Cinder Summers Chapter 1
Sorry for the late post but this is the first time in 2 days that I have had personal internet access.
Here were my specs
Here are your assignment details.
1. LJ name:
jo__angel
3. a keyword/ situation/ line you want to see:a walk on the beach eating ice cream cones
4. Three other requests for your fic:preferably all human, no spike or buffy with anyone else,fluffy.
5. Up to three restrictions for your fic:none
6. Rating preference:Any rating
Here is the result it's the first chapter and there will be more. Haven't got a summary yet, however I am sure you will get the drift of it but i will say it is NOT a Cinderella remake
Enjoy
William Worthington the III looked around the room, bored beyond belief. If there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was uptight society dinner parties. He’d begged his parents not to make him attend, but it’s kind of hard to ditch a party that was being held in your honour.
His father had left America many moons ago for the mother country, with nothing more that a backpack and a passport. A couple of lucky calls and good business deals later, he was returning to the states as one of the wealthiest business men ever. Whilst in London, his father had also acquired an ex model wife and two children, of which he was one. Basically, his father wanted to return with a bang, to rub his newfound success it in the nose of everyone who had ever said boo to him.
And so it was he was standing in the corner of one of the Hampton’s most exclusive beach side homes wishing he was anywhere but here. It wasn’t that he hated the crowds, if he was back in favourite club back home he would be up front and centre moshing to whatever up and coming punk band was playing. It was the air kisses, the pointless conversations about less than nothing. Screw society’s richest and brightest, give him a dark and sweaty pub any day. At least he didn’t have to wear a monkey suit to get in. Even though his tux was tailored he still felt as though he was in a straight jacket. He needed a smoke and some fresh air. William headed outside taking off his jacket and tie as he left.
***********
“If anyone needs me I’m on my break,” Buffy Summers informed the kitchen staff as she walked outside. After standing up waiting on the Hampton’s party set for the last two hours she couldn’t wait for a chance to sit down and relax.
She didn’t mind waitressing at these stuck up Hampton’s dinner parties. It was summer so the season was in full swing. It seemed as though all that one of these people had to do was breathe in the right direction and someone was throwing a party. She’d worked so many of these, not just this summer but the two previous, that she stopped keeping track of the reasons why. Not that she cared. The money was good, well maybe not good but it was money at least. Unlike most of the people inside, she had to earn a living. Carrying trays and handing out mini quiches was the easy part and if that was all she had to put up with the job would be a dream. But she didn’t just have to put up with the job, it was the sniggers, the hushed whispers and the obvious staring from the party goers that she found the hardest to deal with. The fact it sometimes came from so called closest and oldest friends was the added sting in the tail.
She looked down at her black polyester pants, splattered with food stains and laughed. Many lifetimes ago she was on the other side of the tray, being served not serving, busy being the life of the party not being busy making sure the party had enough to eat and drink. However her fathers less-than-private fall from grace ensured she would never be on the other side again.
Buffy shook the bad memories from her mind as she made her way down to the beach. She sat on the sand and closed her eyes, letting the sound of the waves relax her. Most of the time it didn’t bother her. She pitied them, her so-called friends. They had no concept of the real world or what it meant to live in it. She’d reconciled in her mind that for all the luxuries and privilege they had she was the one who was far richer. But at times like this, watching them party with no worries about where the rent was coming from let alone the next meal, she couldn’t help but envy them a little. In turn, she hated herself for her jealousy
Her venture down self pity lane was stopped by the smell of cigarette smoke, not a familiar smell that hung on her clothes after a nights work. This was close. She opened her eyes searching for its source. She found it. It was the shock of bleach blonde hair that first caught her attention, followed by his eyes. He was wearing the standard waiter uniform, black pants and a white shirt. He was good looking that was for sure and he seemed a little older than the rest of the crew. In all the years she had been working this job the average employee age was eighteen at best. As she had nowhere else to go she was reaching retirement at the ripe old age of twenty-one.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” she said. “This is my break.” She folded her arms; there was no way she was giving up her first break of the night. Her boss would be beyond mad if two of the wait staff dared to have a break at the same time.
“And you shouldn’t be smoking either,” She looked at his other hand to see one of the cut crystal champagne flute in it. “Or drinking.” He took a swig.
“Who died and made you my mother?” he asked.
The accent threw her, he was clearly English and as she took a closer look she also noticed he had the bluest eyes she had ever seen. They stood out against his clearly bleached white hair.
“No one, but if you want this job for longer than tonight I suggest you start following the rules and stop breaking them,”
“Job? What job?” he seemed confused. “I’m not working.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. That was all she needed, another waiter dumber than a box of hammers. A waiter who was also another Hampton wannabe, too interested in chasing Paris Hilton’s skirt than actually doing his job.
“Listen, I know it sounds great on paper. Party after party rubbing shoulders with the elite and you’re cute so they will take a shine to you. But that’s all it is, a shine. All they have to do is rub beside you long enough and the shine will fade believe me.” She took the glass of champagne from his hand.
“Hey! I was drinking that.” He tried to snatch it from her.
“Please tell me that this isn’t a used glass, Are you that desperate for a drink you have to steal the dregs?” She checked the glass for tell tale signs of lipstick.
“Look, I’m not quite sure what you’re on about. I just came out here for some fresh air, a smoke and a little piece and quiet. Two out of three I guess isn’t so bad.” He took the glass back from her.
“I didn’t steal the dregs, this is my glass fair and square.” He drank the last of the glass.
“If you want to keep your job I suggest you stop drinking from those glasses and start refiling them.”
It hit him like a bolt out of the blue; she thought he was one of the waiters. A hired hand, he was about to correct her when she spoke.
“Be careful, I know from the outside looking in it seems a perfect world. Everyone with all they’ll ever need and more. Looks can be deceiving.” Something about her tone of voice told him she knew what she was talking about.
“Don’t you ever wish you were one of them, partying the night away without a care in the world?” he asked.
“Who says I wasn’t ?” She looked surprised by her own words. “Look my break’s over, I have to get back. Maybe if you don’t loose your job tonight we will work together again sometime.” She turned to make her way back to the house.
Here were my specs
Here are your assignment details.
1. LJ name:
jo__angel
3. a keyword/ situation/ line you want to see:a walk on the beach eating ice cream cones
4. Three other requests for your fic:preferably all human, no spike or buffy with anyone else,fluffy.
5. Up to three restrictions for your fic:none
6. Rating preference:Any rating
Here is the result it's the first chapter and there will be more. Haven't got a summary yet, however I am sure you will get the drift of it but i will say it is NOT a Cinderella remake
Enjoy
William Worthington the III looked around the room, bored beyond belief. If there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was uptight society dinner parties. He’d begged his parents not to make him attend, but it’s kind of hard to ditch a party that was being held in your honour.
His father had left America many moons ago for the mother country, with nothing more that a backpack and a passport. A couple of lucky calls and good business deals later, he was returning to the states as one of the wealthiest business men ever. Whilst in London, his father had also acquired an ex model wife and two children, of which he was one. Basically, his father wanted to return with a bang, to rub his newfound success it in the nose of everyone who had ever said boo to him.
And so it was he was standing in the corner of one of the Hampton’s most exclusive beach side homes wishing he was anywhere but here. It wasn’t that he hated the crowds, if he was back in favourite club back home he would be up front and centre moshing to whatever up and coming punk band was playing. It was the air kisses, the pointless conversations about less than nothing. Screw society’s richest and brightest, give him a dark and sweaty pub any day. At least he didn’t have to wear a monkey suit to get in. Even though his tux was tailored he still felt as though he was in a straight jacket. He needed a smoke and some fresh air. William headed outside taking off his jacket and tie as he left.
***********
“If anyone needs me I’m on my break,” Buffy Summers informed the kitchen staff as she walked outside. After standing up waiting on the Hampton’s party set for the last two hours she couldn’t wait for a chance to sit down and relax.
She didn’t mind waitressing at these stuck up Hampton’s dinner parties. It was summer so the season was in full swing. It seemed as though all that one of these people had to do was breathe in the right direction and someone was throwing a party. She’d worked so many of these, not just this summer but the two previous, that she stopped keeping track of the reasons why. Not that she cared. The money was good, well maybe not good but it was money at least. Unlike most of the people inside, she had to earn a living. Carrying trays and handing out mini quiches was the easy part and if that was all she had to put up with the job would be a dream. But she didn’t just have to put up with the job, it was the sniggers, the hushed whispers and the obvious staring from the party goers that she found the hardest to deal with. The fact it sometimes came from so called closest and oldest friends was the added sting in the tail.
She looked down at her black polyester pants, splattered with food stains and laughed. Many lifetimes ago she was on the other side of the tray, being served not serving, busy being the life of the party not being busy making sure the party had enough to eat and drink. However her fathers less-than-private fall from grace ensured she would never be on the other side again.
Buffy shook the bad memories from her mind as she made her way down to the beach. She sat on the sand and closed her eyes, letting the sound of the waves relax her. Most of the time it didn’t bother her. She pitied them, her so-called friends. They had no concept of the real world or what it meant to live in it. She’d reconciled in her mind that for all the luxuries and privilege they had she was the one who was far richer. But at times like this, watching them party with no worries about where the rent was coming from let alone the next meal, she couldn’t help but envy them a little. In turn, she hated herself for her jealousy
Her venture down self pity lane was stopped by the smell of cigarette smoke, not a familiar smell that hung on her clothes after a nights work. This was close. She opened her eyes searching for its source. She found it. It was the shock of bleach blonde hair that first caught her attention, followed by his eyes. He was wearing the standard waiter uniform, black pants and a white shirt. He was good looking that was for sure and he seemed a little older than the rest of the crew. In all the years she had been working this job the average employee age was eighteen at best. As she had nowhere else to go she was reaching retirement at the ripe old age of twenty-one.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” she said. “This is my break.” She folded her arms; there was no way she was giving up her first break of the night. Her boss would be beyond mad if two of the wait staff dared to have a break at the same time.
“And you shouldn’t be smoking either,” She looked at his other hand to see one of the cut crystal champagne flute in it. “Or drinking.” He took a swig.
“Who died and made you my mother?” he asked.
The accent threw her, he was clearly English and as she took a closer look she also noticed he had the bluest eyes she had ever seen. They stood out against his clearly bleached white hair.
“No one, but if you want this job for longer than tonight I suggest you start following the rules and stop breaking them,”
“Job? What job?” he seemed confused. “I’m not working.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. That was all she needed, another waiter dumber than a box of hammers. A waiter who was also another Hampton wannabe, too interested in chasing Paris Hilton’s skirt than actually doing his job.
“Listen, I know it sounds great on paper. Party after party rubbing shoulders with the elite and you’re cute so they will take a shine to you. But that’s all it is, a shine. All they have to do is rub beside you long enough and the shine will fade believe me.” She took the glass of champagne from his hand.
“Hey! I was drinking that.” He tried to snatch it from her.
“Please tell me that this isn’t a used glass, Are you that desperate for a drink you have to steal the dregs?” She checked the glass for tell tale signs of lipstick.
“Look, I’m not quite sure what you’re on about. I just came out here for some fresh air, a smoke and a little piece and quiet. Two out of three I guess isn’t so bad.” He took the glass back from her.
“I didn’t steal the dregs, this is my glass fair and square.” He drank the last of the glass.
“If you want to keep your job I suggest you stop drinking from those glasses and start refiling them.”
It hit him like a bolt out of the blue; she thought he was one of the waiters. A hired hand, he was about to correct her when she spoke.
“Be careful, I know from the outside looking in it seems a perfect world. Everyone with all they’ll ever need and more. Looks can be deceiving.” Something about her tone of voice told him she knew what she was talking about.
“Don’t you ever wish you were one of them, partying the night away without a care in the world?” he asked.
“Who says I wasn’t ?” She looked surprised by her own words. “Look my break’s over, I have to get back. Maybe if you don’t loose your job tonight we will work together again sometime.” She turned to make her way back to the house.