229A/N: Shit I should be doing-finishing up Unlikely (and maybe sleeping). Shit I'm actually doing-writing this. Why can't I pick a ship and stay with it...? Ah well. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail in any shape, way, or form. That privilege belongs to Hiro Mashima. Nor do I own the song "Uptown Funk" by Bruno Mars, or Mercedes-Benz.
EDIT [24.01.2017]: Holy fuck, how did any of you manage to read this through the first time? I almost clawed out my eyeballs going through this. I'll probably look back in about two years and go 'this was a horrible idea' and 'edit? Bitch, where?' and then the whole process will repeat. I'm satisfied for now. Mostly. I'll be going through and touching stuff up here and there, adding a couple sentences, getting rid of a couple sentences...you know the drill.
"I'm too hot, hot damn! Bitch, say my name, you know who I am!" Sting Eucliffe beat the side of his blindingly bright blue Mercedes in time to the bass and his own horribly off-key voice. He made a sharp left, flipping off the driver of the beige Hyundai he had cut off, and sighed irritably when he saw yet another row of full parking.
"For fucks sakes, these freshman live on campus, why are they driving here?" he groaned, slamming his forehead against the steering wheel. As a second-year still living on campus he had little room to talk himself, but with an eight AM class on a Monday for an elective he was reluctant to take, Sting felt entitled to his complaints. Also, the building was a whole twenty minutes away from his dorm by foot. That had to be illegal.
Sting raised his head and saw his life flash before his eyes when the bustiest blonde he had ever had the fortune of seeing (although, in this case he supposed it was more to his misfortune than anything) crossed the parking lot just as his foot slammed on the accelerator. His car sped forward in a beeline for the chick and he let out a rather girly shriek as he spun the steering wheel, nearly snapping it off the dash, and stomped on the brakes. The car still managed to graze her leg, causing her to trip and land flat on her face. Hard.
"Holy fucking shit," Sting hissed, rolling down his window to stick his head out and peer down at the fallen blonde. He was too young to go to jail and he was also not nearly smart enough to make a body disappear in broad daylight. That was more Gajeel's thing, and Gajeel wasn't a morning person so if he called him to dump her, then Sting would follow. The girl groaned, turning on her back and propping herself up on her elbows. Sting had to admit that she was pretty hot in a 'I just got hit by a car and still look like I got off the VS catwalk' kind of way. He spent a few seconds staring at her rack, which was nearly spilling out of her low-cut top. While he normally would have stopped to help, flirt, and maybe get her number, there was ten minutes until class started and he still hadn't found parking.
"Watch where you're crossing the road, blondie!" he yelled, and she fixed her positively demonic brown gaze on him. Sting took it back – VS models did not try to murder people with their eyes alone.
"Watch where I'm going? You're the asshole that nearly ran me over!" she screeched. Sting waved his hand dismissively.
"Whatever, blondie! Be grateful I'm not pressing charges!"
"For what?!" But Sting had already rolled up his window and hit the accelerator again, leaving behind an angry blonde in the dust.
"I'm a physics major, why the fuck do I need an English credit?" Sting groused, plopping himself in an empty row somewhere in the middle of the lecture hall. He had arrived with three minutes to spare, which normally was never a problem but the look Professor Geer had given him as he entered could have chilled blood. Shivering at the memory, the blond male pulled out his laptop and hit the power key, stretching out comfortably as he did so.
As he pulled out his cell phone to text Rogue - who was probably awake despite having his first class at 10, the fucking keener - Sting took a swing of his coffee, freezing with the cup still raised to his lips when he heard a guttural snarl of, "You..."
Sting spat out his beverage all over his $2100 laptop. A girl in the back gasped theatrically, making up for his lack of an overt reaction to the death of his precious baby. He would cry when he remembered how to speak again. Coffee dribbled down and stained his white muscle shirt but he found he didn't particularly care because standing in the doorway with a murderous look on her face was the same dishevelled blonde he had bumped with his car.
"Well, as humourus as your reaction to Miss Heartfilia was, we do have a class to start," Professor Geer drawled, "Miss Heartfilia, take your seat. You are late. Unheard of for you."
"Well," she hissed, "It may have something to do with that asshole nearly running me over not ten minutes ago."
"Mr..." the Professor raised a thinly arched eyebrow at him, and Sting cleared his throat, "E-Eucliffe. Sting Eucliffe."
"Mr Eucliffe, may I introduce you to Miss Lucy Heartfilia, your new English partner?" A rather cruel smirk appeared on the faces of both the Professor and the blonde, and Sting sank in his seat, wondering what horrific crime he had committed in recent years to be deserving of this torture. He paid his taxes mostly on time and he'd only gone over his credit limit a total of two times, but he had tutored some idiots in applied physics from the local high-school so that had to have made up for his bad karma. Lucy stormed up the rows and seated herself next to him, pulling out her own bright pink laptop, which powered up automatically just as Professor Geer began his introductory speech.
"Hey there, Lucy, right? Can I call you Luce?" Sting put on what he liked to call his 'core-melting-panty-dropping' smoulder, and was surprised when she shot him a venomous glare. One the one hand, he should have expected his stock to have dropped because of the car thing, but on the other hand…it was The Stare. Who could resist The Stare?
"No. You can call me 'Her Excellency, Lady Lucy'."
"Blondie, then. Look, sorry about this morning, I was in a hurry, and you know how traffic gets. Couldn't be late for class, 'specially with this neurotic dickbag of a Professor."
"Professor Geer was my English instructor last year and is a good friend of mine," Lucy deadpanned, and Sting mentally kicked himself. First, he'd nearly killed the girl (grazed, he reminded himself firmly), and then he'd insulted her favourite prof in an admittedly botched attempt at conversing. Had Rogue been here, he would have literally smacked the shit out of him.
"R-right, uh...so, English, am I right?" Sting wanted nothing more than to curl up and die in a corner but he had to keep the conversation going. It was the only think keeping him from spontaneously combusting at this point.
"You're lucky I'm not pressing charges."
"For what?!" Sting had the oddest sense of déjà vu. It appeared Lucy felt it as well, because she gave him a knowing stare.
"Oh, I don't know...nearly running me over with your car and racing off?"
"It was barely a graze!"
"Really? Because the bruise on my thigh and my scraped-up palms say otherwise!"
"Oh, boo-hoo! Does the little princess have a boo-boo? The great Sting Eucliffe-" Sting was interrupted as a piece of chalk came flying towards him and collided with his forehead. Professor Geer looked relatively bored as the rest of the class burst out into fits of laughter. The instructor sighed, lowering his arm.
"Do we have a problem, Mr Eucliffe?"
"N-no sir," Sting rubbed his forehead sheepishly, and the brunet nodded in response.
"Good. One more interruption and you can kiss this credit goodbye. Moving on, required texts for this course-"
As the Professor droned on, Sting stole a glance at the pretty blonde next to him. Lucy was cheerfully typing away online, and the blue-eyed male wanted to cry when he realized she was chatting with Erza Scarlet, the hellish RA of his dorm, giving her a run-down of the situation.
Turning his attention back to his phone, Sting erased his message to Rogue and wrote a new one before hitting the 'send' button.
To: Ryossss
So how fast can you arrange my funeral?
From: Ryossss
What did you do this time?
To: Ryossss
I nearly ran over my English partner and she's bff's with Scarlet
From: Ryossss
It was nice knowing you, Sting.
To: Ryossss
Traitor!
From: Ryossss
No, that's you, Judas.
Sting sniffled and slumped down further in his seat.
"You're fucked," Gajeel Redfox stated bluntly. The second-year anthropology major walked beside his cousin, fellow second-year biology major Ryos 'Rogue' Cheney, as they left the cozy café.
"You know she's half siblings with Laxus Dreyer?" Rogue said, and Sting froze in his tracks.
"Laxus Dreyer? The third-year Business Major, and three time Krav Maga world champion?"
"The very same." Gajeel smirked. "And she's adopted siblings with Cobra."
"Oh god, not the one who's gonna be a toxicologist!" Sting wailed. He could see the various ways he would die at the hands of her insane family. Perhaps he would be jumped by Laxus, who would proceed to break every bone in his body twice over; or maybe he would perish of some untraceable poison personally crafted by Cobra. Or maybe both. Maybe Cobra would design a poison with a paralytic agent that would force him to remain frozen and wide-awake as Laxus rearranged his entire skeleton.
"The one and only," Rogue chimed as the three men plopped down on a spare bench. Gajeel and Rogue were the very picture of ease while Sting looked five seconds away from a heart attack.
"She's gonna kill me. Oh, my god, I should have walked, this never would have happened if I walked. Why did I have to drive?" Sting bemoaned.
"Hey, your Merc is pretty fuckin' awesome, I'd drive it everywhere if I were you," Gajeel said, and Sting brightened momentarily. "It is a wicked ride. Totally worth it."
"Not helping, Gajeel," Rogue said. Sting immediately went back to wallowing in self-pity. Gajeel rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' drama queen."
"Erza Scarlet is her best friend."
"You're fucked, Sting. Royally fucked in the ass with a cactus."
Sting let out a sob, and Rogue patted his back sympathetically – well, it seemed sympathetic. Rogue's face looked mostly constipated. Gajeel scrolled through his phone for a moment, finally tapping it; the funeral dirge rang out loudly in time to Gajeel's ominous humming. Sting slipped off the bench, curled into a ball, and burst into hysterical tears.
"Gajeel. Was that really necessary?"
"Gihihihi!"
Sting made his way up to his dorm room, twirling his key absentmindedly. He hadn't met with his roommate because he had moved in several days prior to the start of class and she was set to arrive the day classes began, but he had been informed that she was a female in his year so he was okay with the situation. Provided that his roommate was not one of his many exes or previous conquests. Then Rogue would really have to plan his funeral.
Turning the corner, Sting whistled a jaunty tune and paused in front of his dorm. A brass label read X792, matching the sticker on his key. Unlocking the door, he walked in and let a sly grin split his face when he spotted his roommate, a very curvaceous looking blonde who bending to reach something across her bed. He stared at her legs for several moments, committing the sight of her panty-covered ass, barely concealed by her skirt, to memory.
"Bonjour, ma cherie," he purred, edging closer. The woman stiffened and rose to full height, turning around to face him, and Sting swore he felt his soul exit his body.
Lucy Heartfilia gave him a disdainful stare, "Not you again..."
Sting really hated Monday's.
A/N: In other words, I really love AUs. Also, I know this chapter was really short but it's the first chapter. Expect more later when there is plot. Ish.
So, uh, review please! Tell me what you think!
-Eien
