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hphmmatthewluther · 2 years ago

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The Phantom Woes of Matthew Luther: Part 3

At last! After a short break due to Uni Stuff/Christmas, we’re back into it! This story features the characters of:

@magicapandora ‘s Rosie Mayfield

@camillejeaneshphm ‘s Camille Jeanes

@gaygryffindorgal ‘s Verna Malinda

as well as characters from:

@catohphm

@ag907

Part 1 can be found here and Part 2 can be found here!

Chapter 3: Is There Anybody Out There?

By Monday morning, it was clear that Matthew’s anxiety had been something of a warning sign for what was to come. Now, all of Ravenclaw had become slightly more jittery, almost certainly because of Helena being missing. Verna had never really considered how important Helena was to them; by comparison, Sir Nicholas was more of an occasional sight across school. But Helena was always up in Ravenclaw Tower where she could be found if needed, Verna supposed, and like Matthew had said, not knowing where someone that important is would of course cause some fear.

This was plain to see for the entire group when they got to Ravenclaw Common Room after their lessons had finished. Camille, Rosie and Verna met outside the door and waited for Matthew to let them in. They weren’t surprised to see Merula already there.

“What are you lot looking at?” she snapped, her cheeks already dusted with pink.

“Oh…nothing, nothing…” Camille said, rather unconvincingly, looking at Verna and Rosie.

“Y-Yeah,” stammered Verna, looking between the two and thinking back to last night, “it’s nothing at all…y’know…just…stuff.”

Rosie looked at the two girls and stepped forward, “We just all want to make sure we find out what’s happened.” they explained, the other two looking grateful for them stepping in, “We all want Helena back as fast as possible, right?”

Matthew nodded, “Yeah…thanks guys, really…it’s…” he sighed, trying to find the right words. “I just hope we’re able to figure something out. I figured that it’d be best if we look at where I last saw her…”

He led the group down through the tower, past various other blue-clad students with their eyes fixated on whatever they were reading, past shelves upon shelves of magical tomes.

“This place has as many books as the library.” Verna pointed out. “How come you get them all?”

“Ravenclaws donate books to the Tower at the end of their time at school,” Matthew explained, “It’s kind of a tradition we have.”

“That’s so sweet!” Camille said, noticing how Matt and Merula’s hands seemed to be brushing against each other a lot. “I suppose that’d mean a lot to Ravenclaws, lots of books being this close to your room.”

“Here we are.” Matt said finally, gesturing to an area with a chair in the far corner, with a few books scattered across the place. “This is where she usually sits and reads.” “How does she…” began Rosie, causing the others to look at them. “Well, how does she hold the books?”

“Very carefully?” Verna suggested.

Matt just chuckled, “No, she…she can use some magic to make them levitate. Ghost magic, that sort of thing.” as he explained, he examined the chair and the books around it. “You guys see anything…out of the ordinary? I dunno…ectoplasm? Signs of magic?”

The group looked across the shelves, under the tables, and even through the holes in the floorboards. But even with all five of them looking, there wasn’t even a ghost of a scrap of evidence. At least, not until Camille heard something in the far corner of the room. It was a low humming sound, which, being an Animagus, she recognised as… “Un Chat?” she asked, pointing at the purring animal on a pile of books. The others clambered over to see what she was looking at.

“Danny!” Matt exclaimed, leaping forward to the now awake to give it head-rubs. “Aw, so that’s where you’ve been hiding, of course…must have been waiting for Helena to get back and then fell asleep.”

“All well and good,” Verna said, smiling at the cat’s golden-brown fur, “But does this tell us anything about what happened to Helena?”

Matthew thought for a moment, still petting Danny. “I might have an idea to figure out what Danny saw. But I’d need some help with it. There’s a book in my room that might be able to help, um…I should stay down here and get things ready.”

“I’ll help!” Merula said, louder than she expected judging by the growing red on her cheeks. “Um…I mean, um…yeah! You three go and get the book!”

***

“She really isn’t good at hiding it, is she?” Rosie chuckled as they walked back up the stairs, “I mean obviously it’s different now we know they’re a thing but still!”

“I think it’s sweet,” Camille said, reminding herself what floor of the tower Matthew’s dorm room was on. “You can see how they love spending time with each other.”

Verna nodded. “You don’t think they’re onto us knowing, do you? I mean, they haven’t mentioned the supposed meeting we didn’t go to last night.”

Rosie considered this. “Well, neither have we, so…I’m sure at some point, when they’re both comfortable, they’ll be able to go public. And then we can tease them even more!” they said finally.

Before they could say any more, Verna quickly shushed the other two. Before them stood Chase, the reserve chaser they had seen earlier. She could have put it down to all the Ravenclaws being extra-anxious recently, but she noticed that for some reason, he looked at them with a degree of suspicion.

“This isn’t your dorm room.” He said bluntly, clicking his tongue. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh…we um…” Camille stammered, before remembering something Matthew had mentioned. “Aren’t all houses allowed in your common room? Since it’s anyone who can answer that riddle?”

There was a brief silence as the three stared at the boy. “Y-Yeah, right, of course.” He said, not making eye contact. “Makes sense, since the answer’s “a river” half the time. Anything I can help with?”

“W-We were just getting a book for Mathieu,” Camille explained, “Yknow, just to be a help to him, that sort of thing…”

“Right…if anyone can figure out what’s happened, I suppose it would be the “Hero of Hogwarts”, wouldn’t it? Especially with Madam Rakepick away on business…”

Rosie frowned. Unlike most of the other Ravenclaws they’d seen today, Chase didn’t seem all that bothered by Helena’s disappearance. A little suspicious, sure…but he seemed to lack that anxiety that the others had.

Chase seemed to pick up on Rosie’s expression. “Look, I really do hope that he’s able to find Helena. Really. But…” he looked off to the side, sighing. “She might not come back.”

Camille suddenly looked worried. “What on earth’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, looking at Verna and Rosie, who were equally confused.

“Sometimes…” Chase began, looking to and fro before continuing, “...a ghost simply fades away. Maybe they’ve been around too long, or long enough, or the urge to keep going disappears, and thus, so do they…”

Verna blinked. That couldn’t be it. Could it? Helena had Matt and the rest of Ravenclaw, she wouldn’t give that up. At least, that’s what she thought.

“I’m just saying that’s a possible explanation.” Chase said, “and fairly likely, I mean, what else can happen to a ghost?”

Camille looked terrified at the prospect and what this meant for Matt, and Verna was still trying to work through its likelihood in her head. Rosie, however, stepped forward.

“Well, thanks for the information…Chase, yes?” they asked, smiling sweetly. “Thank you. We’re going to go and get that book now, and then we’ll know for sure, right?”

They stepped past him, and Camille and Verna started following, as if broken out of a trance. Chase raised a finger to say something, but they quickly clambered up the stairs. Verna ended up overtaking Rosie (they were wearing heels after all), grabbed the book from Matt’s room (running past a very confused-looking group including Talbott Winger and Cato Reese) and started heading back down the stairs, Camille and Rosie turning around to follow her.

Chase was waiting for them again when they got back down. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, before finally holding out his arm. “W-Wait!”

Verna sighed, and turned around. “Yes?”

“...Merula’s helping you, isn’t she?” he asked, his expression unmoving. “Be careful. She might be setting you all up to fail.” With that, he turned and left, Rosie being the one who noticed that for some reason he was still in his quidditch costume.

“Feh. Doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Verna said, “Hasn’t seen what we’ve seen, either.”

Camille nodded in agreement. “Oui, Merula is…different to how she was. Besides, Mathieu trusts her, and I trust him.”

*** When they got back down to Helena’s corner of the tower, Matthew and Merula had cleared some of the books away, piling them up to the side. Danny was sitting on the centre table, staying still. This was probably because of the fish in front of him that he was nibbling on. But the cat wasn’t what drew their attention. Matthew and Merula were holding hands.

“Gah!” Merula exclaimed, moving away her hand, “W-We were just…we got everything ready, and Luther was worried about getting a splinter so I was looking at his hand, that’s all!”

“Riiight.” said Verna, deadpan.

“Oh of course, Merula.” Rosie said, noticing the soft look Merula had given Matthew immediately after her excuse.

“No, no, that’s definitely what happened.” Camille chuckled, smiling at Matthew. He chuckled back, going slightly pink in the face.

“A-Anyway, did you manage to get that book or what?” she snapped, going red in the face. When Verna held aloft the book, Merula relaxed a little. “G-Good. Well, get over here then, we’ll need you lot!”

The three moved over to the table, where Danny was still chewing on his fish. Matt took the book from Verna and started flicking through it. She realised that she hadn’t even looked at the book’s title: Legilimency as it Develops. “Hang on a minute…” she said, putting the pieces together.

“Oh, right, sorry, forgot to tell you guys.” Matt said, wincing at his own forgetfulness, “I’m…a Legilimens, apparently. Sorry for not saying sooner, um…”

You could have heard a ghost glide past in that brief moment. Then came the noise. “You what?!” Camille gasped, her eyes wide.

“That’s amazing!” Rosie said, bringing her hands together in joy, “Oh, wow!”

“How?!” Verna asked, just as gobsmacked as the others, despite having carried the book (and hid it from Chase’s view). “How did you know? How did this…happen?”

Merula smirked, clearly enjoying having known something before the other three did.

“Luther’s great-grandmother on his dad’s side was a Legilimens, you see.” she explained, looking over Matthew’s shoulder at the book. “Of course, it didn’t come up in his muggle grandfather and dad, but…it seems that both he and his brother…”

Matt nodded. “Yeah…JJ must have had it too…it would probably explain the messages I seem to get from him sometimes…um…yeah…” he looked away a little awkwardly. It still seemed that even now he wasn’t fully comfortable talking about his older brother. “A-Anyway, the point is I should be able to use my Legilimency here…on Danny.”

The group looked down at the cat. As it lazily rolled on the table, licking at the fish, Camille wondered if there were any memories at all in that tiny little brain of his. “Is that…even possible?”

“It says so here, yeah!” Matt turned the book around so the others could see, with an excited grin on his face. “It says right here that while there needs to be some preparation done, it’s totally doable! We’ll be able to see what Danny saw, and it might give us a clue.”

“Provided Helena was in the room with Danny.” Verna pointed out.

“She would be. She always reads with Danny, and talks to him a lot too. She was the one taking care of him before me, you know. We kind of have shared ownership.” As Matthew was explaining this, he had marked a few runes on the edges of the table. “Right, if you all come round here…” he gestured to positions around the table, getting out his wand and gesturing for the others to do the same.

“So we’ll all be able to see this, then?” Rosie asked, quickly polishing her wand.

“Looks like it, judging by what the book says.” Matt replied, checking the notes one last time. “...Look, this is one of the best chances we have at a firsthand account of Helena’s whereabouts, and…um…I do hope it works, and…”

“Hey.” Camille reached up and grabbed his shoulder gently. “We trust you, Mathieu. You’re the most careful person we know…and we know that you’ve put thought into this.”

“Jeanes is right, Luther.” Merula said, her smirk softening slightly, “Things go well when you’re around, and…your plans do have a habit of actually working…annoyingly.”

Matt sighed, nodding. “Th-thanks, guys. I…I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s alright, Matty.” Rosie said, leaning forward from their position. “Let’s get this done and see what we can get from it.”

“Ready when you are.” Verna said, pointing her wand at the cat on the table. It looked at the group, a little confused, sniffing the end of Matthew’s wand.

“Legilimens!”

They all felt the ground churn beneath them, as the colour seemed to drain from the walls, floors and books. Danny was no longer on the centre table, he was now sleeping by the edge of the room where they’d found him. Then, there was the sound of soft humming from amongst the bookshelves, causing the cat to open its eyes. The woman humming floated about an inch off of the ground, her centuries-old dress fading into mist at her feet. She glided forward, a levitating book in front of her that moved with her. She moved a translucent finger and the page turned, before using it to push back part of her raven-black hair.

“There she is…” Matt said, sounding relieved to see her again, even if it was just a memory of her.

“What’s that she’s reading?” Verna asked, leaning forward. As she focused her vision, she saw that it was a book called The Ramifications of Reflections.

“Oh, shite, not that book…” Merula hissed, her Scottish accent coming in. The others knew that something about that book was making her very angry indeed.

“Hmm…” Helena said, “You never know what you find when picking up a book left on a table…let’s see… “Mirrors of Hogwarts: A most powerful mirror with deep magical properties can be found on the fourth-floor corridor, and is believed to have been on display in the Royal Court of the Changelings”...Hmm…perhaps an excursion is in order…you’re in charge until I get back, Danny.”

She glided out of the room, and Danny promptly fell asleep, colour returning to the room, and the cat returning to the middle of the table, having finished its fish.

“Urrgg…my stomach wasn’t a fan of that…” Camille said, blinking rapidly while everyone else tried similar methods of keeping control of their dizziness.

“Well…that gives us a sequence of…uh, events.” Matthew said, sitting down. “Blimey…ok, so someone left that damn book out, Helena picked it up, and looked for the mirror mentioned on the bookmarked page…”

“So that makes our next stop the fourth-floor corridor?” Rosie asked, moving to give Danny some chinny-rubs.

“Works for me.” Verna said, nodding. “Is there another way out of the tower? That Chase guy might still be lurking around.”

***

Thankfully, Matthew was able to lead the group out of Ravenclaw Tower along the water channels that flowed across Hogwarts. As he did so, he explained how he often swam through these since it was warmer than the Black Lake. Camille clung to the edges of the wall tightly as they walked along towards the Fourth-Floor corridor.

“Up here, and we should be right outside.” Matt said, pointing to a manhole overhead. He opened it up and hoisted himself out, leaning back over to help the others out, only briefly stopping when Gwen Dunmoore walked past to explain that this was nothing to worry about. Fortunately, she accepted that explanation with a shrug and strolled away, allowing Camille to climb out and close the grate behind her.

“That should be our door.” Verna said, pointing at a storage room with a battered old door. One quick Alohomora and the door creaked open, spilling light into the dark room. Most objects were covered in a tarp, which themselves were covered in dust and cobwebs. And the spiders that made them.

“Eww…” Rosie shuddered, brushing the spiders away with their wand. “So…this is the room Helena went to?”

“Must have been.” Camille said, looking around. “Mathieu, she said she was looking for a mirror, yes?”

Matthew nodded, light emitting from his wand. He glanced across the room, going further in past the cobwebs, until he stopped in his tracks.

“M-M-” he stammered, pointing at the wall. Camille came over to where he was pointing and gasped. Rosie and Verna ran over, their eyes as wide as dinner plates. Finally, Merula came over and saw exactly what all the fuss was about. “Oh, but that’s..” she began, but trailed off when she saw Matt step closer and closer to the mirror on the wall. As they looked up into it, they did not see their reflections. They saw a woman with raven-black hair in a centuries-old dress.

“I…Helena…” Matt said, “Helena?! Can you hear us?!”

Verna looked around nervously, worried at how loud Matthew was being. Helena leaned forward, her hands pressing against the glass, mouthing words at him.

“What’s she saying…?” he muttered, trying to read her lips, “G-Go? Go now? B-Before…too late? But…”but before he could try anything else there was a brilliant flash of light, causing all five of them to cover their eyes. Before the light had even faded, they were hit with a flurry of jinxes, knocking them into the wall. They heard footsteps, a sinister chuckle, the sound of some sort of warping spell, and more footsteps. Matthew scrambled to his feet, as did the others, but there was nobody in sight. The person was gone, and even worse, so was the mirror.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #the phantom woes of matthew luther #matthew luther #merula snyde #camille jeanes #rosie mayfield #verna malinda #cato reese #gwen dunmoore #helena ravenclaw

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youryanderedaddy · 4 years ago

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Hello, do you accept order? If yes, you could make a single one shot of Yandere! Brat Spoiled, please...

What would it be like if Yandere were the son of wealthy parents who always have everything they want, when they don't always get what they like, always act like a spoiled brat (and also his parents are afraid of their son, as they have already seen what he is capable of when he gets angry)... that's where the reader comes in. She is a new student at school, a nice and kind person, so the yandere knows her and falls in love so strongly that she never felt that way in life, but the reader is always rejecting her advances for being a spoiled brat and the way he treats the people around you.

What happens next?

Title: Eat the poor

Tw: non - consensual touching, obsessive/possessive behavior, violence, low-key bullying, blackmail / coercion, reader is in university

Part 2

It had started during your very first year of college, back when you still felt motivated to go to school and meet new people. You had heard the rumors about him before ever meeting his gaze and oh, did they disappoint.

You met Gabrielle for the first time when the snowdrops bloomed and the birds returned home – in the early autumn, at night, in a small crowded room reeking of alcohol, sweat and cheap cologne which you quickly realized wasn’t his. The man smelt like the cigarettes he never got bored of and sweet caramel. He was wearing a big leather jacket and a pair of dark jeans, yet the simplicity of the outfit seemed to suit the expensive brands displayed on the clothing. In a way the student represented the typical youthful boyish beauty with his golden locks, eyes the color of the sky and frame tall and well – built. Yet his face remained motionless the whole night and his body stayed still despite the mass of bodies dancing around in rhythm. But then some poor unfortunate fool managed to bump into the male, spilling his drink all over him, and his pretty face quickly twisted into a mask of disgust and anger.

“You stupid piece of shit!” The male yelled shortly after as his fist connected with the stuttering boy’s stomach. His clear eyes were now two wild thunderstorms pouring rain and lightning over the tipsy guy who was nervously apologizing and promising to pay for the damages done. “Do you know how much this costs?” Gabrielle spat with venom and pushed the other onto the floor, bringing his black sneakers to that white shirt until there was a mark of dirt formed on the otherwise clean fabric. Everyone else in the room had stopped drinking now and all the eyes were pinned onto the two men yet no one had the courage to do anything. Your own heart was beating hard in your chest at the sudden display of unnecessary violence but you had always been a calm kid, a kind soul too scared of its own shadow to learn how to fight properly. So you had no idea what to do.

“My father can have you expelled, you know.” The blond man suddenly spoke out in a quiet eerie voice as he pressed his foot harder into the shorter boy’s stomach causing him to whimper and squirm. “Unless you are willing to beg for my forgiveness, that is.” The bully proposed with a sly smirk on his pink lips as he glared at the victim underneath. The student on the ground was clenching his eyes tight so no one could see the tears in them when he shook his head no. You finally decided you couldn’t let this inhumane scene go any further.

“Stop this madness right now!” You shouted manically, drawing all the attention to yourself as you made your way between the two men. Gabrielle immediately pinned his burning gaze on you in unhidden intrigue. “This is too cruel. He didn’t mean to bump into you. Please, leave him alone.” As much as you had wanted to curse at the spoiled rich boy there was this suffocating feeling in your lungs telling you to be careful and play the mediator. The others quickly started gasping and some were already gossiping at your reaction proving your point that the guy was indeed dangerous.

Then he looked you straight in the eyes with his deep blue ones. He chuckled softly before smacking his lips in an unpleasant way, his “tsk” sending shivers down your spine. You had fucked up. “Well, well, well… Looks like the new girl wants to play hero. How cliché.” The bully grinned as he let his gaze roam up and down your body, your cheeks turning red in return when having realized he was handsome even while doing something so vulgar. “But if you do want to help him so badly…” The golden – haired man paused for a moment pretending to be deep in thought. “Maybe we could have a little deal, bunny.” He moved his leg away from the sobbing boy and stepped in front of you. From this close you could feel the warmth of his skin and the sweet aroma of burnt sugar it radiated. Gabrielle tilted your chin up almost gently and whispered in your ear “Kiss me.”

You tried to break free from the uncomfortable pose but the student simply squeezed your jaw line harder, his eyes cold and calculating, following your every move. You mind went blank and foggy at the forced intimacy and you couldn’t think straight with his breath on your neck. It felt like the time had slowed down just so the sadistic snob could mess with you a little longer. You opened your mouth to voice your protests but fortunately you didn’t have to say anything because at the very same time the host of the party appeared, ready to stop the fight.

“Gabrielle, I’d have to ask you to leave.” The dark – haired junior growled enraged as he pushed the taller male away from you. You couldn’t help but smile at him in appreciation. He was the only one brave enough to help you after all. “You are ruining the party for everyone. ” The stranger continued. The blonde seemed irritated at the sudden interruptance yet it was obvious he was powerless against the owner of the house. Still he grit his teeth and signed in annoyance as he turned to face the host. “Fuck you, Jackson!” The man cursed but eventually moved towards the door, red with anger. “My father will hear about this.” He looked at you as he reached for the golden doorknob, his features softened. “See you around, bunny.”

This was the first time you met Gabrielle. You already wished it was the last.

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

After the incident the snob seemed interested in you, blatantly so. He would eye you up in the halls like you were a shiny new toy in a claw machine and try to strike a conversation no matter how much you ignored him. The man never once apologized for what happened at the party but at least he didn’t bring it up so you counted it as a small victory. You gradually understood just how much power and money the heir had. His father owned casinos, hotels, banks and apparently even the university you two were studying in received major monthly donations by the big businessman. This explained why everyone was so scared of the blonde, especially when he did nothing but flaunt his status at the slightest inconvenience. And now he wanted you.

In your eyes the boy was just an annoying brat who lived off daddy’s hard work, there really wasn’t much to him that intrigued you. The male was handsome, pretty even, but his grades were terrible and his interests were bland and shallow, mostly involving expensive brands and grand parties. But the worst thing about him was his personality. The snob treated his friends like servants and his enemies like dirt, but you he rather saw as a challenge. Gabrielle would ask you out every time you were unlucky enough to run into him. The first time the man gave you so many roses you couldn’t even count them, the second he demanded your affection with a silver necklace in hand ready to cover your neck in his mark of ownerships. You couldn’t recall all the other gifts the blonde used to try and court you with but you remembered refusing each and every one.

“Why can’t you just give me a chance?” He exclaimed one day after you had just returned the expensive bracelet you had found in your locker. It was a dark winter night and the heir seemed irritated with you for the first time, his eyes a deep electric blue just like the sky. The man had you cornered against the wall but you were used to his pathetic attempts at intimidation. Yet today there was something different in the air around him, some small voice at the back of your head wondered whether this time he wasn’t just joking around. “Are you still angry about that little wimp I expelled, bunny?” Gabrielle asked contemptuously yet his pupils remained cold and distant. Once again he was too close for your liking, too close for you to function properly, but that was probably exactly what he wanted. You to be compliant and obedient like all the others who crawled and kneeled at the very sight of him. “Or are you sulking because I beat up Jones after he asked you out, hmm?” What? The blonde man was the one who gave Tony the black eye? But he had told you it was just a street fight… Why had your friend covered for the bully you both hated?

“Why would you do that to him?” You whispered, staring at the twisted boy in front of you. Your heart was beating fast and your blood was boiling hot in your veins but you couldn’t let him win by showing him how much his actions affected you. Gabrielle reached out and cupped your cheek gently before smirking mischievously. “He was trying to take something that belonged to me.” The heir said casually as if he was talking about the weather. His fingers were cold against your warm skin and you fought the urge to vomit right then and there. “I am not yours.” You spat out with poison and pushed his hand away from your face. Next thing you know his knee was separating your thighs, lifting your short black skirt up, his breath lingering on your neck. “S-stop.” You stuttered and tried to squirm out of his hold but the man easily caught your wrists and brought them above your head, pinning you further into the wall. He was stronger than he looked and you felt so small and helpless in that moment you could have cried if your stubbornness hadn’t prevailed.

“What don’t you like about me?” The blonde suddenly spoke out, his voice unnaturally broken and needy, bordering on a whine, crying out in desperation. You weren’t sure whether he was trying to manipulate you now or if he actually wanted you to answer so you decided to be honest anyways. “I hate the way you treat other people. I could never love someone as cruel as you.” You inhaled deeply, ready to voice all the painful thoughts you had kept inside since the beginning of the semester. “You are spoilt rotten. Metaphorically and literally.” The man was breathing sharply like a wounded animal after hearing your words and as much as you wanted to sympathize with him, you couldn’t bring yourself to after everything he had done to you and your friends. He was irredeemable. “Let me go.” You finally demanded, hoping to use him weakened emotional state to your advantage.

Instead Gabrielle clenched his teeth and squeezed down harder on your already bruised wrists causing you to whimper in dull pain. His eyes were wet but the tears had finally stopped just like his willingness to show you his vulnerable side. The man had tried being nice and sweet to you, patient, then mean and patronizing, and neither worked. So obviously it was time to become the terrifying bratty monster everyone was so keen on believed he was.

“Have you noticed how many people seem to go missing after talking to you just once?” The heir whispered in your ear as his free hand traveled down to your waist, drawing you into his hard chest. You groaned at the sudden realization that the snob was actually right, less and less guys seemed to show up to your shared lectures in the last few months, but you had always assumed they just needed a break from school. University was stressful after all. “Did you…” You started off but couldn’t find the right words. Did you force your father to expel them? Did you harm them? Maybe a part of you didn’t want to know the answer. “I did.” Gabrielle responded before you could even finish the sentence. The sly smirk you knew way too well adorned his lips and it wasn’t hard to see he had already won. “And I will keep doing it until you agree to be mine and mine alone.” The man stated confidently as he sucked the sensitive skin of your neck until you arched your back in shock, your eyes rolling up to the ceiling. “N-nhgg.” You whimpered as you felt his teeth dig into your warm flesh leaving a scarlet mark for all to see. “Come on, baby, we both know you are too good to let them suffer because of your own selfishness.” He taunted you as he left a line of small wet kisses along your exposed collarbone. You wanted to argue, to yell at him how you weren’t the crazy, selfish one, but deep down you knew it was pointless. Gabrielle had power and you had nothing to bargain with. He could have anyone yet he wanted to torment you. “Give into me. I promise I can make you happy if you let me.” The blonde uttered softly as his lips brushed against yours, almost touching them, following your reaction with his clear eyes. Your own were puffy and red from the tears but he didn’t seem to care much about your misery and discomfort. The man wished to own, not to please, but you couldn’t do anything. And of course you wouldn’t let him ruin the lives of the innocent. Of course your stupid heart was too good and human for your own good. So you closed your eyes and slowly connected your lips with him even though they tasted almost metallic, like blood and defeat.

“I knew you would come around, bunny.”

#yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yancore #yandere oneshot #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere concepts

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fridayfirefly · 4 years ago

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The Power of Luck [Chapter One]

Read The Power of Luck on AO3

Masterlist [All Works]

Masterlist [The Power of Luck Series]

Written for Maribat March Day 6 - Miraculous Side Effects

The Ladybug Miraculous had quite a few side effects. Marinette was able to think quick on her feet, she was a skilled tactician in battle, and her reaction time was half that of a normal human. Most notably, the Ladybug Miraculous granted its user the force known as Miraculous Luck, which, depending on the situation, was sometimes more of a curse than a blessing. Marinette didn't get to choose how that good luck manifested. For instance, when she needed an extra day to finish a history project, her school closed down due to a gas leak. Or when she wished for a fresh start after the defeat of Hawkmoth, her parents were offered a deal to grow their bakery business in America.

Marinette assured her parents that she didn't mind moving. After all, most of her class had already moved on. Lila had been deported to Italy, narrowly avoiding jail time. Chloé (much to her dismay) was sent by her father to an all-girls boarding school in England. Adrien was taken in by his Aunt Amelie (as Gabriel was in jail and Emilie was declared brain-dead) and moved to England as well.

No one else from Marinette's class left the country, but many of them moved out of Paris. Nathanial was accepted to an elite art school in Marseille. Max was accepted to a gifted program at an elite school in Bordeaux. Officer Raincomprix was transferred to Toulouse and took Sabrina with him. Juleka and Luka both started homeschooling after their mother sailed the houseboat down the Seine to the city of Rouen.

Worst of all was the loss of Alya. Her parents were horrified that the son of Hawkmoth was in the same class as their daughter, and promptly pulled Alya out of class and decided to move out of the city. Alya begged them for weeks but nothing came of her protests. In the end, Alya left too.

The Miraculous Luck could do a lot of things, but it couldn't keep her friends together. Those who remained at François Dupont filled holes in other classes. Marinette tried to make the best of her new class, but she felt no real connection to them. When her parents proposed the move, Marinette jumped on the opportunity. In Gotham, she wouldn't be haunted by the ghost of her old life.

Marinette cut her hair, leaving it choppy and just above the shoulders. She donated all of her brightly colored clothes to the thrift store down the street and created a new wardrobe for herself. It was toned down and mature, much more fitting for Gotham.

Marinette left Paris a much different girl than the naive fourteen-year-old who thought she could save the world. She was ready for a city like Gotham, a city that didn't make any promises, a city where Marinette could set down some new roots.

-----

At first, it was easy to fly under the radar at Gotham Academy. It was a school filled with the self-absorbed children of millionaires and billionaires, after all. Marinette was there on scholarship - her good grades, leadership experience, and working-class parents combined to cut her tuition down by 75%. Marinette quickly learned that scholarship students were at best ignored, and at worst mercilessly bullied. So Marinette kept her head down and vowed that she would get through the year unscathed.

There was one variable, however, that the Miraculous Luck wasn't able to account for. Marinette's entire plan fell apart thanks to one boy: Damian Wayne.

Marinette became acquainted with Damian Wayne through the school's rumor mill. She learned that he was one of the most wealthy and most attractive people in the school, but he was thought himself too good to spend time with any of his fellow classmates (Marinette couldn't fault him on the last bit; she also found the students at Gotham Academy to be difficult, to say the least). Marinette also learned through the school's rumor mill that Damian spent quite a lot of time staring at her. Given that Damian had never paid the slightest amount of attention to a Gotham Academy girl before, this was a big deal. Suddenly Marinette was the farthest thing from under the radar. Everyone who used to look down on her wanted to be her friend. It was exhausting.

Marinette resolved to ignore Damian Wayne - an easy task, given that she still didn't even know what he looked like. Now that everyone was staring at her, it was hard to

"Why?" grumbled Marinette. "Why couldn't my so-called Miraculous Luck help me get through one normal year of school?"

Tikki shrugged from her spot inside of Marinette's backpack. "Maybe all of this attention will turn out to be a good thing?"

"I doubt that." Marinette glanced around, checking that no one had spotted her talking to her backpack. There was one spot in the cafeteria that was hidden from view, a window-sill nestled behind a pillar, bordered by a wall on one side and an out of order vending machine on the other. Marinette sat on the window-sill every day to eat lunch, with Tikki as her companion for the meal.

"I think your problem is that you're overthinking this. Miraculous Luck always works out in the end, even if there are some obstacles in the middle."

"I just want this horrible school year to be over," sighed Marinette, setting her head down in her arms.

"Don't give up yet, Marinette. I have high hopes for this school year," said Tikki.

Marinette had some serious doubts but picked her head up anyway. Maybe this year wouldn't turn out the way she expected. Marinette defeated Hawkmoth, the greatest villain Paris ever faced. She could survive a year of high school.

-----

Marinette was going to survive her senior year of high school. Damian Wayne on the other hand... Marinette still wasn't sure if she was going to let him survive the year, after everything he put her through.

"Excuse me?" a sickeningly sweet voice piped up from behind Marinette.

Marinette put on her best disinterested-face, took out one headphone, and turned around. "Yes?"

There were three girls standing behind her: a blonde, flanked on both sides by a brunette and a red-head. The blonde girl had a smile on her face but a devious look in her eyes. Marinette had long ago learned to spot manipulators, and this girl had it written all over her. "Are you Marinette Dupain-Cheng?"

"Yes."

"My name is Julie Cooper. I was just wondering... Are you dating Damian Wayne?"

Marinette huffed in exasperation. "What do you think?"

Julie's eyes narrowed. "I just wanted to warn you. I mean, did you really think that Damian Wayne would seriously date a girl here on scholarship? You should break up with him before you get hurt."

"It was a rhetorical question. I'm not dating Damian Wayne. It's just a rumor."

Julie instantly perked up. "Oh, good! I was beginning to think that Damian had lost his mind. I mean, I'm sure you would be a nine or a ten at a public school, but at Gotham Academy, you're like a seven, maybe an eight on a good day. Most of the girls who go here are actually hot, not just," the girl waved her hand towards Marinette. "Above average."

Marinette wasn't sure if Julie meant for her to feel flattered or offended, but her words had the strange effect of making Marinette feel both all at once. "Um, thanks? I'm going to go now."

Julie's brunette friend suddenly paled as the girl started to tug on Julie's sleeve. "Um, Julie?" she whispered.

"What, Nora?" Julie's eyes widened as they fixed on something behind Marinette.

Marinette turned around to see what the cause of their concern was. Or rather, to see who the cause of their concern was. It was a boy, tall and scowling. "Are you done here, Cooper?"

Julia nodded, a nervous edge to her voice, "Bye, Marinette." She and her two friends hurried off, exchanging frantic whispers.

"What do you want?" asked Marinette with a sigh. She was tired of dealing with boys who were only interested in her because Damian Wayne was interested in her.

"I wished to apologize."

"For Julie? Did you put her up to this?"

The boy looked confused. "No, of course not. I meant that I wanted to apologize for everything, not just Julie Cooper."

"For everything?" The truth suddenly dawned on Marinette. "You're Damian Wayne! I didn't think that you would be so tall."

"You didn't know what I looked like?" There was real shock in his voice.

"Well, by the time I learned that you had been staring at me everyone was staring at me, so that wasn't much help in figuring out who you were."

"You could have googled me."

Marinette shrugged. "I could have, but it felt weird to google one of my classmates. I pretty much just resigned myself to never figuring out who you were."

"I should have approached you sooner. I've wanted to apologize for a while, but every time I've caught you alone you've looked like you wanted to be left that way."

"I'm not a fan of most of the students here."

"The students here can be..." Damian searched for the appropriate word. "Tiresome. I resigned myself to a dull four years of high school in their company. That is, until I saw you."

Marinette cocked her head. "Why me, though? I'm nothing special."

"You're different than everyone else here."

Marinette stiffened. "I know. I've been told. I'm here on a scholarship which means I don't belong," she snapped

Damian shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant. You move through life differently than all of the other students here. You don't care about the gossip or drama - at least, not until you were right at the center of it all. You've seen the real world, so you float above the high school drama. You're just so... so..."

"So what?" Marinette's tone softened.

Damian ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it. The addition of the messy hair added a certain charm to his otherwise polished exterior. "I've been brainstorming for the right word for weeks. The best I can come up with is pure. You don't let yourself become affected by anything in this school."

It was a very flattering description of her. It was also very on the nose. "I'll forgive you, Damian Wayne, but only on one condition."

"What?"

"I want to get to know you, and I have a feeling that you feel the same way."

Damian nodded. "It's a deal."

Maybe her Miraculous Luck wasn't so useless after all. Marinette had expected to go the whole year without making a single friend. Now, it seemed that she might make one after all.

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribat #daminette #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #MaribatMarch2021 #maridami #marinette x damian #miraculous ladybug fic #my work

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cherrywoes · 4 years ago

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dark sun. (ryoumen sukuna x fem!reader x oc)

xiv. boketto.

— the act of gazing vacantly into the distance without thinking.

You came back into your body with a quiet crackling of the air around you. You could feel the way you acclimated back to your own body, having been pulled from it without Shion to occupy it while you were gone. You were stationary, your fingers still gently pressed to Yuuji’s forehead, and it took you a few moments of blurry vision and confused thoughts for you to realize the boy was very much awake and staring at you with a wide, surprised gaze. You lowered your hand from his face cautiously, wary of earning some sort of lash back for invading his mind, but all he did was look at you with slow, even blinks to convey his mental game of confusion.

“Um… What’s going on here?” He questioned, eyes flicking from you to Gojo and back again, as if his teacher had an answer for what you had just done. He watched you reach up and gently touch the baby at your chest, frowning for a moment. “Shiraishi-s...san?”

“I apologize for invading your mind without permission.” You smiled and bowed your head, trying to resist the way Shion was attempting to work your connection back. It seemed he was struggling more than usual and it was causing your chest to twist and ache unpleasantly; likely a result of his leftover anger. He was still likely angry, you knew, but he couldn’t resist staying away from you for too long. At least an hour was his record, at least, you believed it was an hour—you couldn’t be sure when domains worked differently in terms of time. It was probably longer, you supposed, but you couldn’t stand around and wait to see how long it would take him to establish that connection. “And I also apologize for… hurting you, before. You must know I didn’t mean it, Itadori-san.”

He looked more befuddled than before, eyebrows shooting upwards in surprise. You wondered if Sukuna was talking to him somehow, telling him to befriend you—or something along those lines. “Oh, uh… Yeah. The god in your body did it, right? Not you? So, consider it water under the bridge, I guess.”

You couldn’t blame him for his hesitance. He was, after all, a vessel, the same as you, and he knew as well as you did that sometimes the actions of vessel and curse aligned at times. You weren’t sure about Sukuna in Yuuji’s case, but Shion’s actions aligned with your beliefs and wants perfectly. He didn’t doubt you for a second, and nor did you him—except for recently, perhaps.

The tampering with your connection was growing too irritating for you to bear and you could feel bile cresting in your throat. It wasn’t much, but you were going to purge you stomach’s meagre contents, and soon, so you fixed Gojo with a grateful smile; one that was laced with warning for him not to stop you.

“I’m afraid I have to go now,” you said, bowing low to Yuuji and Gojo separately. It was only the polite thing to do, and well, it didn’t help settle your nerves in the least. Shion twisted at the connection again and your smile became a little more pained, a little more tenuous. “I apologize for the intrusion, Satoru-san. Thank you for bringing me here.”

With little else to spur you on than the pinpricks of pain crawling up your belly and chest, you breezed past Gojo and up the stairs, slamming the door when the wind vacated the space behind you. The basement was silent for a few moments, maybe more, with Yuuji and Gojo staring up the staircase where you had vanished, as if you had never been there to begin with.

“What was that all about?” Yuuji asked, reaching for a half drank can of soda. He grimaced at the flat taste and the sickly sweet artificial aftertaste that came after, putting it down on the table with an audible clink. “Oh, gross.”

Gojo hummed and declined to answer, pulling another move from the generous pile he had donated to the cause, and cracked open the case. He spun the disc around the holder a few times, thoughts whirling as he considered your words from before, about the higher ups. The distaste in your tone as you spoke. He didn’t think you would have been one to be loyal to the higher ups in the first place, of course, seeing as you had been hidden from the world for almost your entire life—it wasn’t such an issue to assume that you were, in fact, harboring the same ideals he was: get rid of the higher ups. Your views, however, might be inherently more selfish; you had no care for any of the other sorcerers, not even for the woman who had been at your side since you became a vessel. You seemed entirely focused on escaping the confinement, the pressing holds, of the old crones that made up the circle of higher ups; at least, that was what he was able to read from you. Without that god hovering over you like a ghost, you were surprisingly human, and vulnerable—not that he had expected anything less. Yuuji was much the same in that regard. However, while parallel in origin, you and Yuuji were not the same, not really; your curse would protect you until the day you died, that much was obvious. Sukuna was much more malicious in intention, without a doubt.

“Gojo-sensei,” Yuuji whined, drawing his attention back to his student. He huffed and slumped over on the sofa, almost knocking over a stray can. “Are you even listening?”

“Of course,” he laughed, inserting the CD into the disc drive. It was a low budget horror film, he recognized, but he didn’t watch it personally. He had scooped up the cheapest selections he could find, with some more widely known titles like Lord of the Rings, but Yuuji didn’t seem to mind them as much as he thought. “I was just thinking about our new ally.”

“Ally?” the pink haired male gawked. “Who?”

Gojo tipped his head to the side, a large grin on his face. “You just met her.”

While Gojo shoved his student back to the test, you were worse off—perhaps even more so—your eyes darting across buildings and streetlights to gauge your location. Your stomach rumbled unpleasantly and you almost swore Shion was doing it to you on purpose, but you could feel his anger preventing him from unraveling the block completely; or he was conflicted, and was going back and forth on his decisions. It was wreaking havoc on your body, that was for certain, and you almost wanted to reach into his domain and pull him out yourself. If that was possible, you didn’t know, but for now, you could be content with a toilet.

You had to sprint to make it to your building before your stomach betrayed you. You had sense enough to lean over in a group of shrubs and hide your evidence, heaving your stomach’s contents onto the grass, and when you opened your eyes, spent, tears glazing your eyes, you noticed that it was entirely black; as black as ink, as black as the night sky in full midnight. You didn’t think you had eaten anything that color and when you rolled your tongue in your mouth, you tasted something sickly sweet and with the tang of iron.

Blood.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your sleeve, feeling it smear across your cheek. You couldn’t be bothered with it now; you had to get back into your room and make sure Shion was none the wiser to what you had been up to. Your stomach cramped painfully and you barely made it up the tree and across the roof, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from groaning at the pain. You wern’t certain if it was Shion or the blood you had vomited up that made you feel so awful, but you could attribute it to both if you wanted, and you did. You slipped through the window once more and locked it behind you, snatching up a book and cradling Ayako to your chest despite wanting nothing touching you at the moment.

Cold sweat dripped down the back of your neck and you were certain it had nothing to do with Shion now. You felt… ill. Sick. Diseased. Your heart was beating a little too fast; your pulse pounded in your ears; you felt anxious, panicky; you half wondered if you were having a panic attack, but pushed it aside when the connection finally unraveled like the petals of a lotus—slowly, and then all at once.

“Shion,” you croaked, breathy and light. You sensed his alarm at the growing pain in your body and a flush of energy breezed through you, dulling the pain bit not completely suffocating it. “Thanks.”

What happened? He materialized almost instantly afterwards. His hair was haphazardly put into a knot at the back of his head and stuck up in a million different places, as if he’d spent hours running his hands through it before tying it back up and leaving it as was. His horns even protruded from his skull, longer than you recalled them being, and he had dark circles under his eyes, deep and ominous against the pallor of his skin. He looked almost as sickly as you did, if not worse. Your gut told you that something more was going on here, something deeper. “[Name]?”

His vocalization of your name ripped you out of your thoughts and you looked up at him, sweat beading your brow. “I… I don’t know. I threw up, and then my stomach started—then the sweating…”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, gathering you into his arms. Your book flopped to the floor, uncared for, even as the page fluttered open to the ‘A’ section, the name ‘Ayako’ highlighted by a streak of moonlight. “If I had known my anger would make you so ill, I would have never cut off our connection. I could have stopped this.”

Your own guilt overpowered his. You patted his arm, just above the crook of his elbow, and grimaced at the way your skin stuck to his with the cooling sweat. “It’s alright, Shion. It isn’t your fault—your emotions, while new, aren’t something to be brushed aside. You can’t just ignore them for me. You have to overcome them. I think not sharing them is… making it worse every time.” You silently omitted the fact that his failed attempts at unraveling the connection had started it in the first place. You deserved this pain for betraying him. You deserved everything he gave you, even if it was unintentional. It was the only way you would succeed. “... Help me up?”

When you were safely tucked away in your bed, your clothes changed into something more cooler to deal with the sweat, you allowed Shion to sequester Ayako away in a pillow barricade and steal her side for himself, likely having learned it from passively observing you. He was careful not to jostle you too much, highly aware of the way your stomach was still churning, and rested his ear against your heart, tapping his fingers to the rhythm on your hip. You didn’t fight him off, no matter how uncomfortable you might have been, and played idly with his hair, pulling it from the knot and twisting it around his horns. Other than your breathing and Ayako’s quiet sounds of grunting and squeaking, the room was quiet. You could feel him gearing up to speak in the way his jaw was working.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you reassured him, throat flexing over the gag reflex you were trying to repress. A moment later it was gone, magically repressed—but you could still feel it resisting his power, strangely. “I don’t expect you to explain everything to—”

“But I want to,” Shion interrupted you. He never looked up at you, but continued to tap to your heartbeat still, even noting the slight stutter when your thoughts came to a screeching halt. “That was a… sensitive time in my existence. I admit that. But… I don’t believe I’m ready to speak of it just yet. When I’m ready, I’ll let you know.”

You waited for a moment to see if he would say anything more, to even hint that he was as angry as he was before, but all you felt from him was guilt, guilt, and more guilt, which made no sense; you were the only one who had to feel guilty about anything. His secrets didn’t have the ability to break hearts and fragile trust, after all.

“Alright,” you said, once it was clear he had nothing else to say. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Shion.”

“And if one day, I want to?”

You frowned slightly at his change in tone. Something was different. Something had… shifted. You couldn’t put your finger on it and shifted uncomfortably, reaching up to thumb the prongs of his horns thoughtfully. “Then that’s your decision, not mine.”

A pause. Then,”I see.”

“Are you alright?” You asked, finally, when waiting became too much. He looked up at you then, green and gold eyes flashing in the moonlight, and though his gaze was gentle, every instinct in you warned you to flee. But like a lamb to a lion, you were doomed to a careful existence with him. “You look, well, awful. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sick before.”

He frowned, almost similarly to how you did, and his eyebrows drew down. “I’m not sure.”

“I’m sure it'll be fine then.” You yawned, pressing your fist against your mouth to smother it. You snuggled into your pillow and shifted Shion to be a little more comfy, eyes flicking to Ayako, who was as placid as ever. Shion turned his head again and pressed his ear to your heart once more, obscuring your view of Ayako completely. You were blissfully unaware at the way his eyes narrowed at the child when you slipped into a deep sleep, mumbling,”Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Shion whispered. “[Name].”

Ayako froze underneath his stare, dark eyes wide, and remained that way until the god finally vanished upon the first rays of the sun.

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unmaskedagain · 5 years ago

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Raise yourselves up (We’re done)

Two prompts in one; let’s do this. I tweaked the ideas a bit though.

It was Bustier who broke the news to Marinette and Chloe, and she did it once again the most inappropriate fashion, “-And so the class feels it would be best if both of you were excluded from the class trip at the end of the year.” She finished. The class was just about to let out and she told the two girls in front of them all.

There were mean snickers and smug looks from the other students. The ones who just avoid the girls’ gazes; Adrien, Juleka, and Rose. The three had decided to stay out of it and just side with the majority. Marinette and Chloe had become best friends after Lila had gotten her hooks into class the year before. She turned all of Marinette’s dearest friends to ex-friends and turned them into bullies. That was fine with Marinette. She was done with two-faced people; done with turn-coats, and cowards. Marinette didn’t need them. Or want them. Chloe at least had the guts to stand on her own two feet and for what she believed in. It was a new year and a new Marinette.

Neither blond nor bluenette blinked.

“That’s fine,” Marinette shrugged. “It will be a relief not to have to fundraise for the trip.”

Chloe smirked, “Ditto. A trip to New York City, completely unfunded by the school, is going to be a lot to pay for.”

“They’ll have plenty of time though,” Marinette hummed. “A little less than a year.” The two girls cast them cool looks, “Good luck!” They chimed as the bell rang.

No one understood why they didn’t react the way they thought. Alya had expected tears from Marinette. Rage from Chloe. Then apologies and promises to do better. In fact, they all did. But they didn’t get it. Instead, they were left wondering why the two girls laughed their way out of the classroom.

It would take them months to realize.

Both girls knew though. Chloe always managed to convince her parents to fund thirty percent of whatever grand trip the class took every year. Marinette managed to put together enough amazing fundraisers to raise sixty percent of the funds needed. Everyone else in class only ever managed to pull together the last ten percent. Barely.

The next day the brand new World Travelers’ Club announced their formation and invited anyone to join. A few members of the class perked up until they heard Marinette and Chloe were the presidents. Instead, the class bashed the club and joked it was the girls’ lame attempt at making friends.

That was the last they heard of the club.

To the rest of the students of Bustier’s class’s credit, they attempted right away to start fundraising plans. However, no one in the class knew just when they should start and no one had any unique ideas; they only had a car cash fundraiser, the usual bake sale, maybe a raffle. Standard stuff they were sure would work. After Marinette, the former class president, and resident bully as far as they were concerned, always started off with those. Never realizing that she only started out with them at the very beginning of the year, and never stopped there. Nor did they realize just how much planning went into each event.

The class's first event was a car wash in November. It was a poor idea, as the weather had begun to take a turn for the worst and barely any cars showed up. They hosted it at the school figuring people would want to help out school children. Nino played music. And all the friends had a blast. But the kids made a total of 143 dollars a days’ worth of work. They vowed their next fundraiser would be better.

During the two months, Marinette and Chloe and the rest of the World Travelers’ club; Kagami, Claude, Aurore, Marc, Luka, Ondine, and a bunch of other students who always wanted to see the world fundraised like crazy. They decided that their class trip would be to six different places; Los Angeles, Star City, Central City, Metropolis, Gotham, and finally New York City. It would be a tour. They would spend two weeks in each city, touring and visiting, before moving on to the next. Each city had its own highlights and hotels that need to be arranged and paid for. Marinette did the math; they would need to raise a little less than $35,000 to pay for everything. She made it an even $40,000 to be safe.

Marinette set up a go fund me page an hour later. It wouldn’t be easy but Marinette knew they could do it if they worked hard and fast. (She only half-heartedly glared at Chloe when two grand mysteriously was donated to the club’s go-fund-me five minutes after she announced it the class. She did glare when Jagged and Clara both gave five grand each to their favorite designer and faux-niece. But stopped when Kagami said her mother was also donating $3,000 to the club.)

A week after the club’s formation, they had their first fundraiser. A car wash. Marinette knew it was best to get that one done as soon as possible while the summer heat was still around. It went great. They had it at a local park. Chloe played music off her phone. During the event, they sold ice cream and other cold sweets. Ondine had the great idea of selling full water balloons to children so they could run around. Marc sold quick funny Caricatures of customers. They raised a total of $2752, minus the two hundred for expenses that Chloe and Mariette fronted themselves.

The second fundraiser Bustier’s class held was a bake sale. It was in the middle of December and more or less a last-minute idea. Alya spearheaded the event, remembering how much money they pulled in from the last bake sale. She had the smart idea of doing it during a pep rally. Only to remember at the last minute that Marinette usually supplied all the best goods freely given from the bakery. Or made them herself. It didn’t take a genius to know that Alya nor any of the class would be welcome in the bakery based on the cold looks Tom and Sabine had given Alya last time she went in with her mother. So Alya declared all the kids would make their own goods.

…Four people got food poisoning; one of them was Kim. Most of the baked goods were dry and hard and virtually unappealing. Rose’s sugar cookies sold well but mostly because they were one of the few things that tasted and looked good. The class made a total of 128 bucks. They were lucky they weren’t sued.

The World Travelers’ club’s second fundraiser was actually a pool party at Chloe’s. She had led the entire event. The weather was still hot. They got Luka and his new band My Shadow’s Wonderland to play; Kitty section had sadly broken up due to Lila’s schemes months before. The club members sold tickets to get in. They also sold food: hot dogs, hamburgers, veggie burgers, ice cream, and funnel cakes. Kagami sold Balloon which caused her friends to do double-takes. Because Kagami knew how to make balloon animals, what in the world? Marinette and Marc did face paint and temp tattoos. Nearly everyone from school showed up. Even Bustier’s class, though they hadn’t seemed to realize The World travelers’ club was hosting. They earned a total of $3101. Marinette had long since learned the greatest trick of the fundraiser; don’t let make it obvious it’s a fundraiser. Make it fun and people would come.

Their third fundraiser happened two weeks later just at the beginning of October. It was Claude’s idea and he called it; “Can you Arcade it?” No laughed but he thought it was hilarious. They had got permission to use the gym to set up a video Gamers’ paradise. He got this idea when he heard the old arcade had finally shut down after Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone had opted to retire. He got the couple to donate the old game machine for a day to help them out. Claude only had to babysit their pet Parakeet for two weeks while they were out of town. Old arcade games line the walls. New games with TV borrowed from the club members were set up with the new game systems. They sold food and anything they thought a gamer would want. Aurore somehow got the local Taco Bell to sponsor the event so ever twenty minutes or so they had a deal with commercial playing in the background. This fundraiser attracted most parents with younger children; though a good percent was just nostalgic dads who ended up playing the games as much as the kids. $1700 was earned; most of it in quarters.

Their next fundraiser happened at the end of October and it was a haunted house; or rather a haunted school. They teamed up with a few other clubs to put the event together. They didn’t earn that much money; $300 after it was split between the clubs. However, all the kids had a ton of fun.

When November hit, and the weather turned cold, and everyone wanted everything pumpkin spice. (And Bustier’s class first fundraiser was about to happen) Marinette held did her bake sale. She with the help of the other members of the club made all the sweets; for once she didn’t have to get her parents to donate the baked goods. In additional, Marinette and the gang sold handmade little dolls of Ladybug and Chat Noir and the new miraculous heroes that had replaced the last team. The dolls were a big hit. Such a hit that Chloe got the idea of marketing them online for a much better price. The fundraiser earned about $600 bucks which weren’t bad.

Chloe and Marinette started selling the dolls for $10 bucks each plus shipping and handling. Chloe and Marinette made the dolls. The others took care of the shipping part. The

dolls only cost 2 bucks to make, as they were mostly yarn, so they profited 8. Chloe said that was how the business made money.

By the time December hit, they were had raised more half of their overall target goal.

During the fundraisers, each kid used their own influence via social media to get people to go their Go-Fund-me page. Luka and his band, all of who members of the club anyway, used Youtube and Instagram to promote their bands also asked fans to make a donation. Aurore used her Ladybug site Bugout to ask her fans. Ondine did swim training videos did the same. Marc who did drawing tutorial asked too. They didn’t get a lot from; a dollar here, three there, maybe a five if they were lucky but every bit count.

Their next fundraiser was a raffle in one of the empty unsure ballrooms of Chloe’s hotel, and it happened not long before Christmas break. This was spearheaded by Aurore. The strategy was sound; most people were still rushing to get presents. All they have to do was bid on the item they want. She got local businesses to donate. A fancy dinner from one restaurant, a bouquet of roses, expensive perfumes, a massage chair; a bunch of gift cards of various stores. Chloe got her dad to donate two items a spa day and a luxury Spa weekend. Marc offered art lessons. He also auctioned off some of his portraits. Ondine offered swim lessons. Aurore got offered a meet-and-greet with Ladybug, who even showed up to make an appearance. Kagami offered sword fighting lessons. Luka offers guitar lessons. His bandmate, Naomi, offered drum lessons. Another girl, Bridgette offered piano lessons. Marinette offered her usually big-ticket item; a custom design by MDC. The night was a hit. Once again, Marinette’s item was one of the highest bid items of the night. All in all, the kids brought in a total of $4728.

January came and Bustier’s class decided it was time for another fundraiser. Just as the World’s traveler’s club decided it was time for a break. Though they still sold the dolls; which had brought in $1800 since they had started selling them; Ladybug and her crew apparent had fans all over the world. This meant by the time February hit, they had just over $10,000 left to raise and five months to do it. They would leave at the beginning of June. They already paid for all of their plane tickets and paid for their hotel rooms. All their tours booked and paid for. All reservations made. And then reconfirmed by a rather stern Chloe. Passports were bought.

Bustier’s fundraiser idea was once again headed by Alya, the new class president after Lila decline the role as she would be far too busy. Alya decided a raffle would be perfect. The one they did the year before had been amazing. Again, Alya forgot that Marinette and Chloe handled nearly everything which was why it was such a big hit. Alya had to use the school gym.

“It’s not like I’d ask Chloe,” Alya huffed to her boyfriend. “I’m just glad I won’t have to deal with her or Marinette on our trip.”

“You said it, babe,” Nino leaned back in his desk. “No need for that kind of drama.”

The raffle was their most successful fundraiser so far much to Alya smug face when Marinette and Chloe walked into class on Monday. All the kids in the class participated and offered their own talents for use; offering lessons or gift cards from their parents' businesses. Their biggest hit was a picture and an autograph from Adrien Agreste.

“We raised over a thousand dollars,” Alya crossed her arms. A satisfied look on her face. She had worked hard. They had all worked hard. “Beat that!”

Marinette and Chloe shared a look before they literally fell to the ground laughing. “I can’t!” Chloe gasped for air. “I can’t breathe!”

Marinette struggled to contain herself, “This! I!” She couldn’t even get out the words. She was laughing so hard.

They didn’t even bother to pay the glares they received any attention. It was just too funny.

For the rest of the week, it was the running joke between them. Every now and then, the other students in the class would “Beat that!” And laughter from the back of the room.

February came and the kids decided in anticipation for Valentine ’s Day. They would do a Date Auction. It was Ondine’s idea and it was a huge success. Surprising considering it, it was supposed to be simple and easy and something to get them back into the fundraiser's mood after a month's breath. Most of the kids now had a strong online following and become popular among the youth of Paris for their awesome parties. So when word spread that the World Travelers’ Club was doing a date auction; a lot of students from school showed up. A lot of students from other schools showed up. One girl traveled from England specifically for Luka.

Marinette, followed by Chloe, Then Luka, then Kagami, then Aurore was the highest auctioned date of the night. Claude and Felix were both a little put out. Marc didn’t mind. Mostly because of the best looking guy at the auction bid on him.

All in all, they raised $2100.

The next fundraiser was in March. The spring warm weather had hit in full. Flowers were blooming. The fundraiser was a carnival Luka planned. Everyone set up carnival booths and games and fun prizes. Live music. They had it in on the school soccer field. A lot of parents with their kids showed up, looking for a family-friendly event to enjoy. Total they raised $2421.

Marinette’s dolls brought in an additional $900. Then it was official they only needed 5,000 more.

Bustier’s class tried another fundraiser; a dance party in the school gymnasium; hosted by Nino. They sold tickets to get in, snacks and drinks. They put off filers everywhere and did everything they could to promote the event. They made $750 dollars. And were proud.

In April, the World travelers’ club did another bake sale and another car wash and a ping pong tournament was a really big hit for some reason. By the end of April, they had met their goals. All loose ends tied up. All the tickets bought. Permissions slip signed. Four teachers, who were more than excited to volunteer to spend near all-expense-paid vacation in the most popular cities in the world, would be chaperoning. They were done.

By the first Monday of May, Chloe and Marinette breathed a sigh a relief as the stress had finally left their shoulders. The only thing they had to worry about was packing, and they had a month to do it.

The two girls once again arrived to see the smug grins of the classmates' faces. Bustier’s class had been fundraisers like crazy so much so that even the teacher was looking over her students proudly.

“We’ve raised $5,829,” Lila announced. The Italian girl looked smug as she had done al the work. “Fundraising was hard but we did what we had to.”

“Way better then we did under the last class president,” Alya hissed.

Marinette and Chloe looked at each other again. It was Chloe who spoke, “So you’re not going to New York?”

The question caught everyone off guard.

“What?” Alya hissed. “Of course we’re going to New York!”

Marinette sighed, “No, WE” She pointed between her and Chloe, “And the World Traveler’s club is going to New York and a bunch of other places. We raised over $40,000.” Most of the students turned green.

“$40- $40,000,” Nino stuttered. “What? how?”

“We worked hard, like we always,” Chloe flipped her hair. “That was our goal since September. Its how much it would cost to pay for the entire trip. For every member and required chaperones to go. Why? What was your goal?”

It went quiet. Alya spoke next, “Goal?”

Again, Chloe and Marinette

“Goal,” Marinette nodded. “The amount you needed to fund the entire trip to New York?”

“We didn’t have a goal,” Rose answered.

The two girls stared at them.

“What airline are you using?” Chloe asked. “How much do the tickets cost?”

No answer.

“What hotel are you staying at?”

No answer.

“Did you get your passports yet?”

Nothing.

“Have you made any reservations?” Marinette asked. “Any down payments?” No answered. Just pale faces.

Chloe just shook her head, “Did you at least get approval from the school board to clear the trip?”

“We need them to approve it?” Kim asked. “Why it’s our trip?”

“Safety and legal concerns,” Marinette said slowly. “It takes weeks to get approved. Permissions slips have to be signed and turned in. Chaperones found.”

“Miss Bustier’s our chaperone,” Mylene said brightly, and the teacher nodded eagerly.

Marinette fought the urge to scoff. Bustier couldn’t chaperone a ping pong tournament. “Fine but with a class this size, you need at least two more. Maybe three.”

Chloe crossed her arms, “How were you getting to New York? What were your plans? Did you book any tours? What were you going to do in New York?”

No one said a word.

Marinette smirked, “Good on you, I guess. You must have some killer fundraising ideas with only a month and a half until summer break.” She sighed. “I couldn’t do it myself. Way too much stress. The World Traveler’s club was killing ourselves since September to get everything done.”

“September,” Rose gasped. “Really.” She deflated. “We didn’t start till November, and the car wash was pretty bad.” There were nods.

“Yep,” Chloe said. “I think we did about fifteen or more fundraisers. Little ones and big ones. How many did you guys do?”

Nino frowned, “Five.”

“We worked really hard, though!” Alix slammed her fist on the desk. “Nothing worked.”

Marinette and Chloe shared another look.

“Shame,” Marinette said as they glided to their seats.

“Last year, the class did so well,” Chloe smirked. “Wonder what changed?”

“Nothing!” Alya shouted. “We did the same thing we do every year. Bake Sale, car wash, Raffle, Dance Party; everything!

There were nods.

“It’s not fair!”

“We didn’t do anything wrong.”

There more shouts and complaints.

Bustier calmed everyone down, “Now class, let’s not give up hope. Our trip last year was a success. And I know we can pull it off again. What did we do then that we aren’t doing now?”

The class went silent as they thought up what they were doing wrong. Surprisingly, it was Juleka who answered, “Marinette did most of the organizing,” She whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear; one of the few brave things she did all year. “Her and Chloe come up with all the fundraiser ideas and they plan them out too. They always did; every year.”

“This year they didn’t,” Rose frowned.

And just like that, it was like that, it was like a balloon burst inside the students.

“They always plan the best fundraisers,” Kim frowned. “And we always met our goals.”

Lila glared. She didn’t think that when she convinced the class to kick the girls off the trip that they’d be getting rid of anyone who did any real work. However, the glare quickly turned into a frown with a few crocodile tears, “Then we didn’t they help us? We needed them obviously.”

Before any of the other students could direct their anger to the girls at their betrayal, Nino shrugged, “Because we told them they couldn’t come with us, remember? So they didn’t help out. They told us they wouldn’t. Why should they? It wasn’t their trip.”

Frustration and rage built inside Alya. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The class should’ve been headed to a glamorous trip to New York, with Marinette and Chloe left to suffer alone in Paris wishing they had been invited. Where was justice?

“I bet you're happy!” Alya growled at her ex-friend. “Our trip is ruined thanks to you.”

Marinette smirked, “No. I didn’t do anything. I was and am in no way involved with your class trip. Just like you wanted.”

“You could’ve helped us!” Alix yelled.

“Why?” Chloe asked.

Silence.

“You made it clear we couldn’t go to New York with you,” Chloe said. “Why would we help you? It’s not like we’re friends with you.”

Angry eyes and red faces filled the classroom. No one wanted to admit that they got themselves into trouble.

Alya had to be held back in her chair by Nino, “You could’ve warned me how hard being class president was. Or what we needed to do to go on the trip. But you didn’t care about us. You don’t think about us at all.”

Marinette leaned back in her seat, an easy smile on her face, with frost in her eyes, “Sweetie, I haven’t thought any of you for months.”

Before anyone could say anything else. Bustier decided to try to take control again, “Marinette, Chloe; there must be something you can do. Maybe the class can tag along on your trip.”

Hopeful expressions overtook the students' faces.

Both girls looked at the teacher like she was stupid.

“Even if that was possible,” Chloe narrowed her eyes. “And it’s not. We had everything booked for months, reservations made. How will they pay for it? We only raised enough for the World Travelers’ Club.”

It was Adrien who answered, “Can’t you do something?” He said with hopeful eyes. “Our friends are really looking forward to it.”

“No.” Marinette snapped. “They are not my friends. And even if they were, it would take another 40 grand to get everyone in class on the trip. There’s no time to get that type of cash. Even if there was, it would still be weeks to get School board approval. The World Travelers’ leave on the first. There’s nothing to do.”

“We’re not risking our trip for yours,” Chloe and Marinette chimed together, looking very much like the Ice Queens the students had called them behind their backs.

That was that. Alya and the other students would shoot glares at the two girls, and make mean comments for the next month; mostly about them being selfish. The girls didn’t pay them any mind. Lila tried to join the World Travelers’ club at the last minute, only to be unanimously told to come back in September. Damocles, at the urgency of Lila and Alya, tried to intervene and stop the trip the ground, it wouldn’t be safe. Boy, was he surprised when the school board called him into a meet to speak about his future employment and the rampant bullying and oversight that had been going on in the school.

Bustier’s class ended up going to Disney World Paris for the weekend, before the end of May. And posted tons of videos, most of which had comments about getting away from bullies and the drama of the class.

The World Travelers’ Club left on schedule on June 1st. They would return for two months.

The pictures they posted was the talk of the school. Which was saying something since the school wasn’t even in session. The first pictures were of the grand hotels they stayed at, the amazing strange American food they ate. Carne Asada fries, yum!

In Los Angelus, the club toured Warner Brothers studios and ran into the cast of the new Star Trek movies. They attended the world premiere of the Joss Weadon Superhero movie. They got all the classic tourist pictures of Los Angeles. Though Marinette and Chloe, when they had explored by themselves, ended up running into the Rock and had a picture of themselves hanging from his biceps as he posed.

Their next stop was Star City. They toured the local museum, toured Queen Industries, met Oliver Queen himself. Then they even got to meet the Green Arrow.

Alya nearly broke her phone when she saw Aurore and the superhero.

After that, the Club went to Central city where they visited Star Labs. It was Aurore’s idea. It was the most meta-filled city in the world; known for the most outrageous heroes and rogues in the world.

It didn’t take long for the club to run into the flash, in this case, he was fighting against Captain Cold, Heatwave, and the rest of the rogues.

The fight wasn’t favoring either side. But the class watched eagerly from where they stood on the sidewalk.

They had to duck quickly when Captain cold was blasted into the wall next to them.

Leonard Snart was surprised when a young girl helped him up. He looked and saw a bunch of kids standing there, torn between watching him and watching the fight.

“Are you okay, Mr. Cold?” She asked, with a heavy French accent, her blue eyes big with worry.

“…Fine, kid,” He answered. “Shouldn’t you lot being running off.”

The bluenette and the blond girl next to her shared a look.

“Can we get a picture?” The Bluenette asked.

Leonard Snart paused, “…Sure.” There was, in fact, a first time for everything.

The kids cheered. And each one started scrambled with their phones to get their picture. It wasn’t long before Heatwave showed up to see what was wrong, only to be pulled in by a push blond to take pictures as well.

That was when the flash Showed up but Aurore quickly pulled him into an interview. Slowly but surely, the rogues and the team flash found themselves entertaining and signing autographs for a bunch of French kids; answering all their questions and telling stories.

Later when Aurore and the rest posted their pictures, and the interview with the Flash and his rogues, Alya did break her phone. As far as she was concerned life was fair.

In metropolis, They met Superman, Supergirl, Krypton (the former superboy), and the new Superboy. Superman had heard from the other league members of the French class touring different cities and how great they were.

They toured the Daily Planet and Aurore got one on one time with Lois Lane. They got to see LexCorp and had a tour given by Lex Luthor himself. Lex had heard about the class from Queen and Wells, the CEOs of Star Labs and Queen industries, and decided one-up his competition in any way he could

Then the kids' wen to Gotham. The pictures from that trip made half the kids in Bustiers’ class cry. The best pictures were of Marinette sitting in the Batmobile; Batman looking stern next to her. The ones of the club with Bruce Wayne and his kids were pretty epic too.

Finally, their lasts destination was New York City. And the kids saw everything. They did the entire tourist thing; The statue of liberty, times Square, New York Times. Everything. However, the highlight was the tour of Stark Tower/Industries; led by Tony Stark, with Pepper to manage him. Because Tony Stark didn’t get one-upped by Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne. Then the kids took a surprise trip to the Avengers compound.

Marinette and Chloe decided walking into the training room only to see Captain America, Thor, and Bucky Barnes working out with their shirts off was the best part of the entire trip.

Pictures and videos were taken of each member of the club holding various Avenger weapons. Chloe refused to admit her hand trembled when she was given over Captain America’s shield.

The funniest video was supposed to be each member of the World Travels’ club struggling to pick up Thor’s hammer. It was pretty funny. Until Marinette lift it like it weighed nothing. Mouths dropped. The Avengers were stunned. Who was this small bluenette worthy of Thor’s hammer?

Then Thor shouted that Marinette would come to Asgard with him.

Then Tony had to tell Thor that he couldn’t kidnap kids.

To which Thor said, “What about Peter? Where did he come from?”

“I’m his mentor,” Tony groaned.

Thor nodded, “Then I shall be the girl’s mentor. The Captain shall train young Chloe. Natasha will have Kagami as they are suited for each other; mostly because they strike fear in hearts everyone. Pepper will get Aurore; as they were meant to rule. Hawkeye will get Claude. The Soldier of Winter will get young Luka. You shall have Peter. The rest will be divided among the rest of the avengers. There. All done.”

A moment of silence, and then Tony yelled, “That’s not how this works.”

It was all on video.

It went viral in an hour.

Marinette had to portal back to Paris to deal with several different Akumas several different times; most were just about jealousy.

When the kids returned to Paris. They wasted no time relaying the stories of their adventures.

When September came and school started. Marinette and Chloe once again walked into class together, with smiles on their faces, only to meet glum looks on the students' faces. They paid no mind as they headed back to their seats in the back.

Before class could begin, Rose approached them, a hopeful smile on her face, “Marinette, Chloe; we were hoping you’d come with us on your next trip.” Her smile widened “And Marinette, maybe you’d like to be class president again.”

None of the other students looked happy at the idea but all of them could admit that the World Travelers’ club had been amazing. And if they ever wanted another great trip, they had no choice but to deal with the Ice Queens.

Marinette and Chloe shared a look and then shot the class cold smirks, “No!”

“We’ll be far too busy,” Chloe smiled, coolness in her tone. “We decided we can no longer want to go on any more class trips. With you.”

“The World Travelers’ club takes a lot of work,” Marinette added.

“Good Luck though,” The two girls chimed together. “You have plenty of time to fundraise though.”

“A little less than a year,” Chloe said. “Our club starts planning in about two weeks. We’ll start fundraising right after. We’re thinking about Japan. Luckily this trip won’t be as expensive as our last.”

“Good luck with your trip though,” Marinette leaned back in her seat. “Who knows? If your lucky, it’ll be as fun as your last one. We know you worked so hard. Earned over $5,000 right?”

“Beat that!” Chloe added.

Then both girls burst into laughter.

Marinette wiped her eyes, “Besides you don’t want us there on your trip.”

“Too much Drama, right?” Chloe offered.

The bell rang. And the class’ resident ice queens sat in back with smiles on their faces and ice in their eyes.

#ml salt #ml salt fic #Marinette deserves better #marinette dupen chang #chloe bourgeois #chloe deserves better #class salt #adrien salt

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shera-dnd · 4 years ago

Text

Cupid’s Kiss

Took me way longer than expected curse the whims of my mental health but the winner of this month’s 3k fic poll is finally here!

In which Carmen and Julia have a lovely totally not date in Paris while in search for two thieves who are certainly also not having a date

if you’d like a chance to get your fic ideas written by me, or just want to support me, you can feel free to donate to my ko-fi (rules over here)

and here is the ao3 link if you’d rather read it over there

also this fic was brought to you thanks to the help of @cantdrawshaw

NOW ON WITH THE FIC

Carmen Sandiego was the best at her job. She had bested trained assassins and killer robots, evaded the world’s most advanced detective agency, and destroyed the largest criminal organization. All in her early twenties.

Yet there was one task she was not prepared to face. One that escaped her skills, both martial and technical. One that she had failed to plan around. One that existed entirely beyond the range of her skills. A foe that she could not beat.

“Come on, Carm,” Zack called, “it can’t be that hard. If even Ivy could score with the girls, you can do it too.”

“Even Ivy?!” His sister replied, furious, “I’ve been with more girls than you, jackass.”

“Guys, guys!” Carmen interrupted, “you’re not helping.”

Mentioning her interest in spending more time with Julia Argent had been the biggest mistake she had made in weeks. This was supposed to be a peaceful day at their old home base, but now here she was.

Her friends were trying so hard to help her and she couldn’t even be mad at how poorly they were doing, because she knew she wouldn’t fare much better were the roles reversed.

“Sorry,” the siblings replied in unison.

“I appreciate the support,” she assured them, “but I’m not trying to ‘score’ with anyone. I just wanna get to know Jules a little better.”

“So this is not a date?” Ivy asked.

“No!” She replied, a little too quickly, “me and Jules aren’t like that. She’s more of a… professional acquaintance. A coworker.”

“Carm,” Zack replied, “we’re coworkers and you’ve never had a bouquet of roses delivered to my door.”

“It was just a thank you for handling all those precious artifacts for me,” she explained, “she’s a hard worker, she deserved it.”

“Sure,” Ivy nodded, unconvinced, “is that why you take time to chat over coffee with her every other caper?”

“Not every moment of our lives has to be a chase, you know?” she countered.

“Or why you keep finding excuses to dance with her?”

“It’s the easiest way to speak privately at those parties without garnering unwanted attention,” she recited as if from a textbook.

“Or why-”

“Cease this!” Shadowsan’s stern voice commanded and the siblings fell silent, “VILE has trained her to never cave under interrogation. You’ll have a better chance extracting information from a rock.”

Carmen smirked at them, proud to have her skills of deflection recognized.

“Do not be so full of yourself,” he added, making Carmen flinch just a bit, “I have taught those lessons for years and I know how to see through them.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she deflected, looking away.

He walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“I have seen the happiness Miss Argent brings you,” he said, “and I wish you the best of luck should you wish to pursue it.”

That meant a lot to Carmen. More than she could really express in words. But after she had been so thoroughly embarrassed by her friends, all she could really say was,

“Not you too.”

She looked up at the smirking siblings and braced herself...

“Hey, Red,” Player’s voice called, just in the nick of time.

“Player!” She jumped to attention and grabbed the laptop from their desk.

“Woah!” he exclaimed, “everything okay, Red?”

Zack and Ivy snickered as they sat by each side of her, so they could see Player.

“I think Carm would rather you sent her on a crazy chase instead of sitting here talking about her crush on Jules,” Ivy teased.

“Well it looks like you might get to do both,” Player replied, to Carmen’s dismay, “look who our cameras just found walking around Paris.”

The screen cut to a video feed of one of ACME’s hidden cameras over the streets of Paris. None of the people on camera seemed particularly conspicuous… until a particular pair walked on screen. Even without their costumes Carmen could always recognize them.

“Tigress and Paper Star,” she noted, “those two can’t be up to any good.”

“Looks like we’ll be going to Paris, eh Carm?” Ivy commented as she playfully nudged her side.

“City of love,” Zack added as he joined the nudging.

Carmen groaned. This was gonna be a rough mission.

Chase had grown a lot over the past few months. His deductive reasoning had vastly improved, his mood was far more amenable, and he actually stopped to listen to Julia nowadays. What hadn’t really improved with time was his overall clumsiness.

“Miss Argent, I’ll be fine,” his insistence was interrupted by a powerful sneeze, “This is nothing.”

“Agent Devineaux, please,” she pleaded, “you’re in no state to continue this investigation.”

Devineaux had landed himself into his fair share of rivers over the months he had worked for ACME, and it seemed that so many cold baths had finally caught up to his health. Not that he would ever admit to that.

“Nonsense,” he claimed, “I’ll be back in perfect shape by the time we land in Paris.”

The sneeze that followed said otherwise.

“Chase, please,” she asked again, “rest. I can handle this.”

“I refuse to send my partner on a mission by herself.”

“As sweet as your concern is,” she countered, “I doubt I’ll be by myself for long.”

“Ah yes, I’m sure La Femme Rouge will make for good company,” he agreed and she was glad he did, but it sounded like there was more to his words. “Were you anyone else I’d worry this was all a ploy to have some private time with Miss Sandiego.”

She shot him an unamused glare.

“Apologies,” he said almost immediately.

“Accepted,” she sighed, “but I do not appreciate any insinuations as to the nature of me and Miss Sandiego’s relationship. We’re good friends, nothing more.”

“Of course,” he nodded, but Julia could tell he had more to say.

Truly his detective skills have improved considerably as of late. It had become harder and harder for Julia to pass her excitement for those missions as simple passion for her work. Not when she had abandoned that work as soon as it conflicted with her passion for… something else.

Chase was her friend and she knew he’d understand her feelings for Carmen. She was also sure he’d do his best to keep it a secret until she was confident enough to bring these things to light. She trusted him and she didn’t fear anything of the sorts.

What she did fear was Chase trying to wingman for her. Just the thought was enough to fill her with dread. Enough dread to keep her mouth shut about her feelings in the vicinity of Agent Devineaux. Even if it felt bad to hide this from her friend.

Thankfully the Chief chose that exact moment to call her to give her updated information on their targets.

Now she could just shut off all these awkward feelings and focus on her work.

The Louvre had been an obvious target. The world’s most famous museum, home to thousands of priceless works of art, including the Mona Lisa itself. It was so obvious in fact that VILE had never bothered to consider it.

But VILE was gone now and its escaped students no longer had any faculty to dissuade them from this target.

That’s why Carmen now walked its halls, diligently searching for any security flaws that could be exploited and any sign of the two master thieves on the loose.

She still took time to appreciate the art of course. This was the most famous museum in the world for a reason and she wasn’t gonna let this unique opportunity escape her, even with the evil duo to watch for.

Carmen had her attention split in every possible direction, her mind juggling its many tasks as she wandered hall after hall. Until, that is, she found something that pulled her focus into one singular point.

A shorter woman in a nice fitted suit, standing before one of the statues.

“Jules,” she greeted as she walked up behind her.

“Miss Sandiego,” Julia smiled as she greeted her, utterly unsurprised. She must have been expecting her, “it’s nice to see you here.”

“It’s nice seeing you too,” she replied, “and we went over this before, Carmen is just fine.”

“Carmen,” she said, in a way that warmed Carmen’s heart, “I take it you’ve been enjoying your time in Paris.”

“Hard to go sightseeing while I’ve got work to do, but I’m making do,” she shrugged, “how about you? What caught your attention today?”

Julia turned back to the statue she had been appreciating until then, “Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss.”

Carmen smirked, it was her time to shine.

“Sculpted by Antonio Canova, commissioned by welsh art-collector John Campbell in 1787,” she recited from memory, “its prime version was acquired by the Louvre in 1824 after the death of its previous owner, Joachim Murat.”

“Very impressive,” Julia praised, “I wish my students put half as much time as you do into their research.”

“I’m just good at memorizing trivia,” Carmen shrugged, trying to hide her pride at earning that praise, “I’m sure you know so much more than me on the subject.”

Boy was Carmen right about that. That seemed to have been the cue to send Julia into a long lecture about the neoclassical and romantic periods, as well as an analysis of the sculpture’s mythological origins and the many interpretations of the myth.

Many people would probably find this amount of information unspeakably tedious. But for Carmen, who was always hungry to learn about the world around her (and could never get tired of Jules speaking so enthusiastically,) it was exciting and endearing.

Carmen had realized then that she wanted nothing more than to spend her every waking hour listening to Julia talk on and on about anything she wanted, as long as it was passionate like this. Maybe someday soon.

Right now they had the whole rest of the Louvre to scout.

“Alright, alright, victory is yours,” Carmen playfully interrupted, “I guess you really are the biggest history nerd here.”

“Oh I’m sorry, it seems I got a bit carried away,” Julia cringed in shame. Damn it Sandiego! “I didn’t mean to bore you.”

“You couldn’t bore me if you tried,” Carmen assured her as she placed a hand on her arm, “I mean it. It’s nice hearing you talk.”

“Unfortunately I no longer teach,” she replied, “otherwise I would have given you an open invitation to any of my classes.”

“Well, how about you show me around the place?” she suggested, “we can call this a private lesson.”

At that Julia smiled again, “then I hope your memory is as good as you say it is, Carmen Sandiego, because I’ll be quizzing you at the end of the tour.”

They both laughed as Julia led them along to the next art piece in what was clearly a meticulously planned tour of the museum. Jules kept her teacher face on for all of her little lectures, but as they walked from room to room it felt so simple and casual.

For once Carmen felt like there was no rush and that she could just enjoy her time with someone she cared about. Maybe that was the moment. Her chance to make something out of this and let Julia know how she felt.

“Hey, Jules,” she called, walking a little closer to her.

“Yes?” Julia turned to look at her, she seemed surprised by the sudden closeness, but did not move away from her.

Carmen decided to take that as a good sign.

“This has been really nice, you know?” she tried, her usual confidence failing her, “just spending time with you like this.”

“I guess it was,” she replied with- Wait, was that a blush? No, that had to be wishful thinking.

“Yeah,” she agreed, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck, “and I just feel like-”

It was then that she was rudely reminded of what she was here to do.

“-you have got to be kidding me!”

“What?” Julia jumped a little in surprise.

“5 o’clock, behind you,” Carmen instructed.

She turned to look and there they were. Tall, blonde and scheming, and short, monochromatic and homicidal. The two thieves they were here to catch. Two thieves that had also noticed them.

They both smirked at them for a moment, before Paper Star whispered something into Tigress’s ear and they both bolted in separate directions.

“I go for Tigress, you go for Paper Star,” Carmen ordered as she bolted after her target.

Tigress was the fastest of the two, and the one most likely to pull dirty tricks on them. Unfortunately for her, Carmen was well-versed in all of those tricks, and of course had all her equipment on her. It’s amazing how much she could hide in just a red hoodie.

Soon Tigress had led the both of them out of the main building, ready to make a run for it and disappear into the city. Her mistake though, was going somewhere Carmen could use her grappling hook without worrying about damaging priceless works of art.

She swung after her, quickly closing the distance and knocking her down with a kick to the stomach. Tigress groaned as she forced herself back up, but instead of running again or getting ready to fight Carmen, she simply shouted.

“Come on!”

“Done running around?” Carmen taunted.

“Yeah yeah whatever,” she replied. Well that was unusual, “did you girlfriend catch Paper Star already?”

“What!?” She nearly jumped in surprise, “She’s not- we’re not- that doesn’t matter! You’re going to jail, for good this time.”

“For what?” she replied.

“Trying to steal from the Louvre!”

“Ah yes, because that’s the only reason we’d be enjoying some time together in the city of love,” she mocked and rolled her eyes.

Was she implying what she thought she was implying?

“Aww, babe,” a voice above them called. Paper Star leaned out of a nearby window and openly teased her partner in crime.

Babe?

“She caught you already?” she continued

Tigress groaned again, “not my fault you got easy mode.”

Paper Star jumped down and casually hooked her arms around Tigress’s neck.

“Well I’ve won,” she declared, “now where’s my prize?”

The last thing Carmen expected was for the two of them to kiss right there in front of her, and yet that was exactly what they did.

“I did not need to see that!” She complained.

“You were the one who interrupted our date!” Tigress complained back.

“Do you seriously want me to believe that you two were just spending the evening together in the Louvre as a date?”

“Was that not what you and your little agent were doing too?” Paper Star teased.

Carmen’s reflex was to say no, but… was that what they were doing? They had been walking around, sightseeing, talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company and- oh god Carmen almost confessed to her back there.

This was her chance to have a proper date with Jules and it got ruined right at the finish line because of a mission that didn’t even exist in the first place!

She would have time to figure all of this out later, right now she had a job to do and two smug assholes to put in their place. Thankfully she already knew just how to do that.

“You’re right, it was very rude of me to interrupt your romantic evening,” Carmen raised her hands in surrender and backed away, “how about you two get back to what you were doing and I can arrest you both tomorrow?”

“What?” Tigress challenged, “no romantic chase over the rooftops of Paris?”

“I’m sure your girlfriend would love that,” Paper Star added.

“Actually I think Julia would rather just have you behind bars,” she shrugged.

Right on cue the ACME’s blue sleep gas finally reached the both of them, making them both drop on the spot. It was kinda cute how they were put to sleep still holding each other. Carmen almost felt bad for arresting them. Almost.

She pulled her grappling hook again and launched herself through the open window above, landing right next to a very proud Julia Argent.

“Two for one,” Carmen praised, “at this rate, pretty soon you won’t be needing my help anymore.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but I had my partner down there to keep them in place,” Julia replied playfully. Carmen’s heart skipped a beat at the word ‘partner’, even though she knew she meant it as coworkers.

“Always happy to play distraction for you, Jules,” she played along.

Taking another step forward, Carmen felt her sense of balance completely leave her as she accidentally inhaled some sleep gas fumes.

She tumbled forward, but before she hit the ground she felt Julia’s arms holding her up. It took her a second to shake away the effects of the gas, and another second to process the position they were in. How Julia was holding her like she had just dipped her in a dance.

For a moment they froze, staring into each other’s eyes as they held onto each other, until finally Julia helped her up again.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Julia apologized as she tried to fix up Carmen’s scuffed clothes.

“It’s fine,” Carmen assured her, “I should’ve been more careful around the sleep gas.”

Still Julia fussed over her, readjusting Carmen’s hoodie as she muttered a few more apologies. It took her a moment to notice just how close they were both standing now. The realization made her jump back a bit on reflex, but still she remained considerably close to Carmen.

She took a moment to collect herself before finally asking, “so uh- you had something you wanted to tell me?”

Carmen sighed in relief. Good to know those two hadn’t completely destroyed her chances.

“I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed our time together today,” she admitted, “before we got interrupted that is.”

Julia gave her a genuine smile that made her heart stop, “I enjoyed our time too. It’s nice to be able to talk about these things outside of work.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, feeling her confidence return bit by bit, “wanna do that again sometime? Maybe over some coffee.”

Jules seemed surprised at first as she caught on to what Carmen meant, but that expression was quickly replaced by a playful smile.

“Carmen Sandiego,” she called, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“Nothing escapes ACME’s best detective,” she joked, “I guess I am.”

“Then I’ll have to ask you to wait a little for my answer,” she asked.

Carmen opened her mouth to say that she was more than fine with waiting however long she needed, but she was frozen mid motion when Julia’s lips met her own. A quick, sweet little peck.

“I want to finish our first before we plan the second.”

#carmen sandiego #julia argent #carulia #julesthief #fanfic

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accio-victuuri · 4 years ago

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As an international broke af fan, I look at the endorsements they do and go wtf half of the time lol a bank?? ac?? robot cleaner?? I get the normal stuff like clothing brands/food but then there’s other products where I never even thought that it could be a thing that’s endorsed LOL. On the other hand, as a marketing student, any brand that acquires the two of them as endorsers are basically setting themselves up to greatness. It’s genius. Their selling power is insane and to that point, the whole endorsements thing is very tied to that culture as well. To me, that anon sounded like they were just questioning the general ethics of endorsements and that’s a whole different can of worms that I’m not going to touch here. I do find it really cute and endearing when WYB’s brands incorporate his hobbies hehe (someone please save him from colgate though, that’s actually cursed)

Hey Anon! Endorsements and this kind of support is not new to me but I agree that the recent ones are 👀. They need those in their home! That’s why they are endorsing. lol. Yep. Brands know how much money these two pull. I see fans who bought AC units from AUX and donated it to schools. Casually buying an Audi. Buying all 12 pairs of Molsion glasses GG modeled. If you go to Weibo, once an endorsement is announced, the ST will be filled w/ people showing ‘proofs’ of their support. Accounts of those brands will be filled w/ comments of people saying “ im a fan of xx and here for support..” i don’t find anything wrong with that. but that’s just me. we all have different opinions.

The ethics of endorsements and fan culture is a different topic. like the conversation that started here on Tumblr regarding GG’s Li-ning endorsement. Personally, I don’t police other people here in fandom or in real life. Do what you think is right for your fandom experience. I also don’t want to scrutinize c-fans and what they do, cause like, it’s their money. as long as you are not a minor and you have the means— you can go crazy with fan support.

Also True! All of Web’s endorsements has a skateboard in them. or motorcycle. plus they are very sweet to him, like Shu Uemura who were w/him since Day 1. even flew him to London for a shoot.

#ask response #this is just my opinion okay lol

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

Photo

With Zero Power

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: E Word Count: 3382

For @spiderman-homecomeme, with the following prompts:

winter power outage

holiday smut

“I can think of one way to warm you up.”

Summary: Peter and MJ return from skating to find their apartment not quite how they left it. Between the warm fuzzies of the evening they've spent together and the holidays right around the corner, it isn't hard to find a little romance in the situation.

“I’m not saying it wasn’t beautiful,” MJ insists, “but think how much lighting a tree that size costs. With the number of homeless slowly starving in this city? With the number of children below the poverty line who are going to school in this weather—” The arm she waves is instantly layered in thick, wet snowflakes that glisten as they pass beneath a streetlight. “—without winter coats and boots?”

“With the number of college students trying to make rent with only their girlfriend to live with because their three previous roommates staged a mutiny and forced the couple out because the volume of their nighttime activities was, quote, ‘obnoxiously loud and unprecedentedly lengthy’?”

She sighs in exasperation.

“I’m making a point.”

“I agree with your point,” Peter says. “Completely. I already told May I’m volunteering with her all next weekend, and I’ll call Pepper tomorrow to see where she’s committed Stark Industries’ holiday donations.”

“And ask her to triple the amount.”

“I can suggest it,” he laughs, “but I’m not her financial advisor.”

“Mmm you should be though,” MJ says, shifting from holding his gloved hand to pulling his arm around her. “You’re so sexy when you’re redistributing the amassed wealth of a late billionaire.”

There are icy crystals glimmering in her eyelashes. She’s beautiful. He could walk the borough with her all night, live in a loop where they’ve always just disembarked from a late bus, disoriented to step from its stark light into the soft glow of the snow on sidewalks that aren’t cleared with the same diligence as they are in Manhattan, around Rockefeller Center, where they’ve spent the evening skating. That would be a nice life—tonight, with her, forever.

Peter halts them for a moment and wraps his other arm around her too, pulling his girlfriend in to kiss her. He sways them as he does it, smiling against her mouth, her cold nose pressed into his cheek.

“Did you have a good time though?” he asks. MJ nods and her face rubs against his.

“My rental skates were a little tight, but I did wear two pairs of socks, so it’s kinda my fault.”

He has a new pair of skates for her, exactly the right size, but they’re wrapped in red paper featuring dogs with candy cane antlers, waiting to be snuck beneath her tiny artificial tree on Christmas morning. A totally outrageous gift—figure skates in immaculate white leather, like she wears in the pictures he’s seen of her at childhood skating lessons—but he hates it when all his money goes to rent. This might finally be the gift to make her cry. He’s cracked the bottle that stores his girlfriend’s tenderest feelings before, making her eyes shine the winter he knit her a terrible, uneven scarf (she’s wearing it now), and he’s certain the skates will be the thing she really loves. She’ll cry with joy, she’ll say they’re too much, he’ll carry her from the little tree to bed and keep her there until she’s begging for more instead of less. The thought makes Peter grin now.

“Take a bath when we get home. Your feet will feel better.”

“They’d feel better if you carried me,” MJ suggests slyly.

But she screeches when he jerks her against him and, in the relative darkness of their street, looses a web, swinging them both into the air. They pretend it’s still a secret how much she’s grown to love the sensation of sailing through the night with him. What Peter is far from secretive about is how much he loves the way she clings to him, trying not to feel too guilty when he remembers he should attribute some portion of her grip to the time he dropped her. Ah well, it’s in the past. His girlfriend’s laughing shakily as he lands them on the roof of their building and crawls deftly down the wall to the fire escape.

“Cute,” she says, shivering with the aftereffects of cold winter air whipping around her face. The tone is both complimentary and accusatory. “But we have to climb down now, unless…”

MJ’s eyes narrow.

“I… might’ve left the window unlocked?” he asks, because asking implies someone else has the answer, that there is a buck to be passed, as much as he would simultaneously like to hang on to any spare bucks during this expensive season.

“Peter, you can’t do that. You know break-ins are more frequent during the holidays.”

“Yeah,” he allows, edging the window open, “but who’s gonna climb up to the twenty-second floor to try to get through our window?”

He dives inside, then helps her through. The proof that she had a good time tonight is that she lets the window thing drop. Peter shuts and locks the window as loudly as possible behind them.

“Didn’t we leave a light on?” she asks.

“I’m not—”

“When I say that,” MJ cuts him off, dropping her voice to a hiss, “I mean I know I left a light on.”

Instantly, he’s stepping around her, keeping his arm out to hold her behind him. She has a bad habit of going rogue in dangerous situations. More likely than not, she’d grab a kitchen knife and end up stabbing him by accident as they checked every room for intruders. Safer for him to lead.

But it’s not a break-in.

“It’s cold in here,” he realizes.

As they moved through the small number of rooms that make up their hideously overpriced apartment, they left the lights off. Now, MJ smacks at the closest wall switch. Nothing happens.

“Aw, come on,” Peter begs the overhead light. He tries a lamp. Click-click, click-click. Nothin’. “Man!”

“Fucking Rockefeller Christmas tree,” his girlfriend accuses, though it’s not possible that even an energy-suck of that size could drain their building, way out in Queens. “I’m not having a bath now. I’ll be freezing when I get out.”

“Ok. Let’s get some candles first.” Peter starts to walk away from her, down the hall. “MJ, where are the candles?”

With his enhanced vision, he can see her well enough to catch the eyeroll. Fair.

By the time they have a dozen candles lit, it smells like every holiday scent at once. Vanilla smudges cloyingly across the sharper sweetness of candied orange peel, the heaviness of pine battles the richness of milk chocolate, and the cinnamon that seems to have been included in every candle is giving Peter a headache until they agree to space their light sources out. The room is darker with the candles far apart, but the smell is bearable. He also doesn’t mind how the flames catch in MJ’s eyes when she blinks, how a streak of gold will dart across her throat when she turns her head to watch him watching her.

Peter’s mouth is dry when he stammers out, “Y-you look incredible,” like they’re sixteen again and he’s got his gaze fixed on her legs because it’s 90° and she very reasonably wore shorts to school.

“How I feel is cold,” she admits with a small smile. She stirs under the blanket that’s draped across both of them. He strokes her shoulder over her wool cardigan. “I really was looking forward to that bath.”

And because the way she says it sounds nothing like how a person might casually look forward to anything, Peter swells a little in his jeans and shifts his legs closer to hers.

“Were you?” he asks.

MJ’s gaze goes from his mouth to his eyes as she smirks subtly. She knows she’s got him. When does she not have him? The complaints of their former roommates were undeniably valid. It’s a miracle he and MJ accomplished enough in undergrad to even get accepted into grad school. If she hadn’t been the responsible one, he would’ve been pretty damn content to spend those four years in bed with her.

Innocently, she rests her head on his shoulder. He swallows thickly.

“Mhmm. I was looking forward to getting out of my cold clothes. I was looking forward to grabbing a big, thick—” She grips his thigh suddenly. “—towel from the closet to wrap myself in when I was done. I was looking forward to using my cranberry bodywash in the tub. That one smells really good, right?”

Peter nods because forming a sentence in this moment is beyond him.

“And it foams up really well,” MJ continues, tilting her face, passing her lips lightly across his earlobe. He’s hard. He’s so fucking hard so quickly. “So, I was looking forward to popping those bubbles when I ran my hands all over my body to work it in.”

“Fuck,” Peter groans. He digs his fingers into her waist, through the sweater, blood pulsing in his groin.

She shrugs, abruptly nonchalant.

“Mostly, I was just looking forward to being warm.”

“I can think of one way to warm you up,” he pledges.

Trust me, he mentally urges. Right now. Trust me like you trusted me to keep you on your feet on the rink when your legs wouldn’t remember how to skate right away.

“Good, because I need you.”

“Say it again?” Peter requests, hand on the back of her head as she raises it from his shoulder.

“I need you, Peter.”

MJ’s hand jumps from his thigh straight into his lap and squeezes him through his jeans. He crushes their mouths together, the two of them breathing in hot pants like they can warm each other that way. Making to move over her, he’s pushed back instead, winded from more than the shove as his girlfriend straddles him with the practiced efficiency of a quickie before Spidey patrol or as an incentive between study breaks. When she rolls her hips against his… shit, she might observe Christmas on the 25th, but the friction of her grinding on his dick is the only Christmas he’ll ever need to celebrate. He plunges both hands deep into her hair to seal their mouths together and slumps into the couch, offering maximum opportunity for her to rock that beloved place between her legs along his erection. He’s already feeling warmer.

“No,” she yelps when he tries to push her sweater off. She snatches it back on and pulls the blanket up over her shoulders. “I’m still cold.”

“Ok. Let’s work on that.”

Peter tilts his chin up in invitation and repositions his hands on MJ’s ass. When she kisses him in a slow brush, he begins forcing her back and forth over his lap. He groans into her mouth to feel her angle her hips just right and shiver. Not letting her back down, he grips her and drags her across his erection repeatedly, until she can’t kiss him anymore, until her forehead’s pressed hard to his and she’s hissing his name. The oscillation of her hips in his hands is hypnotic, even with his eyes closed. He’s groaning and trying to hold back, having a hard time concentrating on an idea of what to do next to get his girlfriend off before he reaches that point himself. He wants her warm skin against his when he sinks inside her, not a sudden gush in his jeans.

Still grinding, MJ sits up straighter. She doesn’t take her sweater off, but she pulls down the front of the camisole she wears under it and tucks the material below her bared breasts. Peter’s happy to enjoy the visual while he rubs her over his dick, but she grips the back of his neck and compels his head forward.

“What do you want exactly?” he teases. “I’m a little confused.”

Eye narrowed down at him as she pants, MJ plucks one of his hands from her ass and guides it up to her face. It fucks him up pretty good when she folds down all but two of his fingers, sliding those into her mouth; she sucks with that almost-angry gaze locked on him before bringing his wet fingers down to circle her nipple.

“Ok, ok,” Peter says desperately.

“Just helping.”

A laugh pops out of his mouth, but then he touches his lips to her breast, kissing lightly as she sways. Her hand twitches on the back of his neck. Ok, he thinks again, pulling her nipple between his teeth. MJ moans blissfully and heat floods both Peter’s face and his groin. He jerks roughly against her and clutches her body close when she comes, cradling his face to her chest. There’s still something of the briskness of their walk home to her smell as he inhales against her skin, but also wool and the smoke that’s clung to her after lighting the candles. Her scent is rich. He feels rich, with his arms wrapped around her.

She shimmies her shoulders and the blanket drops. When she slips out of her sweater, Peter rushes to tear his hoodie (and the t-shirt caught up with it) off. MJ halts him in the act of flinging them away; right, candles. Gotta aim for a spot where he won’t start a fire. He unbuttons and unzips his jeans as quickly as he can, gasping in relief at the sudden extra room for the erection bulging beneath his boxers. His plan, as he hooks his thumbs into his waistband, is to yank his clothes down only as far as necessary, then guide MJ back on top of him as soon as she’s out of her sweatpants and pick up where they left off with her first orgasm. But, bottomless, his girlfriend settles on his lap before he’s ready. She shuffles forward, rubbing herself against him, making his boxers damp. Peter closes his eyes as they roll back. His hands skim blindly up her arms to fiddle with the slipping straps of the camisole she still wears—if the way it’s clinging to her from only below her breasts to her navel can be called ‘wearing’.

She kisses his cheek.

“Peter.”

He opens his eyes and watches her tilt her head to speak quietly near his ear. Candlelight seeps over and through her hair. He kisses where it pools on her naked shoulder and her soft breaths form words.

“I want you to bend me over.”

Peter turns his head and groans into MJ’s neck.

Running her fingers through his hair, she asks, “Is that a yes?”

“’Chelle, you say, ‘jump,’ I ask, ‘how high?’” he promises.

He whips a condom out of his pocket. She draws back and smirks at him, eyebrows raised.

“And how did that get in there?”

“I might’ve grabbed it while I was looking for the matches.” When his girlfriend continues to stare at him, he adds, “It’s dark! You were lighting candles! I dunno, MJ, it seemed kinda romantic. Why are you still looking at me like that?”

“You’re cute when you babble.”

“Stop talking,” Peter interprets with a sheepish smile. “Got it.”

She climbs off of him and stuffs the blanket into the corner of the couch while he stands and whisks his jeans and boxers down his legs. He almost trips peeling his socks off because MJ waggles her bare ass at him very unfairly.

“Come on, I’m getting cold.”

“I’m—” he starts, struggling with the condom. “I am… I’m going as fast as… there!”

Peter bounds onto the couch and catches MJ’s face in his hand, kissing her lovingly. Then desperately. Then sloppily pulling away to sneak a hand under the back of her top and press her down until her elbows rest on the arm of the couch. Taking a deep breath, he strokes his other hand from the back of her neck all the way to her ass. This is kinda hot with her shirt still on. He’s glad that, for as much as they discuss and debate things like the misuse of municipal funds on holiday decorations, they’re still in their hasty days. Still young, still eager. He grips himself and flexes his fingers as he traces the head of his dick through MJ’s arousal.

“Getting cold,” she repeats.

“Spider-Man is here to help, ma’am,” he jokes, pushing inside her.

Fuck. Peter works his hips gently forward and back, building up to plunging deeper the same way he tiptoes out into the water when they visit the beach too early in the year. But this isn’t like the chilly springtime ocean because she’s warm as she takes him—so, so warm.

“Uh, MJ? Baby? Sweetheart? I thought you said you were cold,” he grits out.

She presses back against him as he finally thrusts all the way in.

“I always keep the home fires burning for you.”

“Well, that was raunchy. You’ve been living with me too long.”

“How could I ever move out with perks like a December power outage?”

Grinning, Peter begins a loose swing of his hips, gazing down MJ’s back at the shadows and light sliding over the rounded edges of her neck, her shoulder blade, her ear as she tips her head to let her hair hang to the side. When her low moans start, he repositions his knees on the couch cushions and digs in with his toes. The wet smack of driving into her is loud in their little sanctuary. He takes her by the hips as she bows her head to her crossed forearms, moving faster, gliding in and out with more grace than he has when navigating an ice rink with skate blades on his feet. MJ spreads her legs wider and drops her head even lower. She is graceful, with the steep slope of her back that Peter can’t resist pressing a hand to. At his touch, she bends even further and he chokes on an already raspy inhalation.

“Faster, Peter,” she requests.

Not loud, not demanding. She knows he can hear her because he’s always listening for her voice. It coaxes him onward from beneath the urgent slap of his thrusts.

He hunches over her, wrapping one arm around her waist as they buck together, his other hand diving between her legs. She’s soaked and her hips are jumping in time with his, so it’s hard to keep his fingers on her swollen clit. Suddenly, MJ has her hand over his, directing his fingers. Reality grows hazy as pleasure creeps into his thighs and trickles invisibly down his stomach, like the phantom touch of his girlfriend beneath him. Peter squints against the light of their candles and so much feeling, flicking his fingers over the sensitive nub that has MJ’s legs quivering. He kisses her spine and scrapes the edge of her camisole with his teeth. She’s shaking too hard to thrust back. Groaning, Peter bucks in a quick burst, holding her body up as she threatens to slump flat.

“You warm yet?” he huffs. “Show me you’re warm.”

“Peter… almost.”

Abruptly, he sits back on his heels, hauling MJ with him. Sweating now, Peter bounces her on his lap. His hands squeeze the smooth skin of her hips. She gasps before moaning deeply and reaching up to wrap an arm behind his neck, arching against him.

“God,” he mutters, looking down over her shoulder to watch the jiggle of her breasts and the tension of her stomach, “I already want you again.”

Because of his words, or his hands, or his cock slamming up into her, she climaxes, clenching around him and stuttering over his name. Peter buries his nose in her hair to avoid the overpowering scent of the candles as his senses sharpen to the finest point; he’s learned this only happens when he’s lost in either the pain of a grave injury or the satisfaction of releasing into MJ. He pulses, hips snapping, hugging her against his chest, flushed with warmth from the top of his ears to where his toes grip the couch.

“Bath?” Peter pants in her ear, dick still twitching inside her. “I swear I won’t let you get cold.”

Just like that, the overhead light and the lamp on the end table blink on. Huh. Power’s back.

“Or maybe you don’t need me to,” he says.

MJ turns her head and kisses the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t be stupid. I’ll grab the candles. You hit the lights.”

#promptmas #my writing #spideychelle #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years ago

Text

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 7

<- Chapter 6 | Chapter 8 ->

Summary: I gave myself a stomach ache writing this one 🙃

2,961 words

Thirty-two days. Nine surgeries. Twenty blood transfusions.

Sometimes it seemed like just yesterday when everything was going right—you and Frederick were so happy together, his books were selling, your career was flourishing, and he had just asked you to marry him. Sometimes, it felt like a lifetime ago. A state of being so foreign, you wondered if it had even been real, or if you were remembering someone else’s life.

Seasons turned. Cherry blossoms were starting to bloom in the parks around Maryland, and each gust of cool wind carried with it their sweet pink fragrance. The spring air vibrated and sang with life renewed. But where you were headed, the air was stagnant, beige, and sterile.

As the automatic sliding glass doors drew you into the hospital, away from the sun, a piece of your heart withered like a flower. It sank deeper when you considered how the unhappy hours you whiled away in those sterile halls were nothing compared to what Frederick had to endure. He didn’t have the luxury of being able to leave.

Physically, he was beginning to show signs of real improvement. The pneumonia had completely cleared up, and he was starting to receive permanent transplants from the cutting-edge, lab-grown skin created from his own cells. Most of his body was still wrapped up in gauze, but a few places had only received second-degree burns, and those patches were almost back to normal. For the first time since the attack, his odds of not dying were higher than his odds of dying.

Mentally was a different story. His moods grew progressively more sour. With none of his true nemeses at hand to take out his bitterness on, that burden fell upon his nurses, doctors, and upon you—and it was beginning to weigh heavily. At first you didn’t want to see the rift that was forming, even as he cut your visiting hours short in an angry huff, and had fewer and fewer kind words for you. You shoved every fear and frustration into a box at the back of your mind so you could keep smiling. He was just in pain, you kept telling yourself. He just needed time.

You held onto the hope that as he got better, your relationship would return to what it had been before. But he was getting better, and the rift grew wider.

“We’ll still want to wait at least six months to do the procedure, until your infection risk has dropped to baseline levels for a healthy adult, but we’re putting you on the transplant waiting list now,” the doctor explained. She was one of his regular surgeons who had been with him since day one. She wore a white lab coat over blue scrubs, and hid behind a clipboard as she spoke. You liked the that she needed to use the file as a shield—it made her relatable. Always friendly, and clearly a skilled surgeon, but uncomfortable with the heavy emotional talking to patients, especially to Dr. Frederick Chilton, who was always in a bad mood, and always ready with a scathing remark.

But today he had nothing to say. No critique on the hospital’s competence. No casual observations with hidden barbs. Just a silent nod of acknowledgment before turning his head to gaze out the window at the fresh spring flowers, framed by the sea of fake ones you had bought.

Francis Dolarhyde, the Red Dragon, had bitten Frederick’s mouth with such extreme ferocity there was not enough connective muscle left to reconstruct new lips from Frederick’s own tissue. The only option for him to look normal again would be a face transplant—donated facial muscle, skin, and hair from a cadaver—although the doctor explained that the procedure was risky. After taking the transplant, Frederick would be put on immunosurpressant drugs for the rest of his life to prevent rejection, which meant every flu season, or even a coworker with a cold, could turn deadly without careful precaution. But to Frederick, it was worth the risk. He couldn’t bear spending his life being stared at. He couldn’t even stand you looking at the black hole that was his face.

Yet what the doctor explained about the procedure added weight after weight to Frederick’s chest until he felt crushed by despair.

The donated tissue had to be a very close match, or his antibodies would reject the new lips. Unlike receiving a heart or a kidney, his new skin had to be an aesthetic match as well. It could not be from too old a donor, or the skin would lack the proper elasticity. And, unfortunately, most organ donors were not comfortable donating external organs—it ruins the open-casket wake.

So, he could be waiting on a match for a very long time.

You thanked the clipboard-wielding doctor when Frederick remained sulking, not bothering to look up as she left. He adjusted himself slightly to follow a flash of movement—a bird—out the window, and winced as it tugged his unyielding scar tissue. Something tore under his armpit, but he didn’t yelp in pain—he was used to this level of it by now—but his eyes watered.

“At least you can sit up a little bit now. That’s great, isn’t it?” you said in an attempt to cheer him up.

He scoffed, and made no immediate reply.

Years, was all he kept thinking. It could take up to three years to find a match, possibly longer, the doctor said.

“Up to three years or longer,” he growled sarcastically. “She does realize that means nothing? It means any time, or never.”

“I know...”

“But thank god at least I can sit,” he spat bitterly. “A little.”

You were taken aback by his sharp rebuke and fell silent, a cavernous gulf between you though you sat right beside his bed. As you recovered from the sting, however, his words made you smile. He had always been churlish, but recently all of the spirit had been eroded away from his petty attitudes, leaving him defeated and mean. It was nice to hear his churlishness take on a spark of sarcastic sass.

“Don’t lose hope, darling,” you said in an overly-sweet patronizing cadence. “One day you’ll have enough movement back to flip her off.”

He paused, eyes flicking over to you curiously. You had been downtrodden for weeks, too, and he hadn’t expected a joke. He chuckled appreciatively. You wished the good moments lasted longer these days.

It wasn’t as though his life had ended, even if his full cosmetic recovery would take a little longer than he hoped, and even if he was bedridden for several more months. It was that sharp mind and wit that made you fall in love with him, and he still had that. He could keep you entertained for hours discussing some arcane piece of trivia or sharing lurid gossip. Since he was cut off from his normal sources of scuttlebutt, you kept him updated on all the latest rumors you’d learned over dinner with Jack Crawford—about the shitstorm he’d brought down on himself at the FBI when Will Graham went rogue, how Alana and her wife fled the country (but you heard they might be in Cuba), Freddie Lounds being sued again. He always enjoyed hearing about other people’s misfortunes, but today it just made him jealous that you’d been spending time with Jack.

“You have both recently lost a spouse. What comfort you must take in each other,” he insinuated.

“I haven’t lost you, Frederick.”

You went into that sentence thinking you were convincing him that you loved him, but as it closed, you realized you were desperate to convince yourself he wasn’t gone. The more you tried to hold him close, the more you felt him pulling away, and felt a creeping dread that even if he got better, you would lose him. Everything you tried to say to reassure him only made him feel worse, and you wondered if it was your fault. Someone more capable, more empathetic, would know the right things to say. You were a failure. He deserved more.

His professional life, too, hadn’t ended. His injury would barely be a bump in the road to his writing career if he wasn’t so stubborn and prideful. The publisher offered to send a ghostwriter to finish The Dragon Slayer, for which they greedily anticipated a significant boost in sales, considering the author’s headline-making personal involvement in the Red Dragon’s end. Frederick, however, refused to be interviewed by “some insipid amateur.” He claimed they would not understand the nuances of psychology required, and stood firm on the grounds of “artistic integrity,” but the truth was, he did not want anybody else to see him.

His face had not made it into the papers, despite several attempts by Freddie Lounds to sneak into the hospital with a hidden camera, and he did not want any more of the world than absolutely necessary to know the extent of what the Dragon had done to him. He did not want to see the shock in the writer’s eyes at seeing his disgusting lipless teeth. He did not want a stranger to see him inevitably start drooling the longer he spoke—and he hated repeating himself to people who could not understand his impaired diction.

No. Publishing The Dragon Slayer would have to wait, though the possibility of another author beating him to the punch bothered him nearly as much as his missing lips. After an entire month recuperating, he thought he would at least be able to type again, but he could barely move his gauze-mittened fingers.

The world had not forgotten him, evidenced by the occasional fan-mail the publisher forwarded to him. You would bring them in and read them—a lot of get-well-soons, and entreaties to hear his side of the Francis Dolarhyde story. A lot of them were from professionals and students in the psychiatric field, pointing out errors or suggesting contradictory theories. Those were the most fun to read, because Frederick would come alive with indignation, debating with the letter as if its sender could hear him, sometimes making you send a response, seething with superiority as he dictated.

In those brief moments, it was like having the old Frederick back. Then a nurse would come in and need to run a test, or feed him, or something else that embarrassed him back into his shell of anger. Or he would grow too animated and rip one of his grafts, and his zeal for argument would end precipitously with a scream, and a surgeon.

As you shuffled a handful of addressed envelopes and started reading through the latest batch of strangers wishing him a healthy recovery, you were struck by a thought.

“Why haven’t I met your family?”

The wind caught in his throat. His scabbed-over nostrils flared before he answered, “I doubt that is what the letter reads.”

“They never visit, even when… even when you could have died. My parents even flew in that first week, when they heard. They helped me with the flowers. Why do your fans send more condolences than your family?”

Gritting ones teeth does not come easily when ones teeth are constantly bared by default, but Frederick grit his teeth. “My mother is old. She can hardly be expected to travel.”

A plausible answer, but not the full story. His discomfort with the subject only spurred your curiosity. All the time you’d been together, you had simply accepted Frederick as an individual, with no need for a childhood backstory or a group of others sharing his features and last name to complete him. You’d gathered, in snippets, that their relationship was not the best, and were satisfied to leave it alone. But he nearly died. The nurse who asked you about his next of kin looked so confused when you had no one you could contact, and it made you feel foolish for never having asked.

“It’s just, we’re going to be married.”

“So?” he said, a hard, mocking edge to his voice.

“So, if I’m going to be part of your family, isn’t it weird that I’ve never met them?”

Instead of answering directly, he snarled, “Look somewhere else.”

“I wasn’t staring!”

“Look. Somewhere. Else.”

You huffed, and sat back in your uncomfortable plastic chair whose unpadded seat bruised your butt after countless hours, crossing your arms. The box full of anger was overstuffed. You shoved its contents down like clothing in a suitcase to squeeze one more sting of hurt inside, but it began to overflow. “I swear I don’t stare at your face any more than I used to,” you muttered aloud what was supposed to remain a thought, “but now every interaction needs to be a carefully calculated balance between not looking at you enough to feel gawked at, and not not-looking enough to make you feel like I’m averting my eyes from your horrible face.” At the word “horrible,” you wiggled your fingers and wavered your voice the way the vampire running a children’s haunted house would say the word “spooky.”

“I am sorry my suffering is so inconvenient for you,” he said in clipped, cold syllables, and you knew you’d pushed him too far.

“I’m just saying, you know I don’t care about your face. You’re acting the same way as when you got shot, and you got over that. You know I still think you’re beautiful. Can’t you give me some credit and just stop freaking out?”

Being stuck in a hospital bed with limited range of motion, he had few resources with which to express anger, but his chest rose and fell and his breath hissed like steam through his nose. “You...” he seethed. “You never care about the pain I suffer, do you? You, in your fantasy world where you accept my injuries and make it all better—you have no idea what it is like to be violated. To have your body ripped apart! It is not a thing one ‘gets over.’ Beautiful? That is rich coming from one who would not know how to tuck in a shirt without my guidance. It must be lovely in whatever quaint children’s storybook your mind inhabits, but in the real world, appearance matters. It matters to me. Your fetish does not stop every sane individual from seeing ugliness. You believe I should be delighted to have a partner who calls ugliness beauty and trivializes my grief? I should have had you analyzed years ago—my judgment was compromised by my relationship with you. I could not see. Your attachment increases with my physical deterioration. You prefer me broken.”

“That… that isn’t true! How dare—”

“You could barely tolerate me before Abel Gideon took my kidney. I was shot in the face and suddenly you professed your love. What shall it be this time? Ah, yes—marriage. You must be elated.” He rolled the words over his tongue in that distinctively upper-class way that was almost musical, yet bone-cuttingly brutal.

“Stop. This had nothing to do with it—you proposed to me!”

His eyes had been flashing with energy behind the bandages as you argued, but all the anger in them vanished like a message written in steam on a bathroom mirror. They took on a dull, blank glaze.

“Then I take it back,” he said. You wished you believed he meant the accusation. His head shifted toward you, but his dull stare seemed to look right through you to the door. “The engagement is over.”

Your throat dried up. “You don’t mean that,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I will not be with one who gains pleasure from my mutilation. Get out of my room. There are some amputees over in the rehabilitation ward; go explore your fetishes elsewhere.”

He couldn’t be serious, and yet there was no hint of sarcasm or hyperbole in his flat tone. He meant it. You were surprised to find that you weren’t sad. Your hands began trembling uncontrollably, the tiny convulsions working their way from your extremities to your shoulders, tightly clenching in your gut, but it wasn’t sadness. The overfilled box tore open at the seams, exploding its pressurized contents, and weeks of frustration shattered against the walls and cascaded out over the floor.

“Fine!” you stood up from the hated plastic chair so sharply it scraped across the laminate floor and tipped over backward. “I can’t put up with a second more of this, anyway! I can’t keep walking on eggshells waiting for you to snap—if this is the way it’s going to be from now on, then marrying you would be a nightmare.”

If you had seen him flinch as if your words had physically wounded him, then you might have stopped shouting. A surge of pity might have overwhelmed you, and you might have broken down sobbing. He might not have been able to go through with it, then. Seeing you blubbering with heavy, hot tears rolling down your face, he might have said he was sorry, like he wished he could have said if only he were not so much like his father.

But you were too angry to look at him, and you didn’t see him flinch.

So a moment later when your back was in the doorway, instead of I’m sorry, he said, “Keep the ring. Sell it, and get a new apartment. Do not come back.”

“Fuck you!”

#Frederick Chilton x reader #frederick chilton #Raúl Esparza #hannibal #angst #my writing #and now as a reward I finally get to read beccabarba's Chilton fic :D

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emiken-070907 · 3 years ago

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A Different Kind Of Story - Dance and Grace

It was time for some music and refinement. After some business talk with a scammy octopus lady, Yuko decided to show a small feast she once was invited to, arranged by her friends from Scarabia, and some day-to-day life at the ever so gorgeous Pomefiore.

A Different Kind of Story: Chapter 4

Yuko hasn't even been a solid 5 minutes in the Scarabia dorm, but they already were melting. The afternoon sun was brutal on her skin. Grim wasn't doing any better.

"Are you ok, Yuko? Should I get you something to drink?" Yuko turned her head two face two worried, red eyes.

"Is that a yes or a no? You know what? It doesn't matter. I'll get you one," Kalim said as she patted Yuko on the shoulder before getting up. The brunette tried to stop her, but Kalim didn't listen and quickly came back with some drinks.

"You really shouldn't have to..." Yuko said but took the drinks regardless. "You don't have to be so polite! You two are our guests! A drink or two should be the least!" Yuko could have sworn she needed sunglasses with how bright Kalim was. It gave her a warm feeling of familiarity.

All of a sudden, a sweet and flavourful smell filled the lively lounge of Scarabia. A brunette with long hair and a hood came into the room. She carried multiple plates with different foods, which vary from perfectly sweet to super spicey.

"Wow! These smell amazing, Jamil-senpai," The Prefect of Ramshackle praised, clapping their hands together with sparkles in their eyes. Jamil didn't pay her or her compliment any mind and just placed the dishes on the table.

"You can compliment me if it tastes as good as it smells.", the second-year commented blankly.

"Fnyaaa, why can't you take the compliment! She's at least trying to be nice to you, even after what you did, you snake!" Yuko looked down at Grim and smiled fondly while giving Grim some head pats. Jamil just turned around with an angry huff and leaving the room to get more food.

"Seriously, why are you trying to be so friendly with her? It's obvious she doesn't give a damn about everyone but herself."

"That sounds like everyone at this school, to be honest. People deserve a second chance, and I think I'm not the only one who knows this." The first-year turned to Kalim, who looked kind of sad. Yuko knew that Kalim still concerned herself with many things. Yuko didn't know why or what those things were, but they also felt like it wasn't their place to ask questions.

Yuko's train of thought was interrupted by the other members of the dorm, who all decided to dig in and enjoy the sweet and spicy dishes their vice leader made.

The feast came along significantly.

Cheerful chattering filled the room. It had accompanied by entertaining music, played by some students who had already finished their meal.

The two guests from Ramshackle were having a small conversation with the ever so joyful host of the party. Mostly Grim was talking with her. Yuko just sat there, enjoying her meal while her furry companion on her lap was having a good time.

The young Crowley roamed the filled room with attentive eyes. She saw students eating and praising the food, telling stories (some real, some not), or were merely telling jokes and were having a good time. Among those students, there was a brunette standing on the sides, watching them. An idea then popped into the first-year's head.

Yuko excused herself politely from the second-year who so kindly invited them. They then proceeded to walk to the vice to start a little chat for herself.

"Hello Jamil-senpai," Yuko greeted. "The dishes were astounding. The sweets felt like they were melting in my mouth! There also was a hint of apple in there, or am I incorrect? Either way, would you mind if I asked for the recipe itself?" Startled, Jamil turned around to face her junior.

"Uhm, of course? I did not know you'd enjoy it that much that you would ask for the recipe. It's a common sweet in my family" Jamil seemed taking back by Yuko's sudden request. Yet only an innocent smile painted their face while listening to their senior reciting the recipe.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself there, Yuko," Ace mocked with a sly smile.

"What could you possibly mean, Ace?"

"Don't act this innocent. If you are an alternate version of our buddy Yuu here, then you are just trying to annoy her, aren't you? Also, you and Kalim there are disgustingly sweet, I have to say." The ace of Heartslabyul said. Yuko gasped in offence and put one of her gloved hands on her chest gem.

"Oh, how could be so mean! I just tried to have a nice conversation with my upperclassmen", the girl wailed. "And, ohh, I am sorry that I am just having some fun with Kalim. I didn't know being nice to others is actually 'disgusting'" Ace smirk swiftly was erased from his face. Some of the first years even snickered a bit about the answer to the boy's comment.

"It is just," the girl in the mirror continued. "I like talking to her since she gives up a sense of comfort. She is like the older sister I never had," Yuko said fondly.

Kalim was also beaming with joy and pride. It seemed knowing that someone, who isn't related to him, thought of him as an older sibling figure made him happy. Even though not directly meant.

"A-ah! Let's not get distracted, shall we? Next is Pomefiore," the girl in the mirror announced.

"Of course not. Although, before we start, let me say that it is very nice to hear that you think that way, young one." Lilia was heart warmed. Father instincts, Yuko silently assumed before fading from the other sight.

After Yuko got the recipe for the dish Jamila made, they said their goodbyes to her friends and made her way to Pomefiore.

The old castle was as beautiful and graceful as ever. The afternoon wind made it seem even more like it was from a fairytale.

As soon as Yuko entered the big walls of Pomefiore, she got greeted by a petit-looking first-year. The student's long lavender hair swayed behind them as they approached Yuko as if a breeze was flowing through the dormitory.

"Yuko! Perfect timing! Please save me from Vil! She's trying to put me in one of those disgusting, frilly dresses!" the smaller girl whined. She clutched against Yuko's arm as if it would have helped convince Yuko of her need for help. "Epel, please, I can't hide you every time. I also am starting to think that Vil might know our hideouts by now" Yuko kindly smiled as Epel continued to beg for her help. Yet to no avail.

Moreover, Vil appeared. Her long gowns were perfectly put on, with no faults whatsoever. They flowed behind her while she walked down the hall towards the first years.

It was like looking at a goddess.

But alas, this beauty was angry.

Behind her followed NRC's huntress, Rook. Her heavy boots' steps and Vil's high heels clicking echoed through the empty and silent hall, Epel's begging long died out.

"Epel! How dare you try to run away again! You'll never learn how to use those natural looks correctly. Don't get me started on how to treat them right!" Vil pinched Epel's cheek, ignoring the junior's complaints.

"Oh my, oh my! The Trickster has arrived! How splended~ Your little companion is at your side, as well."

Yuko smiled politely and started holding Grim a little tighter in her arms, in case Grim would try to flee from the huntress.

"I am also very delighted to make your acquaintance again, Rook-senpai. How is it currently going?" The senior started beaming at the question with a bright smile. Her hands flew up to her head. "Oh Trickster, how happy I am that you asked! Reine de Poison was only trying to show our little apple how to put on more voluminous dresses, but the little one didn't seem to like the idea, which is a loss, to be honest. Just imagine Mademoiselle Cherry Apple in one! She'd look like an innocent angel~."

Yuko couldn't hide their chuckle at the thought of Epel wearing something like that. Now they sure knew why Epel was so desperate for help.

They all made their way to the lounge for some tea, the argument between Vil and Epel never-ending during the short walk.

At this point, the Ramshackle Prefect was holding Grim's mouth shut, knowing that Grim would spit some non-polite comment. Either at Rook or Vil. Which both wouldn't end well for them.

Vil, Epel, Yuko and Grim seated themselves on the beautiful couches of Pomefiore. Rook made her way into the kitchen to prepare the tea. For Yuko's and Grim's ears pleasure, Vil's and Epel's bickering had stopped.

"So tell me, little potato," Vil started, "have you finally renovated your old dorm by now? I am confident that this hideous place could look better," Harsh as ever, Yuko thought.

Nonetheless, the dorm leader was right. It was old and rotten, and it already was hard work to get it into the condition it is now.

"The renovations are coming along, Vil-senpai, yet I highly doubt I will get it finished any time soon. Nonetheless, I am happy to say that I acquired some donations from Azul. For furniture for the interior, as well for the outer parts. Maybe I'll even have to ask someone to help me with the gardens soon if this all keeps going at this pace. But first, the rooms and all should be looking presentable, of course." Yuko explained. Her senior hummed understanding.

Rook re-enters the lounge with a trey, which has some tea and snacks on it. "Oh la la, what did I miss? Where are you talking about the Ramshackle dormitory?" Room asked as she put the trey downs on the table. How did she know that? Until now, she was in another room!

"Yes, we were discussing the Ramshackle dormitory, Rook. The renovations, to be exact," Vil said as she sipped her tea.

"Epel, you were awfully quiet until now. Does the topic of your friend's home not interest you?"

As if being ripped out of a daydream, Epel quickly looked up. "N-no, this isn't the reason! I didn't want to interrupt yall- I mean you all."

Vil inspected her as if trying to figure out if she was lying or not. After 20 seconds of starring, Vil accepted the explanation as genuine and let out a small sigh.

"Epel, at least sit straight and look me in the eyes while talking. The cup goes up to your head, not your head to the cup!" Vil pinched Epel's cheek once again, ignoring Epel's whines. It all ended in another argument.

Leona put one of his hands on his temple in annoyance. He just witnessed two arguments, one in full length and the other one's just started. "Is this also like this here?"

"Yep, totally," said all the first-years in unison, except for Epel, who had a feeling of betrayal in his eyes.

"How could you all fall into my back like that?!"

"Epel, you know that they are sadly telling the truth. We, rather often, have different opinions on things," Vil kindly reminded the student he took under his wing. Like a father

"Nevertheless, Leona, you should know how hard it can be to look after your first years. Oh wait, on second thought, you probably don't, since you push all your responsibilities onto Ruggie,"

Leona only growled, knowing that starting a fight with the fellow third-year would be pointless.

Everyone in the room went quiet. Even Rook didn't say anything. After a minute of awkward silence and Vil and Leona starring at each other, Yuko cleared her throat, getting all of the male's attention.

"How about we move on to our last two dorms. Then we'll call it for today? It's been a long day with a lot of new things to process," Yuko clapped their hands together while talking. They were just happy that there weren't any nasty comments on any of her friends.

{to be continued}

First

[A/n: Sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors, English is not my first language!]

#twisted wonderland #twst yuu #twst mc #Yuko Crowley #nrc #night raven college #kalim al asim #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #ace trappola

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obeymeluv · 5 years ago

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Give Me Noods [Mammon x Reader]

I’m new to the fandom. Just thought of this and couldn’t let it go. It’s SFW.

Border from cutekaomoji.

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Being human means you can’t have some Devildom foods but a witch has the solution! You just need Devil’s Tongue.

『• • • ✎ • • •』『• • • ✎ • • •』『• • • ✎ • • •』『• • • ✎ • • •』

Give Me Noods [Mammon x Reader]

There was a lot to get used to when it came to being a transfer student in the Devildom—classes, people with tails and horns, real magic, stairs…so many fucking stairs—and food was a big one. While explaining almost everything one could hope to learn about the Devildom, they often forgot about the intricacies of their own food. Some food actually tried to eat you back or put up a fight! You were really grateful when mashed potatoes turned out to be just mashed potatoes. A few succubi from your Latin class giggled and cooed over how apprehensive you were, poking at today’s food.

Looked like some sort of meat in a gravy sauce. You were pretty sure that Brussel sprout-looking thing just closed itself though, little baby leaves rustling in defiance. They showed you how to peel away the bitter outer leaves and open it up to reveal a sweet, crunchy center that tasted like Caesar salad. “Weird,” you whispered into your fork, suspicious of how yummy and tender the meat was. The gravy was very flavorful, if not a little salty.

It definitely made up for some of the other things you’d tried so far.

“What’s wrong?” one asked you, looking absolutely smitten. These Devildom people had a thing for humans—apparently you were rare?—and you were still getting used to it. You felt like a class pet.

“Nothing, I just—” you caught a whiff of something spicy and sweet that made your mouth water. It made you perk up a little bit, much to the delight of the succubi. They thought it was funny when you got excited about their boring world. “Do you smell that? It smells good!”

Succubi noses were different than human noses, and your definition of ‘smells good’ was totally different. You were trying to explain how it smelled like the best thing ever, something spicy and savory that demanded to be eaten.

“What needs to be eaten?” you nearly jumped out of your skin, a shock of orange hair coming into view. You were a lot closer to Beelzebub than you thought! He unfolded himself from the lunch table, casually holding a tray full of food as he looked at you.

“The yummy, spicy thing!” you were excited now. Beel could see the stars in your eyes and it made him grin. He finished the burger and moved onto a jerky-wrapped hunk of…something. There were several spicy items in the Devildom—spiced kraken sticks, fire-roasted devil bird, Hell pepper-stuffed pig—but he didn’t recall any of them being served today. Mammon plunked down at the table, his self-declared arrival ignored.

He ripped open a packet of hell sauce and stirred it into the hot noodles. “It smells like--! Mammon, what are you eating?” Mammon nearly choked on the coated noodles when he looked up at the sheer curiosity and hunger shining in your eyes. He grew up with Beel, he knew that look! “These are my noodles!” he grumped, stuffing more into his mouth and turning away sharply. The pointed edge of his teeth glinted in the light, his greedy demon ways shining through.

“I just want to know what it is, I’d like to try it!” you assured him. Mammon eyed you suspiciously, well aware that Beel could wrestle the noodles away from him. Sure he could just tell you, being THE great Mammon and all, but where was the fun in that?

“You got any Grimm on you?” Mammon licked a tiny piece of noodle from the corner of his lip, sizing you up. It was more a joke than anything, but if you wanted to donate out of the kindness of your heart…

One of the succubi at your back hissed and Mammon scoffed in return. Beel gave him a cold, piercing look. Mammon sniffed, turning his nose up at the disapproval. “She lives with us,” Beel reminded.

“And you shouldn’t be rude to house guests, dirty Mammon!” Asmodeus cut in as he sat down, offering for one of the succubi to squeeze in beside him.

“They’re hell-sauce noodles.” Mammon grumbled into the cup.

“Thanks Mammon!” you flashed him a smile he shouldn’t like and didn’t care about because that would be stupid while turning to ask the girls if they had anymore up front. They whisked you away to find them, all too eager to see how the little human reacted.

“You shouldn’t get her hopes up,” Satan shook his head as he picked at his lunch. “Humans can’t eat them. It’ll make them sick.”

“All I did was tell her, and I didn’t even charge her! Not my fault if she can’t eat it!” Mammon shrugged as he went back to scarfing down his noodles. Although there was a twinge of guilt that you would never know the wallet-busting greatness of hell-sauce noodles, Mammon couldn’t feel bad for the package that would end up in the pantry. He just had to get to them before Beel.

His great plan was foiled when he came home to Lucifer, Lord Diavolo, the succubus that’d hissed at him, and an unknown woman standing in the foyer. Then again, his plan was ruined when that withered excuse of a professor gave him a lecture for being on his D.D.D. He was checking his business prospects, thank you very much! Mammon slipped past the group, starting for the kitchen when he overheard something that made him stop entirely.

“So she could eat these if she had Devil’s Tongue.”

“All this for some noodles? I don’t want to kill anyone.” You shook your head with a disappointed sigh. The noise was abruptly swallowed by the raucous laughter of several people. Your human brain would think Devil’s Tongue meant the part itself, but Mammon knew better. That other one must be a witch, then, Mammon’s eyes narrowed behind his yellow sunglasses as a slinked up around the edge of the wall.

“It’s a protective spell,” the witch explained. “Devil’s Tongue would prevent your mouth from being destroyed by the hell-sauce.”

“We shared hell-sauce with some humans once,” the succubus said, “it led to the creation of a lot of your hot sauces but they eventually went mad from the heat.”

“To an obsessive degree,” the witch added grimly. “Some say that’s where hot-tempered people came from.”

“This hell-sauce won’t do that to you, though. It’s been bred down for a couple of centuries.” Beel smiled warmly, a bit of drool threatening to dot the corner of his mouth as the witch waved your pack of noodles around.

“But the heat could make you very sick,” the witch cautioned. “Much worse than your human-world peppers. Those peppers never could accurately capture hell-sauce flavor, but you ended up with a lot of varieties. A small success, I suppose.”

You knew devils made their way into human mythology but never imagined they had anything to do with your food. A food history class would be an interesting elective! You made a mental note to ask Lucifer or Diavolo if they had one to take after you ate these damn noodles. Satan looked like he wanted to add onto the conversation and before he could—bless his nerdy heart—you gently wrestled the pack away from the witch and squeezed it. “I want these noodles. How can I eat them?”

“With the blessing of Devil’s Tongue.” The witch said again, a vague smile playing at her lips. It sharpened and turned smug.

“Meaning?”

“A simple kiss. A blessing of the devil’s tongue.”

Surely a kiss on the lips was acceptable! “That’s it?” just don’t look at any of the hot guys and don’t think about it. It’ll probably only take a second! You’d just barely tilted your chin up, subconsciously bracing yourself as Asmo flew in from who knew where. The blur of wings and perfect hair never caught up to you, Mammon snatching you up in a body-crushing whirl that sent Asmo skidding past you.

“You don’t even like hell-sauce noodles!” Mammon snapped, hugging you to his chest like some kind of doll. You fixed your hair. “The GREAT Mammon has decided to help you, human!” he flashed you a big smile.

“And how are you better than me, Mammon?” Asmo crossed his arms, glaring at his older brother. “This is about a delicate matter, not money. Doesn’t sound like you’re qualified, really.” He smiled cutely but coldly, tossing his hand up in mock casualness despite it clearly being dismissal.

“Because it’s my favorite food!” Mammon replied matter-of-factly. Everyone knew it, too.

“Which should be considered. Their palette will influence how you taste things.” the witch looked much too happy with herself and what was happening.

“So she should really choose Beel or Mammon.” Lucifer crossed his arms, the corner of his mouth turning up at Asmo’s heartbroken face.

“And she’s going to pick me because I’M the best!” Mammon declared proudly, lifting you up to meet his gaze. It would’ve been a really sweet gesture if you were dating (and not in a skirt, sorry Diavolo).

The witch pressed a blue bottle into your hand. “Drink that, then get your dose of Devil’s Tongue.” she turned away to address the spread of papers that Lucifer and Diavolo had on the table. You looked at the vial, turning the ornately carved bottle in your hand as Mammon set you down. He all but dragged you down the hall and behind the safety of the heavy wood doors suited for the marvelous house. The room was thrown into shadows only lit by Mammon’s piercing eyes. Gentle eyes.

He pulled his D.D.D. from his pocket, your faces cast in a mesmerizing and ghoulish blue. You fumbled with the cork and sipped the brew. Sweet with tartness on its heel, the flavor soon became overwhelming to the point where you couldn’t taste anything at all. It felt like it was…neutralizing your mouth. Mammon’s lips stuttered across yours, landing at the side of your nose before sinking down.

Once, twice, three times…

The space around you exploded with heat, your back and hair scraping along the wall as Mammon lifted you up. His arms were unexpectedly and deliciously corded, holding you in place. Holding you up for him. The kiss was very Mammon—clumsy and stumbling but determined, The Avatar of Greed’s confidence growing as he took everything.

A near-inaudible splintering noise registered at the edge of your conscience, second to Mammon’s breathy moan as he pressed into you. You swore you felt claws prick you; you arched into the white-haired devil. Mammon slowed his pace, the kiss turning languid instead of desperate. Purely indulgent, like he had all the time in the world with you. You started pushing on his shoulders, finding it hard to breathe.

Demons probably had bigger lungs or something. You took your hands from wherever they’d been—between your bodies? Around his shoulders?—and started to press against his face when the door rattled with a couple of knocks only Lucifer was capable of. Mammon’s lips dragged off of yours, seemingly reluctantly, when the door burst open. He put his arm above your head, casual as ever, and you wondered if it was to keep the light out of your face.

Mammon squinted against it, looking almost as dazed as you. Your eyes were still adjusting to the sudden change but you didn’t need much time to see him still staring at your lips. He set you down, letting the witch steal you from under his arm. The second-eldest fixed his sunglasses as he stepped out into the lit hallway, ignoring Lucifer (and the heat he felt creeping up his neck and ears). His horns retreated into the skin of his forehead, hair shifting to cover them as his wings folded with a leathery whisper.

Had you even noticed? Damn, he was stupid to get carried away like that! Did he regret it though? Mammon hardly regretted anything and wasn’t sure if this counted. Oh well, at least he could throw it down when any of his brothers annoyed him.

Blue sparks danced on your tongue, the inside of your mouth a pale blue.

“It worked,” she cupped your chin and patted your cheek like an old lady. It made you wonder how old she really was. “You’ve got twenty-four hours to eat whatever you want!”

Mammon took your hand and darted off to the kitchen, keen on avoiding as many of his brothers as possible. It would just eat up your time, he’d argue. He’d rather not hear Asmo whine, anyways. So there you sat in the House of Lamentation’s kitchen, Mammon’s secret stash of hell-sauce noodles piled between you. He showed you how to cook them and helped himself to a cup.

They were divine! Similar to a lot of human foods but with some kind of otherworldly decadence. Something that put the noodles above all else. And this was cheap for Devildom standards! You wondered if their high-end food had the same effect. Was it something only devil’s could taste? Why did Beel have such a craving for human food when stuff tasted THIS good?

Maybe everything they ate had hidden flavors or something. You literally had to have magic to eat this! Mammon laughed to the point of choking as you continued to stuff your cheeks and scarf the noodles down. It was so good! You could just eat and eat and…wait…when you kissed Mammon did you get some of his greediness?

This WAS his favorite food, after all. You just had to have one more bite. One more bite, one more bite, one more bite! your brain chanted and your taste buds begged the same. It got to a point where you could eat no more, too full to move and too full to regret anything. The great Mammon felt bad for your overindulgence and offered his knee to put your head on instead of the stone floor.

He found it strangely heartwarming that you could look so miserable and adorable at the same time. “You gonna make it, human?” he scraped the bowl for the last noodle, mouthed the sauce off the end of the chopstick, and poked you in the cheek.

“Yeah,” you nodded your head, holding your stomach. “Just full. Very full.”

You felt like you’d eaten enough for the next day. Long enough for the spell to wear off, at least. Mammon seemed to have the same thought, an amused and almost teasing grin on his face as he looked down at you. He held your head as he unfolded his legs, turned around, and laid down beside you. “You just let the great Mammon know when you want to do this again,” he tucked his arms under his head and adjusted his shoulders, “I’ll make time for you.”

#Obey Me!#Obey Me x Reader #Obey Me Mammon #Mammon x Reader #Obey Me! x reader

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starkerforlife6969 · 5 years ago

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Starker - Accidentally Perfect

It all started with a bet.

And Tony hates how much of a cliche even that is. A bet. He's let himself get dragged into a bet by a fresh-faced eighteen year old who has a walkman ironically and brings a dictaphone into every lecture.

Goddamn, he hates Peter Parker. He seethes furiously at him from across the quad, the hot summer sun beating down on his shoulders. His blank tank top is helping keep the heat off, but it's still almost unbearably warm. Sticky with the promise of the summer holidays only a few weeks away.

"Do you actually think you can stare him out of existence?" Rhodey asks, a cool, amused voice from back in the shade of their stand. Tony turns and glowers, pulling his sunglasses off.

"He's such a little shit."

"He's eighteen, Tony. All eighteen year olds are little shits. We were, remember?"

Tony doesn't remember them ever being as unbearable as Peter. His face must say as much, because Rhodey sighs.

"We're twenty-seven." He says gently. "We're getting a little too old to keep blaming college wars on the freshman."

He barely resists the urge to stomp his foot. "He started it!"

It's true, Tony thinks. He can't really remember how it all started. He remembers the beginning of the semester, deciding to take a break from the all-consuming robotics thesis of his doctorate and go and drop in on a lecture. He remembers a bright-eyed boy with fluffy hair stumbling through a presentation in front of his peers. He very vaguely remembers calling out one or two inconsistencies with Peter's presentation. He remembers the bright red flush that had spread across Peter's cheeks, and the way he'd stumbled quietly over his words, and- okay- in Tony's defence, he was sleep deprived- trying to think up his proposal, still trying to get his second phD started and-

It had turned into all out war pretty quickly.

Turns out, Peter didn't respond well to being picked on.

Not that Tony had picked on him, just-

"Gluing all my furniture to the ceiling? Selling my text books? Hiring someone to fire a paintball at me every hour for four days?!" Tony runs his hands through his hair, shaking his head. "He's evil!"

Rhodey barely blinks, eyes on his phone. "But..."

Tony's shoulders droop. "...But I started it." He mumbles under his breath.

"What? I didn't quite catch that."

"I started it, alright? Jeez," he winces, "I said sorry."

"No. You didn't."

Okay fine, he's not big on apologies.

Whatever. It doesn't matter anyway. They're where they are now. The bet. Whoever raises the most money for the oil spill just off of Mexico's coast wins. Their two stands sit opposite each other on the quad, six hours to raise money, loser has to get down on their knees in front of the entire student body and declare the other their superior in every single way.

That's why Tony's here. In a tight black tank top, muscles on display, sunglasses on, hair messy, grinning at everyone who passes.

"How much have we got, Rhode-aroo?"

There's a gentle clatter as Rhodey checks the basket. "Uh, $12?"

Tony winces. That's not great. "Whatever. It's gotta be more than Parker has anyway."

Rhodey hums.

***

As the third hour ticks by, Tony slinks back into the shade of their stall and dozes off a little. It can't be more than fifteen minutes, but when he opens his eyes, there's a trickle of students leaving their classes and walking through the quad.

For some bewildering reason, they're all walking to Peter's stand.

Tony frowns, tiptoeing over to enemy lines.

The first thing he sees is that Peter's money basket is full. Not just one money basket, but four money baskets. At least $100 in change, loose bills and Starbucks vouchers.

What the fuck?

And then- then he sees why.

MJ, the equally annoying friend, is manning the booth. She's concise and thoughtful and armed with scary statistics as she neatly collects money and scares more into baskets.

But Peter, Peter is all cream silk shirt and tight blue shorts, and big eyes and enthusiasm.

"I just keep thinking of the baby seals," Peter whines, rocking on the heels of his feet, pink converse scraping against the grass. "Those poor animals, all covered in oil..." he bites his lip, bats those eyelashes, and the tall jock who's leaning over him, nods, already fumbling for his wallet.

"Yeah totally, the-the seals."

"Right? Oh, thank you," Peter sighs, voice a little wanton moan, touching the guy's elbow, leaning in. "You're a hero."

The guy tosses in another twenty.

Jesus Christ. Tony can't help his grin of disbelief, even as irritated as he is that he didn't come up with it first.

Devious little shit.

***

When the crowd has dispersed a little bit, and the dynamic duo have bled most everyone dry, Tony makes himself known, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

"Wow, Parker. We're more alike than I thought."

Peter turns, looking up at him, eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Oh yeah? How's that? Did you actually start caring about the oil spill?"

Tony hums, feigning nonchalance. "I just mean, I thought your standards were a little higher."

The boy frowns, little face scrunched up in confusion. It's annoyingly endearing. "Huh?"

"C'mon, no need to hide now. Playing dumb and pretty to get donations? Way to care about the animals."

The outrage that flits across that expressive face is way too believable. "Pretty anddumb? Screw you, Tony. You're just jealous I'm winning." Peter humphs, crossing his arms. "Is surly know-it-all not enticing the crowds the way you thought it would?"

Tony shrugs. "Maybe. Because I won't reduce myself."

"What are you talking about?!"

"Come on, Peter. You know what you're doing to people." Here, Tony raises his voice. Hopefully, he'll be able to steer people away from here and over to his own stand. Though, Rhodey's death glare from across the quad is making him think maybe that's not an excellent idea- why, he's not sure. He barrels on, attention on him. "You're doing that thing- with the big sparkly brown Disney eyes and the scandalously short shorts and the elbow-touching. You're fake laughing at bad jokes and fluttering your eyelashes and selling your torturous mix of princess and bombshell that none of us can resist to trick people into giving you their money, admit it!"

Peter gapes, mouth in a delicious 'o'. "I am not!" He shrieks: scandalised.

Tony scoffs. "You expect me to believe that you're thisfucking irresistible on purpose?"

The boy doesn't seem to know what to do with that. He scrambles, blushing under the stare of the passers-by. "I'm...I don't...um...thank you?"

Tony stares. No way. No fucking way is this not an act, it can't be or-

"Yeah." MJ sighs, the sigh of the long-wearied, as she unfolds another dollar bill into the pile. "Join the club."

***

Tony's pacing back stage, still trying to understand everything in his head.

The entire student body is waiting on the other side of that curtain, mostly drunk, hopefully too drunk to remember this in the morning- to see his apology act.

"Big sparkly Disney eyes," Rhodes hums, re-watching the video on twitter. "I'm surprised you went with that one, you're always going on about his Bambi eyes. What's the difference?"

"I swear to god, if you keep talking-"

"I think my favourite bit is where you basically announced to the world that your kink is sexy princess."

"Oh my god-"

"Uh- T-Tony?"

Tony whirls around to see Peter standing at the curtain, and Tony can't help the groan of embarrassment.

"Look, Pete, I'll do it, alright? Just give me a second to shed the last of my dignity."

"No, it's not..." Peter blushes, and Rhodey lifts his hands, shuffling away to give them some privacy. Peter edges closer, stupidly gorgeous with all of his freckles, a fucking dandelion crown perched on his chestnut curls, like he's just trying to press all of Tony's buttons and- "Look, Tony," Peter murmurs, all sweetness and loveliness, "I was thinking, you don't need to- you don't need to go out there and say anything." He wrings his lily-white hands, silvery bracelets hanging at the wrist, "Really. I feel like- the fact that video from the quad went viral was- that's more than enough."

Tony doesn't know what to say, but it doesn't stop him from trying. "Pete, about what I said..."

"I really wasn't doing any of that stuff- I-, I wasn't trying to play dumb, or- I mean, maybe I was? I didn't- I didn't mean to, I just wanted to help the seals, and I've already bought my ticket to volunteer for seal cleaning over summer break and-"

Tony laughs, shaking his head. Because he knows. He sighs, meeting those lovely brown eyes. "I know you weren't. You're not- I was just- I'm sorry, Pete. For all of it. For the day we met."

Peter looks shy, but pleased. "You were an ass." He agrees amiably.

"I was. Am. Trying not to be."

Peter chews on his bottom lip, accidentally embodying Tony's every wet dream. "You could buy a ticket for the summer seal cleaning task." Peter shrugs, eyes darting away. "If you like."

"With you?" Tony wonders aloud, "with you being so...unintentionally you? Not sure I could cope."

"True," Peter whispers coyly, "imagine if I was actively trying to seduce you. You wouldn't last a minute."

At that, Tony laughs again. Loud and delighted. Head tipped back, unaware to how Peter drinks in the sight. "Is that a bet, kid?"

Peter beams.

#starker #peter x tony #college au #young tony #tony is a doctorate student #peter is 18 #fluff #peter parker is a sweetheart #precious peter parker #tony stark is a dork

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 4 years ago

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Talk to me, please! [Oliver Wood x Reader] - Requested

Title: Talk to me, please! Pairing: Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Female!Reader Word count: 4.2k Published: 8 October, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Warning: Swearing Notes: I got this request from @leeayda04 and I just loved writing it <3 Now I didn’t know if I was supposed to write male or female, therefore I went with female, but do let me know if you want me to change it. Summary: After your fight with Oliver, you decide to make him suffer a little. Unfortunately things slowly get out of hand and you don’t know how to turn things around, before you lose him. Request: [x]

“Hey! I was wondering if you can make a one shot where oliver is dating reader the popular charming slytherin and he kept forgetting about thier date that make reader furious and end up having a big fight where reader gave him silent treatment” - @leeayda04

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

Oliver was a sweetheart. The sweetest boyfriend you have ever had. He always made sure to shower you with his love, he held onto your hand as if he never wanted to let go, he hid face in the crook of your neck just to feel a tad bit closer. If you didn’t stop him, he would have screamed to the whole Great Hall how much he loved you.

You were quite popular, and Oliver prided himself in calling you his, only his. You have had quite a few people around you who wished the two of you would break up already, wanting a chance with you finally, but you two were way too in love to care.

There were some Gryffindors who whispered behind your back, and grimaced at the sight of you together, but he ignored the disgusted looks he got for being in a relationship with you, a Slytherin, because he adored you more than he thought he could show.

Whilst he was indeed the best boyfriend in your eyes before, things have changed recently. To the worst.

You were sitting in Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop, your eyes wandering towards the door every couple of seconds. Your eyes shot up as you heard the bell above the door each time it opened, but he was never the one to step into the shop.

You looked at your muggle watch, which you got from Oliver for your 17th birthday. You furrowed your brows as you realised he has been late for over an hour already. You heaved a deep sigh, storm of thoughts swirling around in your head. You placed the leftover of your cup of tea on the top of the saucer, before standing up, placing your jacket over your shoulders and leaving the café behind.

You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, you wanted to tell him what an ignorant boyfriend he has become, but you just couldn’t form the words you wanted to say. Until now. The tightening feeling in your chest, the little ball in your throat made your jaw clench. You shouldn’t have felt as if you have gotten used to this feeling. You were angered by Oliver’s behaviour. He has always been the kindest, sweetest boyfriend you ever had, but recently the boy had been everywhere but beside you.

It was not the first time he didn’t appear on your date, nor the second or third. You have warned him on numerous occasions, but the boy seemed to prioritise everything, but you. His excuses were always the same. He got busy, he had an extra quidditch practice, he had to study. It was getting tiring and you couldn’t swallow it anymore, it was too much.

You strutted towards the Gryffindor common room, your steps loud and hurried against the concrete ground. You expected the stairs to go on about their way and make it harder for you to get to the boy, they were moody after all, but everything seemed way too smooth as if you were supposed to let your anger out on the boy.

You barely reached the Gryffindor common room, a student just leaving, the door still opened behind him. You quickly stood in front of it, sliding through the hole, immediately facing your boyfriend’s laughing form on the couch.

Oliver was seated on a sofa in front of the fireplace, the Weasley twins seated on his right side, whilst each Percy and Lee occupied an armchair for themselves.

“Khm.” You cleared your throat to get Oliver’s attention, but he didn’t seem to hear you. Fred looked at you first, followed by his brother George. You found it easy to make a difference between them, you have been around them for far too long.

It wasn’t a good relationship at the beginning, but slowly they started to warm up to you, even if they still enjoyed teasing you here and there. However, looking at the deathly glare you projected at them, they knew better than to try anything.

Fred nudged Oliver’s shoulder who was in a conversation with Percy. You didn’t really concentrate on what they were talking about, you only caught a couple of words about lessons and exams. Oliver looked at Fred with a raised brow, before he followed his eyes, finding you staring at him with a stern look, raised brows and folded arms in front of your chest.

“Love, what are you doing here?” He asked nonchalantly, making you frown at the clueless boy.

“I think that should be my question.” You hissed in anger. “You shouldn’t be here, instead you should have been with me in Hogsmeade.”

“Oh, for Godric’s sake, I forgot, love. I’m so sorry. I will grab my coat and we can go.” He shot up from his seat heading towards the male dormitory, but your voice stopped him.

“Oh, no you don’t. I was waiting for you over an hour, Oliver.” You groaned and he flinched as he heard his name. You didn’t use it often, nor did he use yours. You preferred calling each other in all kinds of endearing pet names. “This is not even the first time.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” He spoke as he turned around and started walking towards you.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Wood.” You hissed, your jaw clenching in anger. He flinched once again, realising that the conversation was going to get heated very quickly.

“Maybe we should go somewhere private, love.” He tried to convince you, but you didn’t listen. If anything, you got even more worked up.

“Don’t call me, love and don’t try to tell me what to do!” You groaned as you stepped back from him. “Are you scared that people will realise what a shitty boyfriend you can be? Because that’s what you have been recently. At first, I understood, you are the captain of the quidditch team after all, sure you have some obligations, but it has started becoming a thing where you completely forget about me.” You didn’t even realise when you raised your voice, but at this point you didn’t even mind. You were way too upset with the boy.

“I didn’t mean to, I promise. I’m so sorry.” His guilty expression and apologetic look made you want to step closer and pull him in for a hug, but you stopped yourself. He has promised you so many times already that he would pay more attention, but recently his words meant nothing to you.

“How many times are you going to apologise? I can’t even take your words seriously anymore.”

“What?” He grimaced at your words. “What else do you want me to say? I fucked up, I apologised.” It was his turn to raise his voice this time, his Scottish accent thickening as his anger rose.

“But you keep fucking up non-stop, Wood. It’s not once or twice! You have left me; you have forgotten about me on numerous occasions. How long do I have to keep accepting your apologies when you keep repeating the same mistakes over and over again? I’m tired, Oliver.” You groaned, your tone irritated, still slightly breaking after each word.

“I don’t understand you. I told you, I’m under constant stress. We need to win the Quidditch cup, we have to focus on all the extra practices, I have to get ready for the exams, I literally am non-stop studying. I can’t always hang around you when you ask.” You have heard all his excuses before, they weren’t anything new, but the idea of you asking him to hang around you, got you worked up.

“I’m in my 7th year too. I have as much responsibilities as you do and if anything, it’s not even me who initiates to meet up, but you, so then you can completely forget about it. What do you think how it feels when your boyfriend keeps promising sweet little dates, but attends to none?” You shook your head as you exhaled deeply. “If you continue like this, you will be single before you even realise it.” You huffed.

“What?” His eyes shot up, capturing your stern gaze. His jaw hang law in surprise, his eyes wider than ever. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You will have to figure that out, Oliver.” You shook your head as you turned around and left the stunned boy behind. You expected him to come after you, to try to stop you, to try to talk to you, but he didn’t even move. He stood in the Gryffindor common room with the same shocked expression across his face as he watched the portrait hole, whilst you headed towards the dungeon, knowing you would cry the night away.

You barely arrived at your dormitory, you threw the door open and flopped down on your bed. You wanted to scream, you wanted to be angry, but instead teardrops after teardrops ran down your cheeks, heart-wrenching sobs left your lungs.

The thought of losing Oliver hurt like hell. You loved the boy more than you thought you would ever love someone, but you couldn’t put yourself through so much pain all the time. His ignorance hurt you and you just couldn’t do this to yourself anymore.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to break up with him or if you just needed some break from him to try and figure things out on your own, but you were certain that you needed to concentrate on yourself now. Only on you.

As the morning came, you woke up with bloodshot eyes, each accompanied by small puffy bags under them. Your headache was pounding hard against your skull, making you groan. You got yourself out of bed, dragging yourself over to the bathroom, almost stumbling back as you recognised your reflection in the mirror.

“Really? This is how I look because of some stupid boy? I’m pathetic.” You scoffed at the sight of you, scolding yourself. You were always a strong person, always there to support others. The sight of your pale skin, pain-filled expression and swollen cheeks gave you an encouraging kick in your backside. You were having none of this. You were stronger than to let yourself go over someone who didn’t seem to care about you.

You finished your morning routine, dressed into your uniform and walked back to your room. You halted as you felt all 3 pairs of eyes studying you with a worried look. Pansy walked up to you first, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“We heard you last night.” She said with a sympathetic look. The girl wasn’t an angel per se, but you could always rely on her. She wasn’t a social person, but those who were close to her could enjoy all the benefits her friendship included, which meant she was to kill for those she cared about, almost literally.

“Thank you for worrying about me, Pansy, but I’m fine. Things just got a bit harder recently, but I’m good.” You explained with a reassuring smile. She knew the story back and forth, but she also knew you. You didn’t have to say much, she understood that you were dealing with it on your own. She nodded in response, before she took her wand out and pointed it in your face. “Hey.” You stepped back abruptly, but she chuckled at your behaviour.

“Calm down, I don’t think you want to go out like that.” She grinned at your unappealing look. You rolled your eyes and let her perform some easy spells. As she finished, you turned around to look into the mirror beside the door and you couldn’t stop a little smile from crawling up on your lips. “Not bad, huh?” Pansy winked with a proud smirk.

“Don’t get too cocky, I’m naturally good looking.” You scoffed, before your smile turned into a playful grin.

“Right, Ms. Confidence. Let’s get some food into your system.” She shook her head as she started pushing you out the door, your other two roommates following behind.

You walked up to the Great Hall, Pansy talking about Draco Malfoy for the umpteenth time. The girl was smitten, and Draco knew about it, but he seemed to be rather ignorant towards her. You never dared to voice it to Pansy, deep down she knew, but it felt good for her to crush over someone.

As you reached the Great Hall, you immediately headed towards the Slytherin table, taking a seat beside Pansy, who decided to sit next to Draco. You chuckled at the two. Draco rolled his eyes, very obviously wishing for the girl’s disappearance, whilst Pansy just chuckled happily enjoying the boy’s mere presence. They were definitely a comical pair, but it was somewhat helpful, it lightened your mood.

You took a piece of scone from the middle of the table, buttering its top, before you shoved it in your mouth. You enjoyed the sweet taste spreading around your tongue, when you felt a presence beside you. You turned to the side where Oliver decided to take a seat, his eyes eagerly watching you. Your heart sped up, as you saw the hurtful expression he was wearing. You wanted to pull him closer, hid his face in the crook of your neck, just the way he loved it, but you didn’t move. Your logic won over your heart.

“Can we talk?” His tone was weak, almost pleading, but as guilty as you felt, you knew you shouldn’t have. It was all his fault to begin with. You scoffed and turned back to your breakfast, taking another scone and repeating the process. “Love, please.” He reached for your hand, but you just pulled it away. You didn’t look at the boy though, your new game was to pretend that he never even existed. “I’m begging you, please talk to me.” He tried again, his voice breaking your stern wall protecting you, but before you could have given in, Pansy interrupted you.

“Can’t you see she doesn’t want to talk to you? She doesn’t even want to see you, Wood. Now, off you go, your playmates are missing you.” She snarled, clear disgust showing in her voice. She never liked the boy after all, but she did ignore his existence for your sake.

“Y/N-” he started, but Pansy let out an animalistic growl. You had to swallow a laugh that was about erupt from your lungs. You didn’t look at the boy, simply waited for him to leave you be, just like he did so many times before.

He studied your face, waiting hopefully even for just a stolen glance from you, but you never looked at the boy. You didn’t want to, and it irritated you that it took him so long to understand. Finally, he stood up and left your table, heading back to his own.

“Thanks, Pansy.” You smiled sweetly as she nodded in reply and turned back to Draco.

Days passed by since you have last talked to Oliver. The boy was restless, apologising to you in every corner, declaring his love for you on every occasion. You felt weak against him. You have never kept such a distance between you and whilst you were strong on the outside, you wished nothing but to throw yourself into his arms, enjoying the warmth of his body against you.

Oliver was also at a breaking point. He scolded himself for his ignorance in each and every waking moment. He didn’t know what to do, he felt useless, nothing he has tried worked. You built up a wall between you and he had no idea how to take it down. He knew what an idiot he has been, and he kept beating himself up for it, but he was running out of ideas on how to get you back.

He couldn’t have known that you were slowly giving in and you couldn’t have known that he was slowly giving up.

Oliver was sitting in Potions, listening to Professor Snape, his complete attention on the teachers. You tried to steal secret glances from the boy, but he didn’t return them. This was the first time he didn’t try to look at you, he didn’t send you apologetic notes, he didn’t ask one of his friends to convince you to talk to him. Were you losing him? Your chest painfully tightened at the thought. You didn’t want to give in to the negativity, it wasn’t lost yet. That wasn’t possible, you wanted to believe.

A piece of scrunched up parchment flew over to your table, your heart jumping in anticipation. You looked at Oliver once again, but he firmly concentrated on his notes, instead of searching for your reaction. You looked down on your table, opening the piece of paper.

I’m guessing Oliver and you are finally over. Go on a date with me, love. I’m sure you would enjoy my company.

Be at the Slytherin common room entrance on Saturday by 11am. I don’t accept a no; we both know it’s been coming.

Marcus

You frowned at the note, a grimace spread across your face. You turned around to look at Marcus Flint, captain of the quidditch team of your house, arch enemy of Oliver. You shook your head in a reply, a silent scoff leaving your lips. As you turned back around, you caught Oliver’s eyes, your heart skipping a beat as your gaze locked. However as quickly as it came, Oliver turned away, not wanting to see you. He was just as hurt as you were.

The week slowly passed by, but Oliver haven’t tried to get close to you again. If anything, it was his turn to ignore you and you didn’t know what to do about it. You wanted to walk up to him and apologise for ignoring him, but your pride was winning over your heart every time.

You sat at your table in the Great Hall, hunched above your lunch, your face hidden behind your palms. You kept heaving deep sighs, Pansy groaning at your annoying behaviour. You tried to ignore the younger girl; she didn’t have enough experience to know how it felt being eaten up by your own stupid thoughts.

You huffed as you pushed your face further into your hands, wanting to disappear. You didn’t expect a hand to grab your arm and pull you up from your place.

“Was I not clear enough?” You stumbled as Marcus pulled on you, his hands painfully wrapped around your arm, surely leaving red marks on the surface of your skin. “It’s past 12pm already. Did you try to stand me up? I think I have clearly told you that I don’t accept a no.” He growled as he started pulling you after him, dragging you out of the Great Hall, numerous pair of eyes on you.

You tried to pull your arm out of his firm grip, but the boy was stronger than you. “I did tell you I didn’t want to go with you.” You groaned as you pulled on your arm again, but your attempt was once again unsuccessful.

“If you haven’t noticed, I wasn’t asking you. We are going on a date.” He hissed in anger as he dragged you after him. You struggled against his hold, before a second hand joined in, holding on to the same arm Marcus lead you by. You looked up to see Oliver, who pulled your arm back, forcing Marcus to let you go.

All of you halted as you massaged your arm, a bright red handprint decorating the surface of your skin. Oliver’s jaw clenched, his gaze full of anger as he watched Marcus with a disgusted grimace.

“What do you think you are doing?” He asked your housemate, his low and firm tone even scaring you for a second.

“I’m taking her on a date.” He hissed, clearly upset about Oliver’s arrival.

“I don’t think so.” He stepped in front of you. You wanted to stand up for yourself, you didn’t want to feel like a damsel in distress, but you were dancing on a thin line and you didn’t dare to risk the last hope he was giving you by helping you out.

“I don’t think you have a say in it, Wood.” He scoffed, clearly annoyed by Oliver’s behaviour.

“She doesn’t seem to want to go with you.” He looked back at you for confirmation and so you shook your head. “I strongly suggest you disappear now, Flint.” He growled, his tone almost animalistic, his voice threatening.

“Why, what are you going to do, huh?” Marcus taunted the boy. You couldn’t see the face Oliver was making, let alone if he has whispered something, but Marcus took a step back, his jaw tightening in anger. “Enjoy yourselves, then.” He spit in anger, before he turned on his heels and left the two of you behind. You frowned at the unexpected events; a confused look spread across your face as you looked up at Oliver.

“You okay?” He asked as he finally looked at you, or your arm at least, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You replied as you hid your arm behind your back. “Thank you. For helping me.” You offered him a small smile, but he didn’t return it.

He simply nodded. “It’s okay.” He heaved a deep sigh, not knowing what to do, just like you, standing in front of him, not finding the right words. “Well, see you.” He spoke up again, tears pricking your eyes as you realised the most you could muster was an awkward conversation. It slowly started downing on you that your relationship was indeed over with Oliver and when he walked past you, heading back to the Great Hall, it felt like he was walking away for the last time.

You didn’t have the power to turn around, you just watched the floor in front of you, trying to understand when it has all gone bad. You removed an escaped tear from your cheek and sniffled as you tried to get yourself together.

“Y/N?” You heard his voice from further away. You quickly cleared your cheeks and turned around with a fake smile plastered across your face. He heaved a deep sigh, making you wait in anticipation, before he continued. “I know I have done some pretty shitty things, but I never meant to hurt you intentionally, you know that right?” He asked, his gaze filled with guilt.

“I know, you didn’t.” You were struggling against the tears that wanted to escape, but you firmly held them back.

“I know you probably don’t want to see me, nor do you really want to talk to me, but-“ he gulped loudly, trying to find the right words, fearing of pushing you away even further. “when you walked out of the common room, I didn’t believe you were really giving up on us. I really thought we could solve it just like always.” You wanted to scream at him, you wanted to tell him off for thinking you have given up on him. “I’m really sorry for disappointing you.” He gave you a saddened smile.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you.” You blurted out, but you didn’t regret it. “I just thought you would deserve to feel how hard it is to be ignored. I never thought it would actually get this far.” His eyes widened in surprise, but you couldn’t see it, your gaze was fixed on your shoes, drawing random patterns on the ground.

“You didn’t want to break up with me?” He asked, his tone full of hope. Your eyes shot up as you quickly shook your head. “Do you think, maybe we could try again? I know my words don’t weigh much, but I don’t want to give up on us, I really want to show you how much I care about you, how much I love you.” He stepped closer, stopping right in front of you.

“I want to, but I’m scared. You really did hurt me.” You sighed deeply.

“I know, I did.” He whispered, reaching for your hands as he took them into his, caressing the back of your hands with his thumbs. “I promise to pay attention to you more, just like I did before. Being apart made me realise that I want nothing more than being with you.” He confessed, his voice defeated, but still hopeful. “Please, love.” His pleading chocolate brown eyes, his guilt-filled, apologetic tone was all you needed.

“I can’t say no to you, can I?” You chuckled sweetly, a sound he has been craving to hear once again. His arms sneaked around your waist, yours wrapped around his neck, engulfing each other in the warmest hug you could possibly share. He hid his face in the crook of your neck, finding his favourite spot, your presence making him relaxed once again.

“Thank you so much.” He murmured against your neck, his breath tickling your skin, making you chuckle.

“I love you, Oliver. But you better not break my heart again.” You scolded him as he pulled back, his eyes meeting yours.

“Not even in my nightmares.” He shook his head, leaning closer and hinting a lingering kiss on your forehead. “I’d rather you broke my heart.” He whispered as he leaned down to your lips, kissing you feverishly, hoping to recover the amount of intimate moments you could have spent together, loving each other just like you did before.

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nimmy22 · 3 years ago

Text

A Mistake: Chapter 4

Cara missed her first two classes, having been knocked out into the late morning hours, courtesy of her dad. No parents were rushing to wake her up, no breakfast waiting for her, no offer for a ride to school. She woke up with a gash on her head, an abdomen that was an artwork of black and blue. The cause of it all was a dealer who had no stock to sell. His suppliers suddenly cut all contact leaving her parents without their fix.

Last night her dad came home seconds from exploding. He almost broke down the door as he struggled to open it in his drunken stupor, nose flaring and teeth grinding into dust even before his eyes locked on her. While these beatings were nothing new to Cara, she will admit that his hand was extra heavy yesterday, evidenced by the deeper shades on her skin. Her mother didn't even have to add anything into the mix, satisfied by her husband's handiwork.

Cara just couldn't wait to leave, but money was a dilemma. She tried her best to get the odd job here and there, whatever she could find, really. Things were even more difficult since her parent recently took to stealing her hard-earned money, ransacking her bedroom for anything worth selling. Not even the mattress stuffing or the soles of her shoes were a safe place.

Adding to her troubles was the potential loss of a job. She could no longer babysit Sherry and hasn't been contacted by the Birkins. Still, perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing. After all, these people were beyond dangerous, and she would do just about anything to never meet that man again. It still broke her heart to be cut away from such a sweet little girl, the separation was sudden, and god knows how hard that must've hit Sherry, losing one of the few people she trusted.

As expected, both her parents were gone. They were likely fishing for another dealer, and if they did not find what they were looking for, she knew what will be waiting for her tonight. It was better to stay away from home for now, and it didn't matter where.

While the other bruises were easier to hide, the limp in her walk was too obvious. She had just finished formulating a story by the time she made it to her third class, auto-mechanics. Usually, people ate up her stories without a problem, curbing their questions as their concern lacked genuinely. The real issue was Claire. She'll spit the story right out without even tasting it.

Claire was already waiting in their usual spot. Despite the pain, Cara tried her best to be as subtle as possible but attempting the once flawless movement of her legs took a considerable amount of control.

"Hey, you," Claire cracked a smile as soon as she spotted her friend. "Missed you at lunch. Actually, missed you for like half the day. Where've you been off to? Could've invited me too."

" Stayed up too long watching reruns and then ended up sleeping in. I scared my mom this morning when I came out of my room. She thought I was a burglar." Cara giggled over her lies, struggling to fight the grimace as she took a seat. Thankfully, Claire didn't seem to notice, leaning back in her chair to put up her red hair into a high ponytail. Care relaxed inwardly, feeling safe from the questions.... for now.

Half an hour later, Claire slid beneath the car donated to the school while Cara sat next to her on the floor leaning against the door. Cara was glad. This way, she could finally slouch over and breathe, gladly keeping the weight off her bad leg. The radio played a series of pointless advertisements adding nothing valuable to the background noise. Mr. Crawford liked the radio host, but Cara thought he simply lived to promote Michael Warren or was paid handsomely to do so. Sure, the mayor had done much for the city. Still, she found all this prosperity odd, especially under such a short period of time. Something smelled fishy.

"This shit can't be fixed," Claire grumbled, sliding out from below the hunk of metal, tossing the greasy gloves next to her on the floor. The car was so weathered the paint came off in large chips as she peeled whatever was left of it on the door.

"Something Claire Redfield can't fix? Well, that's a surprise." Cara giggled, raising an eyebrow.

"I can't fix what's not there. Half the parts are missing. The idiot who donated the car must've stolen it, took whatever was worth shit, and donated the rest to get rid of the evidence."

"Looks like you've been hanging around the station too long. What, are you going to start an investigation now?"

"If I wanted that bike upgrade, then I obviously need money, and you know I don't like asking my brother for money. But what I don't mind asking for is a job around the station. Pretty much everyone knows me by now. It's like a foot in the door. I'll just annoy them until it's official."

"Once they hire you as a janitor, don't forget about me. Then we can break into the records room where they keep all those juicy storybooks."

"Okay, that's a fun idea. But here's another idea! How about we not get my brother fired along with us. Plus, you forget where we live. Nothing major happens around here."

"That's where you're wrong," Cara whispered before mentally slapping herself. She tensed, begging higher entities that Claire heard nothing.

"What do you mean?" Claire perked up, reminding her of a puppy who heard the sound of the treat bag opening.

"Oh, nothing," Cara tried to play it off, not want her friend to dig deeper. If there was one thing she learned last Friday, it was to keep her mouth effectively shut. She was already screwing herself over and placing a friend in danger. Her pulse began racing with the prospect that she already said too much.

"Cara," Claire crawled towards her friend, a threat in he voice. "You heard something or...saw something? You can tell me, I'm your friend. Chris and I will always be there for you."

"I know. You remind me of that every day. It's not a big deal. I'm just worried about the level of stupidity in this town. I've heard about the three seniors who got caught breaking into Kendo's gun shop last night. He had them lined up on their knees with their hands behind their head by the time the cops came. The whole street watched them."

"Ugh, I've never seen someone do something as stupid in my life. Had to hear all about it from Chris. In fact, that's all he talked about last night and this morning. Don't get in the wrong crowds, bluh bluh. Guns are bad bluh bluh." As claire grumbled through her rant, Cara knew she had successfully steered the boat to safety.

"Well, it's nice to have a brother. I wouldn't mind a lecture or two."

"Oh honey, I can help with that," Claire cocked her head to the side with a gleam in her eyes.

"No, yours are excluded."

"Oh, ha ha, you'll be begging for it one day. Now be a good girl and be on the watch out. I'm taking a nap." Claire said, sliding back below the car before getting into a comfortable position. "Oh, and give me a foot massage while you're at it,"

"It'll cost you."

"Wait till I hear back about a job, and then we'll talk,"

They stayed like that, Claire breathing softly while Cara listened absentmindedly at the radio. Her thoughts were yet again plagued by the events of last Friday. It was suffocating having to mentally recover from something so scarring and no one around her knowing a thing. She had no one to talk to. The words of the host were starting to become much more appealing than her thoughts.

"Michael Warren did so much for Raccoon decades before he was mayor, but with him in power, we're doing so much better, growing faster than ever before. We all gotta thank him for that, you know? Everyone was skeptical about big pharma moving in, but he made a good partnership with them, and the jobs came raining down. Have you seen the homeless folk on the streets? No, cause they all got help, been offered good jobs, their lives are turned for the better. Y'all look at the jails. They are pretty much empty. Nobody needs to turn to stealing for a living when good-paying work is right in front of them." The host trailed on, with Cara barely listening to the shameless paid promotion. The supposed decrease in crime seems a bit far-fetched to Cara. Maybe the robbers, murders, fraudsters, and rapists just moved their activity to the next town over for whatever reason, much like her dad and his dealings? But if there were so many work opportunities, why couldn't someone come 'help' her parents? Uproot them out of the dark pit they dug?

"Hey, you coming?"

"What?" Cara snapped back to reality, realizing Claire was already on her feet, stretching her back.

"The assembly?"

"Oh...?" Cara frowned, forcing a straight face as she pulled her aching body up.

"I guess I can't blame you. You did miss half the day. Come on, I want to get a seat in the very back, makes for a speedy getaway." Claire was already out the door, staring back at her friend with her hands on her hips, impatiently tapping her foot.

"You go ahead and reserve me a seat. I just need to go to the washroom." Cara said, hoping to walk to the gym at a slower, less painful pace.

"Fine, but don't be too long," Claire said before jogging away.

Taking her sweet time, Cara turned a 5-minute walk to the gym into 10 minutes, but even then, that was still an exhausting mission. Soon she was seated next to Claire with the rest of the students as they waited for the presenter.

The gym was in a state of chaos. Everyone talked over the other. But this was not a surprising thing considering it was the last period of the day and the events of last night.

When Cara looked over the stage, she was surprised, seeing a banner with the Racoon police department STARS name on it. Great, it was another talk with the cops, most likely about drugs and whatnot.

"Hey, maybe your brother is here,"

"Chris? He would've told me,"

A throat clearing next to the speaker's podium failed to get the attention of the kids. It was followed by a very authoritative "Attention,"

Cara never experienced so much power put into a single word, but it was loaded, and it succeeded in forcing everyone to smack their lips shut.

For a few seconds, she was staring but unable to focus, her muscles tensed, ready to make a break for it. She held her breath, slid down her seat, covered her face with a curtain of hair, and for added measure, she put her head down. She hoped to stay hidden in the crowds of students.

It was Albert Wesker at the podium, hands resting on the edges. His eyes didn't have to scan the crowds for long, finding her easily. Her attempt to hid was adorable but in vain. He could track down men in another country given extraordinarily little info, and the foolish little thing thought she could hide in a measly crowd of 1200 hormone-riddled teens.

"I am Captain Albert Wesker of STARS, and five days ago, there had been an unfortunate, unfortunate accident. Maxwell Robford was barely five years older than many of you. Driving while drunk, he ended up wrapped around a tree and was incinerated along with his car. That road wasn't popular, and it would take days for someone to stumble across the wreck and give us a call. We could only recover a pile of ashes and bones to return to his family. Our hearts go to them. I'm here on behalf of STARS to urge you to stop drinking and driving because the next incident may not only result in us digging out your corpses but those of others. The morgue is no place for people so...young. That's all from me, and now my partner will add a few more words." Wesker stepped away from the podium, nodding as the other uniformed officer took over. The next speaker struggled to calm the students, who all at once started talking about the accident.

"That’s so terrible. I feel so bad for his family," Claire said, leaning her head back.

"Yeah..." Cara answered absentmindedly, unable to take away her eyes from the crooked officer. She was angry that he could come to her school and pretend to be an officer of the law concerned for the futures of the kids in the room. If anything, she could bet all the money she had that the kid died because of a foul. Maybe, Wesker himself arranged the scene before it was supposedly...discovered. Perhaps that poor kid saw something he shouldn't have and paid the price. And maybe she'll also end up in an unfortunate accident sooner or later. The thought of that sent the bile straight up. She rocked herself, mind reeling with the possibility.

"I'm going to the washroom," Cara said quietly, her voice unusually thick as she could not push the lump down. Raising from her seat, she rushed out of the gym, feeling the world closing in on her. She was barely aware of Claire calling out to her and the man on the stage who followed her with his eyes.

Completely bypassing the washroom, Cara burst through the school's back doors before throwing her back against the garbage bins, sliding to the floor. The stench didn't register as her brain tricked her into thinking she could smell burning flesh. Thinking about what the kid must have felt while burning up, she shut her eyes tightly, unable to handle such imagery. She didn't try to control her sobs, letting them overpower her without caring about who was watching.

Someone was watching, and they were amused.

"You know, it's rude to walk out while a speaker is presenting. We take the time out of our boorish days to speak to a bunch of idiots who won't hang onto a single word we say. A complete and utter waste of time." Wesker spoke, walking around the garbage can to look down at Cara. The silence came sharply as she noticed his presence. It was hard to believe the girl cowering in the corner was the same person who risked her life to protect his little Sherry.

"Did you kill him?" Cara whispered, her puffy eyes finding his.

"Who?" standing in front of her, Wesker squatted down to her level.

"You know who I am talking about."

"Still in the mood for asking questions? Do you think he will be more alive having that knowledge?" Wesker reached over with a gloved hand to push the hair away from her face, enjoying the complete mess she was. The girl was like this because of him, and he loved having that power. He didn't have to do a thing to get to her. Merely show up.

" I didn't say anything to anyone, I swear. Please just leave me alone." Her voice was octaves higher, uncaring when it fragmented at the end. Even if someone heard her, she doubted they would help. The decorated officer can make up a story more likely believable than a word out of her mouth. She was alone and wholly regretted leaving the gym. Cornering herself, she practically led him to her.

"Our encounters will only end once I say so. Now, answer this. Why were you limping?" Wesker watched as she flinched when his hand came to rest on her injured leg. He found this development displeasing. Someone trespassed on his right to be the only one to hurt her, to use her, to kill her. And correction was in order.

#resident evil #albert wesker #Albert Wesker X OC #albert wesker x oc

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