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Post by charlotte noelle o'niall on Apr 16, 2013 19:49:37 GMT -5
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you could be my destiny
the man before charlotte now had evander's face. that much was true, and forever would it remain so. that face, no matter who it was on (and oh, how lottie prayed that this was the last of the dopplegangers), would always be evander's face. the eyes? evander's. the nose? evander's. the chiseled jawline? evander's, evander's, evander's. it was always going to come down to evander. and it wasn't like charlotte was intentionally rerouting everything back to evander, either--it just happened, as if on instinct, as if evander was her reflex. that was just the way it was, and the way it was going to be.
but what was this sound that charlotte was hearing? what was this... this noise--music, almost--that had broken through the thick, tension-filled atmosphere? it seemed to be coming from evander's mouth, but... this music, it wasn't evander's. it was deep and gravelly yet soft and light all at once; it was laughter. the angel before her had begun to laugh, and for a split second, charlotte didn't see evander; she saw him for who he was, his own person. he seemed to almost be aglow with a new light, a newfound... happiness, was it? no, no, not completely. but whatever it was, charlotte liked it. she liked his laugh. she liked him.
but just as suddenly as he'd left, evander was back again; it was evander in front of her, with evander's eyes, evander's nose, evander's jawline, evander's... everything, save for the wings. charlotte was more than just a little surprised to find herself the slightest bit disappointed.
but that laugh. that laugh, she knew, would be the sole factor--as much as charlotte knew so far, anyways--that evander didn't rule. that laugh would be the angel's, and only the angel's. and not so deep within her she felt the strongest of urges to hear his laugh again.
god. she was willing to listen to that laugh for the rest of forever if he'd let her.
charlotte hadn't realized how wide she'd been smiling until the muscles in her face began to ache, but she didn't care; oh, she didn't care one bit. what was happening? just seconds ago she'd been ready to rip the guy's head off, and he'd no doubt been ready to rip off hers--and now what? they were smiling? laughing? what the fuck was going on? what was wrong with this guy?
what was wrong with her?
"well, fuck," the algebra professor murmured, more or less to himself. a light, airy giggle escaped charlotte's lips before she could help it, and soon, it was her turn to dissolve into a fit of laughter. it was such a weird situation. this had to be the weirdest thing to happen to her ever since... well, ever since she'd died.
but this was different weird. this was a good weird.
and words couldn't describe how happy charlotte was to finally be in the middle of a good weird. god knew when the last time was that she had been.
yes, this man made her crazy. he made her so crazy that charlotte wasn't even sure if there was a word in the english language accurate enough to describe it, and she'd just met him what, ten minutes ago? an hour ago? a summer ago? but if just hearing his laugh, if just watching that cute little smile of his slowly light up at his jaw could bring her to the highest of highs, then, well, fuck, the insanity was worth it. she was willing to check into a mental institution herself; it was so fucking worth it.
charlotte had lost control plenty of times, in plenty of ways. she knew exactly how it felt, too; like she was an asteroid, hurtling frighteningly and impossibly fast towards the ground. and there would be nothing she could do, nothing at all, except shut her eyes tight and wait for the collision. oh, god, the collision. that had to be the worst part of it all. especially since there was no telling how long each individual one would be affecting her. so, 99.99% of the time, to lose control was absolutely horrifying for charlotte--the moment she began to feel herself slip even a little bit, the dread would set in, and already it would be too late.
and if charlotte were to be completely honest with herself, she was slipping, in the smallest of ways, in this very moment. but for whatever reason, it wasn't quite the same this time; it wasn't the same at all, actually. it was like she was falling both up and down, with no end in sight in either direction. and it was scary as fuck, and yet it wasn't. it was scary, to have no idea where in hell this trainwreck was heading for, but for some reason, it didn't matter. as long as that beautiful smile stayed with her through the whole journey, it did not fucking matter. what the actual shit?
you've lost it, char. you've actually lost it.
it was only in that moment that charlotte realized that she'd been staring; staring dreamily, longingly into those gorgeous jades, at that adorable fucking grin, at the angel's whole stunning self in general. she blinked twice and sheepishly ducked her head, face burning with mortification. he hadn't noticed, had he? surely he hadn't. it wasn't like she'd had some dumb, goofy grin on the whole time, anyways.
oh, wait. she had. charlotte bit down angrily on her bottom lip to suppress a groan before lifting her gaze once more.
"well." the fairy put on a sweet smile and offered her hand forward. "charlotte o'niall. pleased to meet me."
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Post by wren vega kingsley on Apr 16, 2013 21:43:03 GMT -5
[style=width:400px; height:200px;background-image:url(http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lp0e4rzJ2C1qipw7co1_400.png);] when you are close to me i shiver
wren had seen his fair share of beautiful sights. as he was from england, he was given multiple opportunities to go on class field trips to various old cathedrals and crumbling monuments that had been around for centuries. he had been to the eiffel tower, big ben, he had even ridden on the london eye. he visited the swiss alps and stood on one of the highest mountains, feeling like the king of the world. but here, right now, was something even better. charlotte's lips broke into a smile, a smile that made him feel all warm inside. a smile that he would rather stare at for hours then go back and visit the eiffel tower ever again. it was terrifying how much he liked looking at that smile. and it only got worse. she only grinned harder, wider. her dark eyes were warm again, warm and inviting. the whole reason he got trapped in them in the first place. and now he didn't want to look away. he never wanted to look away. charlotte was fucking gorgeous. even more so then his old flatmate's little sister. she was pretty, and there was no denying it, but, if she was placed next to this student of his, there would be no competition whatsoever. the girl, jewel, had pretty blond hair flowing from her scalp, cut short at her jawline. it complimented her face, giving her much more of a sculpted look. she had icy blue eyes, the kind that would pierce into your soul. her nose was thin and long, skin like porcelain. while each of her features were strikingly beautiful alone, together they pieced the weirdest jigsaw puzzle. jewel had a permanently washed out look, and color was a rare thing on her face. comparatively, charlotte was her exact opposite. charlotte's hair flowed down her back in endless waves of dark brown ocean. he just wanted to run his fingers through it, finding the ends and then beginning all over again. the strands that framed her face provided a wonderful contrast to her face. her skin looked light and healthy, a nice little glow rising from her cheeks. the smile that affected her features caused her to glow even more - with happiness, maybe? longing? desire, even? freckles dotted her petite nose. and what a cute little nose it was. the urge to lightly touch each one of them with his fingertips filled his mind. but he couldn't allow himself to do that. he had more willpower than that. altogether, all her features combined, created the most awe-inducing collage. they existed in perfect harmony, each complimenting each other in so many ways. too many ways. damn, it wasn't fair. it wasn't fair that she got to have a face like that. it wasn't fair that the way she was looking at him made him feel so happy. it just. wasn't. fair.and then she giggled. oh, god dammit. no. why. why him. why couldn't it have been any other teacher. any other decrepit old fart. anybody else. her laugh was like fucking beethoven. melodies and harmonies were interwoven, creating a dream-like sound that he never wanted to wake up from. what. was. happening? one minute he was ready to punch a brick wall because of her. and the next he's drooling over her giggle? yikes. the angel realized he was grinning with all his might right back at her. and all these feelings, every emotion that had filled his chest was reflected in her dark brown eyes. did that mean... was she... feeling the same way he was? ah, man, now he was confused. confused with what he felt. confused that maybe - just, maybe, mind you - she mirrored his feelings. but that was impossible. charlotte's pretty face ducked in slight embarrassment, color rushing to her cheeks. that made him smile even harder, even wider. his mouth ached with the muscle usage, but he just. couldn't. stop. he felt idiotic. but there was no use trying to force his cheeks down. "well," charlotte was the one who broke the silence with her sweet voice, grinning still. that cute, innocent smile. the one he could stare at for years. the one he wanted to stare at for years. "charlotte o'niall. pleased to meet me," she announced proudly, wryly. and that was awarded with another chuckle emitting from between the angel's lips. "wren kingsley," he purred in reply, his eyes lowering to her outstretched hand. tentatively, he reached out and slid his hand in hers. "you're charmed, i'm sure," said the professor, the corner of his lips twitching upwards. outfittag: bella<3 | words: 768 notes: ASDFGHJKL [/style]
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Post by charlotte noelle o'niall on Apr 17, 2013 22:34:26 GMT -5
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you could be my destiny
charlotte had just started high school when she'd mastered the art of distance. distance was good; distance was necessary. distance didn't hurt you. not in the way attachment did. there was little in the world that compared, let alone overpassed the pain of getting attached only to ultimately say goodbye. and yes, charlotte knew that nothing lasted for forever. she knew that, in some way or another, people would always find a way to leave. that that was just the way life worked, both on earth and up here. she knew that; she of all people knew that. but by no means did that suggest that she was going to allow herself to be subjected to that kind of pain. like, love who? thanks, but no thanks. the past eighteen years had been plenty fucked up as it was; there was just no more room for anything else.
evander rowan hunt was the prime example of what happened when she neglected to follow her own rules. and she'd been doing so well; she'd been kicking ass at not giving a fuck about anyone or anything except herself. god knew she'd deserved it, too, after the three years or so she'd spent in a depression. three years spent in the dark, in self-harm and self-hatred, in laying hopelessly around the house completely drained of all happiness. after what had been by far the worst three years of her shitty-ass life, charlotte had finally begun putting herself first, had finally started to believe that she deserved to fucking smile every now and then, goddammit.
and then poof. in just a matter of minutes, poof went every effort, every inch of progress she'd spent three fucking years trying to find. every last bit of her pride, every last bit of her, period, all blown out over a guy. oh, but it just sounded so horrible when it was out like that. evander wasn't just some guy. he was charlotte's everything--her heartbeat, her blood, her breath, her mind, her sanity, her life, or whatever you wanted to call this. it was almost wrong just how fucking much he'd meant to her--how much he still did--but it wasn't like it'd been a choice or anything like that. it wasn't as if she's woken up that day thinking, wow, today seems ideal as fuck to fall in love my physics professor and throw everything i stand for out the window. if those kinds of things were decisions, well, then, shit, would her life have been easier. but the ugly truth of it all was that those kinds of things weren't decisions. they aren't.
the same went for how the emotions stirring within charlotte now weren't her choice. she barely knew what they were, much less how to manifest any sort of control over them. shit. shit. holy shit. none of this made any fucking sense. nothing was making sense anymore. and, oh, jesus, she could feel herself getting attached. that had to be the worst of it all. no, no, no. she couldn't fucking do this. she couldn't fucking do this again. just walk the fuck away, charlotte, her mind was screaming. leave now or be left later.
but the funny thing was, the louder charlotte's mind screamed, the less she wanted to move. it was like with every reason to go came a thousand reasons to stay. and it's not like she even needed a thousand--she barely needed five. just the fact that she was with him, that she got the fucking privilege to stand here and watch that beautiful face, well, that was more than enough as it was. and maybe she was going to later regret her choice to stay put--with her history in consideration, the chances were that she would--but if it was going to hurt anyways, then it made no sense to not have fun while she could.
a deep chuckle arose from the professor, hitting the mute button on charlotte's wailing thoughts. god, he was just so adorable. he honestly was. there was no point in trying to fight it off anymore. the emotions only got stronger with every second she stayed, with every second she spent watching those stunning jades of his, and since leaving was completely out of the question by now, the only choice left was to give in. so she did, no matter how stupid she felt.
and boy, did she feel stupid.
"wren kingsley," the angel stated with a smirk, and for a split second, charlotte's face contorted with slight discomfort. holy fucking shit. he seriously sounded just like evander. and it wasn't just the accent, either--it was everything; the same pitch, the same texture… literally everything. and all of a sudden, she was looking at evander again. the memories came crashing forth in tidal waves, violently and unforgivingly dragging charlotte under. wren who? "last chance to back out," she whispered, her words forming around his mouth. "i've never been one to back out," he murmured in reply, and before the fairy could process what was happening, his fingers slipped into the spot just beneath her chin, tilting her head upwards ever so slightly until she felt the space between them fill. charlotte let her eyelids fall to a complete close, her eyelashes fluttering against evander's cheekbones, and instinctively, her hands curled around his sides, pulling him as close as possible. this is so wrong, she thought over and over. this is wholly and inexcusably--
"you're charmed, i'm sure." and just like that, evander was gone once more. wren was wren, and only wren, and it was only wren that slid his hand into charlotte's extended one. the light came flooding back into her face at the touch of his skin, her cheeks rosy and her smile as broad and goofy as ever.
but the sensation of evander's lips against her own refused to leave. oh, god. this was going to be tricky as fuck.
"alright, alright, wren kingsley," the fairy teased, cocking an eyebrow, "you tell yourself that." wren. she liked the way it tasted in her mouth. and if his name tastes this good, i'll bet he tastes even better…
okay, charlotte. take it back a few hundred miles.
"so i feel like we've been through enough already to be on a first name basis," she suggested wryly, forcing herself back into reality. "i mean, don't you? i can be, like... the special, favorite student or something."
jesus. why did it feel like she'd said those words before?
it was only then that charlotte looked down to see that she was still holding on to his hand. and what was more, she didn't want to let go.
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Post by wren vega kingsley on Apr 19, 2013 19:35:16 GMT -5
[style=width:400px; height:200px;background-image:url(http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lp0e4rzJ2C1qipw7co1_400.png);] when you are close to me i shiver
there always had been some moments in life that were unnameable. some were just so uneventful, so tedious, that dubbing them anything simply slipped your mind. others would go by so blindingly quick, and you simply never got the chance. wren's life had been full of unnamed moments - he was just plain awful at giving memories a name. he didn't look at november twenty-third as 'the day mom died', but rather 'that one time dad got me drunk when i was nine.' he labelled things beginning with 'that one time.' therefore, wren's life had become a sticky mess of 'one's. he just wasn't creative enough to think up clever names. not that he minded too much. giving names to past occurrences made him feel as if he were naming different episodes of a twisted reality show. no, he would much rather jumble all his memories together and leave them there until further notice. even the event of his death was somewhere there, filed under 'that one time i fucking died.' one moment stood out, amidst the mass chaos in the part of his brain that stored memories - the hippocampus. one memory that would forever haunt the english boy. he had been strolling along an empty lane with one of his best mates, sylvester. wren had always called his companion 'sylly' for sylvester was quite the ornery troublemaker, but everyone still loved him for it. sylvester was the type of guy that every girl was friends with, but none of them ever even considered dating. this day had been a beautiful one - in terms of england, that is. the sun was just barely peeking out behind the dense, gray clouds that were constantly watching over the country, and the heavy scent of rain was in the air. it was what wren liked to think of as the perfect hour. the hour right before rainfall when the air thick with whispers of the oncoming storm. it was warm, but not too warm. it was cool, but not too cool. it was his favorite time to be outdoors. wren still remembered the look on his friend's face as he complained about his poor skills when it came to womankind. "it just. isn't. fair!" the boy had sighed. "maybe i'm just not cut out to date women." now, wren should have picked up on this. he should have. the emphasis that sylvester had laid down on the word 'women' should have been a dead giveaway. the way sylvester was staring at wren, it was just so obvious. but perhaps wren had been lost in the magnificent weather. perhaps he just didn't want to pick up on it. he didn't want to believe it. he didn't want to see what was right in front of his nose. until sylvester was right in front of his nose. sylvester was kissing him.what wren did next - the only thing he could even think of doing - was pull away from his companion and stare, open-mouthed. the look on the poor boy's face was one that would haunt wren forever. his dark blue eyes were wide, every feature screaming in disbelief of what he had just done. and then sylvester ran. 'that one time i lost my best friend.' but maybe, just maybe, he could overwrite that with something else. like maybe charlotte. charlotte and her big, adorable, brown eyes. charlotte and her mouth. her grinning, alluring mouth. charlotte and the scent of lavender. charlotte and the way she was staring at him. the look that could force him to do whatever she pleased. he was absolutely, completely hypnotized. the smile that played on the girl's lips captured his attention for one second. two seconds, three. four. five... and then he tore his gaze away from her mouth. damn, he needed to clear his mind. or else he would be driven insane. the angel shut his eyes tight, hoping that if he were away from just her image he would think clearer. but burned on the insides of his eyelids was the perfect silhouette of charlotte. with a heavy breath, he reopened his eyes in time to watch her say, "alright, alright, wren kingsley," her teasing tone brought a grin to every single feature on his face. even his eyes. the girl standing in front of him cocked an eyebrow. goddammit, she was just. so. sexy.nope. no, no, no, no, no, no. i think not. "you tell yourself that," she continued. "i don't need to," the english boy replied with a smirk, leaning in just the slightest bit closer. a hair's length, really. "it's written all over your face.""so i feel like we've been through enough already to be on a first name basis." charlotte announced, "i mean, don't you? i can be, like... the special, favorite student or something."wren's face contorted with an expression of amusement. "let's make a deal," he slurred, suddenly very aware of their hands pressed together. every nerve in his hand, up to his fingertips was as alive as - well, as wren wasn't. but he made no move to change that. "you can be my... favorite student. but only if i get to be your favorite teacher," he spoke slowly, eyebrows raised, a smirk playing on his lips. outfittag: bella<3 | words: 877 notes: ASDFGHJKL [/style]
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Post by charlotte noelle o'niall on Apr 19, 2013 23:32:46 GMT -5
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you could be my destiny
it all could have gone so much differently.
imagine if she'd actually made the effort to show up on time. there would have been more time to slink her way to the her typical haunt at the very back of the classroom; more time to adjust herself at her desk into a position comfortable enough for a nap to last her the next hour and a half. more time to keep her eyes from ever setting themselves on wren. better still, imagine if she'd actually made the effort to show up on time the first time--as in, circa evander. if she hadn't woken up at five, if she hadn't decided that getting to class so goddamn early seemed like fun--seriously, what had she been on that day? it was like she'd had less common sense than she did drunk--she wouldn't have run into him; she wouldn't have had all that damn time to talk to him, to get to know him. to fall in love with him. none of it would have happened--the chair, the flirtation, the sexual frustration, the kiss… none of it. if she'd just shown up on time, she would have been just one among the crowd of many who giggled over their "he's-so-beautiful-that-maybe-he-is-maybelline" physics professor. and that would be all that evander would have been to her--just the gorgeous physics professor with the sexy accent, and nothing more. and the day he left would have been disappointing, at most, because what the hell would she do in physics now? listen? but in time--maybe a week at most--the wound of losing dirge's sexiest would scab over, and by the time wren rolled around, yes, she'd be a little bit more than just sort of creeped out by the resemblance, but she'd get over it, because hey, why worry about stuff like that when you had that face to lady boner over? and then evander would quickly slip into obscurity just as last friday night had--damn, little bitch could drink, especially when she didn't have the health of her liver to think about (not as though she'd thought much about it in life but even so)--and it would be time for wren to shine. and just like evan, the only amount of significance he'd ever reach in charlotte's book would be the hottie in room 128; sure, she'd wear the lowest cut tops she owned to his class, spend a little bit--okay, more than a little bit--more time on her heavier-than-william-howard-taft eye makeup, throw out callous pickup lines every time she got called on in class ("oh, professor, those pants are so becoming on you. of course, if i were on you, i'd be cumming, too."), but the catch was that would be it. there would be no emotional ties. there would be no ties whatsoever. it would all be purely physical; the farthest she'd ever dream of taking it would be to the bedroom, but everything after that barely existed even in fantasy. before evander, charlotte had never thought much at all about love beyond lust. there was just no point, in her opinion. she was a hit it and quit it kind of girl, and she had no problem in admitting it; and lucky for her, it was so easy to find someone else so easy in this society. if she'd had the slightest idea of what punctuality was, there was not a doubt in her mind that she would still be the proud owner of that reputation.
but the thing was, all of that was one big if; one big imagine. she hadn't arrived on time, to either class. evander was so much more than just the sexiest physics professor she'd ever seen; and that made wren was so much more than just the sexiest algebra professor she'd ever seen. her feelings, no matter how indecipherable they were, obviously ran so much deeper than just the physical. in fact, her mind hadn't even wandered to the bedroom yet--with either of them. well, that was a lie. she'd had thought of the bedroom. multiple times. and to say that she wasn't thinking of the bedroom now would be to lie again. but the crazy thing was, for the first time in she had no idea how long, none of the fantasies were sexual in any way, shape, or form whatsoever. her mind was merely just a playground of endless images of the beautiful professor and herself spooning in quiet, blissful sleep, his strong arms wrapped tightly, protectively around her torso, hands connected at the base of her abdomen. and what put charlotte into a shock so powerful it had the potential to send her to the hospital, was that she pined for these little, innocent fantasies with an infinite amount of intensity more than she did for, well, the alternative.
and it made her feel like a pussy.
"i don't need to," wren was purring now, bringing his face even closer than it was already. it was almost game-like, really--how close can the british sex god get before charlotte explodes? it was like jenga or something, to an extent. "it's written all over your face," he continued, and at this, the fairy wrinkled her nose, frowning a tiny bit. how did she get so goddamn obvious? in life, she'd had the poker face to end all poker faces. and now she was wearing her heart on her sleeve like a fucking designer brand? she blamed evander.
jesus, he really was close. and honestly, it pissed her off in the slightest of ways. hadn't this guy ever heard of personal space? what was he getting at, exactly? he could tell that she dug him, couldn't he? and he was fucking with her, was that right? to get back at her for all the shit she'd caused?
but at the same time, did it really matter if he was?
"let's make a deal." at the sound of the angel's voice, charlotte came crashing back down to the ground, her mind snapping back into attention. shit, this was so stupid. she was so used to having the upper hand with men. why couldn't wren just be the same and follow the goddamn rules? how special did he think he was, all british and gorgeous and shit? darn you, wren kingsley. darn you to heck. "you can be my… favorite student. but only if i get to be your favorite teacher."
oh, and what a smartass this one was. wasn't it obvious that he was already so fucking beyond favorite teacher? wasn't it written all over her face? maybe charlotte's poker face wasn't so out of shape after all. the eighteen-year-old drew in a breath and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, twisting her mouth in consideration."hmmmmm," she hummed thoughtfully, trying not to focus so much on the sensation of his hand in hers, "if you want me to be honest i don't think i can promise you that. fieney's pretty high up there, nahmean?" charlotte had to be using every single muscle in her face to keep a blank expression as she stared into wren's eyes. professor fiene was only the fairy's least favorite teacher in the whole history of her least favorite teachers--and that was a list longer than the nile. the hate she harbored for that fossil ran deeper than any emotion she'd ever experienced. "it's nothing personal," she continued to simper, putting her free hand sympathetically on the professor's cheek, "it's just that he's… so much sexier than you'll ever be."
and then she couldn't take it any longer. little old fiene, with the fat, round face that held more wrinkles than a french bulldog, sexier than the masterpiece that stood before her? she bust out laughing, pressing her face into the angel's shoulder, as if the sarcasm had been too much for her and had drained her of all energy.
it was only when her laughter subsided that she realized the position she was in: one hand wrapped tightly around her professor's, the other now dropped down to his sculpted chest, her head tucked in at the base of his collarbone. and it was wrong. it was incredibly, absolutely, and irrevocably wrong.
and she didn't give a shit.
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Post by wren vega kingsley on Apr 22, 2013 22:02:47 GMT -5
[style=width:400px; height:200px;background-image:url(http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lp0e4rzJ2C1qipw7co1_400.png);] when you are close to me i shiver
from a young age, wren had decided against trust and emotions. his mother's 'abandonment' and his father's complete lack of any parenting skills started it. and then his relationships in secondary school only intensified his belief that feelings weren't good. he just decided that he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. he wouldn't trust. he wouldn't.he had friends - sure. who didn't? it wasn't like he was a complete social hermit. he had memories of days that were filled with fun, and boyish laughter. he remembered times that could still make him chuckle, like when he and a bunch of guy friends had toilet papered their philosophy teacher's house. the man was a tight ass, the kind that wanted reflections on what an author meant by 'the apple was red.' the apple was fucking red. what else could it mean? he was the type of teacher that handed out detentions like candy on halloween. besides, philosophy was a bunch of bullshit, anyway, right? behind that, behind the happy facade, was a boy with typical trust issues. with those feelings of 'don't get too close!' the mates he did have, while numerous, were always changing. almost as if he got bored, wren would switch between friends. for a few months, he and dexter were the greatest of buds. and then they would just stop talking. neither of them had done anything to change it. then came barnabas, and james, and kyler. the list simply goes on and on. each one dropped like a hot potato. sylvester, the poor boy who just couldn't come to terms with his feelings, was gone as quick as a wink. but sylvester had been wren's childhood friend. that just added a little more to his argument of why never to get too close. and he had gotten good at it. he had gotten very good at not caring. at not even pretending to care. sure, he could be friendly. there were no rules against that. but he had to watch just how inviting he would be. he wouldn't give people ideas. and he most certainly would not get any ideas himself. but, maybe - just maybe - he would allow some ideas. just a few, though. only a couple involving pretty little charlotte. and maybe they could watch movies late at night. all the way until the early morning hours when they would just fall asleep. and he could take her ice skating. but, god he was bad at ice skating. maybe they could just go to an amusement park - only if they actually had one here, though. they could go on roller coasters, the type that scares the pants of the most vivacious of thrill seekers. see? some ideas weren't all bad. he just wasn't allowed to act on them. but, damn, he wanted to. "hmmmmm," the one who took up most of his present thoughts sung sweetly, "if you want me to be honest i don't think i can promise you that. fieney's pretty high up there, nahmean?" oh, wasn't she just a little firecracker? he had to give her credit for keeping a straight face. he just couldn't do the same. he could feel the wide, amused smile stretching his face. it nearly hurt his muscles, he was grinning so big. but there was no use in even trying to relax. "it's nothing personal," charlotte continued coyly, that adorable little smile starting to affect her mouth. her mouth. her damn, alluring mouth. "it's just that he's… so much sexier than you'll ever be." her hand snaked up to press on his cheek. it was simply a mock sympathetic gesture, but he'd be damned if it didn't make him stop breathing altogether. sweet jesus, she put every nerve of his on fire. she may have well have just tied him to stake and set his feet on fire. he was just that helpless to it all. for all he knew, she collected her professors in mason jars that she kept on her dresser. but if her were to be completely honest, he didn't give a damn. wren was about to reply - he had his mouth open and everything - when charlotte burst into a fit of giggles. obviously her poker face was gone, gone like his willpower to resist her. gone like any self-restraint he had. and then - goddammit, and then she buried her pretty face in his collarbone. the hand that was resting against his face slid down to his chest. which, he realized, was heaving like he had just run a fucking marathon. he was positive she would be able to hear his heart beat faster than a fucking racehorse. with the smallest of gasps, his other hand, the one that held the completely forgotten cigarette, relaxed. the finely rolled paper fell from his fingers. but he paid no attention to it. no, all his concentration was focused solely on the girl that was pressed up against him. and this was wrong. there was nothing else that could explain it. nothing at all. wren should be the responsible one. he should be the one to establish the boundaries. they were a teacher and a student, after all. that would just require so much self control. but all he had to do was wrap his arms around her shoulders and pull her away. he had the authority. he could. and he was halfway there. while thinking about it, he had lifted one hand, his free hand, and it had started for her shoulder. honestly, it had. somewhere, though, it must have gotten sidetracked. because before he knew it, that damn hand was tangled in her hair. "that's too bad," he spoke slowly, almost afraid of what he was going to say. his hand apparently had a mind of its own. maybe his mouth did, too. "what can i improve on to be as irresistible as fieney is?"outfittag: bella<3 | words: 986 notes: ASDFGHJKL [/style]
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Post by charlotte noelle o'niall on May 2, 2013 21:02:14 GMT -5
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you could be my destiny
what was so special about a goddamn smile?
it wasn't like charlotte enjoyed being sad or anything--anyone who knew the girl knew what a big fan of optimism she really was, contrary to popular belief. but in the end, smiles honestly had no fucking right to be… so special, or just special in general. because when it came down to it, the mouth was a creepy little thing, wasn't it? the mouth was not only the largest hole in the face but also home to dozens of pointy little structures that assisted in mashing up and tearing apart more or less anything and everything you were to put in your mouth. sure, they looked pretty normal in general--in most cases, anyways--but when you really thought about it, really fucking thought about it, mouths were creepy as shit.
so, what made wren fucking kingsley so special that the mouth did not seem one bit frightening at all when partnered with his face? even when it was sagged down menacingly into a frown it held still what had to be every drop of beauty in existence and then some. and so, now? now that it was curved gently in the opposite direction? well, for a lack of a better example, it was getting more and more difficult for the eighteen-year-old fairy to control herself; she could practically feel, deep within her--like somewhere along her diaphragm or her spleen or her accordion or shit, somewhere, okay, she's never been good at biology-- her will power decreasing at a dangerously rapid velocity.
and, holy fucking damn, the fact that he was so close was definitely not helping that cause. just when in the fuck--no, how--or, like, where--shit, what in her had decided that closing virtually every last inch of distance between the angel and herself--save for the painful gap that separated still their lips, mind you--was a remotely good idea? no, no, she wasn't saying that she didn't enjoy wren's body pressed against hers, and that was being said in the most innocent context--much to her surprise, but that was beyond the point. what was the point was that she had no problem with… well, this--the way her torso seemed to fit snugly against his, the way one of her shaking--wait, shaking? no, nope, this was all wrong; charlotte o'niall did not fucking shake for men, any man, no matter how british or how pretty--hands connected perfectly with one of his, the way the other rested gently against his toned chest… the way it felt like this was exactly how it was meant to be.
and she hated herself for feeling that way. she truly, honestly did. as if by doing this she was somehow cheating on evan, as if she was renouncing all that her love for him had been. but she wasn't, that was the thing. she really loved evander--oh, god, how she loved evander. but what was she supposed to do? evander was gone, and there was no getting him back. and that sucked straight dick. the list of things charlotte would have rather done in a heartbeat than lose evan was endless. but she could make her way through the list twice and get jack shit in return. so, what would the point be? what would the point be in denying the emotions that were raging violently all throughout her system?
charlotte loved evander. she loved him with a love deeper than the very bottom of the ocean. she loved him with a love brighter than an arizona summer sun. she loved him with a love more passionate than any amount of words in any language could ever begin to cover. but marrying herself to a memory for the rest of eternity was not exactly up high on her bucket list.
not that charlotte had marriage on the brain or anything. that was the one bridge she refused to cross, anytime soon, at least.
but at the same time, charlotte kingsley really did not sound all that bad.
fuck you. the fairy winced and shook her head slightly, as if her brain was one big etch-a-sketch. absolutely not. you. are done.
and charlotte was, suddenly, very aware of the position she was in, and for a moment, her face flooded with terror. this is it, she heard herself chastise; you've fucked it, lottie. you are fucked. this is the part where he pulls away. this is the part where he realizes just how fucking strange you are. this is the part where--
all at once, the eighteen-year-old's thoughts came to an end, as she felt the angel's hand tangle itself with her hair. before she could help it, a breath caught in her throat, a little gasp emerging from her lips; she only melted further into her professor, her hand sliding from his chest to his firm abdomen. oh, god. she was completely out of fucks to give at this point. she moved her palm gently to his side and pulled him closer to her, greedily, commandingly. because why the fuck not? he was obviously feeling something, too, and she was going to force as much as she could out of him if it was the last thing she did.
"that's too bad," wren murmured, and charlotte felt her lifeless heart alight with white hot electricity. holy shit, that voice. "what can i improve on to be as irresistible as fieney is?"
goddammit, it was like he could see what he was doing to her. and he did, didn't he? fuck, of course he did. a goddamn blind man could see what he was doing to her.
well, two could play at this game. hell, when it came to this game, charlotte was the damn coach. she simply removed the fingers that still were laced tightly through his and snaked her arm around his waist, connecting her hands at the small of his back. god, yes. she moved her face closer to his, leaving a dangerous few centimeters between her mouth and his. she could fucking feel his breath, and it took everything in her to not just close up the remaining space once and for all. "i'll let you figure that out for yourself," she lilted softly, her eyes moving back and forth from his liquid jades to his deep rose lips. there couldn't be more than a hair's length of distance between them now, and yet it was still too far; and she knew she wouldn't be satisfied until there was no distance left whatsoever.
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Post by wren vega kingsley on Aug 25, 2013 14:35:51 GMT -5
[style=width:400px; height:200px;background-image:url(http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lp0e4rzJ2C1qipw7co1_400.png);] when you are close to me i shiver
wren was speechless. he was utterly and completely lacking in the let's come up with an awesome, witty comeback department. and, while the very presence of the fiery brunette playfully fucked with his brain to an extent that he didn't even know was possible, the thing that confused the angel the most was the fact that she had him absolutely tongue-tied. you see, wren kingsley did not make it a habit to be floored by a girl. or any other human being, for that matter. he had always been exceptionally gifted with quick-witted replies in his life. and once a sarcastic asshole, always a sarcastic asshole, right? so now, after he fucking died, after he woke up in a house that was so fucking unfamiliar, now his emotions decided to get the better of him. he shouldn't even have a heartbeat, for fuck's sake. and yet here the bastard stood, with his heart pounding out a rhythm that made a metal band's drumming sound slow and peaceful. now he couldn't even look at charlotte o'niall - a girl he didn't even fucking know - without entertaining thoughts that had previously never crossed his mind in his dizziest daydreams. what was up with that? the angel liked to believe that he had one side to him. that, instead of being shaped and carved like most people were, he was completely one-dimensional. he thought of himself as a simple being, one that required little and gave little. he thought he had created a suave, smooth image for himself (you know those boys in the old 80's movies with beautiful hair, a pair of aviators, flicking a cigarette casually? yeah, that was what he modeled himself after. okay so he might be a little conceited so what who isn't?) he had gone through life with this image wholly untarnished. and here, in whatever this was, that cool and collected shell melted away. gone. maybe he was a little more two-dimensional than he thought. a small gasp emitted from his tormentor's mouth, yanking him back into reality. the english boy's mind finally slowed enough to realize the position the two were in. she was very close. too close. he could smell her now. and she smelled lovely. what was that, some kind of fruit? strawberry, maybe? no. more like raspberries. with a little bit of - does that honestly matter?!her hand slid down his chest, leaving a trail of fried nerves in its wake. well fuck. he knew this wasn't right. he really did. but the part of his brain that controlled morals and willpower was completely overthrown now. bye-bye. and when she snaked her hand around his side and pulled him closer, he did resist. a little. but, see, he couldn't bring himself to distance charlotte. she was now pressed up against him, her face less than an inch from his. and there went the last of his good sense. his brain was now in shut down mode. he couldn't remember anything - not the fact that he was dead, a teacher, or even that charlotte had only pranced into his life about ten minutes previously. his thoughts consisted fully of the distance that remained between the two - which wasn't much at all - and how to close it. charlotte's hands slipped around him, meeting at his back. "i'll let you figure that out for yourself," her voice was silky smooth, her eyes shifting from his eyes to his mouth and back again. their lips were so close he could almost feel hers moving while she spoke. and the only thing he could do was wrap his free hand around her waist. with a noise that could only be described as a sound of defeat, he moved the hand that was tangled in her hair to the back of her neck and closed the minuscule distance that remained between their mouths. outfit
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Post by charlotte noelle o'niall on Aug 31, 2013 13:46:51 GMT -5
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you could be my destiny
charlotte hadn't been conscious enough at the moment of her death to discern whether or not it had hurt or not. like, she had fallen off a cruise ship and drowned, for christ's sake--that couldn't have been too comfortable--but she'd also been drunk as shit, hence why she'd fallen off in the first place. so the details of that night were still pretty fuzzy, and were only getting fuzzier as the days passed by. in a way it was good, really, that she didn't remember--after all, who would want to remember that kind of pain? but the thing she'd always wondered was whether or not the pain of losing her life was worse, or if it even compared to the pain of losing evander. him leaving was like dying a second time; worse, even. she would have much preferred dying a second time over him leaving. she'd had never felt anything like the way she felt then, like she was choking on clean air, like she was being crushed under ten thousand tons and there was nothing she could do about it. she'd wanted him back so bad. she wanted nothing more than to feel his big, warm hand wrap around her smaller own, to breathe in the scent of his old t-shirt she wore every night to bed--it was nowhere near the same as when he himself wore it. she just wanted him, and the fact that she couldn't have him no matter what she did, that was enough to make her want to die a thousand deaths.
and now, for the first time since then, charlotte was feeling… almost whole, again. it would be a lie to say she felt flaw-free--there would always be more than just a little space in her heart where evander belonged--but… she could breathe again; the air didn't taste quite as sour anymore, her lungs not squished together under the pressure of just being conscious, and that was the best she had been in over a year. possibly the best she had been in her nineteen years, ever. her veins were overcharged with excitement, adrenaline, and… happiness. oh, god, how long had it been since she'd been happy, one-hundred percent and truly happy? sure, a few months after evan, she'd begun to piece herself back together, she'd been responding and smiling and laughing, but the catch was that she was okay at most, if that. but definitely not happy. not until now, until this very moment. and that's when charlotte knew that wren, the angel she currently had pressed hard against her as if her afterlife depended on it, was special. not for his striking resemblance he held with her lost love, not for the uncontrollable lust that sparked the minuscule, unbearable distance left between them, but for the fact that he made her feel this way. the fact that he made her feel a certain shade of happiness no one had ever even come close to before.
and then it happened. the distance keeping the angel's lips from her own, the distance that was driving charlotte mad by the second, the distance that was everything was closed, and a small moan escaped her before she could help it. the nineteen-year-old had been through enough first kisses--and more--that one needed a special degree in mathematics just to begin to count them all up, but there was nothing that compared to this. wren tasted exactly like everything she'd been craving, everything she'd been needing not just in the past year but in her whole life, and she only wanted more, never wanted to pull away. her hands greedily slid out from behind his back and up his neck, her fingers tracing his jaw as she made a futile attempt to bring him closer than he already was. she kissed him with such a fierceness she hadn't even seen from herself before, and considering her repertoire with men, that was saying quite a lot. she had no idea what it was about him that made her this way, but there was something. and she would be damned first before she walked away.
charlotte moved her lips from his to the base of his chin, making her way down to the side of his neck as she lifted herself off the ground to wrap her legs around his waist. goddamn, he tasted good, and she only wanted more and more. she was being selfish, but then again, after all the shit she'd been through--including the death that had put her here in the first place--she figured she deserved it. at last, though, she stopped, her lips lingering at the space just above his collarbone. she stayed there for a moment, catching her breath with her eyes closed, before slowly bringing her head up to look him in the eyes.
all of a sudden, everything changed, as if they hadn't enough already; she was not looking at wren anymore but evander. the memory of their own first kiss came flooding back to her, the memory of that fateful day in the physics room--why, fucking why had she wanted to go to class early that day--the day her whole world changed forever was just as vivid as ever, as if it'd occurred only ten minutes ago. the fairy froze up for a moment, staring in wonderment at her professor's face. this had to be evan. how could it not be? she slowly moved her hand from the nape of his neck and raised it to his prominent cheekbone.
and then, just like that, as if the sensation of his skin had some kind of spellbreaking ability, the man in front of her was wren again. she lowered her eyes for a minute, her brow furrowed. this wasn't going to be easy. not at all. but even so, she found herself moving close to him once more, her head tilted slightly as she leaned in close to the space just above his upper lip.
"this is so wrong," she whispered into his skin, and without waiting for him to reply, she went in to kiss him again.
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