the feeling in my fingertips [charlotte]

[wren vega kingsley]

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when you are close to me i shiver

wren had already decided. today was a bad day. and he didn't want any of that studies show that once you have a certain mindset, your day is bound to go that way crap. nope. he wanted everyone to leave him the fuck alone. he wanted to hibernate in the house he was assigned - the small little building with the bare walls and an empty feeling. he wanted to hide away from this whole dead world that apparently he had no choice but to inhabit. and for a moment, however minuscule it was, he believed he would be able to. he believed he could bury himself deeper into the confinement of the mass of blankets that he was snuggled so tightly in and just sleep. ah, sleep. what a beautiful, majestic thing. maybe he could get away with just sleeping the rest of his existence away. and there was no doubt in his mind that he could manage that.

and then he remembered what it was he had to do today.

"aw, fuck it all."

with a heavy groan as well as obvious annoyance at having to rise, the angel slid out of his little sleep haven and yawned widely. damn. apparently there was a small glitch with sleeping - his wings cramped. wriggling, the professor stretched. much better. his bare feet padded along the cool, hardwood floor as he made his way to the chest of drawers. this was the only piece of furniture visible in the room, save the bed with blankets strewn precariously across it. he threw on the first shirt he laid his fingers on, layered over a long sleeved, plain gray tee and pulled on a pair of dark wash jeans. it was possible that professors were supposed to wear something a little more... professor-y, but wren didn't give a rat's ass. as it was now, he was already late for his first class, so he didn't have time to fuss over his appearance. black converse shoes awaited him by the door and he slipped them on, threw open the door, and blinked hard in the sunlight. god, summer. must you?

the professor crossed the campus, reaching his classroom approximately ten minutes late. and he hadn't even had breakfast. what a terrific day this was turning out to be. why was he even a teacher in the first place? he could do just about anything else, except teach a room full of snotty dead kids who probably wanted to be here even less than he did. wait. probably not. anyway, while he was young he wasn't any child prodigy or anything - except maybe when it came to pretending to be a child prodigy. he was always excellent at cheating and lying his way to the top, and that's how he became valedictorian of his class and all that crap. he had received some pretty hefty scholarships as well, and for a complete hoax. it was almost laughable. almost.

algebra had been his least favorite subject. the one he despised the most. and here he was, stuck teaching it. hip hip hooray.

wren became aware of the number of eyes trained on him. right. usually when you walk in late, it draws attention. the obviously not apologetic professor stifled another yawn and crossed to the large teacher's desk at the head of the room. sinking into the plush chair, he surveyed his students. each and every one of them was staring wide-eyed at the professor who came in late on his first day. yeah, he wanted to say, stare, you little bastards. but maybe that was inappropriate. at least for the first day.

"i'm wren - er, professor kingsley," damn. he was going to have to get used to this whole professor thing. "welcome to algebra, the worst hell hole in the history of hell holes." he really didn't expect any of the college students to pay any attention to him, and maybe they wouldn't have if he hadn't walked in late. but a few of them apparently were, as they chuckled at his comment.

all he wanted to do was go. home. sleep. and eat. but mostly, sleep. and he didn't have a clue what he was doing up here. the only thing that was keeping him from a complete freak-out was the ridiculously comfy desk chair. and it seemed to call him. sleeeeep, wren. sleeeeeeeep. and maybe he would have, if one student hadn't walked in late. later than the professor.


outfit

tag: bella<3 | words: 749
notes: EXCITEMENT BLAH sorry for the shitty post Dx meh

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[charlotte noelle o'niall]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; height: 600px; background-image: url(http://i47.tinypic.com/25tugw4.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 250px; border-radius:100px 100px 100px 100px; border: 3px solid #ffffff;] you could be my destiny beautiful. absolutely, positively, one hundred percent beautiful. charlotte couldn't remember the last time she'd been in such beautiful weather. beautiful was really the only word accurate enough to describe it: the sky hanging overhead was the most perfect shade of blue the eighteen-year-old had ever laid eyes on, broken only here and there by the kinds of clouds she'd seen solely in the fairy tale books of her childhood; the trees smattering the college campus waved oh-so-slightly in the gentle summer breeze, full and rich with seemingly endless foliage; the day itself was at a flawless eighty degrees or so, just the way char liked it. yes, there honestly was no other name to put to a day like this except beautiful. beautiful. just beautiful. so it was only charlotte's luck that her first algebra class after spring break would fall on this particular day. well, whatever, the fairy thought to herself, trying not to scowl too much at her reflection as she began to get dressed for the day ahead. it wasn't as if she wanted to do anything else in particular today, anyways. not on such a stunning day like this. it wasn't like she found so enticing the fantasy of sprawling out beneath her favorite tree--a handsome, titanic maple standing at one of the emptier corners of the park--with a bag of pickle-flavored potato chips and a bottle or two of strawberry hill. it wasn't like the idea of convincing olliver--only her roommate and best friend in the entire history of what was charlotte o'niall--to take her out to lunch at that cute little outdoor café that had been closed all winter and most of spring was really all that fun-sounding, now that she ran it all over in her head again. it wasn't like she wanted to be anywhere else besides a bland little classroom with about twenty-three people she couldn't stand to be around in the slightest, not to mention whatever old fart of an algebra professor she'd be stiffed with this semester. oh, and it definitely wasn't like there was anything up here in dirge, anything, anything at all that seemed even the tiniest bit more appealing than filling her brain with numbers that charlotte could not give any less of a fuck about. especially on such a stunning day like this. oh, well, wait. it was like that. to put it gently, charlotte and school had never really gotten along. even in kindergarten, when the most complex assignment was to draw up a little stick-figure doodle of your family, it didn't take too long to establish that she and this whole "learning" concept were just not meant to be together. it wasn't anything personal--lottie simply didn't dig school in that way. or in any way. and the feeling was mutual. okay, sure, maybe she could have applied herself a little bit more, and maybe she could have tried a little bit more, or even tried at all, for that matter. but in the end, it really came down to this: some people just weren't good at school. and charlotte noelle o'niall happened to fall in that category. a familiar wave of dread and sickness washed over the fairy's body as she shoved open and out of her way the glass doors of the college building. she knew this feeling all too well--it was the same one she'd gotten every single day the moment she'd step foot on phoenix union high campus. she tightened her grip on her white leather purse and begrudgingly forced herself down the long, marble hall that stretched before her. by the way that there was no one else around, she could tell that she was running pretty late. but to be perfectly honest, it wasn't as if she'd expected any differently, anyways. and it wasn't as if she cared, either. she didn't want to be here, and she didn't want to be here with such a burning passion that it made the fiery pits of hell look like a meat locker. so, why lie and act like she did? if there was one thing about herself that charlotte took pride in, it was her integrity. ha, ha. funny joke. charlotte involuntarily stopped walking just a few steps away from the doorframe of her classroom. "mmm," she groaned subconsciously, balling her little hands into tight fists in a sudden onslaught of frustration. she felt like a toddler being made to go to school. once she was inside, there was no coming out for god knew how long. these classes seemed to drag on forever, especially in a place where time didn't even matter anymore. her hands found their way to the edge of her rose-colored camisole, her fingers playing nervously at its lace hem. they brushed absently against her tan corduroy shorts as her feet nervously tapped together in their tan sperry's. charlotte heaved a sigh, forcing her arms to her sides in silent surrender. don't be a pussy, charlotte, she scolded herself. you're already dead. what's the worst that can happen? she ran a hand through her thick, dark brown hair, the stress slowly but surely sliding out of her system. besides, she continued, a wry grin playing on her lips. yolo. the eighteen-year-old chuckled darkly at herself and marched confidently through the door, pointed chin held high in the air. what was there to be afraid of? so algebra sucked monkey tits. big fucking deal. it wasn't like she had to pay attention or anything. what would she need to for? to graduate college? to get a job? in the land of the dead? please. as far as lottie was concerned, this was just another useless amenity up here to make the newlydeads feel a little more... alive. this had to be just a couple of hours. the past eighteen years had gone right by without her noticing. she could definitely make it through just a couple of hours. she was good. she'd be fine. "charlotte o'niall," the girl trilled proudly upon entering, "reporting for duty, warde--" no. no. god, no. please, no. fuck, no. no, no, no, no... the eyes. the hair. the face. the feelings. the memories. the pain. the source of lottie's truest joy and deepest sadness. everything that she had spent month after month trying to forget yet keep etched in her brain forever. the room suddenly grew hot and began to spin, the scent of old books, mint, and cologne dancing at the base of her nose. the image of two wet jade eyes filled her mind before she could help it, accompanied by the all too familiar low, british accent that had the power to reduce her to a gooey mess. and oh, jesus christ, the sensation of his lips brushing against hers--that was something she knew would never leave her; the electricity, the fireworks that filtered through her veins every second he was near, those were here to stay. everything, absolutely everything that charlotte had tried so goddamn hard to keep her mind off of, was sitting right before her now. charlotte. no. it can't be... it's not... charlotte blinked, swallowing hard against her suddenly dry throat. "fuck," she heard herself say. evander hunt. there can be only one mikey! of caution 2.0

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[wren vega kingsley]

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when you are close to me i shiver

wren's classroom was filled, some kids half-asleep, others paying close attention, and others still passing notes with no attempt at hiding it. not that he cared. the last thing that was on his mind was busting some college students. what he really wanted to do was take out the pack of cigarettes that he discovered was tucked in his jeans - what a lovely surprise. he wasn't sure how that would go over with whoever the hell was in charge of this place, though. what more could they do to him, really? he was dead.

and now a girl stood in the doorway. late. not that he could judge. maybe his being a teacher should give him a little more incentive to arrive on time.

nah.

"charlotte o'niall," she announced satisfactorily, obviously proud of herself. he didn't blame her. she looked like the type of girl who could make a man do anything out of lust. she was pretty, and she knew it. amusement danced on the english man's face, forming a bubble of laughter deep in his throat. she was definitely the type of girl that he would pursue under normal circumstances. "reporting for duty, warde-" she stopped short and her pretty little face turned white. she was staring at wren as if she had seen a ghost. but he wasn't a ghost. he was an angel. he suddenly became very aware of the wings furled tightly on his back. the chuckle that had been threatening to escape stopped dead in his mouth.

his eyebrows knit together briefly in the smallest of frowns. he was starting to squirm under her stare. her warm, chocolate brown eyes were chalk full of emotion and it made his head spin just returning her glare. what is happening? the thought blared like a siren in his mind. damn, what he wouldn't give for a smoke. his hand was halfway to his pocket when a single word was uttered. "fuck." precisely what he was thinking.

what. is. happening?

the professor pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and laid them on his desk, not giving a fuck what anyone thought. he wasn't quite sure whether he would actually smoke one or not. would it be rude? instead, he laid his elbows on the hardwood desk and rubbed his temples, eyes closed.

"nice of you to join us, charlotte," wren murmured, eyes still closed. "please, take a seat." a sigh parted his lips and he gestured toward the only free seat in the room, the one directly in front of his desk. of course.

he burrowed deeper into his plush chair, wishing she would just. stop. looking at him like that. it made him all kinds of uncomfortable. during his lifetime, he had done plenty of horrible things to merit a look such as this. but this was his second day here. it wasn't like he could have done something so awful quite yet.

could he?


outfit

tag: bella<3 | words: 502
notes: sorry it's short DX

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[charlotte noelle o'niall]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; height: 600px; background-image: url(http://i47.tinypic.com/25tugw4.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 250px; border-radius:100px 100px 100px 100px; border: 3px solid #ffffff;] you could be my destiny charlotte had always taken immense pride in being simply unphaseable. no matter how many twists the fucked up plot of her life had taken thus far--and there had been more than enough of those--she'd more or less kept a poker face through it all, calmly riding out whatever tidal wave the universe decided to hurl her way at the time. her level-headedness was most likely the only thing she had in common with the rest of her family; as different from them as she was, this was the one trait that made her know that she belonged. it definitely wasn't like they were happy-go-lucky, que-sera-sera 24/7--that couldn't be any farther from the truth. but it was safe to say that the o'nialls, much more often than not, knew pretty well how to handle a situation. so, naturally, lottie had been under the impression that the blood running through her veins had her decently armored for what the future had in store. but here, in all his dead, shining, british glory, sat the achille's heel to end all achille's heels. charlotte had spent the last eight months wondering how she'd react, what her next move would be the day she'd see evander again. because it had had to happen sometime, right? he couldn't possibly be gone forever. that was just an idea charlotte refused to entertain. so, many were the nights her head filled with fantasies of her lost love, in which their eyes would meet and flare up with immediate recognition--and then what? how was charlotte supposed to feel? she wanted nothing more than to run straight into his warm, strong arms and bury her face into his chest as she did the day they'd met, to breathe in and fill her lungs with his intoxicating perfume, to cry out how much he meant to her and how much she'd missed him before he shut her up with his unforgettable and irreplaceable kiss. but did that mean she was just supposed to act like this never happened? to ignore the fact that he left her all alone when he'd promised to be there for her forever? sure, it wasn't like leaving was his choice, that he had done this to her on purpose. but that didn't mean shit. she wanted him to know the pain she felt. she wanted him to know how badly he'd hurt her. she wanted him to know that this was not okay, that she was not okay--no matter how much better she was feeling, she would never be 100% completely okay again. no, that ship had sailed away long ago with him on the sky deck. but never once in charlotte's fantasies did she ever think that she'd be rendered frozen and absolutely speechless and the mere sight of him. the thing was, though, that this was not evander--obviously he wasn't, it didn't take a genius to figure that out. but even so, there were slight differences that made for further verification--such as the way bright, brilliantly white feathers protruded from the man's shoulder blades. an angel, lottie noted--her beloved had been a vampire, complete with a set of fangs and the ability to transform into a black cat. and then there were the things that only charlotte could point out: the professor's nose was just a little more crooked than evan's had been, his eyes a bit narrower and farther apart, his hair not quite mussed up the same way. overall, however, he fit evander to a t. charlotte absently reached up and gently pressed against her forehead in attempt to stop the throbbing. how the fuck was this even possible? she'd read somewhere once that everyone in the world had about seven other people or so who looked like them more or less, but this was just ridiculous. the guy was fucking identical, and it was amazing and wonderful and horrible and insane all at once, and then some. this wasn't even fair. she had, after months and months on end, just--literally, just--gotten back on her feet, and even she wasn't too sure if it was for good this time or if it was just a matter of time before she came crashing back down. well, it was apparent now that the latter was so, but this time was different--much, much different. it was like some sick, twisted, elaborate episode of punk'd, and if that was the case, then charlotte was ready to shoot the brains out of ashton kutcher. "nice of you to join us, charlotte." jesus christ, he was british. he was fucking british. what was more, his voice matched evander's perfectly--husky, low, gentle, even when put to sarcasm. charlotte was not amused in the slightest. tears began to flood to her eyes without warning. "please, take a seat," the professor continued on with a sigh, and before she could stop it, white hot anger curled up within her. this had to be a joke. who did this guy think he was, taking the form of her boy, her evander, only to taunt her and put her through this kind of torture? charlotte herself was no saint--that was true enough through and through. but this was just cruel. she had no idea if someone up there had it out for her or something, but she was sure that nothing she had done in life had been bad enough to merit something like this. and she had done some pretty terrible things in her lifetime--richard, if you wanted a prime example--but no, nothing that could have won her such a punishment. "no," lottie blurted out after several heartbeats. a dark, humorless laugh escaped from her throat, putting out the whispers tittering amongst the clueless spread of students that the fairy had forgotten about. "no, i won't." before she could think twice, the eighteen-year-old hefted her purse higher up on her shoulder and immediately turned out of the classroom. she wasn't doing this. there was no way in hell that she was going to go through this again. there can be only one mikey! of caution 2.0

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[wren vega kingsley]

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when you are close to me i shiver

time is a funny thing. sometimes, it can seem to race along unbearably fast and others it travels painfully slow. now, in this single moment, the impossible happens. the way charlotte was looking at wren caused time to speed blindingly quick and slow to an almost trance-like state. breathing wasn't even coming easily. nothing and nobody existed excepting the pair, who were apparently having a stare-down contest. he wanted nothing more than to tear his eyes away, but he just couldn't bring himself to look away from her fear-filled brown eyes. it was almost like her gaze was a bear trap, and he had willingly wandered into their depths. and now he couldn't escape.

he knew of only one other occasion such an effect had been made on him. at the age of nine, wren's mother had passed away. the moment where his father had sat him down and told him of the happening was one wren would forever remember. time froze. time moved faster than it ever had before. he was trapped.

maybe this was just some cruel joke. maybe the girl would suddenly smile that same quirky, wide grin that she had been wearing upon entering the classroom. maybe then she would burst into a fit of giggles and soon the rest of the class would follow suit. maybe he would lose his temper and explode.

but then charlotte's eyes filled with tears, making his heart beat faster and his breath to come in quick little gusts. and all his "maybe's" flew out the window.

he would have preferred the joke.

damnit. he hadn't done anything to her, he knew that. he also knew that he had never seen her before in his lifetime - or in his death. but the way she was standing there, the way she was staring at him, caused him to feel like the scum of the earth. and all he wanted to do was apologize. but for what, exactly?

self-conscious, he ran a hand through his hair. which, he realized, was still tousled from his sleep. he hadn't even bothered to comb it.

wren watched her with intensity, and she stared right back at him. so many emotions were mixed in her gaze. how could one person be feeling all those things at the same time? a strong urge to wrap her up in a blanket, sit her down on the couch back at his house, and let her curl up on his lap overwhelmed wren's body and mind.

nope. nope nope nope nope nope.

to force himself to stay planted in his seat and not go embrace the girl, he placed his elbows on the arms of the chair and curled his long fingers around the ends. he concentrated on breathing, slow and steady.

her eyes were still burning into his own with such ferocity that he just wanted to bury himself in the ground and never resurface. ever. her gaze was dark, threatening, furious even. what the fuck did he do to deserve this? sure, he wasn't exactly the best guy ever, but that doesn't mean that a stranger has to throw imaginary daggers at him. seriously, though. if looks could kill. but he was already dead.

it's strange, being dead. one minute he was sleeping peacefully and the next he was here. he was always a heavy sleeper, and a bomb could seriously be detonated in his backyard and he wouldn't even stir. so it sort of made sense that he didn't wake when a fire consumed his room. and him. so now he was in this place, apparently called the dirge? so far, it was panning out to be worse than hell itself. first, he was told he was being forced to teach a group of ungrateful little twats. and now he was being singled out by an innocent-looking girl.

innocent, his right fucking ass cheek.

all he wanted to do was bang his head on his hardwood desk. and that wouldn't help the throbbing in his forehead.

the iron taste of blood suddenly reached his tongue, and he realized he had been chewing on his bottom lip. apparently for long enough that he drew blood.

"no," her firm voice drew him out of his thoughts, taking him aback. his eyes widened. he wasn't expecting that. "no, i won't." she laughed darkly as she spoke, and he couldn't help but think that she was a little bit crazy. and then she turned on her heel and exited.

he suddenly became very aware of the students that had left his mind for however long she was staring at him. how long was that, anyway? an hour? a minute? a day? his level of uncomfortable-ness heightened considerably. every single one of the college kids were now staring at him, as wide-eyed and confused as he felt. self-concious, wren cleared his throat.

"damn, dude, what did you do?" one kid blurted. wren glared fiercely at the boy, his breath coming quick again, nostrils flared.

"class dismissed," the professor announced quietly. he swiped the cigarettes off his desk, slipped one in between his lips, and replaced the pack to his pocket. he dug a lighter out of his other pocket, lit the cigarette, and took a long drag, ignoring the massive amount of bewildered stares coming from his students.

with a sigh of frustration, he followed charlotte out of the classroom. "what the hell?" he spoke to her back, his voice slightly muffled because of the cigarette.


outfit

tag: bella<3 | words: 915
notes: ASDFGHJKL

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[charlotte noelle o'niall]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; height: 600px; background-image: url(http://i47.tinypic.com/25tugw4.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 250px; border-radius:100px 100px 100px 100px; border: 3px solid #ffffff;] you could be my destiny both the concepts of boyfriends and love had never meant that much at all to charlotte until evander. in the copious amount of guys she had made her way through in her lifetime, there really was only one that had meant the slightest bit of anything to her, and that was her boyfriend tyler, the tall, athletic thing she had been involved with in fifth grade. he had been her first real boyfriend--the only one before him had been this pasty little ginger kid with whom lottie shared her cookies during her daycare days. tyler was a tennessee native who'd moved to phoenix the year the two had started going out. on the first day of school, he'd walked up to the front of the classroom and slurred a greeting in his sweet, soft southern drawl, and all lottie could think about was how cute he was. she'd spent all of recess that day talking to him, and quickly enough they became best friends. they'd done literally everything together--they were over at each other's houses almost every day, doing homework on the rickety white dock of the lake tyler's family lived on, riding bikes around charlotte's little neighborhood... everything. one of their most famous hangouts was the local arcade, where they would spend countless hours playing laser tag and numerous shooting games (charlotte had been in her lesbionic tomboy phase at the time). now that charlotte thought back on it now, there hadn't actually been one specific moment where they'd made the switch from "just friends" to... well, not "just friends." it'd just kind of... happened. everyone in the grade knew tyler liked charlotte, and everyone in the grade knew charlotte liked tyler--hell, even they were aware of how they felt about one another. but it was a weird subject to talk about. they swept it under the rug and didn't pay much attention to it, until one day when the two were sprawled out on the dock with a bag of dill pickle chips and vitamin water. charlotte could remember the day with crystalline clarity. she could remember almost everything with tyler--when only one out of the dozens of men you're with in your life actually treats you right, he isn't forgotten so easily. they'd been sitting out for quite a while, just sitting in the arizonian sunshine and enjoying the bright march afternoon. tyler had been wearing a red under armour muscle tank with white basketball shorts, striped by a thick line of silver at the sides; charlotte herself, a black transformers t-shirt and olive green cargo shorts. he was on his back, jacked up on his elbows in a half-seated position as he squinted in the sun setting over the matte green water. char was sitting right next to him, legs crossed and an h.s. strut hunting hat pulled halfway over eyes. her charcoal hair had been pulled into two low pigtails that day. neither of the two were saying anything--that was one of the things that lottie loved about tyler, that they could sit in complete silence and it wouldn't be awkward in the slightest. all of a sudden, though, her friend had broken the silence, raising his narrow hazel eyes up at her as he cleared his throat. charlotte turned her head towards him, eyebrow cocked slightly as if to say, yeah? "d'you like anyone, lottie?" he'd drawled sheepishly, uncharacteristic for the sweet yet outspoken tyler booking. charlotte, taken aback by the suddenness of the question, hadn't responded right away; instead, she'd blinked at his overly-freckled face once before looking back out at the lake and shrugging a shoulder. "don't know," she mumbled, subconsciously picking at the splintered woodwork at the dock. what was he playing at? he knew she liked him. charlotte's face flooded with red. maybe he was just trying to be a jackass. why, if that's how it was gonna be, the things she was gonna do to him... "why not?" charlotte shot a sidelong glance at the tennessean, sticking her tongue out in irritation. "what's the point?" she snapped. "s'not like any boy in our grade thinks i'm pretty or nothing." and that was exactly what she had felt at the time. charlotte o'niall was essentially just one of the guys. she dressed like a guy, talked like a guy, looked like a guy (minus the hair that reached down to the small of her back), overall acted like a guy. it wasn't exactly a turn on. tyler shifted a little and moved his gaze away from his best friend, pretending to be fascinated by anything that was in the exact opposite direction of the girl. "well i think you're pretty," he mumbled. charlotte had immediately whipped around in surprise and stared at the boy with dark, wide eyes. he'd offered a little half smile in response, and that had more or less been the start of their relationship. tylotte, as charlotte had dubbed their relationship, had lasted about five months or so before breaking up at the beginning of sixth grade, just weeks after their first kiss. though not nearly as close as they had been before, they'd remained friends all the way up until eighth grade graduation. but at phoenix union, he was just another face in the hall--a member of the football, tennis, and basketball team, he'd managed to make his way pretty far up the social ladder. charlotte, meanwhile, kicked ass at being both a social outcast and one of the biggest school sluts. so, that was pretty much the end of tylotte. the kind of feelings charlotte had felt with tyler hadn't made even the slightest reappearance in the years that followed--up until the july of 2012, about a month after her death. and we all know how that stint had ended. or, at least, lottie had thought it had ended. charlotte stood now slumped against the wall of the hallway, trying to catch her breath and steady the floor that still seemed to be moving beneath her in uneven waves. her dead heart thumped rapidly and harshly within her chest cavity, the warm, clammy sensation of sweat lining the skin of her palms. what had just happened? what was happening? and why? the fairy's mind raced over ten miles a minute with questions reaching for answers she didn't even know where to start looking for. her deep chocolate eyes rolled up at the ceiling, as if an explanation were printed somewhere overhead. "evander," she found herself calling out in a trembling voice, "evander, my baby... what the fuck are you doing to me?" "what the hell?" charlotte's spine immediately straightened at her professor's voice, her stomach tightening and making somersaults inside her shaking body. how was she going to even begin to explain this one? oh, sorry, it's just that you're an exact carbon copy of the lost love of my death and i'd really like it if you'd stop. yeah, charlotte, that was a good one. the eighteen-year-old ran a hand over her face and forced herself to turn around, meeting his jade eyes squarely with his. she held herself taut and rigid to deaden her trembling as much as possible--but god, did he look like evander. it was almost scary. screw that. it was scary. but on second thought, was that really such a bad thing? maybe he wasn't evander. and that sucked. because in the end, it didn't matter what he looked like--it was evander that she had fallen in love with, and the fact that he looked like he'd stepped straight out of gq magazine was just a plus. and no one could ever be another evander for her. but maybe this was enough for now. maybe she could pretend. she was desperate for something, anything--and maybe this was the something for her. charlotte drew her lower lip into her mouth and let out a sharp breath. "hello to you too," she deadpanned in reply. oh, my evander. how i've missed you. there can be only one mikey! of caution 2.0

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[wren vega kingsley]

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when you are close to me i shiver

to be completely honest, wren had no idea why he followed charlotte. he could have just let her leave. he could have started a lecture on why algebra was important and blah blah blah. no, algebra wasn't important. and what was the point of even going to school here, anyway? to get a job? the only jobs he had seen so far was the teaching jobs. oh, what a fucking dandy. would he just remain a college algebra professor until the end of whatever this was? was there an end? the thoughts made his head hurt even worse. god, what a fan-fucking-tastic day this was turning out to be.

thoughts of his bed danced in wren's mind. oh, the lovely little thing. sleep was his go to solution when things got rough. sleep, alcohol, and cigarettes. he remembered back when he was still living - damn, how he missed those days. the days of freedom, not teaching, being able to sleep as long as he wished. oh, and most importantly, not being sent into a frenzy by a girl. sure, wren had never been the smoothest boy around, but he was never the one to get all squirmy because a female glared.

this wasn't just any glare, though. it was one that would sent the devil himself running in the opposite direction. but truthfully, as bad as this day had been, wren wouldn't have been surprised if satan poof-ed in like a cartoon, just to throw his trident or whatever at the angel. which may have been less painful than the hatred he was harboring from charlotte.

he needed alcohol. yes, alcohol sounded like a very good idea. however, seeing as there wasn't any in eye-shot, the professor just took another long, deep drag from his cigarette. alcohol would be more effective, but this would have to do.

distracted momentarily, wren thought back to his first drink. as terrible as it may sound, it was actually presented to him by his father, on the day his mother died. his father had never been particularly good with confrontations - a trait that would pass on to wren - so he attempted to get the nine-year-old drunk. funnily enough, wren hated the taste of the stuff, and refused to drink anymore than a couple sips. until he was given a drink that tasted like cotton candy. sweet jesus, that was downed quicker than you could say "bad parenting." ever since then, wren had had a taste for alcohol. now that he was older, he preferred the drinks that tasted like piss - they reminded him less of his mother. sweet drinks were forever branded with the memory of her death.

the second time he achieved drunk status, he was fourteen. a little more acceptable. but not much. that night, he ended up making out with a topless girl who had to be at least eighteen. talk about a messed up childhood. his first kiss and second base all in one night. that deserved some kind of an award.

what he wouldn't give to be drunk now. he had always been a bit more bold when holding alcohol. as it was, he had to make do with a cigarette.

she turned toward him at the sound of his voice. his eyes were trained on charlotte, locked onto her own eyes. and was it just him, or did they seem almost black with hatred and fear and just about every other emotion in the book. minus the happy ones. she wasn't the only one who was angry. her actions toward him wouldn't have affected him so, if he felt he deserved them. as it was, though, he wanted answers. or else the short temper of his would blow. the one that was so infamous with the people back home. you know, the ones who were still alive. the lucky bastards.

"hello to you, too." her voice was completely void of all emotion. no. he wanted to hit something. if she had yelled, it may have had less of a reaction on the angel. at least if she had screamed at him, he would know where he stood. this way, he had no idea. the pretty girl that stood before him was really starting to hit a nerve. he observed her stiff-as-a-board stance with obvious frustration. at this point, his head hurt so badly he was worried about his sanity. he couldn't think clearly with the throbbing. or the death glare he was meriting from charlotte, really.

his breath was coming in short, sharp bursts. "what the hell?!" he repeated, paying no attention to the students that were filing out of his classroom, tittering and gawking at the two like they were an exhibit at the zoo. "are you afraid of me?" he was speaking quietly, but with a driving force behind his words. he was glaring now.

the boy that had been brave enough to say something to wren earlier brushed past the professor then, bumping him. the accidental shove brought him one step closer to the girl that held his gaze captive. they were now a foot apart. he was close enough to spot the small number of freckles that were stationed on her nose. he could see the indentation above her lip that led to her nose. he could observe her cheekbones, and her smile wrinkles and -

woops. let's stop that, wren. he told himself. in those seconds, his face has softened, and he realized his fists were clenched at his sides. taking a deep breath, he tried to relax. anyway, maybe she had a good explanation for whatever-the-hell just went on.


outfit

tag: bella<3 | words: 941
notes: AH ANGRY WREN

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[charlotte noelle o'niall]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; height: 600px; background-image: url(http://i47.tinypic.com/25tugw4.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 250px; border-radius:100px 100px 100px 100px; border: 3px solid #ffffff;] you could be my destiny there was little in existence that had the ability to bring charlotte o'niall to her knees. her first and foremost weakness had been, for as long as the eighteen-year-old could remember, alcohol, whether it be beer, vodka, wine (though she did have the strongest preference for strawberry hill)… as long as there was alcohol in it, it was in charlotte. "wasted" was something she was so often that by this point it was part of her character description. what could she say? there was no rhyme or reason to it, she just couldn't resist a good drink. some people were born like that. she simply lacked the will power chromosome. perhaps it was true that charlotte hadn't believed in love--that she hadn't believed in anything, really--but she sure believed in alcohol. if she'd been without? well, it was anyone's guess whether or not she would have made it through all four years of high school. but it was evidently so that the combination of a raspy british accent, thin, irresistible lips, a chiseled, strong jaw, tousled brown hair, clear jade eyes, all wrapped up in--six feet? charlotte wanted to say--six feet of pure beauty, had such a hold over charlotte that even alcohol could not, would not begin to dare to match. none of it felt real--the fairy stared unblinkingly at him now, as if she closed her eyes for even only a second he'd leave her again. no. not again. he couldn't leave her again. he'd never left her in the first place. it was evander that had left her. this was gonna take some getting used to. he was beautiful, charlotte was willing to say that much. he really was. just as she remembered. the image of evander's face hadn't gone from her mind once since the day he'd left--and here it was again; after eight months, there was no need to imagine anymore. not her evan, no, but an exact replica, and how she felt about this, char couldn't begin to understand. all the pain she'd done her very best to shove aside, it was just crashing back in reckless hurricanes now, busting open every door she'd used up all the strength she had to close. and for that, charlotte despised this man with more than she thought she'd had in her. she wanted him gone. oh, god, and she'd been doing so well, too. it was getting so much better. yes, she wanted this man far away. but at the same time, she wanted the exact opposite. she wanted him right where she could see him and never have him anywhere else. if this was the closest to evander as she'd ever be again, then she was damned if she was going to let him get away from her. "you're mine," she wanted to growl, "all mine, and don't you dare fucking leave me again, you little prick." and oh, how tempting it was to just march across the three or five feet or so that separated her from him and wrap her arms around his waist, to pull him tautly against her torso and press her lips against his--he had evan down to a science, it seemed, were his kisses as unforgettable, too? charlotte was dying to find out. no. shut up. just. nope. shut the fuck up. "what the hell?!" it was only then when it registered in charlotte's brain how angry the professor actually was. and that only made her angry, too--the fuck was he so pissed about? did he lose the love of his life, too, only to find a carbon copy in charlotte? if so, then this situation was about to reach a whole new level of fucked up. "are you afraid of me?" he continued to hiss. for a split second, and for the first time in what had to be forever, charlotte o'niall had no idea what to do. her face took on what she'd dubbed as her fetus face--that is, her eyes wide and confused with the naivete of a child, her mouth slightly open and trembling slightly as it searched for the words she wanted to use, wherever they were. in the same moment, a boy charlotte had seen around school three or four times stalked by; his shoulder brushed against the angel's, and the impact shoved him a bit more towards the eighteen-year-old. it had to be a mere few inches or so, not much to anyone looking on, but to lottie, the difference was unbearably noticeable. he was only about a foot away now--it had been so long since she'd seen this face this close. her emotions were on overdrive now, charging strong and true through her veins, and the desire to close the gap between her body and his was almost too strong for her to handle. she clutched tightly to the strap of her purse to keep herself from lurching forward. "i…" the fairy's dark brown eyes searched his deep jade ones, as if an answer for any of this was buried somewhere in his corneas. god, those eyes. charlotte had never seen such a color anywhere else. it was such a unique color, such a bright, beautiful green… she was so sure that it was a one in a million thing. but apparently, a million was a much smaller number than she had thought. how could this not be her evan? none of it was computing. before the girl could control herself, her gaze was traveling down the rest of him, from his broad shoulders to his straight, narrow torso to his feet planted firmly on the floor that still. would. not. stop. moving. charlotte inhaled sharply and swallowed hard, bringing her eyes back up to the angel's strong, angular face. "i… no, i'm not, it's just…" charlotte took a deep breath and winced. it's just what? "it's just… complicated." talk about the understatement of the century. there can be only one mikey! of caution 2.0

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[wren vega kingsley]

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when you are close to me i shiver

something inside wren was breaking. it wasn't his temper, as he first had assumed it was. instead, it was something else. something he couldn't quite put his finger on. whatever it was, it sympathized with charlotte. but that only made him angrier. there was nothing to feel sorry for. he had never seen her before. he hadn't wronged her. he couldn't have. it was impossible. but that thing, that something, was urging wren to apologize. he refused, showing defiance by gritting his teeth tightly.

this was intense. he wasn't quite sure how much longer he could endure. his palms were beginning to sweat, he could feel the tell-tale beads form, but he wouldn't allow himself to wipe them along his jeans. he was afraid his arms would keep moving toward her. what was that saying? an object in motion stays in motion. he couldn't have that.

the angel realized he was standing quite stiffly, matching charlotte's own stance. with a heavy breath, he forced himself to relax as well as he could. his shoulders loosened and his flexed stomach muscles released. he could almost think clearer. almost.

various emotions circled around wren's brain in a dizzying whirlwind. so many different impulses were pressing on him from all opposite directions. on the one hand, he was pissed. not so much that he had dismissed his class early. nah, he didn't really mind that. just that she was staring at him like he was all forces of evil combined under one skin. he wasn't that bad. an apologetic impetus forced another outlook on wren. he just wanted to say he was sorry. but, as said before, that just made him even angrier, and he refused to acknowledge that drive. the last major feeling that pounded on wren's brain was intrigue. he was fascinated by this girl. he could watch her all day and not get tired. he could count the number of freckles that dotted her face and not mind in the slightest. he could trace the contours of her face with his finger and -

nope. back to reality.

for one split second, one tiny fraction of a minute, his face had gone all too soft. worry, sadness, and apology sat plainly in his eyes. then he became aware of a small group of college students, standing a couple feet away from the pair, gawking. his eyes narrowed into threatening slits, and his head turned slowly toward the group. like a hunter toward its prey.

"problem?" snarled wren. he had never been one to talk loudly. raising his voice to louder than a quiet roar was practically unheard of. instead, he spoke quietly. but the venom injected into the single word he uttered was enough to overturn an elephant. his face snapped back to charlotte like a soldier snapping to attention, his eyes still menacing slits. that is, until he saw her expression. she looked like a child. a small, innocent, sad little child. eyes widening with shock, the urge to hug the girl nearly overpowered him.

"i..." her eyes were locked onto his, her dark brown eyes that appeared so warm and comforting at first. until he got lost. until he couldn't escape.

"i.." she said again, after some time, "no, i'm not. it's just..." she stopped talking again, a wince twisting her petite facial features. she was pretty. she was so pretty. it wasn't fair. it wasn't fair that she looked like... well, that. it wasn't fair that she had singled him out. and it wasn't fair that all he really wanted to do was kiss her, goddammit.

"it's just... complicated." wren's face twisted with bewilderment.

"complicated," he repeated slowly, as if he couldn't believe her words. "thank you for that wonderful insight," he was being just plain rude now, the sarcasm dripping from his voice like honey dripped from a peanut butter and honey sandwich.

damn, he was hungry. he just wanted some food. and sleep. and alcohol.


outfit

tag: bella<3 | words: 660
notes: ASDFGHJKL

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[charlotte noelle o'niall]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; height: 600px; background-image: url(http://i47.tinypic.com/25tugw4.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 250px; border-radius:100px 100px 100px 100px; border: 3px solid #ffffff;] you could be my destiny there was a shitload of things wrong with charlotte o'niall. it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. but one of the worst things about the phoenix native had to be that she didn't listen to anyone--including herself. sure, she paraded around 99.99% of the time with her i'm right, you're wrong attitude stitched proudly on her sleeve--when she wore sleeves, anyways--but apparently defying the whims of everyone and everything around her wasn't enough; and so going down the road that deviated from that of her better judgment was something of a norm. and it was because of this that the amount of hot water charlotte got herself into was as big as it was. but the thing about charlotte's bad decisions was that they were just that--bad. what was the wrong she had chosen in this particular situation? she'd opted to go to school when there had been virtually nothing stopping her from simply skipping out, and this was how she was being repaid? no. just no. where was the fairness? she was finally making an attempt to become a better person--not only in death, but in the whole eighteen fucking years she'd been in existence. and this was how it was going to be. no, go to school, charlotte, it'll be good for you, she mocked herself begrudgingly now, resisting the urge to make a face. good for you, her ass. the one day she chose to go against herself for her own good and it still ended up being as her own bad. it probably would have been hilarious as shit if it wasn't happening to her. "problem?" the angel's deep snarl--boy, that wasn't a term you heard every day--cut like a knife through charlotte's jungle of thought and emotion, startling her at once back into reality--or, at least, what was supposedly reality. the face of the man before her was dark and angry, deep eyes threateningly narrowed and burning with rage. but why? why couldn't he just leave her alone? why the fuck did he care so much? he was obviously pissed with charlotte--though she had no fucking idea why or what right he had--so why didn't he just go? he had no attachments to her; certainly none like the ones she had to him, anyways. as far as he was concerned, charlotte was just another student. okay, maybe her little (little?) breakdown made a little more unique than the others, but that brought her right back to the beginning--why, the fuck, did he care? the fairy's mind turned with confusion as she took in the furious face of the algebra professor. in the time she'd spent with evan, no matter how limited, he had never been nearly this angry, and seeing his face contorted with such emotion had to be one of the strangest things charlotte had ever seen. it was frightening, if she were to be completely honest, and there wasn't much at all that swayed her so easily. it was like if the next move she made, if the next words she said were the slightest bit wrong he would have no problem just reaching out and snapping her neck. and that couldn't be completely painless, even to a dead girl. at the same time, however, mad evander was kind of... sexy. perhaps it was the way charlotte could see his muscles tighten beneath his shirt, or the way his gaze was so powerful, so intense (so territorial? charlotte wanted to say, but swatted the thought away before it was even fully developed) that she could practically feel it burning into her, or maybe it was-- nope. stop. you're done, you little bitch. you're done. "complicated," the algebra professor repeated. but, fuck, how could she fucking stop? how could she stop when he was everything she'd been craving the past eight months? he was like a goddamn magnet, he really was; she could fucking feel herself being pulled towards him, despite every voice inside her screaming no--there was absolutely nothing that could quench the desire that raged within her now, save for the professor himself. for a moment, the glare she hadn't even been fully aware she'd been wearing melted away, her chocolate eyes flaring with want, just so much want for the distance between her and the angel to disappear completely. and he was only what, eleven inches away? one stride and surely she'd be in his arms. "thank you for that wonderful insight." and just like that, the fury was back. exactly who the fuck did this guy think he was? never mind the evander shit anymore--fuck that, evander would have never spoken to her this way; now he was just being rude, and charlotte absolutely refused to take that from anyone. she stepped back a few paces, suddenly wanting to be as far away as possible. "the fuck is your problem, dipshit?" she snapped, her voice all but tremble-free. by now, the hallway had more or less emptied out, and charlotte hadn't even realized that she was yelling until she heard herself reverberating off of the high ceiling. "i don't owe anything to you. i don't owe you any answers. i don't even fucking know you." the fairy glowered menacingly at the angel in front of her, her small hands balled up as tightly as she could. her chest rose up and down with ragged breaths, the oxygen hot and itchy in her lungs. after allowing a few heartbeats to pass, she relaxed, eyes dropping to the floor and fingers falling reluctantly from each other. "just do us both a favor and stay the hell away from me." but as she turned to exit, charlotte found herself wanting nothing more than to stay right here. there can be only one mikey! of caution 2.0

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[wren vega kingsley]

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when you are close to me i shiver

this was the strangest situation wren had ever been in. it topped everything. from his father getting him drunk to break the news of his mother dying to the first time he ever had sex with a girl. and let me tell you, that is an awkward story. but he didn't want to think about that right now. or ever again, really.

the hatred he was earning from charlotte caused him to think back to the worst thing he ever did. which wasn't really something he wanted to relive. he had been sitting home alone, completely wasted, sprawled out on his couch, flipping through channels like a ten-year-old. it had been a horrible night. it started off normal enough, with wren bar-hopping, when he came across a bar he had never been in before. by this time, he was already pretty drunk. drunk enough to pay no heed to the glowing, neon sign above the door that read in bright green letters: "THE MANHOLE." now, i know what you're thinking. oh, a gay bar. nope. wrong. false. poor little drunk wren had stumbled into some sort of twisted strip club. he ended up running out of there like it was a great big hornet's nest. and that was the end of his bar adventures for that night. after returning home, he treated himself to more alcohol, and was nearly asleep when the doorbell rang. he barely managed to pull himself off the couch and open the door. there stood his roommate's younger sister. his roommate's attractive younger sister. in tears.

wren was the girl's senior by only three years, but even his drunk brain knew that his roommate would absolutely flip the fuck out if anything happened between the two. but it was just so tempting. the girl's boyfriend had just dumped her and she was looking for consolation. her brother wasn't at home. so, wren willingly attempted to comfort her. and she started kissing him. not that he did anything to stop it.

right on cue, wren's roommate walked in directly in the middle of everything. needless to say, wren was forced to find a new place to live. that was the first and last time he felt like complete scum. until now.

moments before he had spoken, charlotte's eyes were filled with desire and longing. a groan formed in his throat, which he refused to allow to pass his lips. he wasn't going to show any signs of weakness. but, dammit, his own feelings echoed the ones in her rich, brown eyes, the ones he had been lost in for so long. too long.

but she blinked once, and then the anger was back, darkening her eyes until they were nearly black. almost impossible to look into, but impossible to look away from. the pent-up feelings of fury in his own body expanded again. damn, she was just so fucking frustrating. the rage that filled his body caused twitching in his right hand, which he balled up tightly, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. the look she was giving him made him want to explode and shrivel up all at the same time. this was worse than the withering stare he received from his roommate when he discovered wren and his sister. this was terrifying, exhilarating, and anger-inducing. how it could be all three was a mystery to wren.

"the fuck is your problem, dipshit? i don't owe anything to you. i don't owe you any answers. i don't even fucking know you." his eyes were narrowed again, mirroring the daggers that were held in the depth's of charlotte's own dark ones. he was completely tense. every muscle in his body was flexed with anger, every nerve stood on end. adrenaline coursed through his blood at a fast rate. his breath came in short, sharp gusts. "just do us both a favor and stay the hell away from me." charlotte spun on her heel again, but wren was too fast for her.

"oh, no, you don't." he reached a hand out and wrapped his long fingers around her wrist. oh. her skin was so soft. so smooth. he could just run his hand up her arm and - um. what? he dropped his hand as though he had been shocked.

why did he even stop her? why didn't he just let her leave? she obviously didn't want to stay here. and some part of him didn't want her to. but another part, a stronger part, wouldn't allow her to leave. he wanted her to stay. he knew if she walked off he would just follow her. he knew that. but what if she turned back around? what would he say? oh, you're just too fucking beautiful to be out of my sight. so just stay here. yeah, like that would go over well.

outfit

tag: bella<3 | words: 805
notes: ASDFGHJKL

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[charlotte noelle o'niall]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; height: 600px; background-image: url(http://i47.tinypic.com/25tugw4.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 250px; border-radius:100px 100px 100px 100px; border: 3px solid #ffffff;] you could be my destiny the day had literally just begun and already it was too much for charlotte to handle. at this point, she didn't even care anymore--she just wanted to make her way back to her dorm, as well as she could on gelatinous legs, grab a bottle of strawberry hill from the fridge, and indulge herself until her memory was wiped clean of everything that had happened. oh, and her bed--the thought of her bed just waiting for her in her room was too tempting to resist. yes, a nap definitely would do her good. maybe she'd even find that this was all simply one fucked up dream; maybe she'd wake up and it'd be last august again, and it would turn out to be that evan was still here--her evan, the real evan not this… evan 2.0. charlotte had begun forcing her legs forward, forcing herself to just leave already, goddammit, when out of the blue a firm, strong grip wrapped itself around her small, skinny wrist. "oh, no, you don't." a breath of astonishment caught in her throat, partly because of the suddenness of action, partly because of the forcefulness of his hand--but mostly because of the surge of electricity that flowed from his skin to hers. she had only ever once felt such a power before, and that had been eight months ago. with her evander. the fairy whipped around faster than she thought possible and gazed straight into the angel's deep eyes, eyebrows drawn together tightly in confusion. what. the actual fuck. was going on? were her nerves just on hyperdrive? was he feeling any of the things that she was at all? or was she just being stupid? and then, as quickly as he'd grabbed her, the professor released his hold on charlotte. much to her surprise, she found herself feeling the tiniest bit disappointed that he had. but what was she expecting? he'd keep holding onto her, and then what? frowning slightly, charlotte looked down at the wrist he'd just let go of, absently examining it from where it hung by her side. abrasive as it had been, she had to admit that his hand had felt kind of… well, nice. what she wouldn't give to thread her fingers through his-- um, how about no? charlotte raised her head once more, gradually yet swiftly coming back down to earth. she protectively ran her other hand up and down her arm and furrowed her brow at the angel. "the hell?" she hissed, her words escaping her mouth a bit more harshly than she'd originally planned. at the same time, though, she didn't really sound all that mad anymore; confused was more like it. oh, god, was she confused. the algebra class itself probably would have been easier to wrap her brain around than this. fuck, why did he have to look like that? why did he have to look so drop dead gorgeous? and so… so fucking like evander?! algebra professors weren't supposed to do that. they were supposed to be older than the earth itself, or at the very least middle-aged and beer-bellied. not… fit, and sexy, and beautiful, and… and… and a dead fucking ringer for evander hunt. "what was that about?" charlotte continued, searching fervently for an answer, any answer at all, in the angel's face. oh, jesus christ. his beautiful face. never before had charlotte seen a face quite as beautiful. not in movies, not in magazines, not anywhere. and it wasn't fair, goddammit; it just wasn't fair for someone to be that beautiful. there had to be a law protecting against it somewhere. for fuck's sake, it was illegal to push moose out of helicopters in alaska. there had to be a law somewhere that protected against goddamn brits walking into people's lives all beautiful and shit like they fucking owned the place. like, really. the nerve. because then what were people like charlotte to do? just sit idly by and… and daydream? daydream about how absolutely, positively wonderful it would be just to lie down with the man and fall asleep, his chest beneath her head and his fingers running through the her dark hair, with nothing else around except complete and utter silence, only to be broken by the sounds of their breath intermingling in the air above? or maybe daydream of being able to come home to him at the end of each and every day, and after a peaceful little dinner the two would curl up on the sofa together and talk about their day until there were no words left. or maybe the daydream didn't even have to be that complex--maybe it could be just as simple as entertaining the idea of what would happen if she just dared herself to put her lips gently against his, and in an ideal world he would wrap his arms around her waist and press her closer to him, as if the space that kept them apart would never be sufficiently closed. and perhaps it was through a kiss that she could convey all that the english language could never even begin to capture--how much she loved him, for instance, how she was never ever going to even think about letting go of him again, how he was to be hers and only hers for the rest of forever, and for good this time, and how… nope. you stop that. i will cut you. charlotte narrowed her eyes and looked helplessly into the man's face. answers. that was all she wanted. answers. why was this happening? how was this happening? no, let's take it back to why was this happening? did he have any idea what his presence alone was doing to her (and he probably did, the little fucker)? "what do you want from me?" there can be only one mikey! of caution 2.0

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[wren vega kingsley]

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when you are close to me i shiver

wren wished he let charlotte leave the first time, in his classroom. he wished he had just continued class and dismissed her weird looks as just that - weird looks. but, nooo. he just had to follow her. he just had to stop her. stupid. stupid, stupid, stupid.

maybe he would just wake up. maybe this was all a horrid dream and he would just groan, roll over in his bed, and slip back into sleep mode. maybe if he pinched himself... but probably not. this was reality. fuck reality.

the fact that this was, indeed, real life, didn't stop daydreams from entering into his mind. even in the midst of his stare down with charlotte, he was lost in the fantasies of his own mind. both of them, curled up on his couch and watching movies. the two of them laughing wildly as they skipped class together. the pair walking down the sidewalk in the park, fingers intertwined. yeah, no.

in response to the contact he had established, the girl spun around blindingly fast, her dark hair streaming behind her. god, what he wouldn't give to be able to run his fingers through the pretty strands over and over again. he would twirl a strand around a finger, let it fall, and then do it all over again. and it wouldn't ever get boring. she was staring at him with wide, confused eyes. they were echoing the feelings that were whirling around in his own mind, and probably projecting in his own green eyes. he pressed a hand to his temple, a wince forming on his face. why was she affecting him so? why couldn't he just let her be furious at him, for whatever reason. why did he have to get so fucking involved?

a strong urge to replace his fingers around her arm coursed through wren. until she possessively placed her own hand around her wrist, sliding her fingers up and down. which was exactly what he had been pushed to do. but he didn't and now he regretted it. he gazed longingly at her arm for two small seconds, and then shifted his eyes back up to her. dammit, she was pretty. too fucking pretty. pretty enough to mess with guy's heads. guys like wren. briefly, he wondered how many other men she had seduced simply by batting those long, gorgeous eyelashes, staring up with those big, innocent brown eyes and shifting her body sideways, showing off every curve and contour of her torso. maybe she was trying a new tactic on wren. maybe this was a play. and if it was, man oh man would he be pissed.

"the hell?" hissed charlotte, her words contorted with anger and confusion. mostly confusion. the little outburst took him aback. but it wasn't necessarily unmerited. why the fuck did he have to stop her?! "what was that about?" she continued, and now her voice was dominated even more with confusion. was the anger receding? why was she even fucking angry in the first place? he still wanted answers. as much as she obviously did. maybe even more.

the nerves from his hand, the one that he had grabbed her wrist with, were still tingling, and the aftershock still hadn't completely subsided. he dropped his hand from his temple, a little sigh emitting from his parted lips. embarrassment filled the english boy, causing the slightest bit of red to color his cheeks. that just made him even more defiant. he set his jaw, eyebrows knitted together in a small frown.

"what do you want from me?" no. she wasn't the one who was going to get to ask all the questions. she confused him first. but, jesus, he wanted to see her smile again. the cute, innocent, playful smile she had been wearing proudly when he first caught sight of her. the one that made him want to smile back.

"what do i want from you?" he asked incredulously. "you were the one who started whatever the hell this is." his anger was starting to build again. she was just so goddamn frustrating. "i have never even fucking seen you before. trust me, i would remember a face like yours." he was talking quickly, and the words were out of his mouth before he could force them back. realizing what he had done, he breathed in through his teeth, a small wince contorting his features, but then he continued. "and then you come along and act like everything evil in this world is hidden under my t-shirt. goddammit, what did i ever do to you?"

his breath was coming fast, now. so fast that he could quite possibly be under the danger of hyperventilating. his heartbeat matched his oxygen intake, and it was beating so hard and fast that he would be surprised if charlotte was unable to hear it. and, as he spoke, he had also been leaning his head down, closer. as if a magnet was pulling him towards her. any and all his movements stopped abruptly as he realized this. they were so close. so close he could feel her warm breath on his face. so close that he could smell the smallest hints of perfume, along with lavender and the strangest smell of seashells. strange, but delicious.

stop right there.

outfit

tag: bella<3 | words: 805
notes: ASDFGHJKL

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[charlotte noelle o'niall]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; height: 600px; background-image: url(http://i47.tinypic.com/25tugw4.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 250px; border-radius:100px 100px 100px 100px; border: 3px solid #ffffff;] you could be my destiny when charlotte thought evander hunt, charlotte thought peace. sure, maybe the time she'd spent with him had been limited--a little too limited, the fairy added bitterly inside her head--but it had apparently been enough for that face to take on every aspect of her description of tranquility. there was something about those kind, caring jade eyes that had the ability to wash away all the stress and frustration of the last eighteen years--and there was definitely a lot. it wasn't anything that he'd done or said in particular, even; just the fact that he was evan was enough. it was more than enough. it was everything charlotte had ever dreamt of and more. and so how the actual fuck could it be that that face, the goddamn epitome of charlotte's sanity, was the exact face that was now driving her crazy? she couldn't remember the last time she'd been this angry, this frustrated--even losing evander hadn't made her quite this shade of frustrated. nothing ever had. so, who did this guy think he was to break that barrier? who the hell was he to just waltz into her life--afterlife, rather, but oh, who fucking gave a shit anymore?--and... and just fucking care, so fucking much when he didn't even have to? when charlotte didn't want him to? oh, god, why didn't he just get that through his fucking head already? why didn't he just let her go? why? why? fucking why? fuck, he drove her crazy. no, no, that was an understatement; she'd passed crazy the moment she'd laid eyes on him. oh, jesus, how she wished she hadn't. why couldn't have someone warned her, goddammit? or, better yet: why couldn't have someone warned her last fucking summer? you really don't wanna take physics, lottie. it sucks. and anyways you're just gonna fuck everything up for yourself by falling for your professor so why don't you look into anatomy instead? something like that. yeah, that would've been helpful. "what do i want from you?" jesus, isn't that what she'd just fucking said? it was like he knew exactly what pissed her off. and that just pissed her off more. i swear to god, the fairy thought darkly, her brain throbbing harshly against her skull. if i could just punch you in your goddamn face. your beautiful. fucking. face. "you were the one who started whatever the hell this is," the angel continued angrily--fucking moses, what was he so mad about? this fucking wasn't about him--speaking at what seemed to be a mile a minute. "i have never even fucking seen you before. trust me, i would remember a face like yours." shit. fuck. wait. what? charlotte started to part her lips in reply, only to be cut off once more by the raging professor. "and then you come along and act like everything evil in this world is hidden under my t-shirt." he was breathing heavily now, and for a minute there char began to worry if he was going to keel over or not. but he stood his ground and kept right on talking. for fuck's sake, does he ever stop talking? "goddammit, what did i ever do to you?" it was then and only then that the fairy registered just how close he was. the strangest, yet most alluring perfume of spices, cologne, and the earth took over every last molecule of the surrounding air. at this distance, she could count almost all the subtle flecks of gold in his deep green eyes; she could feel his breath, warm and enticing, brushing gently over her skin; and she could, if she really wanted to--and holy shit, how she wanted to--finally close the seemingly endless gap that sat between-- no. no. no. "fucking excuse me?" charlotte's face flushed a light pink with blood, fury pressing up dangerously from beneath her creamy white skin. "i started this? no. no. just fucking no. yes, i'm upset. that's a no brainer, catherine obvious. and yes, i have my reasons--but who the fuck are you to just come in and think you deserve to know why? why the fuck do you care so much? i didn't ask you to. you don't owe it to me because you're my teacher, or... or... fuck, i don't fucking know, whatever your goddamn reason is. newsflash--no one told you to follow me. that was all on you. and for what reason? is the poor wittle baby upset that i disrupted his class? does the poor wittle baby want an apology? oh, in that case, i'm just so fucking sorry." now it was charlotte's turn to be breathless. god, she hadn't even met anyone before who was able to anger her to the point of fucking breathlessness, and considering the amount of basic hoes she'd dealt with in life, that was saying a lot. charlotte had definitely had her fair share--more than her fair share--of confrontation, but never anything like this. not even close. who was this guy? "oh, and that's not a fucking t-shirt, dipshit." she reached out and pushed the angel's chest lightly. "it's a long-sleeve." there can be only one mikey! of caution 2.0

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[wren vega kingsley]

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when you are close to me i shiver

wren had once believed that he could control his life. that the path he took would be of his choosing and his alone. he used to think that his life was a blank piece of paper, that he could doodle on to fill his every whim. to his heart's content. his mother used to tell him that his life was full of potential, and all he had to do to harness it was take control. at the age of seven, the little boy had dreamt longingly of becoming a world famous artist. he would approach his mother with his newest masterpiece, a look of slight embarrassment playing on his childish features, cheeks red and his little, round face spotted with paint that had strayed from his paintbrush. he would grin widely and giggle when the woman would exclaimed how absolutely lovely the painting was and ruffle his constantly disheveled dark brown hair. then he would skip off happily to start on his next piece.

when wren's mother died, every single thing he believed flew out the window in one blurred moment. if life was controllable, surely she would have chosen to live. surely she would have survived.

and this, this frozen moment, was just another example. if he could control what was happening - whatever it was that was happening - he would... well, he wasn't sure what he would change. would he just make it so that she didn't react so to him at all? she would just barge in late and sit in a desk. the only thoughts he would be having about her was that she was cute. and it was a bummer he had to be her teacher. then he would continue with his lesson. that he didn't have planned. they would file out of his room, charlotte lost in the mix. and that would be that.

or maybe he would just change it so he didn't go after her. he would just let her leave. let her be crazy. it wasn't like it was any of his business, anyway. it wasn't his job to find out what the hell was going on. he would have bullshitted his way through the hour and paid no more attention to her little meltdown than he would have to an infomercial.

he could have even just let her waltz away just a few moments ago. a minute ago? an hour? he could have - should have - watched her march away, the anger still making her body rigid. he could see any of these scenarios as if they had actually happened.

but they didn't.

"fucking excuse me?" the girl was nearly screaming. well, damn. wren was suddenly under the impression that he was trying to steer an out-of-control car away from the path of a tree. to no avail. "i started this? no. no. just fucking no. yes, i'm upset. that's a no brainer, catherine obvious. and yes, i have my reasons--but who the fuck are you to just come in and think you deserve to know why? why the fuck do you care so much? i didn't ask you to. you don't owe it to me because you're my teacher, or... or... fuck, i don't fucking know, whatever your goddamn reason is. newsflash--no one told you to follow me. that was all on you. and for what reason? is the poor wittle baby upset that i disrupted his class? does the poor wittle baby want an apology? oh, in that case, i'm just so fucking sorry."

he was about to make some sarcastic comment about her needing oxygen. she hadn't taken a breath through that whole fucking speech. but then she inhaled. watching her rant almost humored wren. in a weird way, it was amusing, how worked up she was. and, damn, she was worked up. maybe it shouldn't have been funny. maybe he should have matched her rage. but his anger was subsiding, being replaced by a totally different emotion.

"oh, and that's not a fucking t-shirt, dipshit," she continued, poking him in the chest. "it's a long-sleeve." and that pushed him over the edge.

the english boy started laughing. slowly, at first, as if he couldn't really believe what had just come out of her mouth. "well, fuck," he spoke mostly to himself, his voice contorted with his amusement.

if he was to be completely honest, he couldn't believe he was laughing. moments ago he had been so worked up that, if he was a toddler, he would have thrown himself on the floor, screaming. and now he was laughing? what the fuck was this?

outfit

tag: bella<3 | words: 771
notes: ASDFGHJKL

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