#all black cat holders are hot man

[redtippedfox]

I didn’t like her previous design so I redid it so it fit my adult Marinette design!

Also I finally learned how to make leather shiny….heheheheh Chat Noirs next

With that all of Marinette’s kwami swap designs are done! I’ll post her official updated sheet later which means Adrien is next!

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

LANDLESS GULL (I)

|| COV MASTERLIST || PREVIOUS: PROLOGUE || NEXT: CHAPTER II ||

PAIRING: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Three years later, you find yourself in a similar situation. But will new revelations put more of the past event into perspective? Or will your anger overcloud your judgment?

WORDCOUNT: 9.7k

WARNINGS: Implied stalking, angst, illegal activities, self destructive tendencies, insinuations of PTSD, sleeplessness, violence, abductions, talks of death, drugs etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The routine was the only thing that saved you, and it had never once wavered. Not in two out of the three years since the death of your father.

Wake up at five, sit in silence until six, and leave the house by seven.

Though you were in your last year of college, the wallet in the pocket of your sweatpants was still bare of the plastic of a standard driver’s license, so, you take the same long route you did every morning; feet hitting the concrete. The black iron under your grip leaves you shivering as you lock the front gate to your family’s estate, the end of the long walkway a grand, overgrown, sight as you take one last glance.

Hucking your backpack higher over your shoulder the elusive black form of the resident stray cat darts from one of the overgrown and thick bushes to another; the steadily browning leaves a barrier of dying flora.

“Don’t kill the finches, yeah?” You huff quietly, eyes dull and heavy with fatigue as the morning air chills your skin. Even if it was getting colder as the seasons changed, your mind never once went to the prospect of calling a cab.

The thought of someone you didn’t know driving you somewhere…you frown as you think it over, shoes stamping on top of weeds sprouting from the broken sidewalk as the utter stillness of the morning grows long. No. No, It was easier to walk or take the bus. A train, maybe.

But walking lets you think; makes you tired.

So, by eight AM you were always at the Café an hour's journey away, cheeks chilled and body quivering like your bones were made of ice. The winter was worse, so you didn’t have it in you to even consider complaining.

Hector smiles at you when you walk through the old front door, dodging the umbrella holder slightly in the way as your nose sniffles. You pointedly stare at his large mustache instead of into his eyes, sighing lightly.

“Ah, there she is!” He exclaims. The excitable Café owner had told you that his family had come up to Chicago from New Jersey only a decade ago, which would explain the still prominent accent. “Just in time, eh? C’mon then, I got a nice hot one ready just for you like always, Sweetheart.”

“Trying to make me wife number three, Hec?” You slyly remark, walking over the hardwood floors and itching at the skin under your eye. Lids flicking open and closed as a call to sleep seeps into your brain, you take comfort in the familiar atmosphere.

It was dimly lit, the business, relying more on natural light than anything. The scent of coffee and baked goods stuck to your nose, waking you up as you pull the thick cotton canvas of your jacket closer and look around as you shuffle to the counter. Shelves lined with bags and small homemade treats make a quick smile grow.

How does he find the time to bake all of that?

Hector laughs, but you pay little mind. In your coat pocket, your fingers play with a coin, thumbing the engraved face slightly. A slow glaze of memory spreads its fingers over your eyes when you spy a family picture on the counter—the mustached man with his two daughters.

“Hell, if all it takes is fresh coffee cake and two espressos, my odds are lookin’ pretty good if I can say so myself.”

You snap back to the present with a stiff neck, blinking quickly. Clearing your throat, you roll your orbs and remove your hands from your pockets, rubbing them together and creating friction when the lack of heat starts to burn.

“No offense, but I think I’ll stick to my oppressively single ways, Big Guy. You have better luck with the lady down at the bank anyways. What’s her name,” you stare at Hector’s large nose, raising a brow as he moves his body to the side and grabs his utensils. “Cassidy? Crissy? It’s something with a ‘C’.”

The man’s filling up your drinks and pulling a piece of fluffy cake from the display case, rushing about as if he’d never known peace in his relatively normal life.

Hector was in his mid-forties. Balding. Large and stocky—not exactly someone you’d envision running a business like this all on his own and actually enjoying it. His pasty complexion reminded you of a carton of milk left in the sun, but he got on well enough with the locals to a point where everyone on this street knew him personally. Above all, Hector was a people person. Speaking to him was easy, and the constant burning anger in your chest loosened when he was around. Let you breathe.

All things considered, you quite liked the man.

“Clarissa,” Hector enunciates, putting everything on the counter as you pull out your wallet from your back pocket. “And, yeah, she’s the security guard down there. Beautiful damn woman, Kid.”

Your lips quirk as you take the items in crowded hands carefully, slapping two tens and a few crumpled fives to the counter. As you’re turning and walking to your seat, you call over your shoulder.

“Like a woman who can beat you up, then?”

“God, do I.” You share a chuckle together, and, knowing your routine, Hector begins to whistle under his breath and wipe the front counter clean of crumbs.

Always taking the corner seat next to the large front window, you slip into the wall booth and put everything on the table grunting before shucking off your backpack. Besides you, most of the morning customers just came and went as they pleased, picking up what they needed and leaving—realistically you should as well.

Majoring in history and minoring in business left you deep in work and covered to the neck with projects; already sleepless nights didn’t help when the large classrooms of the University of Chicago got too loud to stand, the raised speaking of students like screaming in your ears. You always skipped morning classes, particularly the large ones for your own sanity. Attendance was tanked, but because the work was all posted online your grade hadn’t suffered.

You'd gotten it up since the first year, at least. That was all that mattered.

Taking a sip of your first cup of espresso, you let the caffeinated liquid hit the emptiness of your stomach and sigh. You place it down on the woodgrain, closing your eyes for a minute and tilting your head down. Around the beverage, your hands twitch at the warm material, feeling your own blood pump in your veins and the loose shirt under your jacket sag as warm air comes to create a dichotomy of senses. Hector always kept the Café warm, but it was never enough for you.

Everything always felt cold.

Blinking back to the present, the Tv situated atop the small bookshelf in the corner spews the early run of the news as you gather your laptop from your bag and set it down; eager to get to work.

“...As we experience the anniversary of the death of—” You blink, fingers pausing over the keys as half of your password is typed out. Staring at the blinking black bar, you hear a violent inhalation of air from the front desk.

“Oh, fuck, Dear, I’m sorry. I forgot that it was today. Here let me–”

“No,” you interrupt, shaking your head harshly and tiling your gaze in Hector’s direction. You stare hard at his dirty apron. “No, it’s okay. Leave it on.”

Your voice is stiff, digging into that well in your stomach of barred teeth and barbed wire. Blood instead of water and a bucket made of bone that dips into crimson liquid.

“But…” He trails, and your hands hover above the laptop. You notice a tremor before picking up your drink once more, downing a good portion of the scalding liquid with a gulp. You clear your throat against the burn and lower it.

“If I had an issue with it, Hec, I’d tell you. Trust me, I already know what the date is. Lived it for three years to the day.”

The man grumbles, itching at his round chin. Not too keen. He picks up the remote near the cash register and lowers the volume all the while he sends your hunched form glances with creased brown eyes.

“We remember the countless donations to those less fortunate than himself, the man always seen with a smile on his face greeting visitors, and the tragic end he met as a result of a robbery gone wrong.” Your jaw clenches, hands curling in as you glare at the blinking black bar with hidden hatred. A cruel smirk slashes your lips. Robbery gone wrong, now that was funny. You never knew how anyone believed that. “...Admissions to the Museum of Natural History are at half-price all week.”

The news anchor moves on and your fingers spread to rest atop the smooth keys, lungs tight.

They had been talking about your father, of course. The fabricated story was like a knife to the chest every time someone brought it up. Acquaintances at school, professors. Taking a peek outside, you see groups of random people walk past wondering for an instant if they’d come in and recognize you.

Your dad was incredibly well-known when he was alive.

A robbery, your sneer grows as you log into your laptop, face falling to a blank slate as you clink on a plethora of named files. Pathetic. Of course, the CIA would spew something like that.

“What’s going on? Please, Dad, what’s happening?” The world is swirling with technicolored lights. Amber eyes. A hand on the top of your head.

The words pop up as a document loads, bolded and black. You shake off nausea and take down more caffeine, finishing off the first cup with muted disgust. Pushing it farther down the table, you move the second closer.

OPERATION: KINGFISHER

OVERSIGHT: STATION CHIEF KATE LASWELL, TS/SCI

OPERATIVES: CLASSIFIED

STATUS: ACTIVE

MISSION REPORT: MONDAY, 0823, CHICAGO, USA: THREE YEARS PRIOR:

All the rest was blacked out in long streaks of dark highlighter, the image fuzzy. A sharp needle inserts itself into your nerves, every slam of your heart like a gunshot as your sides pinch with disappointment.

No. Your jaw clenches.

How long had you been trying to get access to all of the government documents that were relevant to your case after you figured out the CIA was behind your father's and your abduction? A full year at this point? So many sleepless nights and under-the-table deals. And the information that mattered the most was still a level above the fabricated station you had given yourself to slip past lines upon lines of code like a snake in the grass.

You want information on Private Samson Row. The name you had figured out belonged to the person who had pulled the trigger on your father. You’d sleuthed out the others’ names as well through a straight week of only coffee and red-eyes. But you'd done it.

Captain John Price, Lieutenant Ghost, Sergeant John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, and Sergeant Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick.

Private Samson Row.

What had given them away to be a government body was the one-word phrase that Price had barked after the shot was only an echo.

“What in the fucking hell are you thinking, Private?!” The leader's voice yowls and grunts as you slowly open your eyelids, lashes fluttering over your cheeks. “We needed him alive, you Muppet!”

From then it was history.

Blatant irritation stems in your veins at the brick wall that now presents itself mere black lines away from a reason as to why this all had happened, fingers flinging across the pad to fly through the fifty-two-page file. Not a single word was visible.

“Son of a…” You strangle the curse under your breath and go to dig your fingernails into the back of your neck until crescents form. Blazing white pain and a shifting of sinuses.

If it wasn’t obvious, the laptop with you now was rarely used for schoolwork. In fact, you never even planned on going to campus today—no one expected you to, so it was better to feign brokenness instead of icy fury.

“Kate Laswell,” scoffing humorlessly, you shake your head at the only portions of the document filled in, “I keep seeing your name on everything. Christ, with the intel that I’ve read up on involving you, I’m surprised your personal file wasn’t more difficult to crack open. Only took me four days. ” You mutter to no one and nothing numbly.

But it seems an answer is given.

The bell atop the front door swings, a small tinkering of tarnished silver metal and a creak of rusted hinges. Feet that stamp lightly, but press firmly. Bleeding contained purpose.

Your body stills; lungs going immobile.

When you were young, you could memorize the sounds of the staff going down the stairs at the mansion. Tell who was who just by the pace and the weight on the creaking wood; it was a game that you were sure you could still play even years later in that practically abandoned estate. The slightest sound made you snap to attention when you were alone.

Just as this one did. But that wasn’t because of paranoia.

“Ah! Hello, Sir, welcome!” Hector calls, motioning with a hand as the air goes tense. “What can I get you today? We’ve got a little Coffee Cake left if you want, I gotta say, man, it’s my best batch yet.”

It was because you knew him. Those feet.

This can’t be right.

A throat clears. “Sorry, Sir. Not today.”

That voice. Your eyes shutter wider, eyelashes frozen at the screen of your laptop.

British. Smooth. It was a voice that played in your subconscious at a constant—never leaving. A flash of amber eyes. Blood slashed your vision, coating the world in a sheen of red; gore dripping down your face faster than water. A funeral shroud of pure hatred.

Gaz. Kyle Garrick.

With a quivering hand, your finger slowly clicks the Escape key like it was an intimate partner, watching the document disappear on quick feet and with ruffled clothes into the scene of your wallpaper. Staring blankly at the multiple incriminating folders that meet you, your ears twitch to the sound of a slow inhalation; tapping digits over a pant pocket.

You don’t dare look up.

A tall shadow begins approaching, and you briefly seize. Humming emanates in the back of your head like a kind of drunken sloshing of senses.

Run.

Your heart mirrors the steps that Gaz takes. Against the nature of the cortisol and rampaging adrenaline in your blood, a flicker of your lips betrays a chilled amusement. A part of you had always known this would happen. It’s strange to say, but even as your legs start shaking, your expression is measured; held-back brows, loose lips, and a fluidness to your shifting eyes.

But your mind…

What’s he doing here? You panic. Why…why is he here? They couldn’t have possibly known I was reading up on them, could they? No, no, I’ve been careful.

You can’t move. Your mind can’t function. Every nerve is sparking with a need to sprint and flee. But yet again, your body leaves you frozen.

One of the double chairs in front of your table is pulled out, and a figure dressed in a white shirt covered by the second layer of a fitted blue athletic top calls your gaze. The build of an intensive workout schedule is shown unabashedly, sleeves pulled up to dark elbows that shift the tense forearm muscles. Brown and tan Army pants cause your eyebrow to raise incredulously before the limbs disappear under the barrier.

The frozen shackles on your limbs break and your lips move before you can shut yourself up. Maybe it was the familiar atmosphere, or maybe it was the therapist’s words from that month-long fiasco of court-mandated therapy way back in the beginning.

The coin in your pocket burns, and you long to clench it in your fist until you’re dripping blood like a stuck pig.

“Not exactly trying to hide it, are you?” You look back down at your laptop, opening the search browser and pretending to look up something unimportant. “I’ll admit it, Gaz, I like this instead of having a gun shoved halfway into my vertebrae. Not too fond of it, you understand?”

Silence holds out. A head turns away for a moment as his body shifts in uncomfortableness.

“I’ll be needing you to come with me, Ma’am.” The accent punches you in the throat, the stern order that coasts along like a fish in water.

What gave him the right?

How does one stay calm when your head is like a pot of boiling water? The bubbles roll in great waves of anger and fear as you try and stay outwardly calm with struggling success. You doubted you were able to look anything besides purely rage-filled, but didn’t dare check by looking into the man’s eyes—or even his face for that matter.

You glared over the screen and dug daggers into his bobbing Adam’s Apple, settling on your answer. Sarcasm.

“And I’ll need you to understand that I’d rather choke on this coffee cake.” Your finger points slightly to the untouched plate with a tremor in its bones. “I don’t want another barrel pointed at my forehead, no offense.”

Gaz’s jaw shifts, clenching before loosening, and in his sensitive ear, the radio sizzles to life with a spark.

“Kyle, I’ve got eyes. Talk to me.” The Brit looks outside through the glass, immediately finding the large figure leaning against the wall of a library across the street.

Gaz’s Captain has his arms crossed, beanie-covered head tilted to seem like he’s watching cars that pass by; a gruff-looking man simply people-watching. Everyone misses the bulge of a pistol stuffed into the small of his back—under a brown leather jacket and a black sweater. Price itches at his brown beard with a frown.

“In position, Sir. Speaking with her now.” The man at the front desk of the Café watches him closely, pretending to clean a spot on the back counter that seems to never go away despite the multiple passes. He wouldn’t be a problem if it came down to that.

“Copy. Keep on schedule.” The Sergeant wasn’t sure why he was here—why out of all the others in his Task Force, Price had decided he needed to be the one to engage with you.

“Roger that.”

This was the last thing he wanted to do.

He didn’t know how to convince you to come with him without replaying the scene from three years ago; it was imperative that he didn’t do that. Though it had been necessary…his thighs shifted over the rickety chair. It wasn’t supposed to end like that. Everyone was paying for it.

Gaz’s brown eyes glance to the table, one hand going to fix the position of his favorite ball cap over his head and press it down.

He felt naked without his gear.

Figures I’d be the only one bloody stripped down to nothing.

“Ma’am,” the Brit starts slowly, watching your ears twitch as you burrow deeper into your large jacket. A flicker of hesitation seeps into his heart. With a frown on his tense lips, he could still see your shoulders bunched up; breathing labored. You were terrified—rightly so. “It would be best to listen to me, yeah? No one’s going to hurt you. This is for your own safety but I need you to come quietly.”

Kyle had put all of his cards to the shock value; the hope that your fear of him would prompt you to come along in a shell-shocked reaction and a hesitance of an imaginary weapon. It worked in a few other missions, he’d even done it a few other times in the army, though it was always a hit or miss.

But staring hard at your thin lips, he noticed anger as well and was forced to face reality. This was never going to work.

Your internal timer ends, and all the primal instincts trapped in your mind let loose a vile scream. The memories are too great; too violent. Even this man’s voice is a brand in your soft tissue.

“Listen to who? An accomplice to murder? And ‘not hurt me’.” You snort, reaching up to grab the top of your laptop and close it with a slam. Hector pauses his fake cleaning as you stare at Gaz’s nose and the barely-there stubble that lives over his upper lip and cheeks. “You’ve done a pretty horrible job of that…The only way you’re getting me to go with you is in a body bag.” Your brow raises. “I’m sure you’re familiar with them, hm? I’d kind of hoped you’d already be in one by now if I’m being honest.”

“Listen,” Kyle prided himself on being patient, but the clock was ticking. Laswell needed you at the designated location and that was where he intended to take you in one piece. The injection needle in his back pocket was looking more and more promising if this continued to be difficult, a mixed concoction that only the CIA could put together to knock a person out for a long while. But why did he feel so hesitant to use it? He’d also been the only one to suggest someone try and speak to you first before forcing you to go along with them.

I guess this is what happens when I try and put in my two damn cents. Stick to procedure next time.

“I don’t think you understand the position you’re in—”

“The position I’m in is entirely you and your little friends’ fault.” You growl, voice breaking and eyes turning to look outside. Snapping when you see his lips part, “Don’t even try to deny it.”

Kyle’s mouth closes with a clench of teeth.

Trapped like an animal you have half a sense to gnaw your own leg off. There was a hunch in your mind as to what was happening—the files you’ve read that weren’t blackout out gave in-depth mission details; play-by-plays. These people worked in teams. Always.

Your eyes dart with frantic knowledge as Gaz sits tense, a subdued annoyance flaring as his hands tap the table and thinks deeply.

You find Captain Price easily and the agony grows. The stocky man shifts in the morning light, the familiar body leading to a slashed remembrance of folded arms and black balaclavas. His stare was like a burning piece of wood shoved directly into your eye sockets.

Alleyway in the back, your feet shuffle, tense. You had to get out of this. Take the corner and run to the busier intersections. Try to keep calm. Breathe.

Easier said than done. Kyle was the same man who had put a gun to your head with the intention of pulling the trigger—your life was nothing more than a bargaining chip. Would he do the same again?

Yes. No one was saying he didn’t have a weapon on him now; the only difference was this time you didn’t know why he was here in the first place. The easiest answer was the documents, but was it that simple? Why send the same people after you?

Not that simple, but it is illegal. The thought of going back to a small room; a rope around your wrists…your hands go to itch at the healed skin, still sensitive despite the years. The Sergeant clocks it with a pulling frown and tight brows.

“Ma’am,” Gaz’s voice snaps your vision back to the table, and you go to take a drink of the remaining cup of espresso to calm your nerves. You send a glance at the heavy backpack beside you and blink. “I didn’t have to come and speak to you, alright? I’m doing this to try to find some standing. This isn’t a ploy, but you have to follow me.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Bloody…no.” Kyle grunts, itching at his neck as his earpiece goes off. He looks sideways.

“Kyle, this isn’t working. Stick ‘er.”

“I can get her to come along,” he mutters harshly, not noticing one of your hands going to place the drink down while the other sneaks to the strap of your bag. “There’s no need to—!”

The force hits him right in the neck, and his head snaps back with a heavy jerk. His chair falls backward from the weight, sending him sprawling in a tangle of limbs and rushing feet over the floor. A heavy crash emanates throughout the building and the wind is knocked from his lungs as brown eyes bug out of the sockets.

“Hector! Call the police!” The front door is slammed open with a violent noise of shaking glass and a bell. Shrieking hinges.

“Bloody fucking hell!” Kyle shouts, shoving the backpack off of him and ignoring the sharp pang in the back of his skull. He recovers quickly. Hot irritation spikes as Price barks into the earpiece; the Sergeant scrambles after you with fast force.

“After her!”

Your feet slam to the concrete as the laptop stays tucked into the crook of your elbow, chest conforming to the press of it as you puff out quick breaths. Inside your ribs, the blood rushes out to your head, creating a pound like a drum.

Shoving aside others on the sidewalk, shouting sounds out from behind you before the dark shadow of an alleyway meets your snapping vision like a blessing from above. Pushing past an older man, you take a sudden turn into the darkness, the morning chill momentarily getting pushed back by the fire under your skin. Wind rushes past your ears.

Faster, you tell yourself, feet flying over stray garbage bags and puddles, don’t let them catch you. They can’t catch you.

Easier said than done. They were trained soldiers. SAS in league with the CIA.

Panting, you clutch your laptop tighter and feel cold sweat drip down your spine before a yell echoes from the entrance behind you.

“Hey!” It was Kyle’s voice, stern, but the sound of another set of feet told you who else was in pursuit. If you were being honest, the Captain scared you far more than the Sergeant did.

Your eyes go unfocused as reality sets in.

“They came back for me,” muttering, you see the brief alleyway end up ahead. “They tracked me down again to finish the job.”

“Bravo 7-1 she’s comin’ to you!” You don’t register the grunted words until you’re already taking the corner on the opposite side of the street, about to disappear into the expanse of a crowded downtown rush.

The wall of muscle sends you sprawling out on your back, the laptop flying from your hands in a wide display of just how fast you’d been running as discomfort ripples up your spine as the ground meets you. The pain that blossoms in your nose is sharp and immediate; a groan exiting into the air as you close your eyes tight to push back the shock and the momentum that had just been immediately halted. Nonsensical words exit you in slurring huffs.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” A Scottish accent hits your pulsing ears, as your shaking hand covers your eyes, teeth bared as a dull ache stems from the back of your head. Rocks poke into your back. “You alright down there? Didnea expect that.”

A hand snaps to the collar of your shirt, hauling you up easily as your bearing has yet to come back to you. The word spins.

“Ow,” your lips release a whine, face turned down as you blink away black dots. Large feet covered by brown combat boots become clear as the running slam of the other two gets closer.

Starling, you snap your head forward and attempt to rush off with barely functioning feet.

“Ah, ah!” The Scot laughs, and a locked fist stays rooted into the textile of your clothes. “Can’t have that, now.”

You look up at a strong man with pale skin—brunette stubble over a sculpted jaw and a scar over the chin. Long lips that curl into a smirk to show off white teeth. If you had to guess, this was John MacTavish. Soap—otherwise called Johnny.

You’ve seen the photos in the files, but you have no rush to look into his bright cerulean gaze anytime soon, but you see wisps of his mohawk sitting on his forehead.

“Get your hands off of me.” You growl, feet straining to stay steady. Your lids blink quickly to gain control as, like a newborn foal, it’s like your body doesn’t know how to control itself. “Bastard.”

Jesus, my head’s yelling at me to sit down. The hell is this guy made out of? Stone?

The Scot only chuckles as Gaz and Price catch up.

“No can do, Little Lady.”

Kyle lets out a deep sigh as he stops, having seen the entire scene play out when you ran head-on into the older man and tries to tell himself to feel bad—he did slightly, but the mirrored pain in the back of his own skull found some sort of redemption.

Girl’s got an arm on her. He rubs at the back of his head.

“I think that makes us even. Wouldn’t you say, Ma’am?” The Sergeant huffs light-heartedly, staring at you without so much as breaking a sweat from the short pursuit. The Captain shakes his head, going to pick up the laptop on the ground as your teeth clench.

“Call Ghost. Get him over here for the Exfil.” Civilians watch, but like they usually do, no one steps in to say anything or to spare more than a glance. “ASAP.”

“Shut up.” You scowl at Gaz’s chest, replying to his comment. Jerking yourself out of Soap’s hold, he lets you stand fully by yourself before he presses large fingers into his earpiece to mutter something out. The Scot still eyes you closely. There was no use trying to run anymore. “It was the least you deserved. Or are we forgetting how we met in the first place—should have dumped coffee over your head too.”

“Now that’s overkill, isn’t it, Love?” He can’t help but snap. Perhaps it was the dull thumping in his skull, or perhaps it was just you. “Manners never a prospect in your home?”

No one tested his patience quite like this and he’s only just re-met you. Your anger was justified, the Sergeant knew deep down, but he’d never expected this. In the brief time, you had insulted him, thrown a bookbag at his head, and then insulted him some more. Maybe the Captain had been right when he suggested all those weeks ago that it would be better to just knock you out right off the bat.

Still could…Kyle twitches his nose, huffing to himself and shaking his head.

You bare your teeth. “Shove that overkill and that stupid nickname up your—”

“Enough. Both of you.” The Captain interjects, growling out as a black van pulls alongside the road. Walking to it, Price shakes his head, fingers pressing into his nose bridge as he enters the passenger seat. “Fuckin’ hell.”

You fall silent and fight back the burning heat in your cheeks as the lack of ability to escape becomes evident to you. What else could you do? Scream? No—they’d just shove you in the car and put a gun to your spine again.

Every option led to you getting into that car. That…that compacted black car with tinted windows and filled with the men you hate the most.

Will Private Row be in there? A pang of horror enters you. Will he…?

Your father’s blood is forever stuck into the fabric of your flesh like a tapestry. Lining the stitching of your pores and the embroidery of your genes.

“Go on, then,” Soap prompts, a hand pressing into your shoulder blades like you were an unruly calf. Your eyes narrow, lips pinching down into a tight frown.

Today was supposed to be easy. Simple. No college, no questions, and certainly no abductions. Your dad was always on your mind—what happened? Why did the Private shoot him when in every report you had read interrogations of that kind took hours upon hours to finish?

If I keep my cool, you reason, feeling all of the eyes on you as you grab the car handle and pull it open with a pop, maybe I can get answers as well. Straight from the source.

Your eyes search the interior and a great weight is lifted. No one else besides the driver and the Captain, who are separated by a wall and a small window in the front, is present. No Private Row.

Thank God.

What would you have done then?

These last three years were a learning period, and when you hop into the vehicle and shuffle to the far right, your hand delves into your jacket pockets; the one connecting with the coin, its metal cold to the touch. Your finger skims it, pressing into the groves until an indent forms in your flesh. But there was one thing you learned in the time you spent destroying yourself to get even a sliver of information on your abductors. They were always playing games.

Games of intellect, of mental fortitude and knowledge. It was a chess piece being moved and hoping yours was in the line of fire so the king could be checked. Your unease is still present, the quivering fingers and the snapping gaze but if you can keep your head on, then maybe—

The car door on your side opens.

“Excuse me, Ma’am. Can’t have you by the door,” Gaz mutters, and your lips release a stifled scoff. But you do as you’re told, watching from the corner of your eyes as the tall body scoots inside, easily situating itself in between you and the door they were apparently afraid you’d throw yourself out of.

They’re going to lock it anyways—what's the point? You could call them paranoid, but that would just be hypocritical. When the last sliver of outside light is cut off as the door closes, you flinch at the loud noise and take a steadying deep breath. Soap sits on your opposite.

You’re completely stuck in the middle.

Kyle watches as Ghost sends a glance back. The Sergeant nods stiffly and the car peels out. Johnny leans back, arms crossed, and watches the world as it passes by while those brown orbs stay locked on you. The subtle shaking of your shoulders; the way your eyes bug and the pupils stay small.

Sweat stays on your eyebrow ridge, and Gaz thinks about how close you’ll become to a snowball if you pull in even farther. The man clears his throat in dismissal and a small sliver of regret. After all, you are a mostly innocent party in this.

He’s about to open his mouth and ask if your head is okay when a deep chuckle sounds off from the front of the car.

“Well, you’ve been busy. Laswell was right.” Your ears perk, mind forcing back thoughts of the walls closing in around you as Price’s gravel voice sounds out. The car smells like gunpowder and leather. “How’d you manage this, then?” You blink at the interior window and say nothing.

You’d seen the bear of a man take the computer; had no doubt he could find a way into it, though you had never thought it would happen that fast.

Your lips thinned.

Kyle and Soap exchange glances, curiosity sparking as Ghost drives them to where Laswell told them to meet with the package.

“That’s none of your business.” The comment exits you in a string of whispers, defensiveness sparking.

“Well, it’s my business when my name’s on it, eh? How long did this take to pile together?” Your mouth stays shut as the Captain’s visage looks back at you from the rearview mirror with narrowed lids.

“Sir?” Gaz asks, confused.

“She’s got files on us—on all of us. Kate too. More than she thought.” The Sergeant looks down at you in surprise, eyes going slightly wider.

“What in the hell does that mean?” Soap questions, hands gesturing out from his cross-body hold as you sink even deeper into yourself. Bitter tears bite at the back of your vision.

“It means someone’s been digging where they weren’t supposed to.” It’s the first time that Ghost has spoken, but it was all that was needed. Your body shivers at the Manchester accent; the numb brutality of it.

But you say nothing, and the ride is silent besides the way all of the hard stares nearly spoke words out loud.

Everything just felt like a blur of sound and color. Separate; removed. If you tried hard enough, you were back in the Café with Hector—eating that coffee cake you never even got a bite out of and chugging down espresso that you were already craving again.

Your finger digs deeper into the coin in your pocket.

The cops would show up. There was no doubt that the past New Jersey resident hadn’t called them when you told him to. But there was also no doubt that the CIA would step in and take jurisdiction. It was what they did when your father was murdered—they’d spun a story as you sat in a room that belonged to a detective and sobbed in an inconsolable state. Reporters and news crews outside.

Nothing we can do, you were told, it was a robbery. Out of our hands, but we’ll try our best to find the culprit.

You already knew the culprit. The man in the corner. His name was Samson Row and he had been nervous. He had a trigger finger.

Your eyes harden as they glare at the floor and your jumping feet. For your father, you would get as much information as you could, and then leak it if you had to—if these people let you live. But before that, you wanted to know why. Why had he died? You’d do nothing until that was answered.

Swallowing down saliva, you speak as the car turns off the main road, heading farther and farther away from the parts of town you knew. Your lungs go stiff.

“So where’s Row?” The air shifts as your hoarse voice coldly utters, “What? Is he not part of your little group now? Figured he’d be here to finish off the rest of it, he only did half a job last time.”

Kyle looks to the side, an elbow resting on the window sill. Soap clears his throat awkwardly as his great body shifts.

“Hm,” Price grunts out. But if you were looking for an answer, no one gives you one.

Hatred flairs. What gave these men the right to think they could just push you aside like that? They put a gun to your head! Killed your father!

The rabid sense of justice and entitlement grow until your jaw is clenching, unease mixing with agony. You deserve answers even if it kills you.

Your mouth opens, and your instinctually watering eyes stay stuck to the floor.

“I–”

“Laswell’ll explain,” Gaz’s quiet voice leaves you tense, muscles wound up as if you had forgotten he was there. A barrel flashes over your sight and you want to shift away but know you can’t.

Kate Laswell. So that’s who you’re going to meet.

“...Good,” you lick your lips.

About time.

It’s only ten minutes later that you’re let out of the vehicle, an underground parking garage and its dim lighting making your pupils widen to accommodate the darkness. Gaz gets out first, keeping the door open for you by the frame and you pause before following after, keeping a wary eye on him.

“Head alright?” You frown and stare at the Brit’s nose.

“Hope yours hurts even more.”

“This way.” You follow after the Captain’s voice, leaving the Sergeant behind to gape, blink, and slowly shut the car door. Ghost slips past with a hidden amusement and the group continues on.

This is going to be one hell of a mission.

To you, it was clear that this was a military base.

The entrance needed a keycard, and the vehicles stored underground were armored besides the one that you’d been brought in. The hallways were lined with tile and the staff that walked past were all dressed in clothes ranging from fatigues to full-on issued uniforms. People would try to meet your eyes, but you always looked away before they were able.

“In here.” Price utters, sliding an identification card through a reader before a faint clicking emanates out. The brunette tilts his head firmly as he opens the door.

You blink, but unlike the strange and heated interactions with Gaz, you hesitate to get on the Captain’s bad side. The chilled eyes digging into you as you state at his scarred hands… Your body shivers and you slip past the men into a brightly lit room.

Even without a weapon pointed at you, their eyes still felt like knives. Their words like bullets. Everything reminds you of three years ago, and try as you might, all you want to do is go to bed and forget about this.

Still the adrenaline hadn’t crashed, and when it did you knew you were going to be out of school for a week. Shaking. Sobbing. Rolling on the floor refusing to eat because what if they were right outside the door of your bedroom?

As you expected, the door closes behind you with a lock being set in place. But what you didn’t expect was to not be alone in this medium-sized room holding only a table and…

Your gaze widens on the figure in one of two chairs. Slim, yet fit, her pale skin sits under a simple white blouse and a lanyard over her neck. Hands intertwined and sitting over a stack of physical files in manila folders as a wedding band glints.

Dirty-blonde hair forms strands of bangs with the rest held back like a hostage near the top of her back, wrinkles in her forehead and around her lips. Without thinking clearly, your eyes make contact with hers, and you’re left violently flinching away, blinking rapidly and tilting your head down to force away amber and gold. Your heart seizes, but you recognize that shade of blue you’d just seen.

Gunmetal. So, this was Kate Laswell in the flesh.

A soft sigh meets the air.

“Please, sit.”

Biting your lip wearily, you start forward, hand connecting with the extra seat before you slowly pull it out. Your fingers tap the material before you hesitantly lower yourself into it, eyes going to any possible exit beyond the door behind you.

There was none.

“I’d like to apologize for the stress, but you can imagine that we wanted to cause the least amount of panic possible. To both you and the public.” Your vision sits on her lanyard, watching the picture jump as she moves to sit farther upright. “Kyle was the one to suggest speaking to you first, though I didn’t think it would work.”

You slouch.

“It didn’t.”

Kate blinks at your frame, studying the ragged look and evident sleeplessness. She would almost call it sickly. A frown grows over her serious face.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Where’s Row?” To hell with subtlety, you decided.

“It’s not as simple as that.” The woman doesn’t miss a beat, shaking her head back and forth slowly. “I’ll need you to listen to what I’m about to tell you.”

“...And why should I do that?” Your brow raises, voice gaining ice. “You’re responsible for my father’s death. You know that? You had oversight for that Operation.” Laswell stares at you, you can feel it. “Hell, you had oversight for a lot of Operations. What was the number… forty-five and counting? But that’s really just a blanket number, isn’t it?”

You can’t help the comments, they fall from you quicker than blood, and the back of your head burns something awful. Lights dance.

“John told me you had government documents on your laptop. A number on all of the members of One-Four-One.” Kate sighs quickly, motioning to you with a hand. “I have to admit, I did expect something like that to happen—so I made sure to let them know that you most likely already knew they were SAS.” A pause. Your hand goes to itch at your nose, peeling back skin as a way to ground yourself. But you’d be lying by saying you weren’t intrigued and a bit in awe. You’d underestimated how much Laswell actually knew about you. Who was to say they hadn’t been keeping an eye on you this whole time? Who are you kidding, of course they did. You curse yourself internally. “But unfortunately, that’s not why we’re here.”

Your fidgeting halts; eyes narrow. The Agent moves back, taking up a file and spreading it open, you watch with rapt attention.

If not the stolen documents, then what?

“Do,” pictures meet light, and your interest peeks, “these individuals seem familiar?”

One was of a man in a nice suit, expensive looking with a well-trimmed beard of blonde hair and a bald head. Tattoos are inked into visibly pale skin. The photo was taken as he was getting out of a large vehicle, armed guards holding a door open though it looked like he himself wasn’t in need of the entourage.

He was built like a boar on steroids.

Your hand grabs the page and brings it closer, face pulling close in concentration as your hands go clammy. You had no recollection of this stranger.

So what is this about?

The next was of a woman with a darker skin tone, perhaps from South Asia, though you couldn’t be certain. She was dressed nicely as well, in silk skirts and a long-sleeved shirt that wraps around her smaller body. The look is finished off with a thin garment over her shoulders.

She’s picking out spices at an outdoor market, the image partially covered by the lip of a jacket as if someone had been trying to be discreet.

But the guns of the armed guards are still seen as they flank the woman.

You look up, placing the photos down and shaking your head. Pulled in eyebrows causing your gaze to stop at Kate’s nose. “No, why?”

“Because they’ve put a price on your head.” Your body freezes and it takes a moment to register what she just told you.

Eyes wide and lips slightly parted; the ache in the back of your skull burns brighter as you find your breath has stopped. Sucking down a gasp, you bring a hand out of your pocket to scratch at your neck, mind running.

“What…what?” Laswell takes the pictures back, continuing nonchalantly as if your heart isn’t about to explode. You feel faint, and the lights buzz in your ears.

A price on my head?

“Crime syndicates with terrorist connections.” She begins, and you can’t help but listen. “Since your father’s death, they’ve been waiting for you to take up the mantle. Your families held tight bonds in the past—the museum your father was running was a cover to smuggle Yaromir Osipov’s weapons,” Kate points to the man, then to the woman, “and Mala Kham’s drugs. They were later sold at an undisclosed location and a portion of the profits was sent back to fund conflicts. Hired assassinations. Symbolic murders...”

The rest is left as an open statement.

“I…” You stutter, panic palpable. The air was getting thicker; harder to breathe. You can’t remember a time when your own clothes had felt so suffocating to wear.

It wasn’t a question to you as to why you’d restrained yourself from looking anything about your father up in the CIA databases. It was a fresh wound and an incredibly bloody one. The man that raised you wasn’t that man—the one that would smuggle drugs and weapons into Chicago and sell them off somewhere else.

The man you remembered was respectable and above all, kind. Indirectly causing the deaths of people? No, that wasn’t him. Your mind broke at even the barest insinuation. It… it refused to even consider it.

Kate Laswell watches blankly, humming under her breath and nodding to herself. As if she’d just confirmed something that she’d been on the fence about.

She continues.

“When three years passed and you never got into contact, your mother either, their product wasn’t getting sold at high rates anymore. Chicago is a vastly important playing field. The best way to get another house in power is to take out any remaining opposition and reinstate someone else.”

“My mother and I,” you murmur with a hysterical look that snaps into your eye. A sharp rigidness enters vertebrae, hands hastily slam the table in a grand display along with a crashing chair behind you as your feet push you upwards. “She’s in Ireland,” your mother was a traveling nurse, going abroad more often than not and away constantly. You hadn’t talked much after the first year of your father's passing. She left you to your grief and took hers with her. “D–do you have her in custody already or…or—She should be with someone! Is she still just—?”

“She’s in a secure location.” Kate interrupts, her hands raising. She’s calm; incredibly so, and you feel that serenity of her voice leaks into you, your shoulders lessen from their raised-hair stance. “And an Agent I trust is with her. She’ll be back in Chicago soon.”

“Jesus…” A hand spreads over your face, digits on the table clenching. While your mother and you didn't talk often, there was no part of you that wanted her dead. Not a single piece.

A sheen of embarrassment floods your blood at the scene you’d just made, but that doesn’t stop the confusion.

“But, wait,” your hand lowers, and you frown at the lanyard, “why would you care?” Kate places the photos back into the folder and closes it. “And why would you murder my father if you felt like this would happen?”

Where’s Samson Row?

“Our intention was never to have a casualty involved with our investigation.” Laswell sends you a glance with her emotionless eyes. “Nonetheless with a witness. It was an unfortunate accident.”

Your face blanks.

Unfortunate accident.

“Then why did your Private,” your mouth spits, hostility immediately pushing past formality, “shoot?”

No hesitation.

“We don’t know.” The laugh that rockets from you is cruel; violent and full of malice.

“What?!” You point at her, leaning forward over the table as your common sense vanishes. “You're the CIA and you can’t even control who you employ?! You murdered an innocent man!”

Kate looks at you with nothing, blinking slowly as you glare at her forehead. Did she not even care? The Agent says your name seriously.

“Your father was many things, but I can assure you, innocent was never one of them.”

“You expect me to just believe you?” You nod sarcastically multiple times, your loud voice no doubt flying under the opening of the door. “Just to, what? Accept that your Private shot him in the head right next to me for nothing? That’s hilarious if you think I’m that dumb.”

“What Samson Row did was against orders. No one here gave him the green light and thus I can’t say why he pulled the trigger. You’re going to have to accept that we don’t have the answers you’re looking for.”

Angry tears are splattering the table, a rampant betrayal. It was getting incredibly hard to not start swearing at this woman, but your father raised you better.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Laswell speaks lowly, “but I’m not lying to you. If your father kept all of this hidden…then there’s no thought as to if he cared about you,” a delicate silence as your jaw clenches, both hands clenched over the table as your head bows down, salty water bouncing off the flesh. “You should remember that.”

Your mouth opens, but you close it just as quickly. What could you say to that?

“You…don’t know…” Whispering can’t hide the enraged tremor of your tone. “Why?” The hopelessness.

Kate gives you a minute, and when your tears come to a slow stop, she opens her mouth.

“I’ll be providing you a protection detail until the cells overseas can be disposed of. You and your mother will be well taken care of in the safety of your own home.” She continues, “If you can do something for me in return in the meantime.”

A harsh laugh exits and bounces off the walls.

“Why am I not surprised?” Laswell ignores you.

“Your father had sensitive information that searches of his shipping lot and museum office didn’t offer any leads on. While you’re spending more time at your home, I want you to look for them. Anything that involves other dealers or a location to a hub.” You roll your eyes, smirk growing on bitter pieces of flesh.

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” You ask the Agent with a splay of your hand, foot tapping the ground in a rhythmic beat as you stare hard into the wall above her hair. Swiping at your cheeks until they’re raw. “I know you’re not above breaking into houses.”

“After the event three years ago, my superiors are,” a small noise in the back of her throat as she pushes herself up from the table, “less than pleased with how One-Four-One and I are handling this situation. It would look better on paper if you cooperated.”

“Is Samson dead?” Shoving your hands into your pockets, you lean back on your heels, tilting your head as you look at Kate’s collarbone. You can see her take a breath; lungs inflating like plastic sacks.

“Yes.” It’s like a punch to the gut—you have to stop yourself from staggering backward. Your next words are strained as your hands clench. But the woman just watches, intrigue laced in her studious eyes; half-narrowed with a dipped chin.

“How.”

“Do you have any other questions for me?” It was apparent that your inquiries would get you nowhere, at least the ones that mattered to you.

You nod stiffly, cutting your losses. You’d just look into it yourself. “Who’s going to be at my house?”

“Kyle.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“And why him?” Your voice growls, and you have a sudden need to pace around the room as your ears twitch to Laswell’s sighing and the shifting of her papers.

“Sergeant Garrick is trained in VIP protection. I’m sure you’ve read all about that.” Slyness enters her tone.

Of course you had.

Every file on your laptop was a mix of both professional and personal documents—all unimaginably delicate information if it were to get out into the public. For the Task Force itself, as well as their families. It would mean even more death and slaughter.

A nail in a coffin. Blackmail.

“I know that.” You grunt, taking a hung skin by your fingernail in between your teeth and biting down until you rip out portions of your flesh with a dull burn. “That’s not what I’m asking you—he’s the man who put a gun to my head.”

The insinuation is bare to the world.

“And now he’ll be the one using it to point at others.” The Agent slips past you, and your nose picks up the scent of linen and cigarette smoke.

This is the point that you should stop talking. Cut off loose ends and think of a way out of this. But you’d gotten cruel; cold-hearted with little regard for others feelings. What you wanted was the upper hand. You needed it. Some semblance of control in a situation that was so far out of it that the concept itself should be in space. Control was how you’d survived. You recall a flash of a file with Kate Laswell’s name attached and you’re speaking before the connotation fully registers.

“I wonder if your wife knows what you do. How many families have you ruined?” The woman pauses behind you, a hand on the door. Her legs shift. “Do you tell her? Or do you keep her conscious clean as you spread the blood on your hands over to her?”

Scream at me, you plead, eyes small. Yell. Rage. Please, just do something predictable. Let me win something.

Kate looks over her shoulder at you, but your vision stays anchored ahead; back turned away from the door entirely. Eyes blinking; lungs jumping like frogs to find oxygen as if to suck down flies.

“I should thank you.” The words echo. “You’re giving my department leeway to move on Osipov and Kham now that a US citizen is in direct crossfire…” The woman turns back to the door. “I’ll be expecting Garrick to send updates every two days. Try not to kill him.” She walks out the door on steady feet and it stays unlocked behind her when the metal eventually closes with the semblance of a period in a sentence. The almost inhuman silence left in its wake makes your ears ring with noise in the absence of all else.

Alone, mere seconds later, your hand quickly snaps to your mouth to muffle a wail, eyes kept firmly shut in grief as your knees shake. You only barely stop yourself from hitting the floor as the panic finally registers; halfway folded over the table.

A ways off in the hallway, none the wiser, Gaz leans against the wall—arms crossed and head resting behind him. It’s only at the sight of Laswell that the calm man perks to attention like an eager soldier.

Since he knew his charge already, Kyle had stayed behind while all the others of the Task Force had left with various degrees of goodbyes and well-wishes. Pats on his shoulders as he chuckled and made them swear to not have too much fun without him.

About to open his mouth and ask the fast-paced woman how it went, he’s interrupted by Kate’s blue eyes blazing as she glances at him.

“Good luck, Sergeant.” Her still voice is grim. “You’ll need it.” The female Agent walks on without another word, leaving the Brit wide-eyed and staring after.

“...Brilliant.” He fixes his cap and sighs before the sound of his cracking knuckles echoes through the hall. “Just bloody brilliant.”

TAGS:

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[vulcan-bourbon]

writober 2023

day 16 — Patron (ver. 2)

Grian felt incredibly awkward being a freshman transfer in the middle of the school year. An unpleasant turn of fate in the form of the loss of accreditation of his own university and an emergency transfer to a completely unfamiliar (by all measures) educational institution forced him to catch extra weak attacks of anxiety that did not allow his brain to calm down.

And now he tiredly wandered along the corridor, looking for the right office, completely lost in the walls of this building. Everything could have been better if he had turned on his inner “social devils” and made friends even with the first one he came across, but due to the current situation, there was absolutely no strength and “spoons” for unnecessary social relationships.

Violet eyes, full of lack of sleep, glanced wearily at the vending machine. The taste of synthetic instant coffee automatically reflected on his lips; this is not the most pleasant drink, which he would prefer to drink exclusively for emergency purposes when he is broke. For example, unfortunately, now. Due to the unexpected relocation, as well as unexpected expenses, it was worth not spending much until a way out of this unpleasant financial hole was found.

But, as luck would have it, the vending machine itself stood at the entrance to the chain cafe from which came the pleasant aroma of freshly ground coffee, the knocking of the holder, and the pleasant sound of espresso, which could now be flowing in his body instead of blood.

Xelqua lets out a sad, quiet groan looking towards the intersection of the machine and the cafe at the same time.

- Hey, cute guy, are you looking for something hotter? - He heard laughter next to him and, shaking his shoulders slightly, he automatically turned towards someone else’s voice.

Standing nearby was a nicely put together guy with piercing emerald eyes and brown hair the length of which could be pulled into a fancy man-ponytail hairstyle. He was a head taller than Grian, from which the feeling of his elevation clearly made itself felt. His strange dark clothes, with orange and blue accents on his clothes, resembled some hero from a comic book who decided to go to the aid of a guy in trouble.

- Suppose? - Grian said thoughtfully, drawing out the words and looking away from the guy towards the coffee shop and sighing heavily. — I doubt you can offer me anything interesting.

- And I think I can. To begin with, the guy holds out his palm in black leather mittens and Xelqua pays attention to his tanned skin tone. - My name is Scar and I know that you are new here, I want to introduce you to our university.

— Grian, — Xelqua tries to grin in response, as if trying to inflate his worth and pretend that he is a self-sufficient adult guy and in general such an acquaintance for him is like rubbing two fingers on the asphalt.

- So, Grian, what about finding you a patron within these walls? - Scar smiles coquettishly, lowering his palm and crossing his arms on his chest, smiling contentedly. He looks at Grian with the look of a cat that has warmed itself in the sun. It seemed a little more and Scar would begin to purr.

- Do you offer this to everyone? - Grian snorts quietly, looking at how self-confident Scar becomes before his eyes after such phrases.

- No, only such handsome handsome men. — the new acquaintance winks, which makes Xelqua try very hard not to blush. It's not often that such hot guys flirt with him.

- Oh, Scar. Let's buy me some coffee first, I refuse to flirt with my sleepy brain. - Grian jokes, nodding towards the machine gun. If he saves a couple of coins, it will be better.

- No problem. - Scar smiles contentedly, nodding towards the machine, but passing by it and heading towards the coffee shop.

- Hmm, Scar. I can get by with synthetic coffee..,— Xelqua says hesitantly, internally not believing that he can be treated to real coffee.

- Well, first of all, this is my parents’ coffee shop, from which my friends and I can get a drink at cost. Secondly, I heard that sad sound that you made literally looking towards the coffee shop, well, and thirdly, I can’t afford to kiss someone’s lips that just touched artificial coffee. - Scar jokes, not hiding his laughter. - Okay, the last one was too much. I can simply afford to treat a person that I like coffee. How do you like that?

In just a few words from his new acquaintance, Grian managed to be upset at how stupid he was, touched by how cute he was, and almost roll his eyes at his sweet nonsense.

-Are you always this stupid? - Grian snorts, hiding his smile and walking ahead of the guy into the cafe.

- No, only with such handsome guys who suffer from caffeine. You are the easiest victims. - Goodtimes laughs warmly, from which he immediately receives an elbow in the side from Grian, but sees how Xelqua is pleased with such stupidity, and only smiles guiltily. On the other hand, how else can you approach handsome strangers who cast such sad glances in the direction of coffee.

———

//I carefully remind you that english is not my native language, so I apologize in advance for mistakes ,,,,

[unluckycryptid]

The Chat Blanc Incident - The Encounter Version 1.0

They were in trouble. 

The latest card soldier was a lot more cunning than they had initially thought. It had been a frustratingly elusive cat Card with the power to turn invisible. As such, it had tricked Ladybug into using her Lucky Charm early. They had been chasing this particular card through the Auradon police station, and in her haste to go refresh her transformation, Ladybug had hopped into a darkened room. 

“No! Ladybug!” Chat Noire called out, hot on her heels. 

Ladybug paused halfway through the doorway, turning around to see the black cat miraculous holder running at her in a panic. 

“What are you doing, Chat Noire?” Ladybug exclaimed as she saw the other girl’s Cataclysm had been activated. 

She knew that her partner knew better than to be running in her direction when she was refreshing her transformation. And that she definitely should have known better than to have activated her Cataclysm if she wasn’t going to use it immediately. 

Before she could berate her partner, she felt an invisible force push her into the room. She stumbled inside, crashing into a metal table in the middle of the room. From outside, she heard Chat Noire shout before the cat heroine was thrown into the room with her, the door locking upon Chat Noire’s entry. 

Luckily, Ladybug had rolled out of the way as the other girl ran into the metal table like she had. Ladybug was about to scold her when her partner scrambled upward in a frenzy.

“No no no no,” Chat Noire said, her eyes widening at the table in front of her. 

Ladybug was about to demand an explanation when she heard the rusting of the table, the legs and screws quickly detaching and falling apart in front of her. 

A light from above turned on followed by a tapping heard behind a square mirror seated in the wall. Five beeps rang out from her earrings. Her blood ran cold and she made eye contact with her partner. It was then that she understood the situation they were in.

They were trapped inside an interrogation room. Both of them had run out their miraculous and were about to detransform, Ladybug’s own detransformation just a few seconds away.

“My Lady, I’m so sorry, I-“ started Chat Noire before she was interrupted by the intercom.

“If I’m correct—and I suspect I am—“ came the voice of the Cheshire Cat Card, “I would say that you both just ran out of all of your tricks.”

Her partner lunged at the two way mirror, trying her best to use her superstrength to break it.

The laugh of the Card came through the intercom, “It’s no use, you pathetic excuse for a cat, this two way mirror and the whole of the room is reinforced for magical threats like you. Perhaps if you had your Cataclysm but, oopsies, looks like you’ve run out of that. There’s no way out. Now stop fighting and say hello to the Card Queen, she sees everything that I see.”

The second set of five beeps rang out, signaling that time was up. She did her best to fight it, but the magic of the transformation started receding, beginning at her feet.

“Chat Noire, I-“ Ladybug started. If her identity was going to be revealed, then she wanted to make sure that her partner was ready for it. Before she could continue, however, she saw the black cat heroine’s eyes widen at something behind her. As she turned around to investigate, she felt hand grab her collar and pull her in, her vision going white.

~~

“Ahhh!” Red screamed as she was pulled into a void of white, tripping and landing on her butt on the way in. Tikki flew out of her earrings, and Red lunged forward to catch the god in her hands, sighing in relief when she saw that her little companion was unhurt. Taking a look around, she saw that she was in a white spherical room, circular windows covering its entire expanse.

“Right on time, I see,” a man’s voice said from behind, startling Red. 

Red whipped around and never could she have ever been prepared for what she saw next. 

Standing behind her was a man in a blue trench coat and an all white three piece suit underneath. On his head was a blue top hat with white bunny ears poking through the sides. And in his gloved hands he held a pocket watch and an umbrella, both items matching his color scheme. However, the only thing that Red was focused on was the man’s face. 

No mask had adorned it, and instead she found herself staring at her purple haired tutor. 

“Maddox?” Red heard herself say, brain barely processing the events of the last few seconds. 

“Ah, sorry your highness, but it’s Bunnyx while we’re in the burrow,” he said as he crouched down to help Red up. 

Putting Tikki on one hand and then using the other to grab on to her former tutor, Red stood up, her knees slightly wobbling from the shock of the man that stood in front of her. 

They took a couple steps before Red remembered something important.

“Wait, Chat Noire! She’s still back there, we have to go get her,” she said as she attempted to tug them towards the portal.

“She’ll be fine,” assured Maddox, “Though, we have more pressing matters on our hands.”

Red didn’t budge. She would never abandon her partner just like that, even if it was at the request of her friend/former tutor. 

He sighed, “I’ll bring you back to the exact same moment, I promise…” a confused expression crossed Red’s face, so he added, “You’ll have to let me explain first, Princess.” 

Red only regarded him in reluctance. It had been months since she had last seen him and their last interaction had left Red wondering if the man had only been friendly with her purely out of his duties as her tutor. As he had put it, he had to take off to ‘take care of some timely business’ before she could confide in him in her nerves entering Auradon Prep, leaving Red feeling already abandoned on her first day stepping onto campus. Nonetheless, Red still missed his presence after months of not being able to contact him and the urgency in his tone (compared to his usually composed one) made her want to hear him out. After a few seconds of deliberating, Red nodded and stopped trying to pull him back in the direction of the portal, trusting that Maddox had his reasons for everything. 

He proceeded to lead her over to a table with chairs in the middle of the room. He pulled out a chair for her and Red gladly sat, grateful to have something supporting her underneath. He pulled out his own chair and sat across from her and only then did Red realize that the table was set for a tea party. 

Maddox gestured to the hand she held Tikki in, and quickly figuring out what he meant, she set the kwami down in front of the sweets on the table, all while staring at the man in front of her. 

“Mad-sorry, Bunnyx, what is going on?” Red asked as the man poured her some tea. She gestured to his outfit and then to the space around them, “How are you… How is this…?”

He finished pouring her tea and reached over to place it in the saucer in front of her. Red ignored it. She didn’t have the stomach to eat or drink something right now. 

He sat back in his own seat, picking up his own teacup and took a sip (much to Red’s annoyance) before he spoke up again.

“Welcome to the Burrow,” he said, gesturing to the space around them, “This is the interdimensional space where the bunny miraculous user, a.k.a. Yours truly, operates.”

“Bunny miraculous?” Red couldn’t help but repeat back.

He raised an eyebrow, “Surely you didn’t think the ladybug and black cat miraculous were the only ones out there in existence.” At Red’s blank stare, he sighed muttering to himself, “Right, I should have double checked the dates on that…” He addressed her again, “But yes, Princess Red, there are more than your two miraculous out there in the world.”

“How… when did you get yours?” asked Red.

“Oh this?” Bunnyx said as he held up the pocket watch, opening it for her, “I’ve always had it—no, well, not always I suppose… but ‘twas a gift passed down from my father.” He snapped the watch shut then tucked it into a pocket in his trenchcoat. 

“Wait, so then you knew?!” Red yelled indignantly, her hands slamming on the table, “You knew that I was going to be Ladybug this whole time? Why didn’t you say anything? Why weren’t you there to help me earlier?”

He sighed and gave her an apologetic look, “I truly am sorry, Princess, but that wasn’t how things needed to play out.”

“Play out?” Red repeated, still heated.

Bunnyx nodded, “Tell me, Princess Red, do you understand the true responsibility of the bunny miraculous?”

“No, but I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me,” Red deadpanned, catching a glare from her recovering kwami on the table. She raised her hands up and took a breath, aware of her growing temper. Tikki only hummed in approval before returning to her meal.

Maddox stood up and started pacing around the table, and Red couldn’t help but feel like she was in one of his tutoring sessions again. 

“The Burrow is not only outside of space but it is also outside of time. And the true responsibility of the bunny miraculous holder is to monitor the timeline, only interfering when necessary. Each of those windows you see around us are portals into different parts of your timeline, sometimes different timelines altogether.”

“How do you decide when it’s necessary to interfere?” Red asked, fighting the urge to raise her hand. 

“From the Burrow itself,” answered Maddox, “It will show me critical points where the bunny miraculous holder may be needed in order for the timeline to proceed.”

Red interjected, “So you appearing before I got unmasked means that…”

“It means that in order for the timeline to proceed, you were not meant to reveal your identity in this way,” Bunnyx finished. 

“So what? I just needed you to open up the Burrow so I can recharge without revealing my identity, and then I go back on my merry way?” Red questioned.

Bunnyx shook his head, “Yes, but no… It’s not that simple…” he trailed off, taking a glance at the confusion on his former student’s face. 

He sighed, “I apologize, princess, but I’m going to need your help with something before you go back. Unfortunately, it is not something that I can handle myself.”

He motioned for her to follow him, and Red got up from her spot, curious as to what the miraculous holder that held the power of time couldn’t handle himself and needed her help with. Tikki joined her, settling on her shoulder as she walked behind her former tutor, taking in more of the scenery of the Burrow. It was then that she became aware that the portal windows weren’t stuck to the walls of the room (though Red wasn’t sure she could call it a room to begin with) as a couple of them floated about while some others stood stationary in the middle. 

In one of the portals that they passed by, Red caught a glimpse of two figures fighting in a courtyard. One figure, she recognized as an alternate version of self, wearing an outfit almost entirely made up of red with the occasional black accents. What made her pause, however, was that she was wielding what looked like a flagpole and that she was attacking another girl who was defending with a sword while holding what looked to be a pocketwatch. Her alternate self’s opponent—some other girl—had a wild mane of baby blue hair, dressed in an outfit that was made up almost entirely of the same shade. Considering that she only knew of a handful* people with blue hair, and only one of them sporting a mane as wild as that, she guessed that the other girl was Chat Noire’s counterpart. She knew she should have looked away ever since she had noticed that her own counterpart wasn’t sporting a mask of her own, therefore Chat Noire’s counterpart wouldn’t be wearing one as well, but she couldn’t bring herself to tear her eyes off of their fight for the pocket watch in the alternate Chat Noire’s hand. Just as the alternate Chat Noire would have turned around and revealed her identity to Red, Bunnyx’s umbrella flooded her field of vision, blocking her field of view. 

“What was that?” Red asked as she let herself get led away by the bunny miraculous holder. 

“The burrow doesn’t just show timelines from our universe, but timelines from alternate universes as well,” he answered, “Nevertheless, even alternate universes can hold answers to secrets that you aren’t ready for.”

They walked a little longer before Bunnyx led her to a portal that upon first glance, Red could immediately tell that something was wrong with it. A gasp escaped her mouth. She didn’t know how it was possible, but the portal window seemed to have a huge crack down the middle, resembling that of a broken mirror. 

“What happened?” she asked, stepping closer cautiously. Another portal passed by near the one with the crack and Red could see the one passing by flicker in and out of existence. She focused back on the cracked portal, having trouble making out any images that came from the portal. She suspected this was the reason Maddox had needed her help. 

“The reason that the bunny miraculous holder is restricted from intervening more than necessary is that upon intervention, the timeline branches off in two directions,” he revealed. He held up two fingers and then separated them away from each other, “One where the bunny miraculous holder intervened, and the other where they never did.” 

Red nodded along. She was finally starting to understand just how integral and expansive the existence of the Burrow—and by extension: the bunny miraculous—really was. 

Maddox continued, “Even without the bunny miraculous, timelines will branch off naturally when there is a choice to be made. Sometimes the timeline corrects itself and two separate choices eventually lead to the same outcome, and sometimes the choice is much bigger in the grand scheme of things and a new timeline is born. However, intervention from the bunny miraculous forces a change in the timeline, and the timeline that the bunny miraculous holder chooses to deviate from becomes unstable. Sometimes it dies out, and usually it would be perfectly fine if it didn’t do something like this…” Bunnyx gestured to the cracked portal, regarding it with unease, “Rarely does it threaten the existence of the Burrow itself. And even rarer: I can’t seem to enter through the portal, nor much less see what happened so that I could figure out how to fix it.”

Red looked at him in alarm, “Wait, so if you can’t enter through it, then what makes you think I can go in and help you fix whatever happened?”

Her former tutor only raised his eyebrow, only pointing at the god of creation sitting on her shoulder. 

Tikki spoke up, “As the kwami of creation, not only do I have the power to create, but also creation cannot deny my existence. And as my holder, that benefit extends to you as well.”

”Hold on, are you saying that if the universe blew up right now, only me and Tikki would be left??” 

”Exactly! Good to see you’ve kept up with your studies, princess,” Bunnyx grinned proudly, ignoring the horrified expression on Red’s face. He continued, “Now, you’ll have to go in as Ladybug, neutralize what I can only assume is causing the crack in this portal, and then you’ll have saved all of the existences in the Burrow!” 

“Oh yeah, simple, no pressure,” she squeaked dazedly, becoming more and more aware that the continued existence of everything she knew currently rested on her shoulders. 

Taking a deep breath, Red summoned her transformation into Ladybug. Typically, whenever she transformed into her superhero alter ego, she would receive a boost of confidence that she would attribute not only the enhancement in her physical abilities, but also the power and anonymity of the Ladybug identity. But given the situation as it was right now, she just felt like an ordinary girl in a red and black costume, way in over her head. 

She gave herself a minute to shake off the nerves before stepping up to the portal. Just as she was about to step through, Maddox grabbed her hand.

“Red, be careful,” he said in a low voice, the concern for his former protege apparent in his tone, “Once you step in there, I won’t be able to save you.”

Red only offered him a smile, glad that he was still looking out for her not just because of his duty as the bunny miraculous holder, but as the friend she missed so much since leaving for Auradon Prep.

“I’ll be back, don’t worry. You still have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I will explain everything in due time, Princess,” Maddox promised.

With that, Red took in a deep breath in preparation and then stepped foot into the portal. 

~~

The first thing that Red noticed after stepping through to the other side of the portal was that it was all too bright. The second thing she noticed was that the brightness was due to the fact that everything around her was made of glass. 

She quickly and nauseatingly realized that she was standing on top of the Great Hall of Auradon except that it was completely made of glass along with all of the buildings and plants surrounding it. She didn’t know how far the glass stretched, but a sense of dread settled in her stomach as the farther out she looked, the more it looked like that absolutely everything around her was made of glass. 

The third and final thing she noticed was that it was dead quiet—almost completely silent if it weren’t for the sound of a voice singing in the distance. 

“I’m just a girl. Arms open wide. Looking for kindness, somewhere in your eyes…”

The voice—it sounded familiar, but wrong in a way that Red couldn’t pinpoint. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and even under her magical Ladybug suit, she could feel goosebumps run along her arms. Investigating, Red didn’t have to travel very far before she located the sound to the destroyed remains of the Auradon Museum of History. 

“I’m looking for something I may never find.” Red rounded the corner and spotted a figure pacing in front of the ruined entrance. As she got closer, Red could make out the figure dressed in all white with a wild mane of blue hair on their head. From the voice, Red realized that the figure in white was a girl. 

“All I want is love… but what I want doesn’t exist. Love… ain’t it,” the girl in white laughed darkly to herself. 

It was then that Red noticed a couple more things about the girl. On top of her head sat a pair of white triangles in the shape of ears, and swinging behind the girl was a white belt that resembled a tail. The pole that the girl rested on her shoulders and held down with both of her arms was reminiscent of a staff that Red was familiar with. And finally, the voice… the familiarity of the voice and everything else hit Red like a freight train. 

‘No. It can’t be.’ 

The girl in white stopped pacing abruptly and whipped around, immediately zeroing in on Red’s position. She was met with a cold, steely blue gaze and it was then that Red felt her stomach drop. 

“My Lady?” the girl asked, the cold gaze morphing into one of disbelief.

All of her instincts screamed at her to run. It was obvious that, somehow, her partner had become a victim of the Card Queen. But this was still her partner, afterall… right? Nonetheless, she had to get some answers and that meant conversing with the only living soul she had come across thus far.

Slowly approaching, Red asked, “Chat… Noire? What happened here?”

The girl met her halfway, seemingly mesmerized by Red’s presence. Ignoring the question, the girl stepped into Red’s immediate proximity. A white clawed hand softly grazed her cheek, and before Red could step away or ask, the other girl pulled her hand back as soon as it made contact.

“You’re real,” the girl stated incredulously, cradling her hand as if it had been burned, “And you’re here. How are you here? Are you really Ladybug?”

The alarm bells in Red’s head refused to die down, instead becoming louder at the other girl’s proximity, so she opted to skip the girl’s first question, “Um, yes, I am Ladybug… why wouldn’t I be?”

Once again, the girl ignored Red’s question in favor of her own, “That means you can fix all of this, can’t you?”

“I don’t even know what happened, Chat Noire,” Red replied, taking a step away from the other girl.

The action wasn’t lost on the other girl, her eyes following Red’s movement. A flash of hurt appeared on the other girl’s face, and despite herself, Red felt the need to comfort the other girl, “But I mean I could try with my Lucky Charm.”

The girl brightened up, a hopeful smile gracing her face, “You would?”

Red nodded and took out her yoyo. Throwing it in the air, she called for her Lucky Charm and she had to hurriedly step back, pulling the other girl with her as soon as she saw the object that it manifested as. The two girls stared at the Lucky Charm taking the form of the sword, buried in the ground right where the girl in white previously stood. 

“Sorry,” Red felt the need to apologize for almost skewering the girl. The girl only narrowed her eyes at the offending object before she shook her head and coaxed Red to move on.

Red sighed, “Here goes nothing.” She threw the sword in the air but to their dismay, the magical ladybugs were not summoned and the Lucky Charm remained unchanged—again descending at the spot where the girl in white stood even though Red had thrown it away from their direction. 

Red grabbed the sword from where it had fallen, apologizing to the other girl in the process, “I’m sorry, Chat Noire, I have no idea why it didn’t work.”

Again, the girl in white glared at Red’s Lucky Charm. Red couldn’t blame her, but she also couldn’t help but think it was strange. If this was all the Card Queen’s doing, then why didn’t her power work? And just why was the Lucky Charm intent on targeting the inverted counterpart of her partner?

The girl didn’t offer any response, the look on her face was disappointed before it turned into a contemplative one, and Red could see an internal debate going on in her head. A moment later, the girl turned her gaze to Red, evaluating the red and black superheroine with an intensity that set off even more alarm bells in Red’s head. Noticing that the girl was watching, Red did her best to school her expression into a neutral one.

After a beat, the girl in white shrugged in a nonchalance that only served to make Red suspicious as the girl suggested, “What if we try something else?”

Red narrowed her eyes. She didn’t like where this was going. “Like what?” 

“What if we have your kwami take a crack at it?” the girl proposed. She said it so casually that Red would have thought that she was joking if Red didn’t know any better. 

“That would require me to detransform…” the other girl only nodded as though it wouldn’t be a big deal. 

She couldn’t take it anymore. There was something wrong with this Chat Noire, too many things she wasn’t willing to ignore, and she was getting tired of playing it cautious. Red raised the sword Lucky Charm at the girl who backed up with her hands raised.

“Why would you even suggest something like that, Chat Noire. You know the consequences of revealing our identities. Besides, what could my kwami do to fix all of this anyway?” she demanded. 

The girl only looked at her and then the sword and then back at Red, her eyebrow raised in the face of Ladybug’s weapon. Even though the girl only seemed to be amused at her actions, Red didn’t back down, tilting her chin in challenge at the other girl.

The girl let out a laugh, shaking her head. “I should have known,” she muttered to herself before her expression changed.

The girl seemed to strip away her emotions and looked at Red with a steely apathy, instantly sending chills down Red’s spine. Although she was the one holding the other girl at swordpoint, Red felt like she was the one in danger.

“Your kwami was the one to do all of… this,” the girl revealed, gesturing to the glass that made up the environment.

Red froze, “Why would Tikki do such a thing?”

“It doesn’t matter,” the girl in white dismissed, “What does matter is that she has to fix it.” 

“Or what?” Red questioned, but she already knew the answer. 

The girl in white took out her staff, knocking away the blade pointed at her. Red stepped back in order to avoid losing her grip on the sword. The girl started flanking to the side, and in an effort to keep the girl in front of her, Ladybug mirrored in the opposite direction. 

“Or else I’ll have to make her do it myself. Even if that means I have to get through you first.”

Although they circled each other at the same pace, though Red couldn’t help but feel as though she were prey. 

“Chat Noire would never do this.”

“Good thing I’m not Chat Noire then,” the other girl retorted, “I’m Chat Blanc.”

“Chat Blanc?” Red repeated with a skeptical look, testing the name out. She shook her head and attempted to taunt the other girl, trying her best not to show the fear she felt, “You’re just a poser with a bad attitude.”

A humorless laugh sprung forth from the girl in white in front of her, “You don’t know the things that I’ve been through.”

Without any warning, Chat Blanc launched herself at Red, bringing down her staff with such speed that Red was only barely able to block with the sword in her hand by pure luck. It was then that Red realized that she would be no match with a sword. Chat Noire had always been better in sword combat than she was, meaning that Chat Blanc would be on the same level. If Red wanted to even up this fight, she was going to have to play by her game. 

Using her yoyo, she threw it at the attacking girl’s feet and yanked. The line managed to tangle around Chat Blanc’s ankles, causing the girl in white to trip. Red pulled the yoyo back and threw it at the girl’s head, but Chat Blanc was fast, batting away the yoyo with her staff. 

“Give me your kwami, Ladybug, I just need her to fix everything. I won’t hurt her,” said Chat Blanc as she advanced at Red.

“I really don’t trust you when you say that,” Red said through gritted teeth as she kicked the girl in white away from her, trying to create some sort of distance. 

Chat Blanc stumbled backward, shaking her head. “If there’s anybody here that shouldn’t be trusted, it’s you.”

The girl in white danced away from one of Red’s flying yoyo attacks, her expression changing to one Red had never seen on her partner before. 

Hatred. Red realized. It was pure hatred.

“I thought I could trust you,” the girl said, her tone biting, “But I know better now, and that I never should have trusted you in the first place.” 

The girl raised her arm and from her finger she manifested a small magical ball of destruction and flicked in Ladybug’s direction. Red dove away and watched as the ball of cataclysm seemed to bounce off of the glass ground. 

The glass—it hadn’t been affected by the cataclysm, Red noticed. The glass was made of something that wouldn’t allow Chat Blanc’s power of destruction to actually destroy. 

Red didn’t have much time to think about it any longer as Chat Blanc’s staff made contact with her abdomen. Ladybug felt the wind get knocked out of her, and it was soon becoming evident to Red that the other girl was quickly gaining the upper hand. 

“I know the Card Queen made you like this, Chat Blanc,” Red said, trying to negotiate, “Why don’t you just let me purify the card so we can release you from this curse?”

“And what, make myself weaker so that you can defeat me? Nice try, Ladybug.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Red exclaimed, “I don’t want to fight you. Can’t we try to talk this out?” 

As soon as the words left her mouth, Red found herself dodging another ball of cataclysm. Ladybug growled in frustration. So much for that plan. She threw her yoyo at the white cat girl who dodged the head of the yoyo before grabbing onto the line. Red’s eyes widened, unable to react in time as the girl pulled on the line connected to her, spinning her in a circle and then releasing like a hammer throw at a track and field event. Ladybug’s back made contact with a nearby glass wall, hard enough to leave her sputtering blood from her mouth. Red didn’t have any time to recover as Chat Blanc advanced. She scrambled to get up quickly, wiping the blood from her mouth as she took a few swings at the girl in white. 

“Are you naive enough to still believe you’ll get a happy ever after? A privileged little Purr-incess, a fairy fail disaster,” the girl in white mocked her as she easily dodged the swings from Red. 

“I told you not to call me that,” Ladybug spat through clenched teeth, frustrated that none of her attacks were landing. 

“That was a long time ago,” the girl in white said in amusement, “Remind me, what are you going to do about it? Cut off my head? Just like dear ol’ mommy did in Wonderland?”

Ladybug froze. How did she know? “You aren’t supposed to know that.” 

The girl in white only laughed, “Your Chat Noire doesn’t know that.” In a blink of an eye, the girl in white dropped to the floor and landed a sweeping kick, knocking Ladybug to the ground. 

Before Ladybug could stand back up, she felt the metal of a familiar staff tilting her head back up to meet the gaze of the girl standing above her. The girl in white sauntered closer before she crouched in front of her, reaching out a clawed finger to trace Red’s jawline. 

“But I’m Chat Blanc. And I know your secret. It’ll be a pleasure to defeat you to get what I want, Red.”

The girl raised her hand above her head and to Red’s horror, the cataclysm that she summoned started growing and kept growing to no end.

The puzzle pieces connected in Red’s head. 

The infinite cataclysm of the white cat, the glass that was immune to the cataclysm, Tikki’s involvement, the Lucky Charm not working… somehow the Tikki of this timeline was trying to prevent Chat Blanc’s destruction of everything, most likely spurred by something the Red/Ladybug of this world had done after their identity had been revealed, and in trying to protect the world from destruction, Tikki must have made everything immune to it.

‘That must have been why it didn’t die out naturally like Maddox expected,’ Red realized. 

And then the sword in her hand. How it kept trying to target the girl in white as it fell.

Red felt her heart drop. She realized she was out of options as she watched as the girl in white held a cataclysm that seemed to stretch beyond the horizon in her palm. 

There was only one way to end this now. 

“Say goodbye, Red,” the girl in white sneered. 

“Forgive me,” said Red. Above her, Chat Blanc hesitated in confusion. That was all the time that Red needed. 

Her fingers tightened around the Lucky Charm, and with a quick thrust, the blade pierced through the torso of the girl in white. 

~~

As soon as the cracks disappeared, Bunnyx hopped in through the portal to a sickening scene. On the ground was Ladybug, cradling Chat Blanc in her arms. Even from where he was standing, he could see as blood flowed from the embedded sword in the girl’s torso, a stark contrast to the girl’s white suit. 

As Bunnyx approached, he could hear his former protege crying softly, mumbling hoarse apologies, no doubt having been in the position for a while now. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…” Red cried into the girl’s wild blue hair. But the girl in white didn’t offer any response, blue eyes glazed over, no signs of life to be found. 

As much as Maddox wanted to let her grieve for as long as she needed, all around them, the curse of the glass began to disappear.

“Red, I have to take you back,” he said. Red shook her head, holding even more tightly to the girl in her arms.

“I-If I use my Lucky Charm, will it bring her back?” 

Maddox could only shake his head no, “I’m sorry, Princess.”

Gently, he crouched to the ground next to her and slowly pried the girl from Red’s arms. She didn’t fight him, instead latching onto her former tutor as she cried into his shoulder. 

“If I knew this was the outcome, I would have never sent you in here,” he said as he held her, leading her towards the portal. 

They walked through it and he led her to one of the recliners he kept in the burrow for her to sit on, “Take as much time as you need to grieve in here, Red. I’ll be back.”

Red only nodded numbly, curling in on herself. 

Maddox took one more glance at the girl before he stepped back through the portal, finding the body of the girl in white. Grabbing the blackened bell around her throat, the card was released and the body became that of Chat Noire’s once more. Maddox sighed, slipping the ring off of the blue haired girl’s finger, releasing the transformation and the god of destruction along with it.

“Tikki’s gone,” stated Plagg catatonically, raising a paw to the cheek of the blue haired girl, tucking a loose curl behind the girl’s ear in affection. 

Maddox crouched next to the deceased body of one Chloe Charming, reaching out and closing the girl’s eyes to rest in peace. 

“It’s time for this timeline to end, Plagg,” said Maddox.

The god of destruction only nodded, summoning a final cataclysm once Maddox made his way back through the portal, ending the cursed timeline once and for all. 

[wackus-bonkus-maximus]

Hi! I'm in love with all of odnlb, but one thing that I loved the most was how you handled the power ups. We already saw the fox, bee, snake and even the ladybug miraculous in the fic, what about the other miraculous? What power up do you think they could have? Or is there any canon power you would change? Like the tiger and goat being very similar to the cat and ladybug miraculous, or maybe the rooster being... well, the rooster power. I'm just in love with the idea of epic powers! In the show almost all of them look very harmless, but the concept could work better with more danger :D

i'm SO glad you like my take on the power-ups! i am a huge fan of the superhero genre in general and i consume all kinds of superhero content (marvel, dc, & even shows like invincible and the boys) so a lot of my power-ups are inspired by some of my favorte supers.

black cat power up - will be shown in odnlb. we kind of saw it already in the chapter 11 flashback, but he will use it again in present time. so i'll let you ponder that one a bit longer ;) or you can go read my other fic what makes a monster because i did it there too jkasd;kjafk;afk;f

turtle - will be shown in odnlb ;)

bee - got one more power up out of her in odnlb ;)

rabbit - she's pretty op already but i'm thinking the power up is reality-hopping. she can already access alternate timelines as shown in chat blanc, so being able to go back and forth between them is most likely her biggest ability.

butterfly - will be shown in odnlb >;)

ox - since his power is immunity to other powers, his power up would probably be nullifying the power used against him!

horse - portal to other realities/dimensions! he can't go back and forth in time, but i am imagining america chavez level dimension hopping. he and alix can chill in the hot dog dimension.

mouse - multiply without getting smaller (if she wants); can grow or shrink if she so wishes

monkey - since he can malfunction a holder's powers, i can see him being extra trickster-y and start swapping them with other powers too. imagine tigress comes at him with clout and he swaps it right then and there with voyage... it would be uproariously funny omg

dog - she can fetch an object she touches with her ball; what if she is able to track an object given to her already? that would be hella useful if trying to track down stolen miraculous!

dragon - will be shown in odnlb ;)

tiger - it's a little different from the black cat miraculous. cataclysm makes something bad happen to the target, but clout makes tigress one-punch-man essentially. i think a good power up would be non-contact clout; she can just aim and fire for as many times as she likes without detransforming.

goat - this is one i would change. it's the miraculous of passion, so why not make genesis generate abilities instead of objects? but not magical abilities, like the butterfly miraculous. i'm thinking non-magical abilities, like a singing talent or a strategy talent. "oh no i don't know what to do. quick nathaniel, make me smart." boom, all kinds of problems solved.

rooster - it's pretty much the butterfly miraculous...? right? something i don't get because his power is sublimation. what would make more sense to me is if he could shapeshift! he would be able to transform into any animal or person he needs to without detransforming.

pig - this one has so much potential!!!!!!!! she could do mass hypnosis, trap all of france in a dream state that they wouldn't want to wake up from because they'd be living out their heart's desire in their heads. maybe she'd even be able to go into those visions and talk to the victims and get them to tell her all their secrets. tbh this is the one i'd be the most scared of.

peacock - will be shown in odnlb ;)

[elaineiswithyou-blog]

MHA Headcanons

A/N: Some of these are X reader or just about the character in general

Shoji: Gives the best hugs but is super insecure to hug you because of his arms

Todoroki: Really good at ice skating, Holds your hands in winter to warm them up, if you have periods, he is like a personal heating pack, is super careful when he does use his power around you because he never wants to hurt you, Likes getting you gifts, especially jewelry Tokoyami: Loves to go to hot topic, watches Tokyo Ghoul, practices asking you out with dark shadow before he does, huge candle collection Tsuyu: Loves to cuddle, especially during cold winters, likes getting you flowers and if you don’t like flowers she will make you little trinkets Izuku: Knows how to draw really well, super sweet and romantic, always wants to take you on dates, your parents/guardian will love him Bakugou: He never initiates hand holding because he is nervous he might blow your hand up but doesn’t reject holding your hand if you take his first, he starts calling things manly ironically to tease Kirishima and then it becomes unironically, he is deaf(Once he grows louder) and learns sign language as well as having hearing aids, a line without a hook by Ricky Montgomery is Bakugou’s love song. Uraraka: Has a huge collection of barbies and barbie movies from her youth that she refuses to throw away, loves to play barbies with Eri though Iida: The king of forehead kisses and is sponsored by Nike Momo:Knows how to play the violin, women’s rights are a big issue for her, bath and body works is her favorite store, pays for all of 1A’s prom dresses Denki: Pansexual, gets a ton of tattoos one night when he is really drunk, loves dogs(Specially golden retrievers), does not know of to cook, when confessing to you he tries to be flirtatious and funny so you won’t see how nervous and insecure he is because his flirting never works and he doesn’t see himself as conventionally attractive, tosses and turns in his bed while he sleeps Jiro: Hangs out with Tokoyami a lot, wide music taste and has an industrial piercing Mina: Loves to play pranks, loves to dye her own and other people’s hair Aoyama: Loves to wear makeup, loves to wear traditionally feminine clothing(Dresses, skirts, etc), extensive and expensive hair and skin routines, speaks French fluently Sero: Stoner, Latino, his favorite color is dark green, knows how to play the trumpet Ojiro: Loves it when you play with his tail, knows martial arts, really friendly but quiet Koda: Has a pet bunny named Snowball and a hamster named Hoshi Kirishima: Loves your thighs, doesn’t care about your looks, tried putting on makeup once with Denki and never again. Testutestu: He and Kirishima are long lost twins Monoma: Very insecure but only shows it to you in private, constantly questioning why you are even with him Shinsou(TW: Abuse for the last one): Sleep insomnia, loves cuddling, sunday lazy morning cuddles with you are his favorite, star gazes with you at night, (TW)He lives in a very abusive and neglectful household Tamaki: Likes small outdoor dates(Picnics, butterfly gardens, botanical gardens, star gazing, etc) Mirio: He will ALWAYS support you, if you play a sport, you bet he is at every single game. If you play an instrument, he’ll try his best to be helpful. If you do theater, he has front row tickets to every performance. Even if you don’t do anything extra, he always supports you academically by helping you study. Physical touch is a must with him. He loves cuddling, touching you, hand holding, even a simple high five of a pat on the back from you will make his day. His favorite color is yellow Hawks: Only lets you know his real name after a year of dating, touch starved, bird like tendencies(Running into windows, repeating certain words or phrases, not recognizing his own reflection, etc), DO NOT LET THIS MAN HAVE COFFEE, Mirko and him are best friends, sponsored by KFC, talks to his feathers when he thinks he is alone Mirko: Her nose twitches in her sleep, loves cuddling by the fireplace All Might: Tries his best to keep his hero life separate from his love/personal life, He is always embarrassed about his small form and never starts physical affection, even after years of dating, unless you ask or do it yourself, just tell him what you want, don’t be subtle, this man is a himbo and doesn’t understand anything about picking up small and subtle clues. Aizawa: Basically copy and paste Shinsou’s headcanons, Shinsou and Eri are his children, his quirk dries out his eyes so he carries eye droppers with him, he has reading glasses, has a tiny black cat named Mittens because her paws are white Hizashi: Has a pet cockatiel named Hade which means flashy in Japanese, has a talk show, has fashion shows with Eri Toga: Shoplifts, loves to go thrift store shopping with you,really clingy and protective of you Kurogiri: Wears/Collects pocket watches, Old fashioned and romantic. Shigaraki: Wears artist gloves to protect you, always has elastic ponytail holders for himself and Toga, Touch starved number 2, loves it when you let him lay his head on your lap while he games, constantly wants you playing with his hair while he games too Dabi: constantly has to change his staples, learns how to braid hair and do all kinds of hairstyles for Toga and you(If you have long hair), Night owl, stalks you whenever you leave the house, even if you think he isn’t there he is Compress: Old fashioned and romantic, loves citrus smells(Lemon, lime, orange, etc) Collects tons of different themed card decks. Like TONS  Twice: Has a giant beanie baby collection Spinner: Vegetarian, is the only one in the LOV who knows how to drive, sheds once a month

[chatonne-rousse]

The Importance of the Black Cat

Adrien has a lot on his mind - concerns, questions, doubts. And right now, he has only one being to confide in. There is not enough cheese in the world to make Plagg want to handle this situation, but his holder needs him, and he knows two things with certainty: his very important place in the world, and that no one hurts his kitten. Not if he has anything to say about it.

Read it on Ao3 here.

The Camembert he holds in his paws is aged beautifully, gooey and perfectly pungent. He knows it was expensive, purchased with his holder’s allowance, and therefore tries to at least do the kid the honor of enjoying it. But as he mulls over the day’s events, the first few bites sit like a brick in his tiny stomach.

Tonight, Plagg eats his cheese for sustenance only. It’s hard to find the usual joy when his holder hasn’t spoken since they arrived home.

The light in the closet switches off as Adrien shuffles out into the bedroom, dressed for bed in black pajama pants and an old white t-shirt. The departure from his usual red and black spotted look doesn’t escape Plagg’s notice, but he chooses not to comment.

Plagg discovered long ago that his devotion to his holders is inversely proportional to his ability to counsel them. He knows he’s not good at advice beyond cheese and chaos. He wasn’t made for emotions and heartfelt chats.

A sure and confident holder didn’t usually open his heart or seek his kwami’s counsel, and Plagg liked that. They did their jobs, they shared their lives, but they didn’t share their hearts. They didn’t need to, because his holder needed his power more than his presence.

But once in a while, he’d materialize in front of a human whose eyes shone with innocent kindness, and he knew immediately that they would need him. If he’s honest, Plagg will admit that these are the best wielders of destruction. It’s all about intention, after all, and a pure heart rarely destroys with disregard. These holders, however, always seemed to come with a price - they saw their kwami as less of a means to an end and more of a friend.

He loved these holders. He would level cities and wipe out species for them. But oh, did he ever dread having to talk to them. Really, really talk.

Plagg knows his kitten will break the silence soon. It’s only a matter of time. He isn’t sure if it will be to talk about being stuck in the elevator with his very good friend, a monologue that will no doubt be punctuated by sighs and soft eyes that will be quickly denied if his kwami points them out.

One undeniable fact from the day, however, is the racing pulse and rapid breathing of a boy terrified of being locked up and feeling increasingly helpless in the situation. Plagg knows very well that it happened, because he was tucked inside Adrien’s shirt listening to his pounding heart. He hopes his holder doesn’t want to talk about that, because it’s way above Plagg’s pay grade.

He also hopes his holder won’t ponder why only he was dragged through the portal to safety, or why Rena Rouge was the one to do it.

Plagg gets down almost two full wedges of cheese before Adrien sits down on the edge of his bed with a heavy sigh.

“Hey, Plagg?” His voice is quiet but doesn’t betray any emotion yet. That’s actually more worrying.

Steeling himself, Plagg swallows the last big bite of cheese and zips from the desk to perch on top of the globe, facing his holder. “What’s up?”

He heaves another sigh before looking up into Plagg’s eyes, emotions still unreadable.

“How important is the black cat?”

Oh. A wave of relief makes Plagg’s whiskers perk up. The question is unexpected but definitely not unwelcome. He’s lousy with advice but an expert at talking about himself.

He puffs up his tiny chest and grins a fanged grin. “Only the most important, kid! Everything has to end sometime - except me, of course, but,” he shrugs, “we can’t all be perfect.” He hopes that will garner a smile, but realizes a moment too late that he’d started his speech talking about death to a boy who lost his mother at thirteen. Oh no, he thinks, panicking. He’s bad at this, too.

He barrels on. “I mean, creation is nothing without destruction. The very concepts go together, always. Can you imagine a world where flowers never wilt and people never die?” Adrien’s eyes widen and his brows furrow. Shit, Plagg thinks. I did it again.

“Plagg, that sounds...really nice, actually.”

He shakes his head. He can get this back on track. He’ll fall back on pragmatism like always. “It does, but that’s not how the world works. Your planet can’t sustain an expanding and eternal population. Everything grows and lives and dies and starts over again. Everything has a beginning and an end.” Plagg’s eyes shine with pride. “Only I, and my very lucky holders, get to harness that inevitability into a real power, and use it for good. Tikki and her bugs can create, but we destroy,” he pitches his voice lower, his tone serious, “so they can create again.”

Adrien’s eyes are still wide, but Plagg sees wonder and a bit of pride there. He lets his tiny shoulders relax.

“I never thought of it that way. You really are amazing, buddy.” He reaches out to scratch Plagg behind the ears with a soft smile that his kwami would see doesn’t reach his eyes if his own weren’t closed with pride and delight.

The hand retreats, and Plagg opens his eyes just to watch Adrien’s face fall.

“But I meant...how important is the black cat to the ladybug?”

"How...what?" Plagg splutters, taken aback. "I just told you, kid. Every beginning has an end. Creation and destruction are perfectly equal. You don't want to know what happens when they're not."

Adrien's eyes snap to his, clearly on the edge of a dawning horror. Oh no. Not again.

Plagg waves his paws. "What I mean is, you need each other. Tikki is never activated without me, and I'm never called up without her. We're two halves of a whole. You've never seen the inside of the miracle box," he scowls, "which is bullshit, by the way, but if you did, you'd see that the center is a circle, split perfectly in two. Tikki and I go together, and so do you and Ladybug. You can do this without each other, but you're not meant to."

Adrien's shoulders droop. "Yeah, I know she can win a fight without me. She's had to do it before." He sighs. "A lot."

"Sure," Plagg agrees, and can't resist adding, "but she wouldn't need to if you didn't throw yourself in the line of fire every chance you get."

"I have to protect her, Plagg! You know that! Ladybug is more important than me."

"Kid!" Plagg bursts out in frustration, "I don't know how else to tell you this! You. Are. Equal."

“Then…” Adrien’s breath catches and he blinks several times. “Then why doesn’t she need me anymore?”

For just a moment, in the time it takes for the words to register and translate and pierce his heart, Plagg’s ire flares white-hot and livid. No one hurts my kitten and gets away with it. But he looks into his holder’s eyes, sad and achingly lonely, and his anger slips away as quickly as it came. He’ll deal with his own feelings on the matter later.

Besides, it’s not Marinette’s fault. She’s doing the best she can. He’d still relish giving her an earful, but piling on the heartbreaking guilt about his holder’s situation wouldn’t really help and might just snap what Tikki has insinuated is a currently-tenuous grasp on stability. Plagg knows she’s making decisions based on the mentorship of a flawed man, a failed guardian who ran from his mistakes for the better part of two centuries.

Fu never understood Plagg and never tried to. None of the guardians did. Beyond knowing the basics of his power and the importance of the ring of the black cat in relation to the earrings of the ladybug, Fu never saw Plagg as anything more than a liability. Which is honestly fair, but Plagg doesn’t have to like it.

He definitely doesn’t have to like it when the rules of secrecy leave his kitten in the dark and feeling useless. Especially after what he now suspects from the clues he got today.

He looks into his holder's tear-filled eyes and sees a soft innocence rare among the long line of black cats who've worn the ring. This might just be his most difficult assignment yet, but it's also one of his favorites, and he'll protect his kitten no matter what it takes. Even if it means talking about feelings.

Once his stomach is settled, he's going to eat so much cheese to make up for this.

Plagg takes a deep breath. "Who spotted Optigami in the elevator today?"

Adrien blinks but says nothing.

"Who made sure Ladybug didn't tell her secrets to Truth?" He waits another moment, watching Adrien's blush rise and letting his words sink in. "And who protected her identity when she was hit by Kwamibuster?"

"Okay, but—"

Plagg steamrolls his holder shamelessly. "You were the key to defeating Gorizilla, Stormy Weather, Lady Wifi. I have a long memory, kid. Do you want me to keep going? Because I haven't even gotten to the times you kept your bug afloat with all those pep talks and disgusting feelings. A nice piece of Brie would've perked her up, but I have to admit that your methods worked, too."

Adrien sniffs and chuckles. "Okay, buddy. I get it." His eyes still betray an ocean of hurt, but Adrien's soft smile seems genuine.

Plagg has never quite understood human emotion, though he's seen it all in his many centuries among humanity. He's also seen the myriad ways humans cover up one emotion with another (and another, and another, and sometimes destructive behaviors and very dark paths). He doesn't much enjoy dealing with human feelings, but he when it comes to masks, he prefers the very stylish ones he manifests on his holders' faces, changing with the times and his whims and his holders' thoughts. It's been a long time since he had a holder whose civilian life necessitated so many different masks. No wonder he eats so much Camembert to recharge - it's exhausting just watching it.

"What I'm saying, kitten...er, kid, is that your bug needs you. Paris needs you. And I know that because creation always needs destruction." He snorts a laugh. "That's a fact that's bigger than both of us."

"Yeah, you're right. I know you're right." Adrien sighs and stands to pull back the covers and turn out the light. He climbs in bed and heaves another sigh as his head hits the pillow. "I just wish she'd let me help her. I...I know she's going through something."

Plagg settles on the pillow next to Adrien's, in the Camembert-infused spot where he sleeps. "Being a guardian kind of sucks. It used to be a whole big thing - years of training and ceremonies and shaving your head in a weird pattern..."

Adrien breathes a laugh in the darkness.

"Did you just imagine your beloved bug with her pigtails cut off and a bald spot shaved into her head?"

"Plagg! How dare you?" comes the reply, but his laughter betrays him. Yeah, he's totally picturing it.

Plagg smiles. "What I mean is, you know her. As much as you can, at least. She's told you over and over how important you are to her. I hear all that mushy crap, you know. I don't think she means to hurt you." A pause. "If she does, she'll regret it," he mutters.

"Please don't threaten my future wife, Plagg."

"Still?"

"Still what?"

Plagg blinks. Adrien blinks, then finally catches up.

"Oh. Well." He takes a deep breath. "I'm...a little upset about some things. But I'm sure we can work it out. People make mistakes. Besides, just because someone hurts you doesn't mean you stop loving them, Plagg."

He wouldn't trade Adrien and his tender heart for the world, but sometimes Plagg wishes he was already a bit more jaded when he slipped the ring on his finger that first day. He doesn't want to witness the moment his holder's gentle spirit is finally crushed by what he knows better than most is a very cruel world.

For a long moment, Plagg considers his answer and finally chooses sarcasm. He shrugs. "You can always just cataclysm their prized possessions. That works, too."

That startles a laugh from his holder, tired and tinged with emotion, but a laugh nonetheless. Plagg considers it a win.

They settle into silence. Adrien's eyes close sleepily. Plagg considers getting another wedge of cheese now that his stomach has calmed down a little, but the thought that this is far from over makes his indigestion flare again. Love is messy and inconvenient, the Cancoillotte cheese of emotions. But, he supposes, looking at his holder in the dark, it's worth the difficulty.

Adrien's eyes open suddenly to meet Plagg's glowing green.

"Thanks for talking to me, buddy. I'm sorry I—"

Plagg zips over to his holder before he can finish the sentence, tucking his little body into the crook of Adrien's neck and starting up a loud purr.

"You're welcome. You owe me so much cheese."

Adrien laughs again, and Plagg purrs louder when he reaches up to scratch behind his tiny ears.

"Reblochon again?"

Plagg stifles a laugh at the fact that he has penance cheese for dealing with Adrien's feelings before realizing how sad it is that he...well, has penance cheese for dealing with Adrien's emotions. Someday, when his holder is on his own and out from under the tyrannical rule of his asshole father, Plagg has every intention of cataclysming Gabriel's entire atelier, including his tablet and any backup drives. He dreams about it sometimes. Just watching the world burn. It'll be beautiful.

He sighs wistfully before answering. "I was thinking Époisses."

Adrien groans. "Plagg, no. It's so gross."

"Plagg, yes. Feelings are gross. Cheese is life."

Another sigh. "Fine. I'll order it in the morning."

Silence falls over them again, this time comfortable and warm. When Adrien's breathing evens out, Plagg heads over to the cupboard for a snack. By the time he's eaten two more wedges of Camembert and thought about the whole situation, he's decided to pay Pigtails and his other half a visit. This can't continue. They're all headed for catastrophe, and no one wants to see what he'll do if this breaks his kitten.

He takes a wedge of cheese for the road and heads for the window, but something makes him stop before he phases through. He turns back to look at his sleeping holder. The moonlight shines through the windows, casting shadows like prison bars across the room, across the bed, across his kitten. Plagg thinks suddenly of Adrien waking up alone, his kwami nowhere to be found, and realizes he can't just leave.

He sighs. He's sighed so many times tonight.

Plagg tosses the cheese in the air and catches it expertly, swallowing it in one gulp, then makes his way back to the bed.

Tomorrow, he'll find a way to phase into Pigtails' bag during homeroom for a much-needed discussion with Tikki. He doesn't want to - he really doesn't want to - but Plagg intends to do his part to fix this. Holders like his come once in a very, very long lifetime. Adrien is worth it.

He settles again on his cheese-scented pillow and curls up, wrapping his tail snugly around his body. Soon his purr matches the rhythm of Adrien's quiet breathing, and peace, however temporary, falls gently over the two of them once more.

[erikavixin2006]

Drunk Marinette! Adrienette

'Adriennnnnnnn~ I want youuu~'

If Adrien's phone wasn't left charging at home he could've have a gallery full of pictures and videos of Marinette.

A very drunk Marinette.

It all started with a girls night out that Alya had suggested, along with Alix's suggestion of getting themselves hammered for the rest of the night. Juleka and Alix in the end were the ones who could take on their fifth glass of shots, while the others were drunk messes.

Ivan merely carried Mylene all the way to their car, Mylene, despite her small size and usually kind demeanor, had turned into a very dominant being, and Ivan had to hold down the color on his cheeks as Mylene rambled on about the things that was best kept censored.

Alix had to help a struggling Nino, who had to deal with Alya's hallucinations. The upcoming worldwide famous blogger had begun to chase after an imaginary bug heroine and cat hero. And Nino daresay his girlfriend is stronger than she looks.

Juleka only had to drag a tipsy Rose into their car, which was most probably the easiest task out of everyone here.

The girls represent different types of drunks, and most of them were easy to handle, but Marinette is a different story, and that brings them to where they are right now.

Adrien ignored his lady's suggestive words and had finally managed to carry Marinette into their car. He was in the middle of buckling her into her seat when her two tone arms wrapped around his neck, pulling his face close to her red ones. Giggling quietly as she whispered more seductive words into his ear. Her breath is hot and her voice is silky, definitely not helping his hormones at all.

'No Mari, you are drunk, you're not thinking straight,' Adrien strapped her to the chair safely, removing him from her arms and starting the car. Tikki had joined Plagg at the back of the car, giggling softly at the moment.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her red face in a pouty expression, her bottom lip tugged out and her nose scrunched up, honestly the most adorable sight he had ever seen.

'I am thinking straight, if I'm not then you wouldn't be naked in my eyes right now,' the bluenette giggled seductively. Adrien almost crashed the car, tensing up like a frightened cat, his green eyes connected with his girlfriend's bluebell ones. The blue orbs most definitely checking him out.

Biting his bottom lip, he focused back on the road, attempting to ignore those seductive eyes, he spoke in a voice a bit too hard, 'Marinette, no,' .

He made a mistake.

Terrible one.

Marinette's bottom lip trembled, moisture surrounding her eyes. Adrien stopped at the red light, always the first to apologize, 'No wait, I'm sorry milady, please don't cry,' he panicked, devastated to see his bugaboo cry because of him.

Marinette brought her legs up to her chest, her black leggings complimented her Chat Noir themed blouse well. The woman hiccuped as sobs erupted from her throat, 'You don't love me anymore Adrien! I know I'm fat and ugly and one day you'll finally see that and go for more prettier girls, and then I'll be left alone with no one else to love meeeeee!' .

If this was a serious situation Adrien would go to the ends of the world just for her to be happy but this particular scene was far to funny and adorable to be sad, chuckling softly, Adrien caressed the woman's red cheeks and assured, 'I do love you buginette, oh my goodness you're too adorable for this world. You're not fat and you are most definitely not ugly. I love you and will not leave you, remember that okay?' his adoring eyes reflected in the drunk heroine's watery blue orbs.

Marinette hiccuped softly and wiped her tears away, holding up her pinky finger like a child, she softly spoke, 'Promise?' , Adrien's hear tugged in his chest, his sweet bugaboo is too precious for this world. Holding up his own pinky, he curled it around hers, 'Promise,' .

The cat hero sigh in relief as the woman resulted back into her quirky happy self, giggling at every moving image out of the car window, a whole colorful fantasy displaying in her perspective.

It was when they reached their apartment door did she rushed into their home, already in the bathroom and puking her guts out. Adrien placed his lady's bags down and rushed to her aid, holding her slightly long midnight blue hair away from her face, allowing her to puke a bit more comfortably. Plagg and Tikki followed in with their holders, already reaching their makeshift bed, retiring for the night. It had been a long day.

By the time Marinette finished, she was already collapsing weakly into her kitty's arms, almost passing out. Adrien smile softly, flushing the toilet before assisting her to their room.

After a few years of living together, Adrien and Marinette were both comfortable enough to assist each other in intimate ways. The blond changed her into one of his shirts, as the woman always wore his whenever they went to bed, saying it's much more comfy than her other sleepwear.

As soon as he laid the beautiful girl down onto her side of the bead, Marinette had already curled up into the blankets, fully drifting off to sleep, a contented smile on her lips.

Adrien eyes softened at the beauty, placing a kiss onto her forehead, he went out to clean the place, before collapsing into their bed tiredly, wrapping the girl in his arms, his way of escaping a tired day from work, and an ever more tiring task of taking care of his bug, not that he was complaining though.

__________

Marinette moaned softly in her sleep, waking up from her slumber with a throbbing headache.

She recalled the wild night she and her friends had last night, and memories came flooding into her mind, including parts of blurry images of her emotional outbursts on her boyfriend.

Her blush intensified as she recollected memories of her suggestive words and gestures towards the cat hero, not noticing the blond that was cradling her so gently in his arms had begin stirring awake, soft green orbs observing his lady's current state.

'Morning milady, you were a mess last night,' he reminded, feeling rather mischievous on a Saturday morning. Marinette buried her face into his chest, 'Sorry kitty, I shouldn't have drank too much and cause you trouble,' she mumbled weakly, her voice muffled in his shirt.

Adrien chuckled, 'Trouble? Never princess, you were absolutely adorable last night, it's a shame I left my phone at home, I could have created a new album dedicated to your drunk self bugaboo!' he tapped her nose softly.

Marinette rolled her eyes, 'And your albums of Ladybug and Marinette aren't enough?' she recalled back to the hundreds or maybe even thousands of pictures of herself Adrien had saved in his phone and laptop.

'I can never have enough pictures of you princess. I know beautiful art when I see one, and you my darling, are absolutely ethereal,' his fingers resting on her bottom lip, brushing it softly, watching the woman's cheeks flushed a pink hue.

'Now come on sweetheart, what would you like for breakfast my princess?' Adrien sat up from bed, years of being part of the Dupain-Cheng family the man had learn to make simple dishes for his lady.

Marientte groaned as she felt a wave of dizziness washed into her head, muttering for caffeine and something sweet for her morning hunger.

Adrien rubbed the heroine's temple softly, connecting their lips together, Marinette mumbled a "thank you" as they separated, breathing in his scent in an attempt to soothe her pain.

Adrien could get used to drunk Marinette.

[senor-plume]

Marriage by Gregory Corso

Should I get married? Should I be good? Astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and faustus hood? Don't take her to movies but to cemeteries tell all about werewolf bathtubs and forked clarinets then desire her and kiss her and all the preliminaries and she going just so far and I understanding why not getting angry saying You must feel! It's beautiful to feel! Instead take her in my arms lean against an old crooked tombstone and woo her the entire night the constellations in the sky-

When she introduces me to her parents back straightened, hair finally combed, strangled by a tie, should I sit with my knees together on their 3rd degree sofa and not ask Where's the bathroom? How else to feel other than I am, often thinking Flash Gordon soap- O how terrible it must be for a young man seated before a family and the family thinking We never saw him before! He wants our Mary Lou! After tea and homemade cookies they ask What do you do for a living?

Should I tell them? Would they like me then? Say All right get married, we're losing a daughter but we're gaining a son- And should I then ask Where's the bathroom?

O God, and the wedding! All her family and her friends and only a handful of mine all scroungy and bearded just wait to get at the drinks and food- And the priest! he looking at me as if I masturbated asking me Do you take this woman for your lawful wedded wife? And I trembling what to say say Pie Glue! I kiss the bride all those corny men slapping me on the back She's all yours, boy! Ha-ha-ha! And in their eyes you could see some obscene honeymoon going on- Then all that absurd rice and clanky cans and shoes Niagara Falls! Hordes of us! Husbands! Wives! Flowers! Chocolates! All streaming into cozy hotels All going to do the same thing tonight The indifferent clerk he knowing what was going to happen The lobby zombies they knowing what The whistling elevator man he knowing Everybody knowing! I'd almost be inclined not to do anything! Stay up all night! Stare that hotel clerk in the eye! Screaming: I deny honeymoon! I deny honeymoon! running rampant into those almost climactic suites yelling Radio belly! Cat shovel! O I'd live in Niagara forever! in a dark cave beneath the Falls I'd sit there the Mad Honeymooner devising ways to break marriages, a scourge of bigamy a saint of divorce-

But I should get married I should be good How nice it'd be to come home to her and sit by the fireplace and she in the kitchen aproned young and lovely wanting my baby and so happy about me she burns the roast beef and comes crying to me and I get up from my big papa chair saying Christmas teeth! Radiant brains! Apple deaf! God what a husband I'd make! Yes, I should get married! So much to do! Like sneaking into Mr Jones' house late at night and cover his golf clubs with 1920 Norwegian books Like hanging a picture of Rimbaud on the lawnmower like pasting Tannu Tuva postage stamps all over the picket fence like when Mrs Kindhead comes to collect for the Community Chest grab her and tell her There are unfavorable omens in the sky! And when the mayor comes to get my vote tell him When are you going to stop people killing whales! And when the milkman comes leave him a note in the bottle Penguin dust, bring me penguin dust, I want penguin dust-

Yes if I should get married and it's Connecticut and snow and she gives birth to a child and I am sleepless, worn, up for nights, head bowed against a quiet window, the past behind me, finding myself in the most common of situations a trembling man knowledged with responsibility not twig-smear nor Roman coin soup- O what would that be like! Surely I'd give it for a nipple a rubber Tacitus For a rattle a bag of broken Bach records Tack Della Francesca all over its crib Sew the Greek alphabet on its bib And build for its playpen a roofless Parthenon

No, I doubt I'd be that kind of father Not rural not snow no quiet window but hot smelly tight New York City seven flights up, roaches and rats in the walls a fat Reichian wife screeching over potatoes Get a job! And five nose running brats in love with Batman And the neighbors all toothless and dry haired like those hag masses of the 18th century all wanting to come in and watch TV The landlord wants his rent Grocery store Blue Cross Gas & Electric Knights of Columbus impossible to lie back and dream Telephone snow, ghost parking- No! I should not get married! I should never get married! But-imagine if I were married to a beautiful sophisticated woman tall and pale wearing an elegant black dress and long black gloves holding a cigarette holder in one hand and a highball in the other and we lived high up in a penthouse with a huge window from which we could see all of New York and even farther on clearer days No, can't imagine myself married to that pleasant prison dream-

O but what about love? I forget love not that I am incapable of love It's just that I see love as odd as wearing shoes- I never wanted to marry a girl who was like my mother And Ingrid Bergman was always impossible And there's maybe a girl now but she's already married And I don't like men and- But there's got to be somebody! Because what if I'm 60 years old and not married, all alone in a furnished room with pee stains on my underwear and everybody else is married! All the universe married but me!

Ah, yet well I know that were a woman possible as I am possible then marriage would be possible- Like SHE in her lonely alien gaud waiting her Egyptian lover so i wait-bereft of 2,000 years and the bath of life.

[babyybitchhhwrites]

Aizawa x Reader 18+

Title: Easy Come

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 4914 

Warnings: established relationship, 69 position, oral sex, cunnilingus, anal fingering, competitive sex 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26674393

♥♥♥♥

Peaceful evenings at home with Shouta were the best. It was easily the highlight of your week and had been for the last year since you’d started dating. He was such a busy man that just finding the time to be together was often difficult but, somehow or another, the both of you made it work. There wasn’t a single thing in the world you’d trade this time for and you suspected he was in full agreement with that sentiment. He hadn’t come right out and said as much but he may as well have.

The tranquility in his demeanor when it was just you two was impossible to miss and such a stark difference from how he was in public that you couldn’t help wondering how many other people knew this side of him. You had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t many. Although a good man through and through, Shouta didn’t exactly have a reputation for being easy to get on friendly terms with. A tough nut to crack would likely be a good metaphor but you cherished that part of him more than you could put into words. It just made the soft spoken endearments and late night cuddles all the more meaningful. Of all the potential partners he could have chosen, he’d picked you and that had to count for something.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” 

You thought about that for a moment. “Surprise me.”

Issuing a good natured scoff, Shouta picks up the remote from the nightstand and turns on the TV. 

You could hear him clicking through multiple screens to pull up an almost endless list of movies that were available at just the touch of a finger while you finished getting ready for bed in the attached bathroom. His apartment was starting to feel more like home than yours did and a smile touches your face when you looked down at where your toothbrushes were nestled together in the same holder. That something so small and insignificant could hold so much weight still took you by surprise even now but you were slowly getting used to it. He’d been very open about wanting you to make a space for yourself once the relationship reached the point of being serious whereas you’d had plenty of lingering reservations. Past hangups and all that.

But you were both slowly moving forward together as a couple and you felt good about the future. Everything seemed to be falling into place one piece at a time, against all odds and, perhaps, your better judgement. Only time would truly tell if what you had was meant to last though and you were determined to enjoy every possible moment with him that you could.

Finishing up at the sink, you pull a fluffy headband over your forehead to keep the hair off your face before switching off the light. Shouta glances up from the TV when you step into the bedroom. You catch the corner of his mouth hitching with what could only be amusement and it lights a mischievous spark in your chest as you cross over to climb up on the bed. 

“What’s that look for?” You tease, scooting close to give him a peck on his stubbly cheek. 

“Don’t make me say it. You know what that headband does to me.” 

“Maybe that was my intention.” 

A snort of mirth rumbles out of him as he reaches over to first tweak one of the plush cat ears sticking up off the top of your head and then further back so he can pinch at a loose strand of hair. Absently curling it around his finger, Shouta turns his attention back to the glowing screen against the wall. You sigh in contentment and lean into the firm weight of his body, listening to the click-click-click coming from the TV as he scrolls through the list. You’re positive that this has to be pretty close to what heaven feels like. 

“Are you sure you don’t have any preference?” He asks at length. “Action, horror, romcom. Anything stand out?” 

Thoughtfully humming, you regard the screen in quiet contemplation for a moment. “Maybe something light?” 

“Romcom it is then.”

Your lips curl at the put upon tone in his voice, knowing full well he enjoys those kinds of movies more than he’d ever admit. He’d taken you to the theater on one of your first dates and you’d been surprised at his choice of film, initially writing it off as one made in deference to what you liked rather than what he liked. But then it kept happening, over and over again. You’d seen every romantic comedy blockbuster in the last year and then some, his inclination for that particular genre delighting you to no end. It was such an unexpected surprise but one that made perfect sense in retrospect. Shouta was a true romantic at heart even if he didn’t outwardly look it, after all. 

“How about this one?” He says, nudging his shoulder to get your attention.

“Oooh, a classic. Good choice.” You sit up and wiggle over to your pillow as he selects the title and starts it up. 

Setting aside the remote, Shouta reaches over onto the nightstand to turn off the light. The both of you settle in and get comfortable, snuggling close to each other with his arm curled over your shoulders and your cheek resting on his chest. It’s the perfect way to spend a Friday night with the promise of the weekend looming just on the horizon and, try as you might, you can’t shake the feeling of being genuinely happy. It was hard sometimes but so, so worth it at the end of the day.

You don’t make it very far into the movie before the close proximity with him overrides your wish to simply relax though. It’s near impossible to keep your mind out of the gutter when the clean, soapy smell of him is surrounding you like this, invading your nostrils and leaving a vaguely reminiscent taste of him on your tongue. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breast just under your cheek serves as a silent reminder of the densely packed muscle his lithe frame carries. With it comes the memory of how it feels to have those same muscles heaving against you, driving into your body and working you over right to the breaking point. 

The desire you harbor for Shouta had not waned at all in the last year. If anything it had only gotten stronger. Just lying next to him in bed was enough to make you want him and you squirm, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to stave off the growing heat there. But it’s no use. Your urges are simply too strong where he’s concerned and you can feel yourself starting to get wet, particularly when the steamy sex scene with the leading actress’s soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend starts up on screen. Shouta had taken you in similar fashion down in the apartment complex's laundry room late one night when you’d first started staying over for extended periods at a time and the thought alone is enough to make you ache. 

He shifts beside you the third time you start to squirm, a wave of pleasant tingles erupting across your skin when he tightens his hold around your shoulders and pins you against his side. He’s strong enough to crush you in his arms if he felt so inclined and it makes your breath come a little faster. A little harder. The notion of letting this scratch go unitched doesn’t even cross your mind as you grasp at the plain black t-shirt he’d put on for bed, tilting your pelvis forward to discreetly grind into his thigh. You had to have him.

“Don’t tell me this is getting you riled up, kitten.” Shouta murmurs, the reverberation from his deep voice making your head feel like it’s vibrating. “If you’d wanted something a bit more explicit, all you had to do was say so.”

“No … this is fine.” You quietly assure him. The somewhat breathless quality of your words makes a shudder race up your spine and you arch, stretching your legs out to wind them around his. If you could get any closer you’d be on top of him by now and you can’t quite convince yourself that it would be such a bad thing. 

Noising a muted sound of agreement, Shouta obligingly angles his body away from the TV and towards you. The rough pads of his calloused fingers give you a brief squeeze before tracing lazy circles into the meat of your upper arm. You tilt your head back to peer into his face, a mere hair's breadth from yours, and for a small eternity it's as if you’re simply passing the same oxygen back and forth. Every exhale feeds into the next inhale, his breath mingling with yours until you can’t be sure who's is whose anymore. Then, finally, he closes the distance. 

His lips are slightly dry against yours, they always are, but it’s nothing a quick swipe of his tongue won’t fix. The second kiss is more demanding than the last and you all but melt against him, opening your mouth to grant him the access he seeks. A needy moan tries to claw its way up your throat when he slips into the hot, wet cavern of your mouth for a taste only to pull out a regretfully short moment later. You try to follow him, eager to give yourself over, but Shouta’s attention drops to the spot between you two instead.

“What’s got you so worked up tonight?” He brings the arm that’s not wrapped around you forward, giving your breast an idle squeeze through the thin cotton of your shirt, and you keen.

“You. It’s always you.”

“Is that so?” He says with a mirthful snort. Adjusting his hand, Shouta brushes his thumb over the pebbling peak of your nipple in taunting slow motion until you whine. “Am I really that good or am I just lucky? What do you think, kitten?”

“Both.” You croak, jutting your chest towards him for better access. “I love what you do to me and that makes you lucky.” 

“Can’t argue that.”

A genuine smile graces his face, highlighted by the glow from the TV. You’ve completely forgotten about the movie by now, its low chatter mere background noise as you focus in on Shouta and how he makes you feel. His hooded gaze is still locked on your chest and you watch with bated breath when he delicately takes your nipple between his fingers, rolling the bud to stiff attention. The resulting friction makes your pussy clench and tingling warmth spreads throughout your body to set every nerve ending on fire. You draw a slow breath to try and ground yourself. It doesn’t work but, to be fair, you hadn’t really expected it to. 

Shouta looks up at the sound though and you exchange a long look with one another. Keeping his eyes on your face, he pulls at your top until it's bunched under your chin and your nipples immediately start to pucker in the open air. Moaning softly, you watch as he dips his head to catch one of the meaty nubs in his mouth and suckle. He starts off slow and gentle but gradually increases the suction he’s applying until you finally gasp and writhe against him. 

He comes up off your tit with a dull pop. The quiet breath he lets out fans across spit lathered skin, making your nipple pucker all over again and even stiffer than before. You seeth and blindly reach behind him to worm your hand into his dark plaid boxers. Pausing long enough to give his ass an encouraging squeeze, digging your nails in for good measure, you work your way towards the front of his body so you can grasp the half hard length between his legs. Wiry pubic hair tickles your knuckles as you subduedly pump at him, teasing him to full arousal while he idly flicks at your nipple with his index finger. Despite the thrumming arousal pumping through your system, it seems neither of you is in a hurry to rush this and you can’t say you have any complaints about that.

“Was it the sex scene in the laundry room?” He husks after a long moment. 

“It certainly didn’t help.”

“Hmm. Maybe we should revisit that later. You might have an unrealized kink for having your pussy ate on top of a washing machine, sweetheart.” 

You outright laugh at that. “ I think I just like having you go down on me period. The setting doesn’t really matter.”

Issuing a low, rumbling growl, Shouta drops his arm to worm his fingers between your pliant thighs and possessively cup your pussy in his hand. “Is that what you want? Want me to eat you out until you’re screaming and begging me to stop?” 

Your breath hitches with a little gasp. “God, yes …”

He takes a moment to grind the heel of his palm into the apex of your slit, applying just the right amount of pressure to leave you desperate for more. Then, too quick for you to react, he rolls over onto his back and drags you on top of him so that you’re half sprawled out across his chest. Your pulse jumps at suddenly finding yourself nose to nose and you brace your palms on his firm pecs, intending to give him some breathing room. Shouta is fast though, much faster than you, and he brings his hands up to catch your cheeks before you can retreat. He pulls you into another deep kiss, the stubble on his chin abrasively scratching your skin in the process. You shudder at the dominant gesture, feeling your cunt gush more sticky slick to coat your labia as you moan wantonly into his mouth. His ability to drive you wild was as profound as it was unfair. You’d have to make sure to pay him back for this later.

“Turn around.” He grunts upon pulling back just enough to speak. “And pants off.” 

A sharp swat to your ass has you practically vibrating with eager excitement as you carefully stand up on the bed and start shimmying your sleep shorts down your hips. Shouta watches you with nothing short of barefaced interest, his hands coming up to caress the soft skin of your legs where they’re bracketing his ribs. One foot at a time, you cautiously step out of your bottoms and toss them over the edge of the bed before turning to face the TV. You glance back over your shoulder with a sly grin, giving your behind a taunting little shake. 

“Like this?”

He snorts. “Come here before I decide to punish you, kitten. You already know exactly how unpleasant I can make this for you.” 

Your pussy tightens at the playful threat which ultimately only succeeds in exciting you all the more. You’d rather not endure another one of Shouta’s infamous edging sessions though and you lower yourself down onto your knees, fighting back the anxious flutter in the pit of your gut that always accompanies this particular position. No matter how many times you do it, shoving your ass in your boyfriend's face will probably never not be an awkward experience. 

It’s clear as day that Shouta doesn’t mind it one bit though and he loops his arms under your thighs so he can take your waist in hand and guide you into place. The fact he actually pulls you closer doesn’t come as a surprise and you wait with bated breath for him to deem your positioning satisfactory. You start slightly just a moment later at the tickle of his coarse hair on your inner thigh, unable to shake the feeling that he’s nose deep in your pussy like this. It’s a bit embarrassing but somehow thrilling at the same time. A real conundrum.

“There.” He says at last, stilling behind you, and you shudder at the sensation of his breath on your skin. “Remember what you asked for, kitten. I won’t stop until you’re screaming.”

“You would’ve done that anyway, whether I’d asked for it or not …”

He chuckles faintly in response. “That’s true.” 

You start to smile, that undeniable spark of genuine happiness making itself known again. But then you feel him lean close and your mouth warbles, dropping open with a silent groan instead as you brace for the first expert stroke of Shouta’s tongue. It doesn’t come right away though and he takes his time merely nuzzling into you, placing wayward kisses along your puffy slit and taking deep breaths of your scent. A slow moving tremor works its way up your spine, causing you to shake and clench your pussy in anticipation. The suspense alone was enough to make you start begging.

But Shouta knows exactly how to tease you to vibrating fever pitch and giving him any more ammunition to work with would just be inviting one of his drawn out games so you stay silent, biting down on your lip when you can feel the word ‘please’ bubbling to life inside your throat. He’s as aware of the underlying tension as you are and he grunts against your cunt. Dragging his palms up the backs of your thighs, he reaches up to squeeze the doughy soft flesh of your ass and spread your cheeks apart, baring you fully to the room. You whimper, unable to hold back such an instinctive sound when you’re totally exposed like this, and Shouta’s lips curl against your labia. 

Apparently pleased with that, he presses his lips to the center of your slit and kisses you. The ministrations of his mouth are hungry and demanding, the friction of his facial hair against your petal soft folds leaving a burning trail in its wake while he works you open. You sway slightly on your knees, eyes slipping shut as you bask the sensation. 

His tongue emerges a brief moment later and you give your hips an encouraging wiggle when it slips and slides through your wet cunt lips in search of your entrance. He takes his time just circling the rim, lapping up the accumulated slick and swallowing the taste of you before delving in deeper. Your muscles contract at the slimy intrusion, fluttering in delight, and you teeter forward to brace your hands on his sharp hip bones so that you can better present yourself to him. A rumbling groan rises up behind you, the vibrations traveling through your pussy, and you twitch in pleasure. 

“Mmm … that feels good, Shouta. Do you like how I taste that much?” 

You receive an incoherent grumble in response and it makes you smile. 

Cracking your eyes open, you glance down at the straining tent in his boxers. Knowing you could never leave him hanging like that, you lift your hand to tug at the cotton. Inch by excruciating inch, you push it lower until his hard cock pops up into the air with an enthusiastic bounce. He tenses underneath you, just enough for you to notice, and you tuck the elastic waistband under his balls before taking him in hand. A slow pump is all you reward him with at first but then, as if sensing your intentions, he withdraws his tongue from your body in favor of licking his way down to your clit. Your grip on him eagerly tightens and you rear back, grinding your pussy on his face. 

The resulting grunt of pleasure goes straight to your head and you do it again. Dragging your cunt across his mouth and no doubt smearing your arousal on his skin, you give Shouta’s cock another tug that makes the foreskin bunch at the tip. He issues a rumbled warning and pulls back just enough to speak.

“Watch yourself, kitten. We can still do this the hard way.”

With that ominous reminder, he dives back in. Shoving his face so deep into your cunt that it's a wonder he doesn’t suffocate, Shouta works the meat of your labia open again and his tongue darts out to lash at your clit. You go ramrod stiff on top of him, twitching and shaking like a leaf at the sharp starbursts of pleasure that shoot through your nerves. It’s enough to make you freeze up, so overwhelmed by the sensation that you almost overlook the very obvious challenge he’s presented you with. 

You’ve played this particular game with him more times than you could count though and, through sheer force of will alone, you start to pump him in earnest now. It takes a staggering amount of concerted effort to do it but if it's another round of who-can-successfully-distract-who he was looking for then that’s what he’d get. 

Lowering yourself so that you can lie down on top of him, you angle Shouta’s cock towards your mouth and seal your lips around the head. Your free hand travels further south, curling around and cupping his balls so that you can massage them. He was particularly sensitive in this area and, just as expected, the muscles in his legs jump at the first gentle squeeze. You feel real proud of yourself for all of five seconds before he retaliates by closing his mouth on your clit and sucking. Hard.

You come up off his dick with a half strangled squeal, futilely trying to squeeze your thighs together and shut him out. It’s a losing battle though and Shouta merely tightens his elbows around your hips so that he can hold you in place no matter how much you squirm. A shock of static electricity zaps up your spine and you arch so hard that something in your lower back pops. The damp presence of reflexive tears wetting your lash line manages to ground you somewhat and, with a haggard gulp of air, you take his stiff cock into your mouth again. 

Swallowing him as far as you can in this position, you start bobbing your head and laving the underside of him with your tongue while your hand pumps at the base where you can’t quite reach. He lets up on your clit long enough to groan appreciatively and flex his hips off the bed to meet you halfway. Bending his knobby knees towards the ceiling to accommodate the awkward angle, Shouta begins thrusting into your mouth enthusiastically enough to make his balls bounce and a tinge of victory lights up inside your chest.  

It’s regretfully short lived though and you stiffen when his fingers abruptly find your slit. He wastes no time pushing one inside, giving the searching digit a taunting wiggle for good measure, and you moan around his cock. The sudden pressure on your upper wall has you clenching around him as the tension in your gut doubles and then triples. You know it's only a matter of moments until you reach the breaking point if he keeps that up but, much to your surprise, he pulls out after a prolonged beat. 

Confusion curls at the back of your mind but he’s still fucking your mouth and you can’t think straight. The drool spilling out around his cock and running down your chin is particularly distracting. All you can seem to do is wordlessly noise your bewilderment and dig your nails into his flexing hip, hoping he understands what you’re trying to say.

You get your answer soon enough in the form of that same finger, sticky with arousal, finding the pucker of your asshole. Squawking wetly in surprise, you jerk against him but Shouta hold’s fast. With one hand pulling your cheek to the side, the other applies just the right amount of pressure at the center of your entrance to sink inside your body. You freeze, feeling the muscles clench and flutter around the intrusion, but this is not the first time you’ve had your ass penetrated and it offers only a cursory amount of resistance. Your eyes start to water again, rolling towards the back of your head, and Shouta stills underneath you with his dick rammed as deep into your mouth as he can reach. 

A small eternity seems to pass and then you feel the ring of muscle give way. Once the first joint makes it through, the rest follow suit easily enough and Shouta wiggles his finger into you straight down to the knuckle. You groan in perverse pleasure, rocking forward on your knees, but the only place you can go is further down on his cock. You’re thoroughly trapped between two equally unrelenting forces like this and you can’t quite shake the impression of being a spit roasted pig. Damn him. What a devious bastard.

“That seems to have gotten your attention.” He groans, very softly, and the sensation of his lips brushing against your cunt makes you jolt. Allowing himself a strained chuckle at your expense, Shouta nuzzles into you again and your body responds with a warning tremor that he doesn’t miss. “Maybe I should start using your ass more often. You seem to like it.”

You gurgle noisily in response, struggling to swallow around the girth shoved in your mouth. 

He seems to take that as an agreement and tilts his head, slowly dragging the flat of his tongue across your throbbing clit. You shake so hard that your eyes rattle about inside their sockets but there’s nothing you can do to turn the tables now. He’s got you completely at his mercy and he was just as aware of that as you were. 

With his finger plugging your ass, Shouta takes a leisurely pace to eating you out and it very nearly drives you insane. It quickly becomes apparent that he intends to drag this out for as long as possible, which he was adept at even under the best of circumstances but it was particularly torturous in this case. Your clenching muscles gave you away and any time he felt you starting to tighten around him, he’d merely shift his attention to kissing the outer portion of your pussy until the tension began to fade. You were toeing the line of release for such an extended period of time that it actually started to hurt and you whine around him, trying to pull yourself up off his cock. He wouldn’t permit that either though and merely tightened his arms around you or jutted his pelvis up higher as needed. It was maddening in the best possible way. 

It seemed as if hours had gone by in this fashion before he finally spoke up again. “Are you ready to cum, kitten?” 

“Rrmmhrm.” 

“Are you going to scream for me?” 

“Rrmh!” You jerkily nod your head, fingers fisting in the sheets. 

“You’ll have to try hard if you want me to hear it while you have my cock in your mouth.” 

Groaning, you weakly jut your pelvis back against his face, urging him to finish you already. Shouta quietly chuckles, sounding more like a moan than a genuine laugh. 

He tilts his head then, slotting his mouth over your clit, and you let out a muffled wail when his tongue drags across the swollen nub with real intent this time. Every inch of your body shakes in rapidly mounting tension, the sheer force of it almost too much to bear. He holds you tight as you quake on top of him though, your chest heaving frantically against his stomach, but he won’t let up this time. Now he wants you to cum and you’re entirely helpless to stop it even if you’d wanted to. It takes everything you have to keep breathing through your nose as starbursts erupt across your vision and, before you even realize it’s happening, you tip over the edge. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you wail around his cock. A fresh wave of drool dribbles out of your mouth as you struggle to keep your jaw open while you ride out the cresting waves of ecstasy, realizing in some far off, dreamy way that the ball gag training was really paying off now. It’s a hysterical thought to have when your mind and body were being overwhelmed with a flood of dopamine but you don’t even have the wherewithal to find it funny. You were soaring on cloud nine, somewhere far above the physical constraints of your body, and you’re only vaguely aware of your asshole sporadically squeezing his finger when you start to come back some moments later. It was the sort of transcendental orgasm you’d only ever experienced with Shouta. 

You were positive that no one else could ever hope to take you to such dizzying heights as this and you go limp on top of him with a frazzled sigh.

After a long beat, when he’s sure you’ve milked your release for all its worth, he slowly eases his hips back down to the bed. You gratefully spit his cock out, watching it bob and glisten wetly in the dim light from the TV while you try to steady your breathing. He gives you another moment or two before idly tapping his fingers against the meat of your ass. 

“That didn’t exactly sound like screaming to me, kitten.” He says quietly, the sly note in his voice not escaping your notice. “I think we might have to give that another go.”

[tsuki-chibi]

Ladrien June Day 1 - Squall: Private Island

This story is a sequel to my Marinette March, Adrinette April, and Marichat May stories; I highly recommend reading those first.

You can also read this story on AO3: Squall

---

For the longest time, Adrien couldn’t see anything except for a bluey-green light that was so bright he had to squint. He kept moving forward, even though it felt like he wasn’t going anywhere at all, until suddenly everything got so bright that he couldn’t help slamming his eyes shut. The pressure pushing down on him intensified to the point where he couldn’t breathe –

And then it stopped.

It was still bright against his eyelids, but not as bright. So he cautiously opened his eyes before jerking back in surprise.

There was a tree standing about half a foot away.

That had definitely not been there in his universe.

“Don’t tell me my lady made a mistake and sent me to a private island instead of an alternate universe version of Paris,” Adrien murmured, taking a step back. He glanced around and quickly realized that he was surrounded by greenery on all sides: trees, shrubs, flowers…

Very well tended flowers.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he took a few steps forward and gently pushed through a few bushes to find himself standing on a path. A man and a woman were walking towards him, hand-in-hand. The woman looked at him and laughed at his costume, and Adrien could feel his face growing hot. The orange, white, and brown colors of his suit weren’t exactly good at blending in.

“Could you tell me where the exit is?” he asked politely.

“Back that way,” the man said, looking he was trying not to laugh too. “You on your way to a birthday party, son?”

“Something like that,” Adrien said, somehow managing to keep the smile frozen on his face. Gabriel had never called him ‘son’ as a nickname but hearing someone else say it still made Adrien’s stomach flip flop uncomfortably.

He ducked past the couple and walked quickly up the path. As he got closer to what was presumably the exit, he noticed several different displays of flowers. It seemed like a really beautiful place. Too bad he didn’t have any time to linger and enjoy it. Without knowing how long it would be until Marinette came back for him, he felt like he was going to have to act fast.

Especially since he didn’t know how time worked here. There was a chance that the time in this universe ran much faster than where Marinette was. Five minutes here could be a whole day where she was. He hoped that wasn’t the case.

He had already failed her by not realizing who Hawkmoth was.

He needed to atone for his past mistakes.

He needed to get the Black Cat Miraculous as quickly as possible so that he was ready for her when she returned.

So he squared his shoulders and marched up to the exit, pushing the door open and stepping out. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but everything looked… pretty normal. Beyond the parking lot, there were cars driving by and people walking past. It could have been a snapshot right out of his own universe, down to the ripped jeans some kids were wearing or a cute puppy that was being walked by a family.

“Okay. I can do this,” Adrien told himself. He didn’t have his baton, which made things a tiny bit harder, but from what he remember the Fox miraculous holder was pretty athletic.

Sure enough, he found it easy to make his way onto the roof of what he discovered was a botanical garden. From there, he could start to see the spread of buildings laid out before him – though he realized that he needed to get to a higher vantage point to be able to see everything.

Backing up a little, he ran forward and jumped towards the building across the street. Nimbly, he made his way up to the roof. He continued making his way north, scaling buildings, until he was standing on top of a building that had a good dozen floors. From there, he looked around. At first glance, everything seemed like it was still the same…

But he didn’t think that it was.

“So everything’s almost the same, just a little different, huh…” Adrien murmured to himself. After so long of regularly patrolling Paris, he was pretty familiar with his city. Already, he could see some roads that curved in different directions. Stores that weren’t where they were supposed to be. A bakery that should have been an apartment complex.

A botanical garden where, in his world, there had been a rooftop.

He nodded to himself. Everything was almost the same but also a little bit different. That sounded about right for an alternate universe.

The real question was, what kind of miraculous holders was he going to find here?

[oboevallis]

nostalgia pt 3

“Auntie Amelia!” Zola smiled as she walked into her aunts room holding a box that Amelia had never seen before. “Look what I found.” She plopped the box onto the bed and crawled to the space next to her aunt.

“What’s this?” The neurosurgeon asked curiously as she adjusted her shirt allowing her son to eat.

“I think they’re some of my moms things.” The girl answered pulling out a multi slot dvd holder. “Could these be my mom and dads dvds?”

“I think they are.” Amelia smiled as she flipped and looked at the dates that were written on the discs. “How about we have dinner and then we can watch this. How does that sound?”

“Can’t we watch them now?” Zola begged.

“I want to make sure you eat first. I pinky promise once we’re done with dinner we can watch as many as you want.” Amelia held out her pinky and waited for her niece to interlock with hers.

“Deal.” Zola smiled jumping off the bed; running out of the room quickly to assist her uncle with the cooking so they could get to watching the dvds faster. Amelia chuckled to herself at her nieces enthusiasm, she couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Zola so excited. She skillfully wrapped her son across her chest and made her way downstairs; to assure the kitchen didn’t turn into a complete mess. Once she entered the kitchen she was surprised to find organized chaos orchestrated by her boyfriend; usually when he was put in charge of dinner the kitchen was a war zone.

“What are we making?” The neurosurgeon smiled as she took in the scene around her. Zola was trying to speed Link along, Ellis was distracting herself with her IPad, and Bailey was following Link around the kitchen like a dog.

“Spaghetti and meatballs!” Ellis cheered looking up from her IPad, long enough for her aunt to take it and put it on the charger, resulting in a pout from her youngest niece. All the kids knew the rule about their IPads. No using them during the school day, in the kitchen with the family, or before doing to bed. “Hey!”

“You know the rules sweetheart.” Lately she felt bad for being so strict on the children especially during such a stressful time, and it didn’t help that it wasn’t what she normally did with them, she was the fun aunt. Hence the pandemic, her and Link were responsible for the kids making sure they put into place all of Merediths rules to make sure everything was as normal as possible for the kids and on top of that navigating their own journey of new parenthood.

“Can you go aaaaaaany slower?” Zola whined as leaning against the counter.

“What’s the rush?” Link laughed at the eldest girls impatience. “There’s no where for us to go, we’re stuck here.”

“I found my moms and dads home videos, I can’t wait to watch them!” Zola exclaimed; the happiness radiating across the room.

“Then, I guess we’ll have to hurry up.” Link agreed, with his signature smile.

_______________________________________

“That’s aunt Lexie.” Zola pointed out to siblings who never got the opportunity to meet her. She didn’t remember much about the woman, but she’d heard stories and seen pictures of them together. “Oh! And that’s Cristina!”

“I remember her.” Bailey smiled, on the screen it showed their mother, Cristina, and Lexie in the residents lounge laughing with one another. It was suspected that Derek was filming the moment between the friends. It then panned to Meredith holding up her eldest daughters hands as she was attempting to walk. “Zola, look! You were so little!” Bailey stated, shock tainting his voice, in his mind Zola was always his big sister he couldn’t fathom the fact she used to be little. After Zola’s failed attempt at walking panned off the screen, it then showed a smiley Derek showing the foundation of their Dream House. The former neurosurgeon explained what each room was going to be with such enthusiasm, and he showed the view from the side in the mountain overlooking the city.

“Where’s that?” Ellis asked, pointing to the screen.

“That was the house your dad built.” Amelia silently reminisced on the phone calls she had with her brother, where he raved excitedly about the house he was building for his family. He had been dreaming about it since he moved to Seattle, and then he was able to build it with the person he was supposed to spend a lifetime with.

“He built a house? All by himself?” Ellis asked impressed, it was a piece of information she never knew. “Why don’t we live there?”

“We live in grandmas house now.” Zola answered. She had vague memories in the house, she had one in particular she would replay, her and her parents were sat near the living room having a tea party with cat ears. Sometimes she wished they still lived there, but she remembered her mother telling her it was better to be here. “It’s easier.”

“There’s Mark again.” Bailey pointed out, as the man stepped into view carrying what seemed to be Sofia, bundled up in warm clothes because of the cold air in the mountains. “He’s in a lot of these.”

“Yeah, he was your dads very best friend.” Throughout everything that happened between the two, they always found their way back to one another. She specifically remembered a conversation she had with Mark when her brother had left for Seattle, Mark knew what he did was unforgivable and had given up hope on getting his best friend back, that was until Amelia kicked his ass to Seattle and informed him that his tennis partner had figured out about the affair he was having with his wife and had purchased himself a gun. The next time she looked up at the tv the screen was black indicating that it was over.

“Do you have a best friend Auntie Amelia?” Ellis asked her aunt directing her attention off of the now blank tv screen.

“I’ve gotta say Link.” She locked eyes with him and smiled lovingly.

“Nope, that doesn’t count.”

“Why doesn’t that count?”

“He’s your boyfriend, that’s a different kind of friend. Who’s your best friend? Mines Bailey.” She high fives her brother, while Zola rolled her eyes.

“The probably my friend Charlotte.”

“Is that the one who lives in LA?” Zola asked.

“Yep that’s the one, I haven’t seen her in awhile, we still talk though.”

“Is she a surgeon?” Bailey asked, almost all the adults he was associated with were surgeons.

“No but she is a doctor.”

“What type?” Zola asked, her mother had told her about the different specialties and the personalities associated with them.

“S-she, she’s a doctor. Actually one of her jobs is kind of what Dr Bailey does, run the staff and make sure everyone’s doing the right thing.”

“Can we watch another?” Bailey asked changing the subject.

“It’s getting pretty late, and Miss Zola has a test tomorrow.” Link informed, causing a round of boos to flood the room. “We’ll watch more tomorrow after dinner. But now we’ve gotta get ready for bed, and I think I promised Bailey and Ellis an extra story tonight so we’ve gotta get going.” After this the kids reluctantly trudged up the stairs to get prepared for the night.

“Have I ever told you how hot you are when your being all parent-y?” Amelia smirked as she walked over to where he was sitting and situated herself on his lap.

“I didn’t know parent-y was a word.”

“Is now.” The neurosurgeon announced before kissing him passionately, only to be pushed away.

“Wait, what speciality does this Charlotte do that you couldn’t tell the kids?” Link raised his eyebrow curious to hear the answer.

“She’s a sexologist.”

“Really?”

“Mmh Hmm.”

“Wow, that’s kinda hot.”

“Hotter than me?” His girlfriend batted her eyelashes in the way that always drove him crazy.

“Nothing could be hotter than you Amelia Shepherd.” Link affirmed before he quickly kissed his girlfriend, he allowed for them to fall into a rhythm before pushing her off of his lap.

“Hey!”

“Hey? You were the one who started it, I’ve got stories to read to children.” Link smiled once he saw the angered look on his girlfriends face, it was his divine payback for the other night when she paused because a tv show she’d become obsessed with during what time was about to come on.

[doctorslippery]

1d50 Fantasy Rumors

In a bathhouse to the far south, there is a well that grants wishes to those who please the guardian Naiad.

The Lord of a nearby country has set an enormous bounty on the head of a wicked bandit chief. However the old folk whisper the bandit is actually the true King, having been spirited away in the night when he was but a small boy.

The dwarves of the Jarring Peaks only surface mine and refuse to go underground. Something terrible drove them from the deeper mines generations ago, and still rests there today.

A foreign dignitary repeatedly insulted the Governor, however this is because by custom speaking praise of someone invites upon them ill luck. An international incident is looming.

In the Hinterlands, defeating someone in a fair duel entitles you to their lands or their lives. The duels, however, have incredibly complex rules that are nearly impenetrable to outsiders.

In the eastern seaport, the bay is supposedly teaming with mermaids. Dangling your toes off the docks is a sure way to get their attention, for better or worse.

There exists a flower that blooms once a century in the depths of the Sparkleberry Swamp that can cure any illness, no matter how dreadful. A tribe of lizard folk have been protecting the site for countless generations.

The mausoleum in the center of the city’s graveyard refuses to remain sealed, the bricks always burst outward in the night. Nothing, however, has been seen going in or out of it.

The old hag who sells flowers in the market place is in fact a powerful witch, waiting for a prophecy to fulfill itself.

The old orphanage at the edge of town doesn’t house real children, but changelings who were discovered in the crib.

Gert the Butcher once got into regular rows with his brother Bert. Bert vanished a few weeks ago and Gert had a sale on delicious sausages.

During a New Moon, the tides dip low revealing an isthmus connecting to Finnegan’s Atoll. The very best pearls can be found in reefs, it is a race to find them first.

Hjalmar Bjornson defeated the evil conjuror Illhugi and took residence in his tower. Recently, however, dark things have been coming from the tower again.

Cattle has been disappearing recently from local fields, a crime that the thieves’ guild refuses to claim. The town fool claims they are being abducted by invisible creatures for their heinous rituals.

The baron’s daughter is set to marry the heir of a neighboring fiefdom. Her maidservant, however, claims she plans to elope with the captain of the Guard, Providence Blanchard.

The Gleaming Desert gets so hot during the summer months that whole areas melt into glass. A local alchemist thinks if conditions are right a huge and perfect lens could be created.

The White Forest is so called for the strange, color draining sickness that affects the animals within. Farmer Gregor claims, however, to have seen a giant black stag with glowing rainbow antlers.

A pair of river traders have brought a new, powerful and addictive medicine which they initially gave away for free. However prices have risen and addicts have taken to increasingly aggressive acts of robbery to fuel their addictions.

Gloria Haversham is a tinker who travels the countryside in her one donkey cart. People say she can fix absolutely anything, but her prices are never in mere coins.

Word on the street is that the fireworks prepared for the New Years celebration have been tampered with and their glowing bursts will in fact place a hex on the city.

A new tattoo artist from the far west has set up shop, creating beautiful works of art on their patron’s skin. They’re almost too lifelike.

Parents always told their children that the Weeping Man would take away naughty children on full moons, but recently children have actually started going missing and the bogeyman has turned into hysteria.

The Wizard-Archeologist Philipa Saint-John claims there is a lost ziggurat buried in the permafrost of the Karngorm Tundra, she just needs the funding and manpower to uncover it.

Jenny Greenteeth has haunted the swamp since time out of mind and the locals now live in a tenuous peace with her. However a rich merchant has brought in foreign workers to fill the swamp and build a road.

The Count’s fortune was read in tea leaves last month. He was so horrified by the prophecy that he banned all fortune tellers and all tea from the county.

A giant hand made of an unknown metal was uncovered by flash floods in the hills.

Migratory patterns have shifted, taking game away from the barony. Something is happening up north that is scaring all the animals away.

The cats hold a monthly sabbath where they make reports to their true master.

The border marauders have been getting more bold after their leader uncovered a trove of strange weapons that fire burning light.

Stay away from the harbor on misty nights, that’s when the ghost ship and her dread captain looks for new crew to take aboard.

13 O’Clock, the Witching Hour, only strikes for those who know to listen for it.

The King in Chains, an especially rowdy tavern, has a terrible rat problem, but for some reason the landlord refuses to do anything about it. He also despises cats.

The Patron Saint of Thieves famously stole themselves right out of the hangman’s noose as they dropped. It is said the holder of that noose cannot be barred by any locked door.

A truly massive thunderhead has been passing back and forth across the plains for weeks without a drop of rain. The locals have taken to calling it the Thunder Anvil.

The city on the other side of the mountain throws a truly spectacular street celebration each year. Its participants, despite the fireworks, feasts, and music are all masked and silent.

A powerful noble was cursed in her youth to never be able to eat the same meal twice. She is elderly now and is desperate for truly exotic ingredients for her increasingly bizarre diet.

The old barrows have always been a haunt of fairies and their mischief was mostly benign. A necromancer recently desecrated those ancient tombs and the fairies have gone berserk.

A travelling circus filled with exotic animals of all kinda passed through last year, however a fire at the big top consumed it. Strange trumpeting and growling are still heard from the village green.

Theodore Goldfinch, the secretary of the magistrate, ran screaming out of the courthouse last week claiming he uncovered a snakeman conspiracy.

“The Slithery-Dee came out the sea, he ate all the others but he didn’t eat me,” claimed the only survivor of a fishing village, found covered in blood and holding a notched whaling hook.

There is a deaf musician who wanders the south who knows a tune terribly sad that those that hear it die of a broken heart. They say the musician is in fact a master assassin.

Giant petroglyphs cut across the shrublands where the sheep graze. The wizards claim that the petroglyphs have actually been walking across the land at geologic speed.

Everyone ties a ribbon with wishes on it to the Angel Oak, hoping they’d come true. Sometimes, they actually do!

Keep a ring of iron in your left pocket when you travel the road at night, otherwise the Wyld Hunt will turn you to a beast and hunt you till morning.

Anyone who dies without fulfilling a contract is damned to rise against to complete it. It is important to burn or transfer contracts to avoid terrible revenants.

After a long bender that the PC barely remembers, their wanted poster has been pasted across the land for the kidnapping of a rich silk merchant’s son.

A bat covered in gold dust was found in the church’s belfry, setting off a rush searching all the local caves for a rich vein.

A strange light was seen pouring out of the canyon in the night and no one who has gone to investigate has returned.

Sir Zoray and his band of knights were tasked by the High Priestess to seek a holy artifact to cure a terrible wasting illness. They were last spotted spending their gold the the most expensive brothel in an eastern city.

A wingless wyrm was spotted swimming through the Frothy Run River and coins of foreign make were later found on the pebbly shore.

[mycatshuman]

My Jolly Sailor Bold

Happy Birthday Virgil!!!! Sorry this might not be that good, I tried but toward the end I got bleh. Anyway, thank you for being my comfort character for these past few years!

Warnings: fighting, angst, death, both Virgil and Roman will still be alive at the end so don't let the death warning discourage you!😇

🌊🧜🏾‍♂️🌊🧜🏾‍♂️🌊🧜🏾‍♂️🌊🧜🏾‍♂️🌊🧜🏾‍♂️🌊🧜🏾‍♂️🌊🧜🏾‍♂️🌊🧜🏾‍♂️🌊🧜🏾‍♂️

Upon one summer's morning...

Early morning fog crept along the cold waters of the North sea like a cat stalking its prey. The waves lapped along the port of a small town in Great Britain as they continued to bring in the ominous fog that had yet to disappear. The sun had yet to rise, most of the sky still dark. Only the horizon slowly brightened as the sunrise inched closer. Most people were still in bed this early in the morning. Still, there was a single soul pacing rhythmically back and forth along the deck of a ship docked in the small port, waiting for the rest of the ship's crew to return from their night on the town. 

The man, who went by the name Virgil, was anxiously swabbing the deck, well aware his fellow crewmates wouldn't be back until well past the sun's rise, and took advantage of the lack of foot traffic to clean the deck. Of course, his captain could rouse them early but those days were rare and few between. 

Virgil was a unique one. First off, he was a pirate. Second, he rarely indulged in the drinks and ladies like some other pirates, simply preferring to stay on the ship than to go into town. He would like to say he was more of a sensible pirate, which had to have been the reason he was made the first mate. 

Virgil had, of course, already gotten himself ready for the day. He had messily smudged black kohl underneath his eyes to help keep the light out of his eyes once the sun rose and he even cleaned his shirt for the day. He was a bit of an early riser when they weren't at sea. The fact that anyone could just walk on board made him uneasy. Although, when they came to this town, he slept a little easier. It was a bit of a remote town and most pirates tended to go to more lively places. 

Before long, the sailor was finished mopping and put away the mop and bucket before moving over to the railing along the side of the ship facing the open sea. He leaned against the side of a barrel with a sigh. Virgil took out his dagger and a small log of wood and began to whittle to keep himself occupied until the crew returned. 

I carefully did stray

Out in the sea, far from the ship, a head popped up above the water. The head had a pair of eyes and the eyes narrowed in on the lone sailor aboard the magnificent ship. The head quickly rose until the top half of a broad chest rose above the water, but no further than that. This, obviously, was not a human. If it had been a human, it would have drowned, but it wasn't and so it didn't. Most humans would probably call this being a mermaid, although that wasn't quite right either. 

This being, whose species was not quite common knowledge to humankind, was named Roman. And upon catching sight of him, a spark twinkled in his eye and he swam closer, unbeknownst to the sailor who had caught his eye. Roman didn't concern himself with humans too often. Only ones he found particularly interesting. And this sailor was a particularly interesting one. 

Of course, Roman couldn't let this sailor see him coming so he called upon his power to create more fog and make it near impossible for most to see five feet in front of them. And as he swam closer, the fog followed until it caught the notice of the sailor aboard. 

Down by the Walls of Wapping

When Virgil noticed the thickening fog, he frowned. The fog didn't usually get thicker as the sun rose so this was an anomaly that was a bit alarming. He set down his work and put away his dagger as he stood and moved to the railing. He looked over and tried to peer through the fog, he had a sneaking suspicion as to what might be causing this. He kept his hand on his dagger as he looked. After all, he was one of the most superstitious and anxious sailors alive. And he was very nervous at that moment. 

Slowly, he withdrew his dagger from the worn leather holder that was hanging from his belt. He flipped the dagger around in his hand, posed at the ready. Virgil wasn't going to let anything surprise him. Not if he wanted to stay alive. And he very much wanted to stay alive. 

Where I met a sailor gay

As Virgil cautiously peered over the ship's railing and into the fog, he jumped as he noticed a pair of glowing eyes staring at him from the water. "Who there?!" He shouted in a thick Irish accent. He couldn't let the creature know he was scared, after all. Slowly, the eyes grew larger as the face moved closer. A smiling figure emerged from the fog as whoever was staring at him climbed up the side of the ship. Virgil yelped and flung himself back, away from the railing and the creature coming closer as they pulled themselves on deck. "Stay back!" Virgil yelled as he swung the knife out in front of him. 

The being smiled, it made Virgil's stomach feel weird. "I've never met a sailor as handsome as you before." His voice was smooth and velvety to Virgil's ears. Alluring and enchanting. "I'm Roman, and you are?" 

Virgil narrowed his eyes at the being in front of him. "Not telling you my name." Of course, the creature wasn't a fae if the large glittering tail was anything to go by. But Virgil was still an anxious fellow. 

Roman chuckled and even his laughter sounded like music. "Aren't you gonna ask what I am?" He gestured to his long red tail as he lifted his fin and waved at the sailor. 

Virgil scoffed. "Oh I already know what you are." 

Roman smirked. "Oh really," he purred and crossed his arms and leaned on an overturned barrel. He liked the snark he was receiving from this one. "Do tell."

Virgil suppressed a shiver at the other's voice. "A siren."

Roman's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Ah, so you're a smart human." The siren grinned. "That's hot." 

Virgil blinked and dropped his fighting stance. "What?" Was this siren trying to flatter him? 

Roman opened his mouth to respond only for the sound of crewmates clambering up the ramp to reach them. Virgil turned to glance behind him, surprised. He wasn't expecting them until later. By the time he turned back to Roman, the siren was already over on the other side of the railing. He grinned. "I guess I'll talk to you later, sailor boy." And with that, he let go of the railing and dropped back into the sea. 

Virgil rushed forward just in time to see the last of Roman's tail as he swam away, the fog retreating with him.  He shook his head in disbelief as he watched the siren go. "Well, that was an experience." 

Conversing with a young lass

Since their first meeting, the sailor and the siren met up as often as possible. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they just sat together and watched the stars. They mostly only talked when the crew was off the ship, so no one could see Roman or hear them talking. But that only happened when they were docked. The rest of the time, they just stared at the stars while Virgil was on watch. Of course, they still talked when they were out at sea too, just not as freely as they did when in port. 

To keep Roman from being seen by other crewmates, Virgil had to signal to the siren that it was safe for him to climb aboard. So, he would sing a small song for him. Roman still couldn't get over it. Of course his voice was beautiful, but it had to be in order for him to use it to lure sailors to their deaths, but Virgil's, his voice was like a warm hug. And the siren was absolutely addicted to it. 

Honestly, Roman was so glad that he could turn off the enchantment on his voice and back on at will. It was nice to have a friend that he could talk to like Virgil. Something that would be a lot more difficult if he couldn't talk to him. When he talked to Virgil, he didn't feel so lonely anymore. Even just spending time with Virgil made him feel warm and happy. It was a strange feeling, yet he craved more. 

Who seem'd to be in pain

Once, when Roman was following Virgil's ship because he knew they were going to dock soon, he waited until he saw the crew leave and then climbed aboard. But when he climbed over the railing, he found the sailor slumped against a barrel, a bottle of something that smelled strongly of alcohol, something he knew the other preferred not to drink, in his hands. The siren frowned and reached forward to grab the bottle from Virgil's hand. "Are you okay?" 

Virgil shook his head as tears began to spill over onto his cheeks but stayed silent. "You don't want to say anything about it?" A quick nod. Roman hummed lighty. "Alright, that's okay." He was silent a few moments more before he began to talk about his day, his voice soft as he tried to comfort his friend. And Virgil cried quietly as Roman spoke. 

Before long, after Virgil had stopped crying, he cleared this throat and Roman went silent without being asked. "I-I don't know what to do. The captain died and now I'm the fookin' captain but I'm not ready for this! I'm not ready to be a leader!"

Roman hummed thoughtfully for a few moments before he replied. "Not that it helps, but I think you'll be a great captain." 

Virgil turned his gaze to Roman as his tears began anew. "But how can you be sure? I'm probably going to end up getting us killed!" 

Not like I'm gonna let that happen, Roman thought. "You are the most cautious and careful person I know, you can do this." Roman laughed. "You drew a knife on me when we first met! You even knew that I was a siren. If anyone is good enough to be a captain, it's you." 

Virgil went silent. It wasn't until his tears dried that he spoke again. "Thank you, for everything." 

Roman smiled. "No problem." 

Saying, William, when you go

"Where are you going this time?" Roman asked, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. 

Virgil sighed. "We're going to try and take down the one trading spot in the Caribbean." He scraped his arm. "I just have to hope I don't run into any ships from the Royal Navy." 

Roman bit his lip. He knew what Virgil meant. If he was captured by the navy, he would be hung for his piracy. In truth, he was scared. He had a bad feeling in his gut, one that sent shivers down his spine and plagued his mind. "How long?" 

Virgil shrugged. "We should be able to take it down in one day so long as there are no hiccups." 

Roman hummed. "And you won't be able to talk for a few days after that?"

"Right. We can't risk running into any royal ships so we'll be going as fast as we can and it'll be nearly all hands on deck until we're far enough away. And we gotta lie low for a bit too." 

"When will you leave?" 

"The day after tomorrow."

I fear you'll ne'er return again

"Virgil, I don't think you should go on this mission." It was the next night. Last night they would be able to meet up for a while. Roman could hardly sleep that night, he kept being awoken by frightening nightmares that ripped through his heart without mercy. 

Virgil's head whipped over to look at Roman. "What?" 

Roman bit his lip. "I don't think you should go." 

Virgil frowned. "Why not?" 

"I have a bad feeling. I-" Roman paused anxiously. "I fear you'll never return." 

Virgil bit his lip and turned away from the siren. "Well, that's-" he sighed. "I'll make sure to be careful." Virgil then turned back to the sky, the conversation was over.

For some reason, Roman felt like he was on the verge of tears. He wasn't sure why, but there was something in him warning him that something bad was going to happen and he could feel fear mocking him. You won't be able to save him. The siren steeled his nerves. Well, he was just going to have to see about that. 

My heart is pierced by Cupid

Virgil was well aware of his feelings towards a certain siren. He wasn't that oblivious. And if he ever shared anything with anyone, it would be clear to them who the siren was considering he only had ever met one. So yes, Virgil was very much in love with Roman. 

Maybe it was a foolish thing to hope that the other shared his feelings. They were two totally different creatures. Him, a human and Roman, a siren. But Virgil often had unrealistic dreams. And he was content enough to keep dreaming. After all, there was no harm in it. Was there? 

I disdain all glittering gold

He was quite a peculiar pirate, Virgil was. He was not as greedy as some others, he just liked to piss off the royal navy. It was his favorite pastime. Of course, this was quite a dangerous hobby. The royal navy often hung pirates they caught, so if Virgil were to ever get caught, it was time to say goodbye to the sea forever unless he went down with his ship. 

So, yes, Virgil did not like gold, it wasn't his motivation for piracy. However, after he met Roman, he found he quite liked the idea of stealing a gold ring or a gold necklace, anything gold to give to the stunning siren who had captured his heart. With this thought in mind, with the idea of giving his love a gift, Virgil decided that he would steal something gold for Roman on this new mission. And if he made it, he would give it to Roman, and maybe he would reveal his feelings. Maybe gold wasn't so bad.

There is nothing that can console me

Roman was scared. He was petrified.  He had been sitting on a rock. Not quite knowing what to do with his day considering he normally just followed Virgil's ship so they could meet up every night. But he wasn't going to be meeting up with him tonight. So he was at a loss of what to do. 

But then he saw a ship sail by, on its way to what he could assume was the very island Virgil was planning to attack. It was a Royal Navy ship. Roman was sure his heart had never beat so fast in his life. As fast as he could, he leaped from his rock and plunged into the ocean, and began to swim the fastest he has ever swum in his life. He couldn't let Virgil get hurt. 

But my jolly sailor bold

He barely arrived in time. By the time Roman arrived, the two ships were in a grand battle, cannons firing left and right. They smashed through wood and debris scattered the sea between them. The siren paid them little mind. His attention only focused on finding Virgil. 

"Fire!" 

There! Virgil was standing at the helm amidst the chaos aboard the pirate ship. He was drop-dead gorgeous in his element. But Roman didn't have time to appreciate Virgil's beauty. Not now. Not with Virgil's life in danger. He'd rather never be able to appreciate the beauty of Virgil ever again than to never be able to talk to him ever again. 

His hair it hangs in ringlets

Roman swam as fast as he could towards Virgil's ship. But it was hard. Debris littered the sea between the two ships and he still had to avoid getting seen. But Roman had never really been a careful person, he was more reckless than an ambitious youngster. 

The siren was hardly noticed as he zipped to Virgil's ship faster than either ship could sail.  He was at the side of the ship in record time and paused. What was he going to do now? He let out a huff and peered over at the opposing ship. He could very well bring down the ship all his own. He had brought down many ships over his time and this one would be no different. 

His eyes as black as coal

Roman couldn't do it. If he were to use his voice to enchant the other ship's crew,  it would bring Virgil's crew down as well. He couldn't risk the other's life like that. And so, the siren found himself stuck at a stalemate. Unsure of what he could do, he bobbed in the rocking waters beside Virgil's ship. 

He didn't know what to do. What would Virgil want him to do? He frowned. Virgil would want him to stay away and out of danger. He couldn't agree. Virgil was in danger and he didn't want to be stuck on the sidelines. If Virgil got hurt…. 

My happiness attend him

Roman had felt many emotions over his time alive. Joy, sorrow, anger, jealousy, but he had never quite felt love. Sure he had experienced attraction to different sailors over his time but never love. He supposed he would never feel love. He was a siren and most people didn't even believe in sirens let alone fall in love with them. Of course, there were other sirens but none of them really liked him too much. He was too interested in humans. The other sirens preferred each other's company over humans. 

Which Roman understood, after all, they didn't have much in common. And sirens often preyed on humans, luring them to their deaths with their voice alone. But, it wasn't as if they were doing it for the fun of it, it was just to protect themselves. After all, humans tended to be brutal with precious things. Roman may have agreed, but he still was fascinated with the human world. He could have never imagined getting into the situation he was in now. 

Wherever he may go

He understood now. He understood it all. How had he found himself so enchanted by this human that he would follow him anywhere? Why was he so terrified that this battle would go wrong? The old Roman wouldn't understand. He would ask what was so important that would drive him to this extreme for some human. 

Love. The one thing he never thought he would experience. Love. It could be enough to move mountains, enough to inspire, enough to create. And it was Roman's love for the sailor, his sailor, that would create a storm of fury to protect him. He would happily follow this man anywhere. He would do anything for him. 

From Tower Hill to Blackwall

Roman finally decided what he was going to do. He quickly swam over to the royal navy's ship and began looking for any weakness in her hull. If he was going to do anything he could at least try and weaken the enemy's ship. 

The siren dived below the surface and swam underneath the ship. He curled his hand into a fist before reeling back and punching the hull. His first bounced off and he snarled at the ship. He threw another useless punch at the hull before resurfacing as a loud cannon blast sounded. 

Roman flinched and watched as a cannonball flew from the ship beside him and smashed into the deck of Virgil's. His heart leaped in his throat but Virgil was okay. The ship was still standing and the siren could still see his love aboard the ship, shouting commands to his crew. 

He let out a sigh of relief and turned back to the ship behind him. Roman suspected the vessel before him with sharp eyes. There had to be something he could do. Soon, an idea hit him. The siren turned to the ocean surface in between the two vessels and quickly zipped through the debris field until he found a sharp shard of a wood plank. He quickly swam back to the ship and rammed the sharp end into the ship's hull. 

"YES!" Roman exclaimed. The wood plank had pierced the hull. He ripped the plank out of the hole and watched as water began to pour into the ship. He had done it! He was helping Virgil! 

KABOOM!!

It appeared Roman's was short-lived. 

I'll wander, weep and moan

The Royal Navy had blown another hole through Virgil's ship. It was the final blow. The ship was sinking, and quickly. "NO!" Roman's scream pierced the air. The siren shot over to the other ship. "Virgil!" He watched as the ship quickly began to disappear below the surface. "No no no no no no!" 

The siren came across other pirates as they quickly latched onto anything that would keep them afloat. Roman only felt a little bad as he bypassed them. But his mind was on Virgil. His moments with Virgil flashed through his mind. He couldn't lose him. He just couldn't.  Not when he just accepted his feelings. 

Then he slammed into a hard stop. He breathed out one heartbroken word. "No…" Roman moved forward and slowly moved the planks of wood off of the sailor. Virgil was laying on a column and must have become trapped between the two pieces of the ship and drowned. His sailor was dead. 

All for my jolly sailor

Roman gathered Virgil into his arms and held him as he cried. His sobs echoed loudly through the air, catching the attention of the remaining ship. 

"Woah! What's that?!" 

Roman looked up at the opposing ship, tears spilling over onto his cheeks. They dripped down onto his sailors' face. A face that would never smile at him again. At that moment, all his anguish, all his rage, spilled over into his throat and he unleashed his voice onto the royal navy. 

Until he sails home

The royal navy ship had run aground. Most of her crew haven jumped from the deck and into the churning waves. the rest went down with the ship. A storm had quickly moved in with the force of Roman's voice. The wind was harsh, the rain no gentler, and in the middle of it, all was Roman and his love. His cold, dead love. 

Until he wasn't. 

My heart is pierced by Cupid

To be clear, Roman was not aware of all the magical properties that he possessed. And to be quite fair, most sirens were not aware of this ability they possessed either. After all, they hardly ever had a need for tears, such was their life that they hardly experienced such sorrow. That and they spent most of their time underwater where the current carried away their tears. 

The situation that needed to arise for a siren to discover the magical power their tears held had never arisen for Roman before. Perhaps if he had known, he wouldn't have become so overwhelmed with sorrow. Although, even if he had known, one could assume that it would still hurt just as much. After all, nothing could really lessen the pain of losing a loved one. 

I disdain all glittering gold

Roman's sobs had quieted down, and with it, the storm calmed until it was just a memory.  His tears still flowed freely from his eyes as he looked down at Virgil in his arms and let out a broken sob. "I'm so sorry." The siren bit his lip as he sniffled and reached a hand forward to push some of Virgil's hair out of his face. He caressed his cheek and drew in a ragged breath. 

"I tried. I really tried, Virgil." Roman sniffed. "I just wasn't fast enough." He adjusted a necklace on Virgil's neck. It wasn't something he had seen him wear before. It must have been something he just got. He let out a loud cry. "Maybe you would have told me how you got this...if I had been just a little faster-" he broke off with a hiccup and pressed his forehead to Virgil's and continued to cry. 

There is nothing can console me

Virgil was very confused. The last thing he remembered was foggy and incomplete. He could only remember how he felt. Cold and scared. But now, he felt warm and safe. He shifted and felt arms around him, holding him. He slowly blinked his eyes open only for his vision to be filled with Roman. 

Oh, no wonder he felt safe. His face flushed as he realized the siren was holding him. Gay Panic™️ would have set in if he hadn't noticed the grief on Roman's face. He frowned and tried to move his hand only to realize it was trapped in Roman's hold. He opened his mouth to speak only to realize his tongue felt like lead. But he pushed through it. 

"Roman?" He had to comfort his siren. 

Roman's eyes flew open in alarm as he jerked back. His jaw dropped as Virgil fought to pull out his arm, it felt heavy, but he had more important things to worry about. "What's wrong?" 

"I-" tears sprang anew and Roman's mouth clamped shut. Virgil frowned and glanced around only to find debris floating all around them. The two of them were on a rock a little bit away from the shore of an island behind them. And it all came rushing back. 

The mission, the royal navy ship, the battle, the final blow, being crushed underneath parts of his ship, and finally the burning of his lungs as he drowned. He could only guess what happened next. "Ro, what happened after….?" 

Roman sniffled. "I- I did what sirens always do." 

Virgil hummed. "Do you think we can move to the shore?" 

Roman nodded and held Virgil tight before he shot over to the shore. The two dragged themselves ashore and Virgil sighed. He took off the necklace and handed it to Roman. "Here, I uh, I grabbed this for you." 

Roman's head shot up and he looked over to Virgil and the necklace he held in his stretched out hand. Gingerly, he took the necklace and tied it around his neck. It didn't stop his tears though. "Thank you." 

Virgil smiled at the siren. "You're welcome.” He knew they still had a lot to talk about. But right now, Roman just needed someone to comfort him. Specifically, he needed Virgil. So Virgil scouted closer to the siren and wrapped his arm around him and leaned against him as Roman cried. 

But my jolly sailor bold 

The sea had been merciful. Virgil was given the power to transform his legs into a tail at will. He was the first-ever merman. At least that was the name Roman had come up for him. And Virgil loved Roman so of course he fondly accepted the name. 

Together, the two of them lived in a small island with a cave that led to the water and allowed them a cool place to relax when it got too hot. They had their happily ever after. 

Currently, the two were cuddled on the beach as the sunset and they watched the stars as they revealed themselves. "I'm so glad I met you," Roman murmured. He pressed a kiss to Virgil's head and gave him a light squeeze. 

Virgil smiled warmly. "And I'm glad I met you, I love you." He turned his head to press a quick kiss to the siren's lips before returning to his previous position. 

Roman grinned. "I love you too. " 

Neither Roman or Virgil would give this up for the world.

🧜🏾‍♂️🌊🧜🏾‍♂️🌊🧜🏾‍♂️🌊🧜🏾‍♂️🌊🧜🏾‍♂️🌊🧜🏾‍♂️🌊🧜🏾‍♂️🌊🧜🏾‍♂️🌊🧜🏾‍♂️🌊

Taglist: @misery-killed-me @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @alias290 @odette-ssbu @ray-does-stuff

Let me know what you think?

[katsukikitten]

Pizza Night

A/N since 1am is an appropriate time to post. Here have some smut

You kick your heels off the second you get in the door, setting down your work laptop and keys onto the entry table with an angry sigh.

As you make your way further into your house you shed of your stuffy suit jacket before taking off your bra without taking off your shirt with a grace only a woman knows.

"Much better." You hum, tossing it onto the back of the couch. Turning on some soothing music before opening the fridge, spying the chicken quickly. You had promised to make dinner tonight before your man got home.

See cooking wasn't your best skill BUT you always kept your word.

Plus you'd been practicing, trying so hard to hone your skill because your boyfriend always cooked depsite his 12 hour shifts. Even making you meals ahead of time durning his 24 hour shifts. Paired with a sticky note of his angry writing telling you EXACTLY how to heat it best.

Guilt ate you alive although he told you countless times he *enjoyed* cooking for you, *loved* it really. So you took to your phone, scrolled through endless recipes on pinterest before you found the perfect one.

You had only made it once before using Kirishima as a Guinea pig. He had enjoyed it, although it was burnt. He walked you through how to cook it another two times before you finally could make it on your own.

It all started out normally but of course since you were making it for your favorite hot head things were starting to go astray.

Your pan was hot, butter melted like Kirishima had showed you but for whatever reason today some of the meat was not sitting in the pan correctly, charring the middle as the ends became neglected.

You lunged for your phone in a panic, video calling the only man who could help your right now. He picks up on the third ring with a yawn

"Eji! Help!" You cry, "Bakugou will be home soon!"

Time is lost to you as Kirishima instructs you to start over, music still softly playing in the living room but loud enough you do not hear the front door open and close.

Bakugou enters with a grunt, pushing off his combat boots toe to heel. Eager to get out of his hero suit, shower, feed you and maybe fuck.

His eyes spy your work jacket before they roll heavily. He takes the black garment with angry hands as he hangs it onto the coat rack behind the door.

He goes to shout at you for always leaving your jacket on the damned couch before he hears the low tones of a man's voice coming from the kitchen. The ash blonde freezes in place, rigid as he strains to listen.

He steps closer to the kitchen, not daring to turn down the mood music that floats out of the speaker.

"Kirishima I'm so nervous. Nnnngggnnn." He hears your whining better now that he's closer. Whining that sounds too close to when you're over stimulated, cheeks flushed with arousal. He narrows his eyes, telling himself that maybe it's a phone call. Maybe it's a mistake, until he spies one of his favorite work bras you have. A lacy nude thing that he's gotten in plenty of break time bathroom selfies via text just to tease him.

"Ah Kirishima it won't fit!" Another whine.

"Calm down, it'll fit. Just relax and readjust." Kirishima's voice soothes, causing Bakugou to see red as another sinful whine floats down the hall. He rushes into the kitchen, not even bothering to take off his gauntlets as he is hoping to catch you two in the act.

Or at least the act he thinks the two of you are in.

Deep down he is hurt, heartbroken over the fact that you've been sleeping around.

And with his best friend worst yet.

Or at least now his ex best friend.

"IMMA FUCKING KILL YOU KIRISHIMA EIJIROU!" He rounds the corner with popping hands, thinking better than to fill his gauntlets to unleash. Eyes looking for that damned red head.

But instead they fall on you, as you're the only body standing in the kitchen, hand clutched to your heart. It is then that scarlet eyes discover your phone. Propped up facing towards you and the now half burning half raw meal as Kirishima blinks on the glass with wide eyes.

"Baby...?" You ask softly as he huffs, eyes darting around the room before he lunges towards the phone.

"She'll call you back later." He snarls, tapping the glass trying his hardest not to break the screen. He drops his bulky gauntlets, tossing them onto the dining room table.

"Bakugou what are you....?" But he doesn't let you finish, pushing you into the counter, slamming both hands down to trap you.

Silence settles over the two of you as he stares angrily into your eyes.

"Bakugou?" You prompt softly for his hands to find your hips and squeeze until it hurts. You half wonder if there will be bruises by the time he is done.

"I seriously fucking thought I was going to walk in here and see you in a compromising position, *whining* like a brat to another man." He growls darkly leaning closer to your face.

"Suki...." You see the anger smolder in his eyes but you cannot help yourself, "What kind of compromising position?"

His eyes flash a dangerous warning that quickly becomes a promising threat as he turns you around, pushing you harshly onto the counter. One hand is holding you down by the nape of your neck while the other grips tightly onto your hips. He bucks into you causing the edge of the counter to bite into your belly as you try to keep the moan from your mouth.

"Like that little brat." He snarls harshly in your ear, when he sees your cheeks heat he nibbles on your ear, "I see you like it when I'm jealous huh?"

You don't answer although the truth is yes, just a little.

"Do you think Kirishima would pin you like this brat?" He grips tightly on the column of your neck, you feel him harden against your ass as he dominates you.

But often times one does not realize that it is the sub who controls the dom through strategic reactions. A devilsih smirk dances across your lips as you answer faster than you can talk yourself out of it.

"Yes, sir I think he would." Bakugou stills behind you, he knows bait when its presented.

What he should do is press his cock against you a final time and deny you both cumming and the ability to give him pleasure as his little fucking brat.

He decides in a fraction of a second that he is going to make you regret those words. His strong hand pins yours behind your back pressing you harshly into the counter as his toned arm comes into your vision grabbing a utensil from the marble holder.

Your eyes widen as he snatches the wooden spatula with three little slats that will be sure to leave odd welts. He places the handle of the spatula in his mouth as you wiggle to break free while his free hand rips away your skirt to reveal a nude laced thong that matches that abandoned bra so well.

"Oh and who did you wear these for?" He asks holding the utensil just above your ass, "Were you expecting your boss to explore?"

You don't answer, still squirming beneath his steely grip.

"Ah the cat has your tongue now huh kitten?" He brings the spatula up high just for it to kiss your ass with a ringing sound, "See I don't think Kirishima would be rough enough for you."

You let out a moany yelp before he brings the spatula back down again, your core heats as does your cheeks as you enjoy the punishment he brings.

"That's for calling another man with no bra on where he could clearly see the outline of your nipple ring." He growls, striking again and then again, "This is for using your damn breathy whine with him that you know drives me wild brat."

Then he brings it down a final time as you soak through the thin fabric, juices beginning to collect along your thick thighs.

"This is for is for the innuendos that made me think to find you like this little kitten."

You moan again, wondering how big the welts will be or if your cheeks are bruised as he tosses the improtu instrument onto the counter where you can see. The handle is charged and splintered from his grip, the sight of it makes your core clench as you think of him holding back. He smooths his heated hand over his new markings before he gives it a final smack with his bare palm.

Face leaning down low to give it the smallest kiss, his eyes catching onto your overly noticeable arousal.

"Tch. You really are a slut huh? So wet and from being *punished* too." He growls, fingers slipping past the fabric to find your swollen bud, he runs his fingers up your length before settling in on a brutal pace. Your hips buck against him, legs quivering as he begins to bring you up to the best high, your moans come out loud and breathy as he pushes you impossibly further onto the counter top, the edge pressing deeper into your solar plexus.

"So close to cumming already? We can't have that can we? Only good kittens get to cum." He slows just a tad before hearing you up again. Your moans climb higher as the coil in your stomach tightens. Just as it is about to spring he removes his hand completely as you whine in response.

"Bakugou that's..." You don't get to finish before his hand is gripping onto your hair, pulling you up quickly.

"That's not how a good kitten would address me." He growls, before his mouth finds the tender flesh on your throat. Kissing, sucking and biting every moan from you he can as you continue to grow slicker.

"Aaahh. I'm....I'm sorry, Bakugou-sama." He bites back his groan when you answer. His mind flashing back to you in a similar outfit you wore today the first time he met you.

A tight skirt and blouse, a tailored jacket but you must have worn only a bralette that day because all he could see was the outline of your right nipple ring. Winking at him, teasing him from the beginning hinting at the brat that you are. He thought of many dirty things he wanted to do to you.

He never thought they would actually happen, let alone you actually love him.

He slips his hand to give that nipple ring a tug to which you moan before he steps back, removing his hands from your wrists.

"Hands on the counter." He snarls as he takes you in, purplish welts bloom on your ass, making you that much more alluring. Instead of listening what do you do?

You try to pretend that you are in charge, getting up and turning to face him. The glare he serves you is hotter than any fire as he looks down at you, lip pulled slightly away from teeth. You look away as you speak.

"I don't think you're being fair denying me my..." Is all you get out before you catch his eyes again. You gulp as his gaze is now too intense, too heated and dominate to oppose. Suddenly the floor is much more interesting than your boyfriend. A deadly hand grabs onto your chin, he tilts you this way and that trying to catch your eye. Finally you glance at his face before looking away once more.

"I thought you were braver than that little kitten. But you can't even look me in the eye." He moves his hand to your throat as your knees weaken, "Pathetic."

All you can see is his smile as he squeezes, careful to avoid your larynx before he sends you into dizzying sub space. It washes over your body slowly, as if dipping yourself underwater. Your eyes flutter, body relaxes into his touch as many emotions flood your system at once while you engage fight or flight.

Your breathing is short and ragged before he let's go tilting your chin upwards to face him. He looks you over, assessing to make sure he does not need to stop this sudden session he has initiated. When you blink slowly up at him he continues his ravishing. Grip tightening as he leans in, lips hovering over yours before they are devoured.

Harsh kisses, tongues fighting as you gasp for air during it all. Happily giving in to his will before his mouth is at your ear.

"Now be a good kitten and do what you are told. Turn around and place your hands on the counter." You do as you're told, even wiggling your ass as some of your brat swims to the surface. Only to be swatted down by a sharp slap to your ass.

You hear the glorious sound of his belt coming undone before his hardened member is resting on your clit. Try to move for friction only for your hips to be crushed by strong hands. After a moment too long he runs himself up and down you. Before resting at your entrance.

"Please Bakugou-sama. Please." You whine, aching need driving you wild as you wait for him to plunge hilt deep. He slams himself into you and you whimper more than eager for the fucking that is to come.

But he hardly moves, smiling down at you as you look over his shoulder expectant. Bakugou knows he can wait you out. He knows in no time you'll be a needy mess, asking for pleasure. Telling him who owns you all without his asking.

Moments pass as he remains unmoving depsite your whining, clenching and even sad attempts at bucking. His smile becomes deadly as he pulls his final trick to send you buck wild. He twitches his dick and watches you unfold.

Trying so hard to fuck yourself on his dick as he holds your hips, only allowing you to get maybe a half an inch's movement before you slam your hands onto the counter in a huff.

"Sama. I'm going to get real bratty soon!" You voice raises an octive only for him to twitch again, "Please Kirishima wouldn't do this."

He slams your face down into the counter as he leans over you.

"What exactly wouldn't he do kitten?" His voice is dark and deadly, you need to be careful with your answer. You've pissed him off and pushed him too much to where he's left a session before. Leaving you high and dry.

Sure you could make yourself cum fast and hard but there was nothing compared to the edging Bakugou could do.

Plus it's always a harder cum with him.

"He would never be able to fuck me this good. Sama. Or have me beg like you can Sama." You cry out, still aching for the friction. He must not be satisfied with your answer as he keeps his hand on your neck.

"Maybe you should call him right now since the two of you are such good friends."

"But...you're..."

"I'm what? I'm using you to warm my cock. Call him, if you can manage to keep a normal conversation for three minutes while I'm in you then I'll forgive your disobedience and allow you to cum." He passes you your phone, unlocking it to dial Kirishima's number. He waits for you to hit the little green reciever.

"Better hit it before I do or I'll make you tell him who you belong too." He snarls as you fumble with your phone. You go to place it to your ear only for Bakugou to grab onto it. Placing the call on speaker while setting the phone close to you.

"Y/N? Are you and Bakugou okay?" His voice is laced with worry, you go to open your mouth only for Bakugou to pull all the way out just to slam into you again. You scrape the wood on the counter top to keep from crying out.

"Y..yes Kirishima. It was just a misunderstanding." Your respond as Bakugou slams into you again. Causing your eyes to flutter and making you miss everything Kirishima said.

Bakugou cocks his eyebrow awaiting your rebutle before you croak out.

"I'm sorry Eji-san. Can you repeat that my reception kinda sucks."

"I was just asking how dinner turned out but now I'm wondering if there is even a kitchen still standing." He laughs as you look over the burnt meal.

Bakugou ruts into you now with a steady pace. Sure to keep it slow enough that skin would not slap too loudly. You're beginning to lose the ability to think rationally as his fingers tease your needy bud.

"Ah well I'm.." You pause, swallowing a moan whole, "I'm surprised it's still standing too."

The conversation bounces back and forth as you struggle to keep quiet. You watch the timer as it steadily climbs closer to that beloved three minute mark before Bakugou finally gives you some mercy.

"Y/N, get off the phone. We still have to figure out dinner no thanks to you Shitty hair."

"Hey man I was just trying to help." He laughs, "Pizza is always a good alternative! Bye Y/N and Bakugou it was just a miss understanding. Bye friends!"

You barely have time to end the call before Bakugou is now mercilessly pounding into you, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing in the small kitchen melding in nicely with the sounds of your moans and his groans.

He pulls on your hair as he hits into you just right, the coil in your stomach returns as you think of him fucking you during your phone call, of his hands around your throat and the thought of him filling you up has you starting to see stars.

"S...sa...sama." You can barely speak with how nicely he is pounding into you, "I was good right?"

"Are you asking to cum?" He snarls, thrusts beginning to turn sloppy as he pulls on your hair. You nod slightly to which he delights, "You may come but you better scream who you belong to."

He increases the intensity and pace to help send you over the edge. You're screaming as he fucks into you, clenching around him as he sends you into yet another back to back.

All the while your voice goes horse with his name stumbling from your lips.

After your third crescendo he finally allows himself release, more sloppy thrusts as you mewl and moan beneath him. His eyes linger to your perfectly bruised ass, all the way up to your flushed cheeks before he begins to spill his seed within you, burying himself deep within you as he does.

The two of you pant for a moment before he flips you over to plant a searing kiss onto your lips.

"You're okay my kitten?" He asks tenderly as you nod. He notices the abandoned monstrosity that you called dinner, "You tried cooking for me?"

You want to burst into tears over your failure but instead you cling to him for comfort as you again nod softly. He laughs before planting a kiss onto your forehead.

"Thank you baby. It's the thought that counts. But if you have to rely on someone else to help rely on me since I'm the best damn cook there is." He teases wrapping strong arms around you, "Now let's order pizza like shitty hair said. Maybe if you're good I'll make you dessert after."

[raven-frost-21]

How am I supposed to fit that under name in legal documents?!?!

The Beginning part 5

Multiple bright lights filled the room. “Pixie. What the hell  are you wearing!”

“I am Ladybird right now Hood. I am the leader of Team Miraculous and Kagami Mizuchi is my second in command. We are fighting Hawkmoth, who I am 90% sure I know his identity already,  but he can possess people with butterflies and make them the equivalent of Superman and evil. Imagine if he got Superman. Paris would not be brought back.”

After a lot of explaining the three shared how they met.

Marinette was 10 and Kagami 11. They were on an adventure with Nonna Gina in Gotham and had stumbled across a half dead Red Hood. They took him back to the hotel room and patched him up. Marinette even made him a new helmet. For about two months the four had been inseparable. Until it came time to return to Paris. The four, without Sabine or Tomoe’s knowledge, had gotten matching red bat symbol tattoos. After a month back in Paris Jason had shown up at the bakery. Sabine nearly killed him when she found out he was the other person to allow them to get tattoos. But after she made him tell her everything she adopted him. He was now her son.

The three stayed in contact and video called weekly. After explaining everything and returning Jason to Gotham, Marinette drooped. That had been exhausting.

~~~

When they had turned 14 Lila Rossi came. She instantly tried to lie and get Adrienne to like her by saying she knew Ladybird. That backfired on her. When confronted by Marinette she threatened.

She tried to frame her for cheating but when the class heard that they laughed. She was their TA. Not a student. Over time Lila got the class excluding the team, Alix, Nathaniel and Max to turn on Miss Dupain and harass her. It was horrible. But again she could do nothing. A TA couldn’t say she was being bullied by a Student.

~~~

Marinette ran to Master Fu’s. Adrienne had stolen the peacock and the grimoire back from her father.

They had left fakes behind. But after fixing the broach Master Fu fell ill. During school she had gotten a call from him. He was dying.

Running in she knelt next to the man she considered a grandfather.

“Fu. No. Please.” Tears dripped from her eyes onto her cheeks but she didn’t care.

“I, Wang Fu, pass grand guardianship onto Marinette Wu-San Dupain and name all true holders and Adrienne Agreste guardians under her.”

Marinette sobbed. “Young one. Don’t cry. I will be joining my beloved. Listen to me. The black cat needs it’s true holder. Adrienne was barely compatible and it is killing her. She needs the peacock miraculous.”

He lifted a hand to her cheek. “You were the best granddaughter I could hope for.” His hand fell and his eyes closed.

“Grandfather? Fu? No. Please wake up. I can’t lose you.”

And Hawkmoth showed pity to the girl crying over her Grandfather's body.

~~~

Two days later Marinette spoke with Adrienne. “I love you Adrienne. But, like I love Kagami. I’m sorry. But I see you as a sister.”

Adrienne responded that she felt similarly. “Adrienne. I need the ring. You aren’t the true holder. It’s why you don’t show any animal qualities. You are the peacock.”

Adrienne took the broach with no words and pinned it onto her shirt. The ring was placed in Marinette’s bag.

“Call me Violette.” She smirked as she transformed. Her skin was pale blue and her eyes a hot pink. She was dressed in a dark blue tail suit that had feather designs at the edges. In her hands was a feather fan with wicked blades at the ends.

“I know my father is Hawkmoth. The second we find the cat and train him, promise me that we will take him down.” Marinette hugged her. “I promise.”

Reluctantly leaving her friend she headed towards home.

She never made it.