arms out in anticipation. The nerves and nausea had left along with the tea, replaced instead with the mild discomfort that was being in the presence of her most terrifying relative. Though she had a feeling she would never get the full story, she knew Priestess was the closest thing she would ever get to a grandmother. In her own way, she was kind, teaching poise and etiquette and gifting the occasional sweet treat. Even so, Gale always made sure to be on her best behavior around the woman. The others would tolerate her antics from time to time; ‘Aunt Trisha’ absolutely would not. “Well, what do you think, Uncle Ara?”

“Well, I suppose no matter what I say will be seen as biased,” he said with a good natured smile, putting his hands into his pockets and leaning against the wall. “But that being said, you look positively radiant, Miss Gale.” Though she wouldn’t dare say it out-loud, she liked Advisor best out of her uncles. Perhaps that was because he always treated her with a fond respectfulness that even now was rarely received. She always got the impression that children especially fascinated him, and so he always brought her exotic gifts and carved out time to talk. Like Bookkeeper, he was more often than not a teacher, lecturing her on all manner of scientific topics, from biology to astronomy to the physics of worlds she could only imagine.

Gale smiled back, feeling a flush rise into her cheeks. “I do have you both to thank for that, I suppose,” she shyly replied. “Though you really didn’t have to get me a dress for the occasion.”

“Dear, if one of our own is getting married, the least we can do is make sure you make everyone and their mother green with envy over such fine tailoring,” Priestess said with a grin Gale could feel, securing the sash with a final tug.

“It was our pleasure,” Advisor echoed, giving a small bow. As he did, the wall behind him shifted and warped, wallpaper turning a shining silver. He stepped to the side with an equally dramatic flourish, revealing a full length mirror. “Though I suppose you should see the final results for yourself.”

The underdress was soft, smooth against her skin and shaping her waist into a fashionably slim frame. Overtop was the real artistry; the entire overdress was made of fine lace, each leaf and flower and vine intentionally placed into a gorgeous tapestry. The collar sat high, allowing for more designs at the neck and down her back. Sleeves stopped just past her elbows, which was about as daring as she was willing to go for an already fairly sheer top. A simple white sash was tied around her waist, fixed into a cute bow just at the small of her back. It would have taken hours to make something as detailed as this by hand or machine, and it would not have been cheap either.

The chances they bought this dress were slim, though, knowing their love for fashion and how the dress fit her like a second skin. If she had to guess, Advisor wove the fabric and Priestess sewed the dress. She felt his touch in the way it almost shimmered in the light, the way it kept her at a comfortable temperature, the way it pulled her eyes to just gaze at her own image. She felt her touch in the way it flattered her at every angle, the way the lace seemed to almost be alive, the way it was equal parts modest and incredibly glamorous.

She would only wear this once. That would be more than enough.

Something borrowed.

Gale had friends; that much was evident by the fact she had enough bridesmaids to match Vincent’s groomsmen. They had been collected over the years, mostly through the people she met while at school or attending church or saw around the neighborhood. Even so, making friends wasn’t something that came easy. Girls her own age were concerned first with learning domestic chores, then impressing boys and fashion, then getting married and having children. In fairness, she was now focused on the last one, but that was a recent development. A lifetime of knowing there was more to the world made those conversations horribly mundane. Combined with all of the secrets she kept close to her heart, be it magic or her family’s true nature or her own dabbles in the arcane arts, she had no choice to keep a bit of distance between herself and friends. No guests over without permission, no in depth conversations about home life, no outward symbols of her true faith.

Her friends always believed that she was just embarrassed about her living situation, having no father to speak of and living in an immigrant community. If it kept people from prying, she wasn’t going to correct them on their inaccuracies.

“Now, you sure you’re okay getting hitched?” Huntress asked, planting her hands on Gale’s shoulders and looking her square in the eyes. Her aunt looked decidedly uncomfortable in a dress, the ensemble carefully crafted of a light orange fabric to give the wild woman enough mobility for her tastes. A well crafted illusion made her look approximately as old as Witch, fitting as this woman might as well be her second mother. “If you need to back out, just holler and I’ll start punching people.”

Gale held a hand to her mouth, trying to keep a laugh from bursting out even as the corners of her mouth turned up in a grin. “I’m more than sure, Aunt Diane.”

“There’s the smile I was looking for,” she replied with a smirk of her own. One hand reached for the veil, gently adjusting it so the lace draped over Gale’s shoulders. Though she had seen her aunt almost rip a man in half for daring to make a vulgar gesture her way, her touch was always soft and caring. She was also a strong believer that Gale shouldn’t go defenseless, explaining why Gale was known for her mean right hook if push came to shove. “Shouldn’t get married with a frown on your face. It’s bad luck.”

“So is the groom seeing me before the wedding, but I think he might’ve stolen a glance as I was coming inside.” Her smile widened a touch. Luck was something Gale had never truly believed in; when you have access to small magics, it was typically better to make your own luck.

Huntress chuckled a touch, taking a few flowers and weaving them just under the veil. “Well, then we’re just going to have to make up for that. Can’t have something going wrong on your big day.”

“If we want to avoid that, then she shouldn’t be getting married in a church either, but that’s just me,” Part Timer called from the other side of the room, taking a bit of shoe polish to a pair of Louis heels. In probably the best glamour work Gale had ever seen, her uncle actually looked and smelled like a normal human being. His dark hair was combed back, face streaked with a few lines and eyes able to focus on the world. He wore a simple blue suit, both sides perfectly pressed and without signs of decay, though his coat and hat were currently hanging up on the wall. Seeing him like this was honestly more than a little eerie, a bit like seeing a wax sculpture come to life. “There’s a perfectly good hall down the street, and all you’d need is a judge to sign the papers.”

Huntress sighed, rolling her eyes as she marched over to the much taller man. In one motion, she swiped the already polished shoe from the windowsill. “You’re just cynical, love.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault religion was considered conspiracy theory nonsense by the time I was born,” he said indignantly, though the smile on his face said otherwise. His voice was surprisingly steady, marking one of the few times Gale had ever seen him jitter out every few seconds. He was the most recent addition to her ‘family’, apparently not joining until she was already born. In some ways, that made it a little more difficult for Gale to accept him for who he was, especially considering his face was quite frightening as a little girl. But Huntress trusted him, and she had gotten to watch them both slowly fall for each other as the years passed. So, when he was able to hold a steady form and voice, the two of them would play pretend with her dolls and piece together puzzles. “But seriously, Gale, just remember to say the words at the right time and cry if you need to cry.”

“Please, Uncle Gil, I don’t cry that easily,” she replied, pulling her dress up high enough to reveal stocking feet. “You really don’t need to fuss over me this much.”

“Well too bad, young lady, you’re getting fussed over,” he said without room for debate, setting aside the polishing cloth and holding the remaining shoe up to the light. “There we go, all shined up and ready for their debut.”

“About time, at this rate she’s going to be late for her own damn wedding,” Huntress said with just a mote of frustration, slipping the first shoe onto Gale’s foot. “Get over here and help me tie these laces.”

“But of course, my darling lioness,” he said with a chuckle and just the smallest amount of tease.

Knowing there was no way she could protest, Gale allowed for the bit of pampering as she got used to how the shoes felt around her feet. While most Louis heels were made of silk or other cloth, these were made of a sturdy leather stained silver. Whether done by magic or a very talented cobbler, they were surprisingly soft. More importantly, they were well broken in and easy to walk in without tripping. They also were not her shoes. Though Huntress might have detested wearing the dresses of this time period, she still wanted to blend in reasonably well when the occasion arose. These were her favorite ‘dinner shoes’, worn on special occasions and kept in absolute pristine quality. Gale had tried to politely turn her down, knowing her aunt would want to wear the one pair of fancy shoes she considered acceptable on such an important day.

She hadn’t won that argument.

Something blue.

Every so often, Gale would ask mom about her father. She knew the two of them would never meet, at least not in this life, but she was morbidly curious about the man who had married her mother all of those years ago. From what little she had scraped together, he was in fact a soldier, a Roman one at that. It had been a political marriage to seal some sort of important treaty, given her mother was the daughter of a village elder. He was tall, strong, grim, but treated her well and never laid a hand on her. According to her mother, Gale had his eyes and hair.

When he died, her mother mourned, knowing there would be few men who would consider marrying a widowed folk healer. Except there had been one, a young man who was known for his carpentry and had been smitten with her for years. If things had gone differently, their wedding would have been joyous, filled with music and laughter and dancing for they truly loved each other.

She never did figure out what happened to that man. From how her mother’s eyes looked to somewhere in the distance when she spoke of him to the way her smile turned wistful whenever Gale asked about him, she hoped he lived a good life.

“Is there anything else you require, little wind?” Lieutenant asked, glancing around the corner in a gesture that was definitely more for her sake than his own. Even dressed up, he had kept his wardrobe as simple as possible, wearing a black suit with as few embellishments as possible. His long hair was neatly tied back, and Gale was fairly sure this was the first and only time she would ever see him wear a hat. Still, it was odd seeing him without his telltale wings, dark and yet sparking with little stars. She knew they were still there, hidden behind a veil of magic she couldn’t see past, but seeing him look so…human did not feel right.

Gale shook her head, clutching the flowers in her hands. According to the florist, the sheaf bouquet was all the rage, as the long stems gave a sense of rustic splendor. She cradled a collection of pale yellow ranunculus blossoms, pink and white roses, and tweedia in her arms, doing her best not to squish anything down. “At this point, I really don’t need much more, Uncle Oliver. We’re just waiting for the procession to begin.”

“Yes, your mother told me as much,” he said, furrowing his brow in slight confusion. “First are the men who are accompanying your fiancé, then your mother and his parental figures, then the women accompanying you, your…honored maid…”

“Maid of honor, yes,” Gale said with a smile, listening intently as music began to play. Unlike most of her other family members, Lieutenant made it no secret that he was unsure how to precisely deal with mortals, much less a human child. He would consistently ask her opinion or insight on her actions, his curiosity apparent in every moment the two spent together. Perhaps that is why he felt a need to treat her with the same respect that he gave her mother, asking her for clarifications at times and inquiring into exactly how mortal minds functioned. This also might have been why he trusted in her abilities enough to let her visit other worlds, sometimes on her own if the situation arose.

Now, whether or not her mother appreciated her visiting other worlds was an entirely different story. Intellectually, Gale understood why dropping a seven year old into spider land was a bad idea. That being said, they were actually quite docile if you treated them with respect.

“Maid of honor, then the boy and girl with the rings and flowers, respectively, and then I am supposed to escort you to the altar,” he continued, stepping to her right and offering his arm. “Though I am still unclear as to why my presence is necessary.”

“The idea is that you’re supposed to ‘give me away’,” she replied, slipping her arm into his. “Normally, it would be my father doing this, but since I don’t have one, I need a close male relative to take his place.”

Around the corner, the doors swung open, and feet began to step into the congregation hall. This time, his voice was quieter, though she wasn’t entirely sure he was using his mouth to form the words. “Then why not choose one another of your other uncles? While I am content enough to partake in the ceremony, it seems more…sensible for someone with a better understanding of human traditions to do such a thing.”

Gale opened her mouth to answer, then paused for what felt like an eternity. In truth, she hadn’t really given a thought as to why Lieutenant would be the one to walk her down the aisle. When the wedding preparations had begun, all she knew is that if she needed someone to uphold the tradition, it absolutely had to be Uncle Oliver. He was correct; either of her two uncles would have been more sensible choices in many respects. Advisor had a much better grasp on how human rituals were conducted, and while Part Timer might not like religious ceremonies, he at least understood the traditions.

Her eyes traveled to the ribbon tying her bouquet together, a simple silk ribbon dyed pastel blue. She had been ten years old with a bit of pocket change left over from the holiday season in her pocket. On Priestess’s advice, she had dragged Lieutenant out to a summer fair to have some fun. The years had stolen the exact memories of the event, but she knew they had a couple of sweet treats to test how his sense of taste was coming along and stopped to feed a couple of goats. However, she remembered the two of them playing a simple ring toss game, and Lieutenant had failed absolutely miserably at getting even one onto a bottle. Even now, the memory of his baffled face made her giggle. When her turn rolled around, she managed to land each and every one, winning her a ribbon to take home.

She remembered his face, no longer expressionless and cold, but displaying something that just might have been pride.

“Because, Uncle Oliver-” she replied, straightening her back and putting on a brave smile. “-no one else has come that close to being like a father.”

He gave her a smile in return, gesturing with his free hand. “Then shall we?”

One deep breath in, one deep breath out.

“Yes.”

It was time.

#commission #my writing #the followers

8 notes · View notes

reedandannie · 4 years ago

Text

Scholars Sneak Peek!!! - Available Sep. 14th 2020

Embarrassment at its Finest - Evie’s POV

I clutched the envelope tightly in my lap, my heart pounding. When the drive started it hadn't felt real, it was just another road trip with my best friend, another drive across the country in the old red car that we'd been taking places since we could drive. But now, so close to our first year of college, it all set in, and I was beginning to feel the panic that I always felt when facing the new and unknown. Before, I'd been annoyed that Stella had insisted on driving, but now that my hands were clenched around our move in information, I was relieved. I probably would've driven the car off of the road by now.

The gates seemed to materialize out of nowhere. One minute there was a wall of trees on either side of us, the next, we were pulling through them. Stella turned off the radio hastily, and we exchanged a look that conveyed everything that needed to be said. We were both caught between terror and excitement. We had been studying to earn places at Pine Hill University since Stel had first found out about it. Freshman year of high school, a long four years ago. And now, here it was. I turned to watch the wrought iron pass behind the car, open for move-in day.

"I can't believe this is happening," Stella breathed, looking over at me with awe in her eyes.

I turned back around to stare across the campus. The open grounds looked exactly like they had on the website, dotted with elegant brick buildings and lounging students. I wasn't sure if I was going to cry or vomit, but I swallowed hard, determined to enjoy this moment.

"Do you have the map?" Stella asked, and I jumped.

"Oh, yeah, of course." I rubbed my sweating palms over my jeans before opening the envelope and removing the brightly colored map inside of it. I studied it thoughtfully for a moment, trying to make sense of the little road markings.

"Left," I said finally, then cursed. "No, I mean right."

Stella quickly changed directions, making a wide turn which caused a few of the nearby students to turn and stare at us curiously. I flushed and Stella laughed, clearly both unsurprised and unconcerned about my shoddy directions. Naturally, she was used to them by now, but she had taken away my navigation rights within the first hour of our multi-hour trek.

It was fortunate that this hadn't been part of the entrance exams. It was one of the few things that hadn't been tested. Everything from basic math and history to strange questions about how we would respond in panic, and where we felt most comfortable. Stella and I had failed it the first two times we'd attempted, but we were nothing if not stubborn.

I was torn from my thoughts when Stella slowed down. "Is that it?"

I looked up and stared in awe at the brick building in front of us. There was ivy climbing the walls, violently green against the red. Black letters above the main entrance read "Grove Hall".

"It looks like it," I answered, as she pulled around to park.

I stepped out of the car onto the gravel parking lot and looked around, mystified. The wall of trees was close behind the dorm, the sound of the wind among them quiet and soothing. On the other three sides, though, well-tended grass stretched away to other distant brick buildings. It felt secluded and idyllic, and I beamed.

"Are you two here to check in?"

I looked around to find a tall brunette approaching us. She was smiling warmly, and I glanced back to find that Stella was as well. I couldn't find it in me to copy the expression, I was too overwhelmed by how magical campus felt, and I knew my face was stuck in a look of shock and awe.

"I'm Emilie. I'm a sophomore here. I can help you move in if you'd like?"

Stella and I shook her extended hand.

"We don't have much," Stella answered, "but you're welcome to. I'm Stella, and this is Evie," she said, nodding to me.

I waved shyly over Stella's shoulder.

Emilie waved back as Stella opened the trunk to reveal our meager belongings. We'd been instructed to bring very little. The school was strict about uniforms, and supplies and furniture were provided for us. As a result, we'd packed five bags between us, mainly our casual clothes and the decorations we'd bought for our dorm.

Emilie lifted one of them out, and Stella and I each followed suit. They weren't heavy, but after lugging them up two flights of stairs to the top level, my arms were aching. I had never been strong, and I felt particularly out of shape in that moment. But when Stella opened the door at the center of the hall, I stopped thinking about any of that.

Emilie whistled quietly when we entered. The furniture was standard issue, the wooden beds, desks, chairs, and nightstands neatly arranged in a perfect mirror on either side of the room. In the center, directly across from the door was a large picture window, tucked into an alcove. A window seat between them was recessed into the wall, an ugly blue dorm cushion on it, indicating that it was intended for seating. We would have to find a way to cover that.

The room itself was wide, with a closet door at the foot of each bed. When Stella opened one, I realized they were already full of our uniforms.

"You guys are so lucky, this is the best room on the floor."

"How did we manage that?" I asked quietly.

"It's a random draw. Freshmen are given their choice of building, but rooms are assigned from there," Emilie answered, dropping the bag she was carrying beside the door.

"I'll go get the other bags," Stella announced.

I turned, closing the door. "I'll come."

"I'll come check in on you guys in a second. I need to make sure the other freshmen are settling in okay."

I grinned and nodded before following Stella back down the stairs.

"She seems nice," I noted.

"I wonder if she's our RA. I hope she is."

I shook my head. "Our RA emailed us. I think her name was Jenna or something, not Emilie. She's probably just helping out, being nice." She shrugged, clearly preoccupied by other thoughts, and brushed her golden hair out of her face. I smiled fondly. There was a nice breeze blowing across the parking lot, and I savored it, glad that it was chasing away some of the heat. It was sweltering now, but I knew this wouldn't last forever. Colorado got cold and snowy fast, so I was glad for the sun while we had it.

I was so busy contemplating the weather that I didn't notice where I was until I was tripping. I pitched forward, crying out in shock as I slammed into the gravel, cringing as it dug into my bare arms.

I looked up curiously and realized that I had just tripped over a person's foot. Stella, I saw, had run straight into the center of the small group of people that were leaning on a car close to ours. She was staggering backwards, face reddening as she realized what had just happened.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention," she said, looking up wide-eyed.

I stumbled to my feet and brushed dust from my jeans. It was a small comfort that I had chosen today to wear pants instead of my usual skirts. "I'm so sorry. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

And only then did I register who I was looking at. They all looked more amused than upset, but I froze nonetheless, feeling like a deer in the headlights. They were all tall and attractive, five of them lounging carelessly around a shiny car, smiling, wearing casual clothes and looking unfairly polished despite the heat. And we had just slammed into them.

"I..." I coughed uncomfortably, "I'm so...are you..."

"Don't worry about it," one of them said in a strange accent, his voice lilted with laughter. Stella took another step backwards. By the looks of it, she had just plowed straight into him. But he grinned, eyes bright, and I hastily looked away, feeling as though I shouldn't be allowed to look at him at all in my current state.

The one I'd just tripped over leaned closer to my face, as though looking for injuries, then grinned. "I didn't know people could turn that red," he remarked. Though there was no malice in it, I could have barfed.

"I'm sorry," I said again, my voice painfully small.

He tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked back onto his heels. He was dark haired, with bright blue eyes and a soft, round face. He looked backwards at the boy beside him, a broad ginger with warm dark eyes and square features. He looked older than the others, though judging by the way that they were clustered, I doubted that they were in different grades. The red-headed boy was leaning against another person, who was slender, their features more feminine, and eyes rounder. They regarded me with what looked like concern rather than amusement, and I stared at them pleadingly. They seemed to recognize the look at once.

"Leave them alone," they said, looking at me warmly.

The blond boy in front of Stella pouted. "Laney, where are your manners? We're just trying to make them feel welcome."

"Laney's right," the fourth one said, and I peeked up to look at him cautiously. His hair was almost as long as mine and fell in perfect dark waves around his face.

"Alright, get outta 'ere, no hard feelings," the one I'd tripped over said softly. I smiled faintly.

Stella darted around them to our car, and dragged out the last two bags. I took one from her as she slammed the trunk and we dashed back indoors without looking back. We took the stairs faster than I normally would have managed, but my eagerness to be back in our room felt like adrenaline. We dropped the bags carelessly inside the door and hurried across to the window.

I heard someone come in behind us.

"Are you two okay? You look like you just saw a ghost," Emilie said, voice full of concern.

I waved from the window to indicate that she shouldn't worry, but Stella was the one who spoke. "Who are those guys in the parking lot?"

"Who?" Emilie asked, joining us at the window. Her face hardened as soon as she saw them standing by the car. The blond one was clearly telling a story, talking dramatically with his hands, while the others looked on.

"Them," Stella said unnecessarily. The parking lot was otherwise unoccupied.

"Nobody, they're just people from my year. I wouldn't try to get too close, they're bad influences."

"But...who are they?" I asked, leaning close enough to the window that my breath fogged the glass.

"Like I said, just some people," Emilie reiterated.

I scowled, unsatisfied. "They're very pretty," I said, and I saw her glare at me out of the corner of my eye.

"You guys really should try to avoid them."

"Warning noted," I said, nodding once. "Don't worry. They won't look twice at us anyway after the spectacle we just made of ourselves."

"At least I stayed on my feet," Stella snickered.

I felt myself flush. "At least I didn't body slam any of them."

"This isn't a joke."

"Everything's a joke if you laugh at it hard enough," I answered.

Emilie sighed, clearly realizing that we were a lost cause. "Alright, fine. But, you've been warned."

We both nodded and turned to watch her leave.

"Lunch is in an hour," Emilie said, as she stopped in the doorway. She glanced at our bags, still unopened and piled in the middle of the floor. "If you want to unpack you can, but you need to get your IDs before you can get food from the Cafeteria. Do you want me to take you to get them?"

I looked at Stella, who was considering the bags as well. "We can unpack later," she decided. "I think it'll be better to get IDs first."

"We can go now."

Emilie started to nod, then stopped. "I don't mean to say that you guys don't look adorable. But, they'll be taking your school pictures, and, well, those do stay with you all four years... So if you wanted to freshen up, or change or anything..."

My hand flew to the mess of unruly curls around my face. "Oh, uh, I think I need a minute." I dove to the bags to try to find a mirror and a hairbrush.

Stella laughed. "Give us 20 minutes and we'll be ready?"

"Sounds perfect. I'll be back then."

I heard the door close behind her, but my hunt for something to tame my curls had absorbed me.

"She's really nice."

Stella nodded agreement. She was looking through one of the bags, brow furrowed. "She is really nice. Have you seen my makeup bag?"

I grinned and pulled it out triumphantly. Stella took it from me with a grateful smile.

"Twenty minutes," I told myself, finally finding a brush.

Stella laughed at me, sorting through her makeup bag. "It's always food with you."

"It's what motivates me. But don't lie. It's what motivates you too."

After a moment, Stella grinned "You're right."

"I know I am."

Straying Along With a New Friend - Stella’s POV

I yanked on my heather grey, lighthouse painting sweatshirt and 1460 Dr. Martens that I paired with ripped-knee boyfriend jeans. I brushed my hair before I attempted to stir Evie awake. I knew that there would have to be coffee in it for her. We'd stayed up late unpacking and deciding where to put the decorations to showcase our personalities.

A polaroid collage of us surrounded the wall space by the door. Fairy lights trickled down by the head of Ev's bed, and a poster of a woman superhero hung on the larger wall by mine. I'd stacked my CDs by genre on my desk with my single player beside it, and Ev had chosen to bring her favorite novels, which was a feat for her. There's no solution for the window nook cushion yet, though Ev is pretty sure she can sew a temporary cover for it.

"Five more minutes, Stel, please," she mumbled into her pillow.

"We told Emilie we'd meet her. I bet we can manage to find coffee before we do."

Ev rolled over to look at me through her ratted hair. "Fine."

I smirked lightly before I went to put on a little make up and pull my golden locks into a ponytail. I checked the weather to see it was actually supposed to be fairly hot today, so I quickly changed into a white tee that was decorated simply by a row of three hearts in pink, blue, and purple and light wash Levi's shorts.

Despite my change, Evie dressed herself in a cream sweater, light wash skinny jeans, and purple sneakers. I knew not to say anything as we left the room. I texted Em that we were going to find the cafe on the crowded campus; non-freshmen were moving in now, and would be for the next few days. It wasn't as hard as expected since there were signs that pointed to everywhere imaginable, and it wasn't a large span of mileage.

"Crap," Ev muttered when she saw the sign that IDs had been activated for points, which are the equivalent of dollars, and I eyed her.

"Need me to get yours?" I pulled my ID from the wallet that I had hanging on my lanyard.

She smiled sheepishly. "Yes. Anything hot."

I nodded and waited for my turn. I ordered two caramel macchiatos; one hot and one cold. I was glad they weren't that busy despite the chaos on the main. The two of us stood to the side by the student center, the newest built building, and compared to the other medieval bricks, it didn't match too well.

Emilie's resting features came into my view when she emerged over the hill. When she approached us, she let out a heavy sigh. "I'm glad I moved in when the other RAs did. Fewer people."

Evie and I laughed, but Em didn't seem amused and looked at us dumbfounded. "What?"

I shot her a look. "That was funny, Emilie."

"Oh," she trailed, and then a smile crept onto her lips. "Let's get going. There's more to show you about this campus."

I cocked a brow at her and took a sip of my coffee, yet didn't question as we followed her.

"What else is there to know about Pine Hill that's not in the brochures?"

"Or for educational purposes?" Evie added as she blew into her cup and took a drink.

Em pursed her lips. "The hangout spots near campus. There's also camping, hiking, hot springs-"

Ev waved her hand for a second and pried the cup from her lips. "Is there anything that's not outdoorsy?"

"You came to Colorado and are not an outdoors person?"

"Yeah." She shrugged.

She smirked lightly and uncrossed her arms. "The library has good reading nooks, the science hall has some of those as well."

"You're not an outdoors person either, are you?"

"Not really, but I'll do it if I have to."

I held my drink in the air. "Here, here! To be honest, I don't mind it."

Evie snorted. "She's being modest. She loves the outdoors and all that. Her dad takes her on a canoeing trip every year."

"That's great! Does your mom go too or no?"

I smiled tightly and looked at the ground for a second. Evie's hand immediately encased mine and gave it a squeeze.

I cleared my throat. "Uhm... No, she passed away when I was a kid."

I was six. I only remember it being that age because I was sitting in my first grade class, all excited for the new year, and the teacher was pulled aside for a moment by the principal. Then my teacher came over to me and said I needed to go with the principal, and take my backpack too since I wasn't going to be returning. My classmates thought it was unfair that I got to leave. How ridiculous was that? Of course, my little mind didn't understand how horrible cancer was or understand why my mom was in the hospital all the time. Or understand why when she was at home I wasn't allowed to roughhouse with her. She got pale so quick; she was bald in most of the vague memories I have of her. Eventually, she stopped fighting and that day was a day my dad lost part of himself.

It was weird growing up without a mom during the years I got older. There was no one to teach me about make-up or the "girly" things. I didn't have that woman figure in my life; that was until I met Evie in seventh grade. It was just my dad and I for as long as I can remember. He definitely always put on a game face; there were nights I caught him crying and that was out of character. After Evie convinced me to go to the prom our senior year, my dad went dress shopping with me and helped me pick out that emerald green gown; he said that my mom would've loved it and that was the first time I ever cried about her passing. It hit hard that day; she wouldn't be there for the graduations, wedding day, baby showers. My dad really always tried the best he could and that was all I could ask for. He was both parents in my eyes.

Em's eyes went wide. "I'm so sorry. That was insensitive of me. I- My parents are divorced. I lived with my mom most of the time."

"Hey, no, it's okay. I was so young." I shook my head. "My dad is kind of like both parents, so I guess my mom does join the yearly camping trip."

Thankfully, Emilie lightly smiled. "Your dad sounds awesome. My mom is an outdoors woman. I think because she loved it so much and tried to get me to be as excited about it, it made me not enjoy it."

Ev laughed into her coffee. "That sounds like a better scenario. Mine are still together and I want to kill my mother sometimes. She's a witch."

"That's ...I can't argue against that," I snickered. "How about we go check out those spots? I've got my training to start later."

"Training for what?"

"Tennis. She's an athlete." Evie lightly rolled her eyes. Jokingly, of course.

I stuck my tongue out at her for a second. "I thought I mentioned it yesterday. I'm here on a tennis scholarship."

"I'm also here on a scholarship, but it's not athletic."

"Oh, nothing wrong with that. I know plenty of scholars. I got in by a landslide because of my mom. She's an alumni."

I looked at her thoughtfully. "Always had your heart set to go to Pine Hill? Was it the Harvard of your dreams?"

She shrugged. "Not necessarily, but it's a great college. It's what I need."

"Understandable," Ev replied, and eyed me to drop it. I got the sense it was a sensitive subject for Emilie, despite it probably being a constant question. I know I get it all the time, especially as a first year.

"So, if you're not athletic, why do you wear athleisure?" I teased.

Em rolled her eyes now, a smile crossed her lips. "It's comfortable, what can I say?"

The three of us laughed as we continued on where Emilie led us. She showed us the lake nearby where the row team practices when they're in season, and where students are allowed to swim. There were quite a few trails around that I knew I would have to try at some point. Of course, Emilie presented all of the nooks to Evie before we stopped to go eat dinner.

I held my right foot to my butt and then did the same with my left before I stretched forward to touch my toes. As I straightened back up and sat down in the grass to stretch my muscles more, I caught someone's eye.

It was the long haired brunette from yesterday. The one who hadn't teased us. He waved with a warm smile and I felt taken aback. Was that to me?

I looked around and I was the only one in this direction. I made an awkward wave to him and went back to my stretches.

That was kind of weird.

I took deep breaths as I pushed my foot against the tree I was under to stretch my arches. It was a distance run rather than sprints. I only ever do sprints right before the season starts. It was only day two and classes haven't even started, but I can't slack. That just wasn't in my nature.

I stepped through the open gate onto the track where it was occupied by a few others. I gave myself a few jumps to get my blood pumping more, then began the laps. I tried not to pay attention to the others because it would only psych me out of my comfort zone. I focused on the feel of my feet hitting the asphalt, and kept my breaths level.

It was only my mind and body connecting with the track; it was sort of like a trance. The first eight loops were the easiest part of the twelve. The last third was always the hardest.

"Hey!"

I barely slowed from surprise, but brought myself back to the previous pace. My eyes met the guy from earlier once again. Why was he talking to me? I didn't think he wanted to, or any of his friends.

I gave him a pressed smile. "Hi."

"You run?" he asked as he kept with me now.

We rounded one of the crescents. So, he wasn't going to stop any time soon. I wasn't sure how to feel about him yet. I didn't even know his name and I was pretty sure he didn't know mine either. I knew I shouldn't completely cancel him as a possible friend. He seemed harmless.

"Not for fun," I replied.

There was so much ease in his steps. He did have the advantage of long legs, so I could only assume my pace was nothing for him. I mean, it wasn't like I was super fast.

"What for then?"

"Tennis. You?"

He smirked. There was a laugh mixed between his heavy breaths too.

"Track and field... I'm a high jumper."

I gave him a look. "Not much... Running in that."

The smirk returned. "Caught me... I enjoy it."

"Right," I laughed breathlessly. I looked ahead of us; we weren't alone on the track. It was a great day for the distance. I guess I didn't mind the company. My eyes wandered back to the guy jogging with me, for whatever reason, and assessed his attributes. He did have the long legs and wide, buffed shoulders.

I cleared my throat. "I bet your height... Gives you major advantages."

"Not really." He chuckled. "I have to be careful about how... I carry my body over the pole."

I snorted and wiped under my nose as I slowed down to a walk. "Sure, I can understand that... I guess... What's your name?"

"Edward."

"Stella."

He smiled cheekly. "It was nice jogging, Stella. Maybe we can do it again."

I felt my heart lurch into my throat and I swallowed hard. "Yeah, maybe."

I walked off the track to do some quick post-run stretches to fend off any soreness and went back to the room where I'd left Evie and Emilie. They were sprawled out in the nook and observed others out the window. I'm positive that when they put in this large window, it was not intended to be for people watching.

Ev pointed at someone else. "What about them?"

Emilie laughed. "Arthur. He's in the science department."

"He's cute. Maybe I'll see him around."

"I don't know." She shrugged, her voice monotone. I could only guess how long Ev has had her doing this. Em looked back at me. "How was the workout?"

"I met Edward. He's from that group we ran into yesterday. You know, the one you said to avoid."

Em raised her brows. "I didn't think he'd be over there."

"Neither did I. He's a high jumper for track and field. He ran with me for a bit."

"A high jumper? The ones who launch themselves over the bar?" Ev questioned.

I nodded. "Yes...or they'll be disqualified."

"Wouldn't that actually be difficult for someone his size then?" Emilie questioned now, no hint of sarcasm.

I thought about it, and back to his own words, "Yeah, I suppose so. He seems to be a better fit for a sprint relay, or distance. He kept up so easily."

"Wait, so are you guys, like, running buddies now?" Evie mused.

I scoffed, "Doubt it."

"Good. I don't want to warn you again," Em reiterated and stood up. "I'll see you two sometime tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Later, Em," Ev and I chimed with waves.

"I'm going to shower," I said.

"What am I supposed to do then?"

I laughed under my breath. "Read?"

"Yes," she replied, then grabbed a book and sat back in the window nook.

#Scholars #Pine Hill Trilogy #First book #Book 1 #YA #Ya novel #Mystery #Scifi #Fantasy #LGBTQ #Authors #writers of tumblr

2 notes · View notes

jonadioweek · 5 years ago

Text

What It Takes to Smile

Title: What It Takes to Smile

Prompt: University

Rating: Not even citrus. Pretty much E for Everyone.

Summary: Dio’s stressing himself out over a test and Jonathan comes along to help give him some downtime.

Word count: 1,946

Warnings/Tags: no triggers, fluff, crushing, flowers, romantic strolling, short

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hey, everyone! I recently got into Jojo and JonaDio has pretty much stolen my heart. Ironically, I only figured out about JonaDio week a few hours before it started, and I was so glad that I could catch it just as it was beginning! Hope you guys enjoy this ‘lil thing I wrote at 1 AM! I hope I’ll be able to participate in the whole week. Have fun and happy JonaDio week! - Anon Speedwagon

Dio exhaled as he lifted his gaze from the book, then trained his eyes on the window. The sky was tinted orange with the promise of sunset, the leaves gently bowing to the evening wind. The momentary lapse of focus caused the weight of Dio’s exhaustion to settle down upon him, his eyes feeling strained and his head pounding. He wanted nothing more to curl up beneath the covers, let the waves of relief take hold and use their gentle current to guide him to sleep.

But the thought of an exam forced Dio’s attention back down to his studies. He had a test the next morning, and he wasn’t about to fail due to lack of study just because he was tired. He found himself having a difficult time forcing himself back into that state of study though, his mind not comprehending the sentences that he examined, no matter how much he read it. The words would not conjugate, and Dio rubbed his face as if splashing cool water on himself.

Damn it, Dio. Focus!

He was just about to get back to what he hoped would not be an unsuccessful attempt at studying when he heard a knock at the door. He groaned and lean back in his seat, glared at the door. Who could be coming to him at this time? Everybody should be in the dorms, or out and about on their midweek activities. Dio didn’t have a roomate that would interrupt him either; getting a private dorm had not even put a dent in the Joestar fortune.

“What is it?” he snarled, slamming shut his book.

The knock ceased. There was some shuffling behind the door, the clearing of a throat. An awkward stutter, then a voice finally responded:

“Dio…? It’s Jonathan. Can I come in?”

Dio’s face softened. He felt the tension in his frown fade, his muscles relaxing. He had heard before it took more muscles to frown than it did to smile, though he preferred to keep his face neutral at that moment. He didn’t have enough energy to put towards any expression at that moment. He kicked out from his desk and trudged to the door, opening it.

There stood Jonathan, still not having gotten out of his school suit. There was that ever-present expression of joy, one that could light up a room, a funeral, even. Dio looked at his adoptive brother, arms folded, eyes quizzically trained on his large frame.

“What is it, Jojo? I have to study.”

Jonathan’s cheeks were tinted a light pink, and he gave a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked at the top of the doorframe as if something interesting were there, but Dio knew well that it was just to avoid eye contact. Jonathan, despite towering over and outsizing most, was a gentle soul, almost meek in nature. Dio especially noticed the latter aspect when they were together, though said nothing of it.

“Y-yeah… I know, but…! I was wondering if you would just like to… get out for a bit?”

Dio sighed, placed his index fingers on his temples and rubbed.

“Jojo, I can’t–”

“Just a stroll around the campus is all! Just to get some fresh air. It’s not good to stay cooped up in your dorm all day with your nose buried in books.”

Dio paused, leaned against the doorway as he considered this carefully. On one hand, he could just slam the door in Jonathan’s face, get back to studying, then hope to get a sufficient amount of rest for the exam the next day. Or… he could just get out for a couple of minutes. Maybe that would reset his state of mind, get him back to that focused mentality that he had lost.

Both options seemed equal in value to Dio, but the real tie-breaker was the look in Jonathan’s expression. There was this plea in Jonathan’s eyes, not of desperation, but almost like a puppy begging for his master to come play. Dio despised dogs, but the way Jonathan looked at him was sickeningly endearing, and he saw a glimmer of why they might be appealing.

“Alright. Let’s take a walk.”

***

Fresh spring loomed in the air. It was slightly humid from the amount of rainfall earlier on in the day, and the grass crunched beneath Dio and Jonathan’s shoes. They had wandered outside of campus a bit, heading into the outskirts that bordered the woods. Birds were singing the final songs to their daily concerts, squirrels were chittering and stirring up the leaves in the trees, and the smell of fresh flowers surrounded them.

Jonathan grinned and stretched, inhaling the natural perfume and then exhaling. He glanced to Dio, grin smoothing out to a tender smile, then looked around to take in the closing day.

“Ahh! It’s such a nice sunset! You almost missed it, Dio!”

Dio folded his arms, looked to the trees. As much as he hated to leave his studies behind, it was, admittedly, a nice day. It was seldom that he stopped to take a breath of the fresh air, and even he could admit that about himself. Jonathan seemed to constantly indulge in the wonders of nature, though hadn’t spoiled himself on it. It seemed as if it was fresh and brand new to him every time he stepped outside.

The position of the sun made their shadows elongate, stretch as if, Dio thought briefly, some demon were creeping up behind them. He looked to Jonathan, who was then plopping down on the ground on the soaking grass. Dio’s face scrunched.

“Are you daft? That grass is–”

Jonathan’s strong hand wrapping around his wrist, then the pull downward.

“Come on, Dio! Have a seat!”

Too late. Dio’s rear was already on the ground, and he felt the dew sopping into his school pants. He looked to Jonathan with a sour expression. The other seemed unbothered, and in fact joyful if anything else. Dio felt the quiver of a yell in his throat, but he swallowed it, and the words he wanted to say came out calm.

“You idiot. You got my pants all wet.”

“They’ll dry!”

Dio looked to Jonathan, starting to feel sickened by his saccharine attitude. It was always like this, ever since the beginning. Even when Dio had first come to live with them and he was treating Jonathan like dirt, Jonathan maintained a heart of gold. Even though Dio had gotten a good licking from Jonathan after that Erina situation, Dio had never felt Jonathan had any malice in his punches, and that it was for honor, if anything. And when he had started to play into the family role? Oh, best believe Jonathan was docile as a lamb. It was a respectable yet annoying trait, that positive outlook on life.

“Oh, look, Dio! The gardenias are in bloom!”

Dio glanced down to the edge of the forest to see that there were in fact flowers blossoming there. He maintained his grimace.

“They’re just a bunch of flowers. They look the same as any other white flower. How can you even tell the difference?”

Though Jonathan’s smile did fade a bit, he did not allow his expression to slip into negative territory. Instead, he reached a large, surprisingly gentle hand over to one of the flowers, plucked it delicately. Even in this action, gentle and harmless as it was, Dio suspected there was some level of guilt, removing a living thing from its natural state.

What Dio didn’t expect was that Jonathan next scooted closer, held the flower out to Dio to give him a closer look.

“They’re not just your common flowers. See the oval shape? The wax coating? And that smell… that wonderful smell. Here…”

Jonathan held the flower closer to Dio’s face for him to indulge in the scent together, though he didn’t take it in immediately. There was an impulse to slap the flower out of Jonathan’s hand, stand, brush himself off, then turn tail back to campus to get his studies done. But, just before he could even think about moving his body to position himself for such a thing, the smell of the gardenia hit him. It was like an instant elixir, a scent so sweet and divine that he found himself paralyzed. Dio gave a small gasp.

Jonathan retracted the flower, held it in his hand delicately. He stroked a fragile petal with a calloused thumb, though there was not a single tear in its smooth fibres. Dio was amazed at how someone so imposing, someone who could best even himself in battle, someone who held so much power like Jonathan could be so ginger, unwavering with the soft smile on his lips. Dio’s mind quickly changed gears.

A waste, really.

“When I was looking through our library… I found one of mom’s old books. It was a really thick book about flowers, how they look, what they mean…” Jonathan began turning to Dio. With his free hand, he took the blond’s hand by the wrist with the same tenderness as he used with the flower. With his other hand, he gently transferred over the gardenia, keeping their hands cupped for a moment, creating a sphere of safety around the flower. “The gardenia… it means a lot of things. Good things. It can mean trust, hope, purity…”

Jonathan’s blush from earlier returned, deeper than before. Dio’s gaze had previously been transfixed on the flower, intoxicated by its delightful smell, but now he looked at Jonathan. He blinked, waiting for the full explanation.

“Love… b-but…! A lot of flowers mean love. Flowers are usually a big symbol of love. Especially roses. Roses are your favorite, aren’t they, Dio?”

Dio was shocked at this notion. He hadn’t ever really thought about his favorite flower before, but if he had to pick one, rose would definitely be the flora he would conjure up in his mind. How did Jonathan know him better than he knew himself?

Jonathan gave a chuckle, then cleared his throat, lifted his hand from Dio’s, revealing the gardenia. It was glimmering with dew in the sunset hour.

“Gardenias also mean ‘good luck.’ I know you have that test tomorrow, so I figured… you could have it. At least while you’re studying if you don’t want to bring it in with you.”

Dio looked down at the white flora in his hand. He turned it over, examined it, as if looking for the source of the luck that Jonathan claimed was there. But it was nothing. It was just a dew-kissed flower, nothing more. And yet, Dio felt a rush of something bubbling up from his chest, into his throat, all the way to his face. Energy, life, love, all powering the beginning of a soft lip upturn.

“D-Dio…? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Dio stood, looked above Jonathan rather than at him.

“I’m headed back to study. It’s getting dark.”

He turned on his heel, beginning to walk back to campus, leaving Jonathan in the ever-darkening evening, the last bit of sunlight dissipating to give way to a darker hue. The birdsong was replaced by the chirp of locusts. The squelch of the wet grass beneath Dio was irrelevant then, the noise barely processing in his mind. Studying, yes, studying. That was what he needed to do, needed to get back to.

“Oi, Dio!” Jonathan called out to him, standing up. “You… you have a great smile…!”

Dio didn’t turn to respond, but instead kept the stupidly happy grin plastered on his face. He rubbed the gardenia’s petal between his fingers and thought about what he could put it in.

#jonadioweek #jonathan joestar #dio brando #djdweek #submission #Day 1 #University #SFW #Fanfiction #this looks like a sweet start for the week!

27 notes · View notes

playbucky · 6 years ago

Text

Working On It

You had been working with Ben and Tom for a while now, since you were directing the new film that they both stared in. You were meeting up with your friends form school since they were in the area and decided to offer an invite to the pair of them. Characters – Ben, Reader, Tom. Word Count – 1789

‘Where are you heading?’ Tom questioned when he saw you walking past them with your overnight bag, swung over your shoulder. You stopped and turned around to them. ‘We’ve got the weekend off so I’m meeting up with old friends.’ You explained to them, as you walked together to the front of the hotel, that you had all currently been staying in. ‘You guys are welcome to come. We’ll be getting dinner and then hitting the bars.’ You told them, as your phone dinged in your pocket, you brung it out and looked at the notification. ‘There here, so I’m gonna head.’ You said, shaking your phone slightly, they nodded before you walked ‘If you’re interested, give me a shout and I’ll inform you to our whereabouts.’ You said, pulling the doors open, they both reached to the open for you, you murmured a thanks to them. ‘See y’all Monday.’ You said, before saluting at them as you turned around and headed over to the car that was filled with three people.

They noticed a group of four women, all standing outside the restaurant together. When Ben raised his phone to his ear, one of the women answered their phone, and the boys shared a look. ‘Hello?’ You answered your phone. ‘We’re outside the restaurant.’ Ben announced, then the woman in the suit trousers turned around and smiled. ‘I see you.’ You told them before hanged up, you turned back to the group before turning back and crossed the road to the pair, your heels clicking off the ground. They were shocked and frozen in their spots as they took you in, compared to the normal baggy jeans and t-shirt you had changed your entire look. The black pants were tight and hugged your legs, and the leather jacket that you had paired with it gave you a rebellious look, along with the burgundy lace bodysuit. ‘Glad you could make it, it want you to meet my friends.’ You said, and they both broke out their trance, and smiled at the other three girls walking over. ‘Ben and Tom, I would like you to meet Lucy.’ Her ginger hair was curled, and she was wearing black trousers and an emerald green off the shoulder top. ‘Penny.’ Was wearing blue jeans, along with a long-sleeved white shirt that was tucked in, her blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail. ‘And May.’ You introduced, she had long brunette hair that stopped just above her waist and was cured slightly, giving it natural waves. She was wearing a large t-shirt dress that was tied at the waist with a belt, paired along with thigh high boots.

You had all been at the club now for a few hours, and the girls had disappeared with other persons, either dancing on in the sweaty mess or sitting at the bar. It was just you, Tom and Ben sitting around the table, and you had been nursing the same drink for the past half hour. ‘Could I talk to you in private?’ Tom asked, you nodded and downed your drink before following him, the girls giving off wolf whistles as you both walked away, Ben looking a little upset. ‘What’s up?’ You asked once you were outside, the line was still long outside the club. ‘How do I tell you this?’ He asked nervous. ‘Tell me what?’ You asked him, the alcohol still flowing through your system. ‘I like you.’ He announced, you smiled. ‘I like you too.’ You said, he shook his head. ‘No, I mean I would like to ask you on a date.’ He said suddenly, your eyes opened as your jaw dropped. ‘Oh.’ You said, if it were a cartoon, your face would have suddenly gone white. ‘Oh?’ Tom repeated, you looked at him with wide eyes, your stomach suddenly felt like it was dropping so you quickly moved out the way and bent over, emptying the contents of your stomach on the corner of the street. ‘You okay?’ He asked, rubbing your back. ‘Yeah, Ima,’ you wiped the corner of your mouth, ‘head to the bathroom.’ You said, he nodded and your turned around before disappearing back into the busy club.

‘Is everything okay?’ Ben asked as you sat down in the booth next to him, taking a sip of the water that you hand brung over. ‘Yeah.’ You said, as you looked out at the dance floor. Ben watched you and took a deep breath before he leaned over to you. ‘Fancy going on a date with me?’ Ben whispered in your ear, you froze suddenly, pulling back to look at him. He looked hopefully and you internally groaned before your jaw dropped as you searched for an answer but when you looked out and saw Tom walking back over you looked at Ben, before shaking your head repeatedly. ‘I’m sorry but I have to go.’ You said, quickly getting out the booth and bumping into Tom, as you looked between the pair of them you swiftly turned around and pushed past the people on the dance floor, once outside you hauled a cab and gave him the your friends address.

‘Where did you disappear to last night?’ May asked you, you winced as you turned your head, the alcohol hitting your hard since you hadn’t had any in a while. ‘Back here.’ You grumbled, hugging the pillow closer to your chest, your eyes were watery but dry at the same, time and you blinked them a few times before rubbing them. ‘And what is the matter with you?’ Penny asked. ‘Hungover?’ You grunted a response, as you leant your head back with your eyes closed. They looked at each other knowing that wasn’t the full problem. ‘Boy trouble?’ You let out a louder groaned and raised a limp hand up, giving them a thumbs up. ‘Tell us?’ May encouraged you. ‘You remember Ben and Tom?’ You asked them, they all raised an eyebrow. ‘Who wouldn’t.’ Penny stated as she took a bite of her toast. ‘They both asked me out last night.’ You informed the trio, their jaws dropped slightly as they leaned in closer. ‘They what?’ Lucy asked. ‘You heard me.’ You told her, she smiled widely. ‘And what did you say?’ Penny asked, you hide more behind the pillow as a flush of heat spread over your cheeks. ‘I was sick for Tom and froze for Ben.’ ‘Oh.’ They all said together, you nodded. ‘Yeah.’ You groaned, ‘what do I do?’ You asked them. ‘Date them?’ Penny said. ‘Ignore them?’ Lucy stated. ‘I can’t ignore them, I’m directing the movie and dating them would feel weird.’ You answered their options. ‘Do you like them?’ May asked seriously. They all stopped and looked at you waiting for an answer. ‘Yeah, there great guys, just not in the way they like me.’ You told them the truth. ‘You could always just hope they were too drunk to remember anything.’ Lucy suggested, you wished that was the case but you knew they had only a couple of drinks and would remember it. ‘Or,’ Penny drawled out, ‘you could date both of them at the same time, I heard open relationships are good.’ She explained; you pulled a face. ‘No thank you.’

‘We need to have a talk.’ You told Ben, he looked at you and nodded before following you into a secluded room. You shut the door behind him, before taking a deep breath. ‘Look about Friday night.’ You said, he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Nothing happened?’ He asked rhetorically, you looked at him and shook your head. ‘Look, if you want nothing happened but it’s up to you.’ You told him, he looked at you before shaking his head. ‘I’m being clear with you right now, Tom asked me out as well.’ You told him, you watched as he stood up taller. ‘When?’ He asked. ‘Is that what’s so important.’ He raised an eyebrow at you, you let out a huff. ‘Before you.’ You said, his brows furrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Why are you telling me this?’ He grunted out, it happy. ‘Because nothing is going to happen between us, not when we are on the same project.’ You informed him, you had practiced this speech over and you were going to give it to the two men that had declared their feelings for you. ‘What?’ He asked shocked. ‘I am not jeopardising any of our jobs because we’re dating.’ ‘So, we can still be friends and put Friday night to the back of our minds till we’re done.’ You said, he nodded slowly before you felt someone watching you and turned around and saw Tom, you groaned before walking over to the door, but he disappeared. ‘Tom.’ You shouted after him, but he didn’t stop, you sighed before starting a jog to catch up with him. ‘We need to talk.’ You said when you caught up to him, he didn’t turn and look at you. ‘You and Ben are dating, it’s fine.’ He said, trying to stay clam but you could tell you were annoyed and you internally groaned. ‘What? No.’ You said shaking your head, knowing he was going to get that conclusion from the five seconds he probably saw. ‘Tom, stop.’ You said, he turned around suddenly and was facing you. ‘I told you the truth and you didn’t have the decency to tell me the truth.’ He said angrily. ‘Tom -.’ You tried to speak but he cut you off. ‘I really thought we had something.’ He said, motioning between the pair of you. ‘Let me talk.’ You snapped, he looked taken a back. He nodded his head allowing you to continue, you ran and hand over your face. ‘I’m not dating Ben.’ You told him, you watched as his shoulders dropped. ‘But I saw-‘ he motioned back behind you, back to the room the pair of you were in. ‘Let me finish.’ You cut him off, ‘I’m not dating him, and I’m not dating you.’ You said, his brows dropped. ‘I won’ t date either of you.’ You said loud and clear so there wasn’t any more confusion. ‘Why?’ He asked, you narrowed your eyes at him. ‘It’s against my rules.’ You said and he looked at you confused. ‘I have rules, since I’m directing, I cannot be involved with anyone, it could ruin both our careers.’ You told him, a look of realisation spread across his face. ‘So, I’m forgetting that night until this project is done.’ You told him truthfully, before walking away from him. ‘You’re due on set in ten.’ You called over your shoulder before you were pulled into a conversation with some crew members.

Tags - @roger-the-killer-queen @weakling-grace @mustbeaweasleyginger @loveandbeloved29 @lapofthemusicgods @onceuponadetectivedemigod @marvelihateyou3000 @obnoxiousdoll @thetinyfiore @christinechickiee @britishmen-addicted @derptatosaur @t-ughluck @sunsetbrie @fics-galoreee @rubysaram @70sarreaga

#tom Holland x reader #reader x tom Holland #tom holland #tom Holland imagines #tom holland fanfictions #marvel #xmen #ben hardy x reader #reader x ben hardy #Ben Hardy fanfiction #ben hardy imagines #reader x tom Holland x ben hardy

62 notes · View notes

goodproofingwater · 6 years ago

Text

Wildfire Records - Chapter Two

Word count: 2393 Playlist pick: Longshot - Catfish and the Bottlemen Press play when you see the *

The bar was in a small area of Shoreditch, hidden away in a square of restaurants and bars and punctuated with quirky signs that made them sure that this was the place. It seemed unreal that no one else in the business had wanted to do this, but she supposed that after a few years it could get old to work late on Thursday nights seeing bands that weren’t necessarily any good. How many performers had Cindy sat through before she had discovered Nothing But Thieves? How many nights had she sat in dingy soho bars listening to off beat drums and guitars screaming with feedback?

The girls made their way into the bar, and were quick to admire just how quirky this bar was. Not only did it have an unusual name, but the entire inside had images of David Bowie everywhere. From Major Tom on the walls to Ziggy Stardust behind the bar, the place was reeling with homages to the man. Some may have said it was too much, but Juliet loved it.

“I just feel like his sound completely changed the way music is produced, yno?” She spoke as the two girls sat outside beneath the heaters, the cold London night biting down on them. It was January so they were among the only ones out there, but it was far too busy inside to have a proper conversation. They had found out that the band were due to start at 8:30, and that the venue was actually downstairs and would open at 8.

“No, I totally agree. Not even just the way music is produced, just everything changed with him. I mean look at the way he dressed - he completely challenged convention and everyone loved it.” Juliet spoke, and it was becoming clear that she was a massive David Bowie fan. The girl had great music taste, and while the two of them matched in that respect in many ways, Juliet was a little more into her 70s stuff. It was a relief that it was that way though. Victoria had had too many conversations about Arcade Fire and The Killers, and it was nice to have someone who had a refreshing take and the evidence to back up her arguments from a previous era.

They could hear the remnants of a soundcheck below, and when it had finally dissipated the girls moved to grab one more drink and make their way down the stairs.

The room below was not what they had expected given how David Bowie focussed the bar above was. The floor was wooden as above, the walls brick painted a dark grey with red curtains hung up by four booths that sat along the far wall. The bar was against the wall that sat beneath the stairs, black and white doodles decorating the wall and ceiling around it, and the stage sat in the corner, matching red curtains hanging behind the performance area, the entire thing looking far too grand to be sitting in the basement of a bar in Shoreditch.

The girls made their way across the room to a free booth, eyes running over the men who were getting ready on the stage, and if Victoria was being honest with herself it was more difficult not to look at them.

“Good evening London, we are The Dangers and this is Uppercut.” *

A thick Californian accent wrapped around the words and the band launched into their first number barely giving the audience time to settle into their stage presence. A fantastic voice paired with a solid baseline, the drummer kicking in heavily ensured the crowd went from being unsure, to dancing and loving the music by the time they had reached the second verse.

The lead singer had starkly ginger hair, obviously styled to look like he had just woken up but it somehow suited him. His black floral shirt sitting under a black leather jacket, rings adorning the fingers that pressed the cable into his bass. The guitarist was blonde with a jaw that could have cut diamonds, his smirk as he watched the crowd erupt for them was undeniably attractive, and he moved across the stage with an energy that they girls could feel from the booth. The drummer, a desperately tanned doe eyed boy who incessantly bit down on his lip, and Victoria was almost scared that he as going to rip it off.

The set was insane. Their music a perfect mixture of ambient and alternative, the front man cocky enough to make the audience love him, and the two girls could already see the makings of a small fan base of girls who were dancing close to the stage.

They finished off the last of their 8 song set with a track called Pressure, a song that perfectly allowed the band to highlight their individual talents. The gravelly vocals and plucky bass line from the front man, who had introduced himself as Andy, the rolling beats from the drummer, Danny and the quite frankly incredible guitar solos from Josh.

The girls could not believe their luck. Not only had they been able to go out on a scout for work, but they had found a band that was absolutely insane. Either Cindy had not listened to this band, or their recordings were terrible, because Victoria couldn’t see a single reason why The Dangers would not be suitable for the record label that they worked for.

They allowed the band to switch with the second band on the set, and watched as they pulled their instruments into the booth that had been reserved for it and Victoria wondered how she was going to play this. When she had been pushing for this she hadn’t realised that she had no idea how to talk to musicians in a professional capacity. What if they thought she was unprofessional or she didn’t ask the right questions?

Swallowing her nerves, the girl took a long sip of her whiskey and coke and stood from the booth, smiling at Juliet who was watching her. The other girl was clearly thinking the same thing, but Victoria was closer to the edge of the booth and therefore to the band.

Victoria swallowed thickly as her heeled boots clicked along the wooden floor, playing nervously with her hair and ensuring red strands fell as she wanted them to over her face before she stepped toward the front man.

“Great set!” She started, smiling as the man's brown eyes met her own, and jesus was he hotter than she had realised. She had thought that it was the stage persona that was doing it, but seeing him close up only highlighted his defining features.

“Thanks sweetheart,” He smirked and she moved to stop him walking away, his eyebrows raised in amusement

“My name’s Victoria, I’m from Fieldworks records. This is Juliet..” She introduced her friend as she stepped next to her and continued, quick to use the confidence she had found before it slipped through her fingers, “We were sent here to scout you tonight, and we think you sounded great!”

“Fuck!” The redhead stepped back slightly from them in shock, and Victoria felt the blonde guitarists eyes on her for a moment before he stepped up.

“What he means is thank you, it’s really great to meet you” the blonde held out his hand and she took it, smiling up at him and laughing slightly at his words.

“I’m Josh, this is Andy” Victoria shook the red heads hand, trying to ignore the way he was looking at her and she glanced over to the drummer as he ran over, “and this is Danny.”

“Nice to meet you all” Juliet smiled, Victoria nodding along before they all slipped into the booth that the girls had been sitting at.

“As I was saying, we think you sounded great and would love to take back a sample of your work to our boss. Do you have any CDs?” Andy stretched back to the booth behind, shirt riding up to show a killer pair of abs and Victoria did everything she could not to look at him. The lead singer exuded the energy of someone that knew how attractive he was, and she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of catching her staring.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” he spoke, the pet name falling from his lips again and she wondered if he called all women that or if he had just forgotten her name that quickly.

“Thank you.” She smiled, “so why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself?” She asked the question to the group but of course Andy took over, and she let her eyes dart between Josh and Danny with a small smirk on their face that matched her own. They were obviously used to this kind of thing.

“We basically all grew up together, lived on the same block for years in California and ended up going to the same high school. It just came naturally to us to start jammin in Josh’s garage, Danny was already really good at drums and I took up bass because we needed a bass player”

“And because I was already a better guitarist,” Josh chimed in with a cheeky smile on his face, and the girls laughed along with them.

“And how come you’re in England? Bit of a way to travel to play gigs isn’t it?” Juliet spoke, her eyes running over the drummer in a way she hoped wasn’t obvious. His tanned skin, strong arms and that smile…

“Well Andy’s mom and dad own an apartment in Green Park. We were fresh out of college and none of us really knew what we wanted to do so we figured, fuck it.” He threw his hands up, more animated than the girls had expected but the adrenaline must have been high having stepped off stage not twenty minutes before. “Let’s go stay in London for a while, play some gigs, have a go at it yno?”

“We wanted to see if we could make a living off of music before we took normal jobs yno..” Andy spoke, “and Josh would literally not shut up about playing where Arctic Monkeys had in Camden ”

Victoria grinned at the blonde, “you’re playing Dublin Castle?”

His eyes lit up and he sat up a little straighter as he realised that there was someone who was speaking his language. The other boys had similar music tastes, but Josh’s obsession with Arctic Monkeys was more than either of them could handle. He would take any opportunity to talk about how much he respected Alex Turner, and the fact that this pretty girl knew that they had played Dublin Castle…

“Yeah, day after next actually. Wanna come?” The words fell out of his mouth before he could catch them, and she glanced at Juliet before nodding, “sure, we’d love to. Actually it might even be a good idea to invite our manager down to hear you guys play.”

“Excellent,” Danny spoke, leaning back and sipping his beer, eyes running over Juliet like he wanted to fucking devour her. Jesus these boys were about as subtle as a brick to the face.

Andy leaned forward on the table, his eyes glancing at the glass that Victoria’s black painted nails were tapping against before meeting her own, “can I get you another drink, darling?”

Five drinks and two shots of tequila later, the band and the girls had moved back to the bar upstairs, instruments safely locked away for them to pick up in the morning after Andy charmed a barmaid. As much as Victoria hated to admit it, he was really hot. He had unbuttoned more of his shirt to reveal a toned chest, and she was struggling with her promise to herself not to look at him.

They had found a set of couches slightly hidden from the bar which were supposed to be reserved but the person had never showed, and Juliet was sat next to Danny, his head resting on his hand as his arm sat too close to hers to be anything but flirtatious. Victoria couldn’t help but smile, her new friend was obviously into this guy and she wondered exactly how professional they had to be. Sure they shouldn’t be showing up to work the following day with a hangover, but they had stockroom duty the following morning so could hide it. As long as the reports went to plan and they got a meeting with Cindy for the following day, all would be well.

“Do you smoke?” Andy spoke louder than usual, eyeing Josh who was sat on the other side of Victoria and slipping his jacket on.

“Sometimes.. could I pinch a fag?” She spoke, and the redhead laughed, instantly repeating her and mocking her accent.

Josh held out a cigarette for her from behind her, and she grinned as she thanked him. The younger girl was about to ask Juliet if she wanted to join but it was clear that the world no longer existed to them, so caught up in whatever they were talking about.

The evening went as was expected, drinking a little too much, having a little too much fun when Victoria knew that they had work in the morning. It was when Andy had draped his arm around her shoulder and was whispering that they should come back for an after party that she realised that this was probably the time to leave. As much as she would have enjoyed finding out what that after party entailed, she didn’t want to stay out too late and supposed it was frowned upon to go back to the flat of a band who she wanted to sign.

Taking her leave, but still taking their numbers, Victoria smirked at the look on Juliet’s face when she pulled her away from the drummer. The two had spent the entire evening talking to each other. Victoria had only spoken to the older girl when they had gone to the bathroom together and although Juliet was trying to play it cool, it was obvious that she was interested. All the more reason to leave before things got out of control.

They waved goodbye to the boys and went their separate ways, already regretting that last tequila shot.

#wildfire records #original story #original characters #original fiction #fiction #writing community #introducing the boyzzzz

6 notes · View notes