#fluke husky

[rejoyous]

Imagine that indie furry music became mainstream, and all of the popular pop artists would be thought of as super exotic.

Like WHSPRS is the next Taylor Swift or some shit.

[typophobia-hijinks]

9 times out of 10 this is the outfit of choice

media depictions of hacking are so funny because it's all like dudes in hoodies with Anonymous masks in pitch darkness, and when you actually meet these ppl you realize 90% of hacking happens in one of these two rooms:

[cheriladycl01]

Kinktober 28/10/2024 Max Verstappen - RolePlay

Plot: It happened one Halloween, and escalated in Austin and now you guys are here…

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, blowjob, fingering, role play, dressing up, etc 18+ Minors DNI

It started on Halloween when you’d both dressed up for a party that was being hosted by Lando, Max’s fellow race car driver and friend.

You were dressed as Poison Ivy as you’d had your hair died red for quiet some time and Max as your male counterpart decided to go as Bat Man, you’d say in the bathroom with him doing his makeup, making sure to smudge under his eyes and get the look perfect before spending time on yours.

You for sure were the best dressed couple at the party and many photos were taken that night. Not just for the public where it went on your stories or as reels on other peoples accounts who were at the party, but many photos were taken by Max on his phone from above you while you laid on the bed in that red dress your boobs all pushed up and looking amazing.

He had fucked you in that dress that night while he wore his whole Batman getup.

Mask and all.

And yes immediately you’d both drunk way to much that night and both have individually pushed it away as a fluke.

However the next time was on a themed birthday party where it was Daniels birthday which he’d themed to cowboys. You’d been having a laugh all night putting on a Texas accent which wasn’t as hard for you as it was for Max. When you got home he was whispering sweet nothings in your ear in a southern belle accent.

You were incredibly sober and so very turned on by him in his little cowboy hat that by the time Austin rolled around you were a gonner and you guys did it again against better judgement in his driver room.

Safe to say Sergio had some complains in the next Red Bull debrief.

So it became a thing that you guys liked dressing up and being other people. You didn’t know why but you just sort of fell into a routine.

One day you’d waited in his drivers room after FP1 in what was supposed to be typical grid girl and Max was in his driver suit. He ended up eating you out while still in his drivers suit and you were done for.

Now tonight was your anniversary, and you wanted to do something special. You guys had done lots but one thing you’d never done was Massage Therapist and you thought tonight would be the perfect time. You hired out the whole spa in your apartment building asking for nobody to be there as Max had been stressed with the championship recently and decided it might be better to have a private evening to help him.

“Where are we going” he asks as you grab his hand guiding him to the lift.

“Downstairs, to the spa” you smile and he groans shaking his head.

“Mmmm noooo i don’t wanna talk to people today” he sighs pulling you hand back.

“I rented it out. So it’s just for us. Anniversary gift!” You smile rubbing his arm.

“Wait what? Omg babe, you must hate me” he says putting his hand on his head in exhaustion.

“You forgot?” You ask.

“I’m so sorry, I barley even knew what race I was flying to last week” he sighs pulling you into a hug.

“It’s okay baby, I understand but I have a treat for you tonight come on” you smile and he nods. You take him all the way down into the spa area.

“Okay, let’s get you relaxed love” you smile.

You spend the first part of the evening swimming in the pool, going into the jacuzzi, then mixing between the rain room, sauna and steam room.

“Don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time relaxing in like the last 10 years. It feels … nice” he smiles looking over at you as he wraps the towel around his waist.

“Okay, now time for the main attraction” you grin and get him to follow you to the massage area.

“Mmmm now, Mr Verstappen is it?” You ask is a husky voice. And immediately his head snaps up to you a grin on his face before he takes on his role.

“Mmmm yes, I heard your the best masseuse in Monaco” he says.

“Okay, if you’d get on the bed for me. I can start” you say and immediately he’s on the bed, laying with his face in the little hole.

You pull the towel off of him and run the sheet up to cover his bare ass. You hands guide up from his hips to his shoulder working lightly on any kinks you can feels.

“Fuck” he moans. You smile, working down his muscular arms.

“How is that Mr Verstappen, am I doing a good job?” You ask and he groans again.

“An amazing job” he says and humps against the bed, with another groan.

“Is there anywhere else you’d like me to massage?” You ask hoping you leading him down the right line of phrases.

“Well there is this one area that I’m sort of struggling with right now!” He says and you stand next to him looking at him.

He rolls over covering himself with the white sheets provided and underneath you can see the tent from his large dick hard and sticking up.

“Mmm is this the affected area?” He says grabbing it through the sheets, a moan coming from his mouth as he thrusts up.

“Y-yes” he whimpers.

“Mmmm a tricky area but I guess I can see what I can do” you say softly. Bending down to kiss it.

“Ohhhhh very tense, can I get a closer look at the area?” You say hand teasing just above the sheet waiting to pull it off of him.

“Yea, god yes please” he says and that’s all you need to pull the sheet down and kiss the tip of his dick. Your mouth encloses around it, the sound of your wet mouth sucking around his dick your tongue feeling every ridge and vein that had cropped up since he’d hardened.

“Fuck yes” he moans looking down at you. You weren’t fully on the bed however one leg was up on the bar holding the feet of it together and you were using it as leverage to get yourself a little higher.

“Mmmm I think we’re almost there” you say just before kitten licking his tip. Your hands come down to the parts that your mouth can’t reach and work in tandem with one another.

“One of the best clients I’ve ever had, making it so easy for me” you say and you can feel him twitch meaning he’s was going to cum. You don’t put you mouth back, having the perfect scenario.

You let him come after rushing your hands up and down his length causing his hips to buck up as he bites his lip with a moan.

He cums all over his stomach the white substance not moving off, just staying in a puddle.

“Hmmm your looking tense still, I’m just going to see if we have some oils” you say before walking out back to where you’d hidden the lingerie set. You pop it on with a doctor coat over the top and come back in.

You see Max physically gulp looking up at you.

“Hmmmm not many oils but maybe this will do?” You say dipping a finger into the cum tasting it. You lean down licking across his soft abs until it’s all gone and swallowed.

“Hmmm what a shame. Oils it is” you say pouring some oil across his stomach.

“This isn’t a great angle. Do you mind?” You offer a hand for you to jump up.

“Anything to get me more relaxed Doc” he smiles pushing so he’s leaning up on his elbows. You jump up onto the bed, kneeling either side of him. Surprised with how you can both fit.

You run your hands along his chest using the oil to make it all the more slippery.

“Doc, I think my fingers need a work out” he grins, wanting to also please you but not break character. You guys had actually gotten really good at the whole acting portion of the role play, no wonder they asked Max to do that Heineken commercial.

“Oh, hmmmm well I’ll get to those later unless you can find a way” you smile sill rubbing the oils all over. He runs a hand down your stomach, pulling the edge of your panties down slipping his hand in so his fingers tease the edge of your folds.

“Mr Verstappen this is highly unprofessional” you grin and he grins back.

“I think you’re enjoying this massage though Doc, and you want to help me right?” He asks and you nod.

“Of course I do” and he continues to move in and out ever so slowly. You behind to rock your hips against him until the table makes an uncomfortable creek that has you both pausing.

You whine at the lack of contact, but stop moving you hips and let your boyfriend do all the work. His fingers are perfect, a nice size and length that reach the perfect spot in you.

“Ohhhhh Mr Verstappen” you moan with your head thrown back, stopping the massage on his chest.

You tighten around his fingers, coming with some shakes that again make the table dangerously creek.

“I think you need to talk to your maintenance man about the stability of you tables doc. Maybe he can … Yano help you out” he grins to you and you already know he’s getting more ideas for more scenarios you can both do in the future.

“Mmmm I think you’re right. You’re very good Mr Verstappen I’ll have to book you in again” you let out a relaxed sigh.

Safe to say the massage room want the only place you guys were intimate for the rest of the night. Jokes being thrown around after that if Lando ever went into that steam room when Max was there he’d tell him everything he done to you in that room. And the pool, and the sauna, and the rain room. As both a massager and you.

It was a very … busy night for you both.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[goldfades]

★ ALWAYS AN ANGEL, NEVER A GOD ─── CC²² (part 2/2)

❪ requested -> "Can you write something about cc and reader being enemies and hating eachother. but they are on two different teams so they play against eachother and something happens during one of their games and they take their hate out on eachother with smut?" ❫ part one!

─ warnings | nsfw under the cut, read at your own discretion. lots of shit talking, just rivals shit yk how it is. fingering but it's kinda soft (like the actual fucking part), lots of praise and a sprinkle of degradation (if u can even call it that) cause u know me.

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

EVER SINCE THE GAME AGAINST Iowa, you were determined to keep up the keep up the momentum and prove that your victory was no fluke.

In the weeks that followed, you poured your heart and soul into every practice, honing your skills with a relentless intensity that left your teammates in awe. Every drill, every scrimmage, every mere second on the court was a chance to improve, to get one step closer to your ultimate goal (you weren't sure what it was at this point, to prove yourself to Caitlin or the world).

But it wasn't just about proving yourself on the court. Caitlin's words lingered in your mind, a constant reminder of the unresolved tension between you. The memory of that heated encounter in the hotel hallway replayed in your thoughts, the desire and frustration mixing into a potent cocktail that fueled your determination.

You found yourself replaying the moments of that game over and over in your head ─ the way you intercepted Caitlin's pass, the exhilaration of your dunk, and the look of pure rage in her eyes (and of course, the kiss that followed). You thrived on those memories, using them as motivation to push yourself beyond your limits.

"Good job, Y/N!" Hailey called out during one particularly grueling scrimmage, her admiration evident in her voice. "What, did you have an energy drink before or what?"

You gave her a playful shove as you shrugged, wiping the sweat from your brow as you walked toward your water bottle. "Just trying to stay ahead,"

Hailey shot you a knowing look, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "This isn't just about staying ahead, is it?" she teased. "It's about Caitlin."

"You can't say her name out loud like that," you joked as Hailey laughed. You didn't bother denying it, the truth too obvious to ignore. "Maybe," you admitted, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

As the season progressed, your hard work began to pay off. You dominated the court with a newfound confidence, your skills shining brighter than ever before. The media took notice, your name becoming synonymous with excellence, just like Caitlin's.

But even as you basked in the glory of your success, you couldn't shake the lingering thoughts of Caitlin. You wondered how she was doing, whether she was training just as hard, whether she thought about you as often as you thought about her.

You kept repeating the moment in your mind, over and over again, feeling some kind of weird excitement at her words.

"I'm not fucking you until we win," she replied, her voice low and husky, the words a mere whisper against the charged silence that enveloped you both. "Until I get the trophy, until your team loses."

However, you knew that pushing her buttons would make the hook-up a whole lot more satisfying. You thought about that particular part a lot more than you should have, the challenge in her voice igniting a fire within you that you couldn't ignore.

Then, one day, the schedule for the next season was released, and there it was ─ the match against Iowa, the game that would determine once and for all who would come out on top. The date was set, and you felt a surge of excitement and nerves at the prospect of facing Caitlin again.

The weeks leading up to the game were a whirlwind of preparation and anticipation. Your coach pushed you harder than ever, knowing how much was riding on this matchup. And through it all, Caitlin's words continued to echo in your mind, a constant source of "motivation", if you could even call it that.

Finally, the day arrived. The arena was packed, the energy palpable as fans from both sides filled the stands. As you stepped onto the court, your heart pounded with adrenaline, and your eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on Caitlin.

She stood across from you, her dark gaze intense and unwavering. You could feel the heat of her stare, a silent promise of the battle to come. As the referee signaled the start of the game, you took a deep breath, centering yourself for what was about to unfold.

From the very first whistle, the game was a fierce clash of skill and determination. You and Caitlin matched each other move for move, your rivalry playing out in a series of fast breaks, sharp passes, and contested shots. The tension was palpable, the crowd hanging on every moment as the score remained neck and neck.

As the clock wound down, the score was tied, and the pressure mounted. You found yourself with the ball, Caitlin guarding you closely, her eyes locked onto yours with a mix of challenge and desire. With a quick move, you faked left, then darted right, driving towards the basket with all the speed and agility you could muster.

As you drove towards the basket, Caitlin moved to intercept your path. With a swift motion, she blocked your shot, sending the ball ricocheting off the backboard. The force of her block knocked you off balance, and you stumbled, falling hard onto the court.

You hit the ground with a thud, the impact jolting through your body as you landed awkwardly on the hardwood floor. Pain shot through your limbs, but it was nothing compared to the sting of defeat that washed over you in that moment.

Caitlin stood over you, her dark gaze intense and unyielding as she glared down at you with satisfaction and you hated it. There was a silent challenge in her eyes, a reminder of the relentless rivalry that defined your relationship both on and off the court ─ you could practically read her mind, "I'm getting the trophy."

As the referee blew the whistle to signal a turnover, Caitlin offered you a hand, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Good try, Y/N," she taunted, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Maybe you should uh, stick to defense."

As Caitlin extended her hand towards you, a smirk dancing on her lips, something inside you snapped. Maybe it was the sting of defeat or the frustration and anger that had been building within you throughout the game, and you couldn't hold it any longer.

With a scowl, you swatted Caitlin's hand away, ignoring the lingering pain in your limbs as you rose to your feet on your own. "Shut up, Caitlin," you spat, your voice dripping with venom as you glared up at her. "You're just a self entitled bitch who thinks she owns the court,"

"I do," Caitlin stepped so she was directly in front of you. You looked up at the brunette, suddenly feeling small under the weight of her imposing presence. Despite the anger that simmered beneath the surface, you couldn't deny the intensity of the moment as Caitlin's dark eyes bore into yours.

"You don't get to talk to me like that," she continued, her voice low and dangerous, a warning laced with barely contained fury. "And didn't I tell you to cut the fucking attitude?"

You just scoffed, however some sick part of you liked this, the way she was talking to you. As much as you wanted to deny it, there was a certain allure in the challenge she presented, the promise of tonight making the whole thing a lot harder to resist.

Caitlin's proximity was overwhelming, her presence towering over you. You felt a surge of defiance rising within you, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"And what if I don't?" you shot back, your voice laced with defiance as you met her intense gaze head-on. "What are you gonna do about it, Caitlin?"

Caitlin's jaw clenched, a flicker of anger flashing in her eyes before she regained her composure. "You wanna find out?" she retorted, her tone sharp and cutting as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against your skin.

You felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks, a mixture of fear and excitement swirling in the pit of your stomach. Despite the tension between you, there was an undeniable thrill in the air, a palpable energy that crackled between you like electricity.

But before anything could escalate, Hailey's arm yanked you away, breaking the charged moment between you and Caitlin. The sudden interruption jolted you back to reality, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins as you were pulled back into the flow of the game.

With a sharp exhale, you forced yourself to focus, pushing aside the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. The game had resumed as quickly as it had been interrupted, the intensity of the match returning with renewed vigor.

But despite your best efforts, Iowa proved to be a formidable opponent, their skill and determination matching your own at every turn. As the final seconds ticked away, the score remained neck and neck, the outcome of the game hanging in the balance.

And then, with a final buzzer, it was over ─ Iowa emerged as the winners, the thrill of victory evident on their faces as they celebrated their hard-fought win. As the reality of defeat sank in, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment, the bitter taste of loss lingering on your tongue.

"God fucking damn it," you muttered under your breath as you glared toward them.

As if on cue, Caitlin turned around and met your gaze. Her expression was satisfaction, a silent acknowledgment of the victory she had secured over you and your team. You felt a surge of frustration rise within you, the bitterness of defeat stinging like a fresh wound.

──

"Y/N?" The reporter's voice pulled you back into reality as you shook your head, opening your eyes with a very forced smile.

You nodded your head. "Yeah, sorry. Zoned out, uh... can you repeat the question?"

The reporter gave you a sympathetic smile before repeating the question. "I was just asking for your thoughts on the game and the performance of both teams, particularly Caitlin Clark. She had a standout performance tonight."

Yeah, of course she fucking did, you wanted to shout but you just nodded. "Yeah, she played a great game," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. "She's a talented player. Iowa put up a tough fight, and they deserved the win tonight."

The interview was slow and it felt every answer you were giving was fake but you were livid. As soon as it was over, you practically ran out of there. You needed to blow off some steam, and you had no idea how–

Oh.

"I'm not fucking you until we win," she replied, her voice low and husky, the words a mere whisper against the charged silence that enveloped you both. "Until I get the trophy, until your team loses."

You had forgotten about the entire thing until that moment and despite all the anger, your stomach twisted in excitement. However, it was a year ago and you weren't even sure if Caitlin meant what she said, she was probably just really angry because of how the game ended, much like how you were feeling right now.

As you mulled over the memory, a sense of longing washed over you, mingling with the lingering anger and frustration that still simmered beneath the surface. Despite everything, despite the rivalry and the animosity, there was an undeniable attraction between you and Caitlin, a magnetic pull that defied your comprehension.

Then, your phone buzzed inside your pocket.

Cait: got the trophy 🥇 Cait: did you think i forgot?

You had forgotten you even had her number, it was from so long ago. The text made your stomach drop (in a very, very good way) as a rush of emotions flooded through you. Surprise, excitement, and a hint of apprehension all mingled together as you read Caitlin's messages.

It was as if the past year had been condensed into those few simple words, reigniting the unresolved tension between you with startling clarity. However, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered in the back of your mind ─ was this just another game to her? Another way to assert her dominance and superiority over you?

Cait: where u at?

And that was all it took for her to win you over. You knew you were letting your heart do all the talking but right now, you just wanted to feel good. Was that so bad?

──

The knock on the door shouldn't have startled you as much as it did, especially since you had been waiting for it. But still, when the knock echoed through the room, a shiver of anticipation raced down your spine.

You took a moment to steady yourself, to quell the fluttering nerves that threatened to overwhelm you, before crossing the room to answer the door.

As you swung it open, Caitlin stood before you, her presence commanding and intoxicating all at once. She was wearing a black hoodie and sweats, the hood was up and she looked too good. Your eyes scanned her body and you saw her lips quirk up into a smirk.

You felt your stomach leap out of your body at the sight, and you felt like you were gonna go insane, were you ovulating?

"Hey," she greeted, her voice husky with desire as she stepped closer, closing the distance between you with deliberate intent.

"Hey," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you met her gaze head-on. Despite the tension that lingered in the air, there was an undeniable pull between you, a magnetic force that drew you together like moths to a flame.

And as Caitlin's lips crashed against yours in a searing kiss, all doubts and fears melted away. In that moment, nothing else mattered ─ not the rivalry, and certainly not the consequences, nothing except the intoxicating desire that pulsed between you and Caitlin.

Caitlin's hands gripped your hips as she closed the hotel door with her leg, effortlessly. Her lips stayed on yours as her hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and contour with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. The heat of her touch seared through you, igniting a fire that blazed hotter with each passing moment.

Lost in the heat of the moment, you pressed closer to her, your body molding to hers. With a low growl, Caitlin lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around her waist as she carried you further into the room. Every touch, every kiss, only fueled the pure need that raged between you, driving you both to the brink of ecstasy.

And as you surrendered yourself to her, you knew that this was just the beginning ─ the beginning of something that would consume you fully despite resisting it for so long.

She dropped you onto the bed and broke the kiss, her eyes dark as she gazed at you. You were both breathing heavily as you tried your best to maintain eye contact, despite the pressure that was building your lower stomach.

"Didn't think you'd answer," Caitlin finally spoke, her voice breathless as she began climbing on top of you.

"Why?" You asked as she latched her lips to your neck, sucking harshly as you gripped the sheets beneath you.

"Because you're stubborn," Caitlin murmured against your skin, her breath hot and heavy as she trailed kisses along your jawline. "But I knew eventually, you'd realize that there's no point in all that whining,"

You let out a shaky breath, her words igniting a fierce hunger within you as you arched into her touch, craving more of her intoxicating presence.

"I knew all you wanted was for me to show you why I'm better," Caitlin teased as she began stroking your sides.

You wanted to counter, to say anything back to her but you couldn't ─ she already had consumed you and you couldn't of any reason why you'd want to resist her any longer.

Caitlin pulled your lips into another harsh kiss, pulling a moan out of your lips. That seemed to encourage her because next thing you know, she's pulling your shorts off. Her hands eventually found your neck, pushing you into the mattress as you both moaned into the kiss.

Caitlin pulled away for a second, pulling her hoodie over her head and gazed at you, expectantly. You mirrored her actions and you were left only in your bra and underwear, you felt embarrassed under her gaze until she pulled you into a deeper kiss.

Her hands gripped your face and pulled you from the kiss, earning a disappointed whimper from you. "Look at me,"

You met her gaze, the intensity of her dark eyes holding you captive.

"You're fucking beautiful," Caitlin murmured, her fingers tracing the outline of your jaw.

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, the sincerity in her voice disarming you completely. You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to steady your breathing.

Caitlin's hands moved to the clasp of your bra, her touch gentle yet deliberate as she unhooked it, letting it fall away. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "I'm gonna make you feel so good, you're gonna forget how much you hate me."

A soft moan escaped your lips as her hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of your skin with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of her gaze. You arched into her touch, your body responding to her every move with an urgency that left you breathless.

As she trailed kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, you felt the last of your doubts melt away, leaving you completely vulnerable and exposed.

Her hands found your thighs and squeezed them, her fingers slowly drawing closer to the place you'd wanted her all night. Caitlin's finger slowly began stroking your clothed pussy, her eyes watching your every movement.

You let out a broken whimper, your head falling back on to the mattress before her other hand gripped your face, guiding your gaze back to hers.

"What did I fucking say? Look at me," Caitlin spat, her voice a mix of authority and desire. You forced your eyes open, meeting her intense stare, the heat between you building with every passing second.

"So fucking wet, all for me," she murmured, as continued stroking your clothed heat; she could feel it pulsing all because of her and it made her ego skyrocket even more.

Caitlin's finger moved and before you could voice your disapproval, she slowly slid your underwear off. You were completely naked now, you could feel her eyes rake over you fondly. She spread your legs again, further this time ─ each leg was placed at her sides, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable under her gaze. Caitlin's eyes darkened with desire as she took in the sight of you, her breath hitching slightly.

"So pretty," she murmured, almost to herself, as she trailed her fingers lightly up your inner thigh, sending shivers of anticipation through your body.

You squirmed beneath her touch, a mix of excitement and impatience coursing through you. "Cait," you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with need.

She looked up at you, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "I want you to remember this," she said, her voice low. "Every time you think you can challenge me, every time you think you can beat me, I want you to remember how I make you feel right now."

With that, she leaned down, her lips finding yours in a deep, hungry kiss that almost knocked the breath out of you. Her hands continued their exploration, moving with a confidence that left you trembling with anticipation.

"Do you still think I'm a bitch?" she murmured against your lips, a teasing edge to her voice.

You could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a response, but managed to shake your head, a breathless, "No," escaping your lips.

"Good," Caitlin replied, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. "Because I want you to know exactly who's in control here."

And with that, her finger slid into you perfectly. You let out a surprised moan, your back arching against the mattress. "Oh, fu-fuck."

Her finger began thrusting in and out of you, swiftly. You were so soaked, her finger was moving easily in and out of you. Caitlin's hand gripped your hip, pulling you closer into her.

She slowed down her movements and you let out an disapproving huff, her gaze intense as she looked down at you. "Why did you hate me? Were you jealous?"

Did: as in, past tense.

Her tone sounded almost amused but there was an edge of seriousness to it. "What?"

"I thought that's what it was," her finger slowly began moving again, causing your breath to hitch. "I don't think that's what it was now," she continued, her voice contemplative. "I think it was something else."

You could barely focus, your mind clouded with the sensation of her touch, but her words cut through the haze, making you confront something you'd been avoiding. "I don't hate you," you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I never hated you."

Caitlin's smirk grew, she knew exactly what she was doing. Her finger continuing their slow, torturous rhythm. "Then what was it, Y/N? Why all the anger?"

"Because," you gasped, struggling to form coherent thoughts under her relentless pace. "Because you always got to me. You always made me feel... things I didn't want to feel."

Her movements stilled for a moment, her eyes searching yours. "And now?"

"Now," you swallowed hard, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Now, I can't stop thinking about you."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Caitlin's face, her fingers resuming their movement. "Good," she murmured, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. "Because I don't plan on letting you forget this anytime soon."

Her touch became more quick, driving you closer and closer to the edge once again. The intensity of the moment was almost overwhelming, the culmination of all the pent-up anger and unresolved tension between you. She added another finger slowly, causing you to let out another breathless moan as your back arched.

"Take it, come on. I know you can," Caitlin's fingers never faltered as she gazed down at you. "Fuck, who's the princess now, huh?" she spat as she finger-fucked you, your legs beginning to shake.

As the pleasure built to a fever pitch, you felt yourself letting go of everything ─ the rivalry, the anger, the fear ─ and surrendering completely to the sensation.

"Cait," you moaned, your hands gripping her shoulders as you reached the brink, your body trembling with anticipation.

"That's it, fuck," she whispered against your lips, her breath hot and ragged. "Let go for me."

And with a final, shattering wave of pleasure, you did, your body convulsing in her arms as you cried out her name. Her finger rode you through it, your chest heaving as you slowly came down from your high.

"Can't believe I did that with just my fingers, baby." The pet-name left her lips effortlessly as she broke you out of your reverie. You couldn't believe it, either.

Her fingers slid out of you and she pushed your lips open, forcing them into your mouth. You sucked them clean as she looked down at you, her shitfaced smirk was back.

You rolled your eyes as she removed her finger with a pop. "Yeah, well, don't get too cocky," you shot back, trying to regain some semblance of control even though your body was still trembling.

She laughed, the sound was unfamiliar but genuine; it made your heart flip. "How can I not? I mean, Jesus, I had you literally tell me you never hated me while I was knuckles deep inside you. It was one finger too-"

You groaned loudly, cutting her off as her laughter slowly died down. "I just wanted to cum,"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," you countered, finally meeting her gaze. She had the same cocky ass expression, the one you've always hated ─ but now felt different, somehow.

"Thought I told you to cut the attitude, Y/N," she teased, her fingers trailing along your arm, sending shivers down your spine. Her eyes bore into yours, the intensity of her gaze sending a shiver down your spine.

You felt a surge of defiance rise within you, refusing to back down. "And what if I don't?" you challenged, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Caitlin's smirk widened, a glint of amusement and something deeper flickering in her eyes. "Then I'll just have to remind you why you shouldn't,"

She leaned in and pressed her lips against lips in another heated kiss, her hands roaming your body with a renewed sense of purpose. The teasing edge in her touch drove you wild, a tantalizing reminder of the power she held over you.

"You're impossible," you muttered against her lips.

"And you love it," she shot back, her breath hot against your skin as she moved to kiss along your jawline, her hands exploring every inch of you. The sensation was intoxicating, every touch sending waves of pleasure through your body.

As she continued her relentless assault on your jaw, you couldn't help but surrender to the moment, letting go of all the anger and frustration that had once defined your relationship. In that instant, all that mattered was the connection between you, the raw, unfiltered desire that pulsed through your veins.

"Do you regret it?" Caitlin's voice was softer now, almost vulnerable, as she paused to look into your eyes.

You shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips. "No," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "No, I don't."

Caitlin's eyes softened, her expression shifting from playful to something more tender. "Good," she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Cause neither do I."

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[chestcongestion]

"I think I'm sick" said with an almost prophetic level of certainty, the think might as well not be there.

The phrase is uttered in a slightly nasal voice due to congestion and pressure that's building right in the back of the sinuses, that same nasal voice is also slightly husky or strained at the edges due to a scratchy throat that could almost be mistaken for a fluke.

The phrase is said after a random and out-of-character series of statements, sentences that trailed off multiple times without warning, conversations that continued to stray from their focal topic even as they struggle to stay focused.

They're struggling to stay coherent and awake, confused as to why they're acting so strangely, why they sound just slightly different, why everything feels out of whack as they interrupt their previous point about breakfast cereal to talk about birds, only to press their palm against their face in frustration, sleepily rubbing at an eye as they announce their groggy revelation to their confused friends.

"snf!- I think I'm sick..."

[amethystarachnid]

omg could I please request 17- Holiday Baking Fiasco with Tony x Fem!Reader? We all know of Tony’s poor cooking skills (as exhibited by his burnt omelette 😭) so I think his determination to bake some Christmas cookies will lead to chaos and hilarity

CHRISTMAS COOKIES

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 3.6k

ᯓ★ Summary: Tony and Y/n have been in a happy relationship for five years now and live together in Tony's penthouse, so y/n knows that Tony can't cook at all and is shocked when he tells her that he wants to bake some Christmas cookies, he insists on doing it alone but since she doesn't want him to burn down the house she gets him to at least let her supervise.

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The warm glow of the morning sun spills through the sheer curtains, bathing Tony’s penthouse in a soft golden hue. The city below is alive with holiday cheer, but up here, it feels like the two of you are the only people in the world. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the open space as you pad into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

You find Tony already up, standing by the counter with a blueprint spread out in front of him. His hair is a delightful mess, sticking up in every direction like he’s been up for hours. Typical Tony. He’s dressed in red plaid pajama pants and a threadbare Black Sabbath tee that you’ve threatened to steal more times than you can count.

“Morning, genius,” you mumble, sliding your arms around his waist from behind. He leans back into your embrace, his body warm and familiar against yours.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he replies, his voice still husky from sleep. He turns his head to press a kiss to your temple before straightening up. There’s a glint in his eyes that you recognize—a dangerous mix of excitement and mischief.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” you ask, suspicious.

“Funny you should ask,” he says, turning around to face you fully. “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good sign,” you tease, earning a smirk from him.

“Very funny. No, but seriously, I was thinking we should do something festive today. You know, Christmas stuff.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Tony Stark, Mr. Too-Cool-for-Traditions, wants to do something festive? “Okay,” you say slowly. “Like what? Watch a Christmas movie? Decorate the tree?”

He shakes his head, the smirk widening into a full-blown grin. “Cookies.”

“Cookies?” you repeat, the word sounding foreign coming from his mouth.

“Yeah. You know, sugar, flour, chocolate chips... cookies. I think it’s time I flexed my culinary muscles.”

You stare at him, waiting for the punchline. When it doesn’t come, you burst out laughing. “Tony, you don’t have culinary muscles. You have exactly one recipe in your repertoire: ramen noodles in a coffee mug.”

“Not true!” he protests, crossing his arms. “I made that omelet that one time.”

“You mean the one that set off the smoke alarm?”

“That was a fluke,” he says, waving you off. “Anyway, I’m serious about this. I want to bake Christmas cookies, and I want to do it myself.”

The idea of Tony Stark baking anything, let alone something as delicate as cookies, is both hilarious and terrifying. You can already picture the chaos: flour everywhere, batter stuck to the ceiling, and possibly a small fire.

“Tony,” you start gently, “I love you, but you have a... unique relationship with the kitchen. Maybe we should do this together?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the “p” for emphasis. “This is my thing. I’m doing this solo.”

You cross your arms, fixing him with a stern look. “You’re not burning down my kitchen on Christmas Day.”

“Our kitchen,” he corrects, grinning like he’s already won.

“Fine, our kitchen. Point is, I’m not letting you turn it into ground zero for a sugar explosion. I’ll supervise.”

He groans, dragging a hand through his hair. “Y/N, come on. Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

“It’s alive and well, which is why I’m trying to save Christmas by keeping you from setting the penthouse on fire.”

He narrows his eyes at you, but there’s no malice there. “Fine,” he relents, throwing his hands up in surrender. “You can supervise. But no interfering unless I specifically ask for help. Deal?”

“Deal,” you say, though you both know you’ll probably break that rule within five minutes.

Tony heads to the pantry, pulling out ingredients with more enthusiasm than precision. “Alright, let’s do this. Where’s the cookbook?”

You snort. “Cookbook? You?”

“Okay, fine, I Googled a recipe last night,” he admits, pulling out his phone.

You settle onto one of the barstools, sipping your coffee as you watch him dive headfirst into the world of baking. He’s like a kid in a candy store, his usual cool demeanor replaced with genuine excitement.

“So, what kind of cookies are we making?” you ask.

“Chocolate chip, obviously,” he says, dumping a bag of flour onto the counter.

“Classic. Good choice.”

Tony starts measuring out ingredients, his tongue poking out in concentration. It’s adorable, really, watching him fumble his way through something so ordinary. You can’t help but smile as he mutters to himself, double-checking the recipe on his phone.

Things go smoothly at first—too smoothly. He measures the flour, sugar, and baking soda without incident, and for a moment, you think maybe this won’t be the disaster you were expecting.

But then he tries to crack an egg.

“Dammit!” he exclaims as half the shell ends up in the mixing bowl.

You bite back a laugh. “Need help?”

“No,” he says stubbornly, fishing out the shell fragments with a spoon. “I’ve got this.”

You watch as he moves on to the butter, which he apparently forgot to let soften. He stabs at it with a knife, muttering curses under his breath.

“Tony,” you say, trying to keep a straight face, “you’re supposed to let the butter soften before you mix it.”

“Didn’t know I was signing up for a science experiment,” he grumbles, tossing the cold butter into the bowl anyway.

Despite the hiccups, he manages to get all the ingredients into the bowl. Then comes the mixing.

“Okay, here we go,” he says, grabbing the electric mixer.

“Careful—” you start, but it’s too late.

The moment he turns it on, a cloud of flour erupts from the bowl, coating both him and the counter in a fine white dust.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. Then Tony looks up at you, his face covered in flour, and you lose it.

Your laughter echoes through the kitchen as Tony tries—and fails—to look indignant. “Glad you’re enjoying this,” he says dryly, though you can see the corners of his mouth twitching.

“I’m sorry,” you manage between giggles. “You just—”

“Look ridiculous?” he finishes for you.

“Pretty much.”

He grabs a handful of flour and flings it at you, catching you square in the chest.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” you say, grabbing your own handful of flour.

The next thing you know, the kitchen has turned into a full-blown flour fight.

The flour fight ends with both of you sitting on the kitchen floor, laughing so hard your sides ache. Tony looks completely disheveled, his hair white with powder, his grin boyish and infectious. You’re sure you don’t look much better.

“I think,” Tony says between chuckles, “this is the part where I’d make a robot clean everything. Except today is supposed to be authentic, right?” He gestures dramatically, like that word alone explains the chaos he’s caused.

“Oh, authentic, huh?” you reply, brushing flour off your face. “Well, in authentic kitchens, people clean up their messes before they burn their cookies.”

Tony groans, tilting his head back like he’s considering giving up entirely. “Fine. Let’s clean. But for the record, that flour cloud? Totally added character to the kitchen.”

You roll your eyes but smile anyway, standing up and grabbing a towel. “Come on, Mr. Authentic. Let’s see how good you are with a sponge.”

Together, you set about tidying the mess. It’s... slow. Tony keeps getting distracted, like when he tries to use the flour-dusted mixing spoon as a microphone to belt out a horribly off-key rendition of “All I Want for Christmas Is You.” Or when he attempts to juggle the eggs and nearly drops all of them.

“Tony,” you warn, snatching the eggs from his hands, “focus. Or so help me, I’ll ban you from this kitchen for life.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s banned me from a lab,” he quips, but he grabs a dishcloth and starts wiping the counter.

It’s messy, chaotic, and far from efficient, but eventually, the kitchen is somewhat recognizable again. You tie the trash bag closed with a satisfied huff and glance at Tony, who’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed, a smudge of flour still on his cheek.

“Well,” you say, smirking, “I think that’s the closest you’ve ever come to doing housework.”

“I’d be offended if that wasn’t completely accurate,” he shoots back.

You laugh, but your amusement fades as you watch him glance at the bowl of half-mixed dough on the counter. His shoulders slump just slightly, his earlier bravado dimming.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, stepping closer.

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, I admit it. This whole baking thing... it’s harder than it looks.”

“Oh, really? I never would’ve guessed,” you tease lightly, nudging him with your elbow.

“Hey, cut me some slack. I’m a genius in most areas, but apparently, cookie dough is my kryptonite.” He sighs, turning to you with a sheepish smile. “I think I need a co-pilot. Someone to, you know, steer me away from the iceberg before I sink the whole ship.”

You arch an eyebrow. “So, you’re asking for my help?”

“I’m delegating,” he says quickly, holding up a finger. “There’s a difference. You’re not taking over; you’re just... preventing further disasters.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, crossing your arms. “And how many disasters are we talking here?”

“None. Zero. Zilch. I’ve got this,” he insists, but the look in his eyes is pleading.

You sigh, shaking your head. “Fine. But you still have to do most of the work. I’m just here to stop you from burning down the penthouse. Deal?”

“Deal.”

With your roles established, the two of you return to the mixing bowl. Tony picks up the electric mixer with exaggerated caution, holding it like it’s a live grenade.

“Okay,” you say, guiding him, “start slow. Just enough to combine the butter and sugar.”

He flips the switch, and for once, the mixer behaves. The butter and sugar begin to cream together, and Tony flashes you a triumphant grin.

“Look at that! I’m a natural,” he says smugly.

“Don’t get cocky,” you warn, though you can’t help but smile.

The next step is adding the eggs, and you’re extra vigilant this time. “Crack them into a separate bowl first,” you instruct, handing him a small bowl.

“Why? Afraid I’ll mess up again?” he asks, but he does as you say.

“Not afraid. Just prepared.”

The first egg cracks cleanly, and Tony gives you a mock bow. “See? No shell this time. I’m a changed man.”

“Congratulations. Now do it again.”

He rolls his eyes but complies, and soon the eggs are safely added to the dough. As the mixer whirs away, you glance at Tony, who’s watching the process with the same intensity he reserves for tinkering in his lab.

“You’re really taking this seriously, huh?” you say, leaning against the counter.

“Of course. It’s Christmas, and I wanted to do something special for you,” he says, his tone softer than usual.

Your heart warms at his words. “Tony...”

“Don’t get all mushy on me,” he interrupts, though his ears are turning red.

You laugh, but there’s a lump in your throat. Moments like these—where Tony lets his guard down and shows just how much he cares—are rare and precious.

“Alright, next step,” you say, clearing your throat to keep the emotion at bay. “Time for the dry ingredients.”

Tony grabs the bag of flour with newfound confidence, measuring it out carefully under your watchful eye.

“Not bad,” you say as he levels off the measuring cup.

“Not bad?” he repeats, feigning insult. “This is perfect. I deserve a medal for this level of precision.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Stark,” you reply, smirking.

Once the dry ingredients are added, it’s time to mix again. This time, the dough starts to come together, and Tony looks genuinely impressed with himself.

“Okay, I admit it,” he says, holding up a spoonful of dough. “This actually looks like cookie dough.”

“That’s because it is cookie dough,” you say with a laugh.

He tastes a bit, his eyes widening. “And it’s good! Damn, I might actually pull this off.”

“Don’t celebrate yet,” you warn, though you’re smiling.

The final step is adding the chocolate chips, and Tony insists on doing it by hand. He pours the chips into the bowl with dramatic flair, tossing in a few extra for good measure.

“Alright,” he says, clapping his hands together. “What’s next?”

“We chill the dough,” you reply, grabbing some plastic wrap.

“Chill it?”

“Yes, Tony. You can’t just bake it right away. The butter needs time to firm up, or the cookies will spread too much in the oven.”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Why didn’t anyone tell me baking was this complicated?”

“You’re the one who wanted to do this solo,” you remind him, wrapping the dough and placing it in the fridge.

Tony sighs dramatically, leaning against the counter like he’s just run a marathon. “Fine. We chill the dough. But I’m taking a break. This baking stuff is exhausting.”

You chuckle, pulling him toward the living room. “Come on, Mr. Authentic. Let’s take a breather before round two.”

Settling onto the couch, Tony flops down beside you, his head resting on your shoulder. His earlier frustration has faded, replaced with that easy grin you know so well.

“So,” he says, looking up at you, “how am I doing so far?”

“Honestly? Not bad. You’re no Julia Child, but you’re better than I expected.”

He laughs. “High praise coming from you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you reply, nudging him playfully.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while, watching the snow fall outside the massive windows. The city below sparkles with holiday lights, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.

Tony breaks the silence, his voice soft. “Thanks for helping me. I know I’m a disaster in the kitchen, but... it means a lot.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re not a disaster. You’re just... a work in progress.”

“Gee, thanks,” he says, but there’s no bite in his words.

As the dough chills and the snow falls, you realize this might just be the best Christmas yet.

The dough chills long enough for Tony to grumble approximately twelve times. By the eighth complaint, you’re certain he’s just doing it to amuse himself. He’s sprawled across the couch like a man overcome by tragedy, one arm draped dramatically over his eyes.

“It’s been a year,” he moans.

You glance at your phone’s clock and laugh. “It’s been thirty-five minutes.”

“Exactly! Thirty-five minutes I’ll never get back. Do you know how many upgrades I could have made to the suit in that time? I could’ve redesigned an entire energy matrix!”

“Could you have made cookies?” you counter, smirking as you throw a pillow at him.

He catches it with ease, his reflexes as sharp as ever. “You’re mocking me, but when these cookies win a Nobel Prize for excellence in baking, I’ll remember this moment.”

“They’ll definitely give you a prize for patience,” you tease, motioning for him to get up. “Come on, it’s time.”

Tony perks up immediately, springing off the couch. “Finally! Let’s do this.”

Back in the kitchen, the dough feels firm and perfect beneath your fingers as you peel away the plastic wrap. Tony, on the other hand, is holding the baking sheet like it might explode in his hands.

“Uh, where do these live?” he asks, staring blankly at the cabinets.

“You’ve lived here for years, and you don’t know where the baking sheets are?” you say, crossing your arms.

“In my defense, I don’t bake. It’s not part of the Stark repertoire.”

You sigh, walk over, and pull the baking sheet from its drawer. Tony grins sheepishly, following you back to the counter.

The two of you start rolling the dough into balls, but Tony’s creations look less like cookies and more like abstract sculptures. Some are tiny, others are enormous. One is oddly triangular.

“Tony,” you say, biting back a laugh, “these cookies need to be the same size, or they’ll bake unevenly.”

“I’m going for a rustic vibe,” he says, holding up a lumpy dough ball with pride.

“Rustic or not, you’re about to have cookies baked on one side and raw on the other.”

“Fair point,” he says, flattening one of the larger blobs. “So, what’s the secret to the perfect cookie shape, Cookie Master?”

You smirk at the nickname. “Here, let me show you.”

Standing beside him, you reach for his hands and guide them, shaping the dough into a neat, even ball. His hands are warm beneath yours, and you can feel his eyes on you as you work.

“Hmm,” he murmurs.

“Hmm, what?” you ask, glancing up.

“Just wondering how much longer I can milk this helpless baker act before you realize I just wanted to get you this close.”

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks warm. “Tony Stark, are you flirting with me while rolling cookie dough?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

You try to keep a straight face, but his mischievous grin is infectious. “Less flirting, more rolling,” you say, though your tone is teasing.

Eventually, the cookies are prepped, and you watch as Tony carefully places them on the parchment-lined baking sheet. It’s almost endearing how focused he is, his tongue poking out slightly as he spaces each cookie with the precision of an engineer.

“Perfect,” he announces, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

“They actually look decent,” you admit.

“Decent?” He clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, darling. These are works of art.”

“Alright, Michelangelo, put them in the oven before you throw out your back patting yourself.”

Tony slides the sheet into the preheated oven with surprising care, setting the timer with exaggerated flair.

“And now,” he says, turning to you with a triumphant smirk, “we wait. Again.”

“At least this time it’s only ten minutes,” you say, leaning against the counter.

“Ten minutes is still too long,” he replies, stepping closer. “You know what I think we should do while we wait?”

“What’s that?” you ask, arching an eyebrow.

He leans down, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “I think we should make better use of this kitchen.”

Your breath catches as his hands find your hips, pulling you flush against him. His voice is low and teasing, his breath warm against your skin.

“Tony,” you say, your voice barely a whisper, “the cookies—”

“Are on a timer,” he interrupts, his lips grazing the corner of your mouth. “We’ve got time.”

Before you can argue, his mouth claims yours in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate, the kind that makes your knees weak and your heart race. His hands slide up your sides, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that makes you forget everything else.

“Tony,” you murmur against his lips, your hands tangling in his hair.

“Hmm?” he hums, his lips trailing down to your jawline.

“I’m serious. If the cookies burn, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

He pulls back just enough to smirk at you, his eyes dark with mischief. “Fair point. But I’m holding you to this after they’re done.”

You laugh, breathless and flustered as you gently push him away. “Fine. Go sit down before you start something we can’t finish.”

Tony sighs dramatically but obliges, dropping onto a barstool with a grin that promises he’s not done with you yet.

When the timer dings, Tony jumps up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically shoving you aside to pull the baking sheet from the oven.

“Careful! They’re hot,” you warn as he sets the tray on the counter.

He grabs a spatula to transfer the cookies to a cooling rack, his excitement contagious. “Look at these beauties,” he says, holding one up. “Golden brown. Perfectly round. It’s almost like I’m a natural.”

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Let’s not get carried away.”

He bites into the cookie, his eyes widening. “Holy... These are amazing.”

You take a bite of your own, and the buttery, chocolatey goodness makes you hum in approval. “Okay, I’ll admit it. You did good.”

“Did good?” he repeats, feigning offense. “These cookies are a masterpiece. They should be in a museum.”

“They should be in your stomach,” you reply, grabbing another cookie.

The two of you sit at the counter, eating cookies straight off the cooling rack and laughing as you recount the day’s disasters.

“You know,” Tony says between bites, “this might be my best Christmas yet.”

“Better than the Christmas you bought yourself a private island?”

“Way better,” he says, his tone softening.

He reaches for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Thanks for putting up with me today. I know I can be a pain.”

You smile, leaning closer. “You’re not a pain. You’re just... a lot. But I like that about you.”

He grins, leaning in until his lips are just a breath away from yours. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”

Later that night, as the kitchen quiets and the city sparkles with holiday lights outside, you find yourself back in Tony’s arms. The cookies are long forgotten, replaced by soft kisses and whispered promises.

“Next year,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear, “we’re making a gingerbread house.”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “As long as you don’t burn it down.”

“Deal,” he replies, pulling you closer as the snow falls softly outside.

And in that moment, with his arms around you and the taste of chocolate still lingering, you know it’s the perfect Christmas.

[carnelianfoxx]

I hope fluke husky is having a good day. him and tirox both

[prerodinu]

Alojz Chrobák HC’s

Officer in the S.D.P.D (Supernatural Division of the Police Department)

Alojz particularly likes to work with at-risk supernatural teens to help them find their way.

Alojz’s partner is Cecília Pivovarčová who works in narcotics and undercover.

Alojz has a husky puppy named Tibor. He plays with him constantly and will show you photos on his phone of Tibor.

Tibor looks like this.

Uses his werewolf senses to help protect and catch bad guys.

Half the time they deal with werewolves changing in the middle of the woods. Always that one guy (Liam)

Alojz spends most of his off-duty time with Cecília.

He carries a machete that looks like this. A knife that looks like this. And two guns. One looks like this and the other looks like this.

He sometimes has teens staying at his home if he knows their home life is bad.

His apartment is always clean.

While he does not like lots of technology. His home is full of it. Everything is linked up to a system like Alexa or Google.

He has one of those doggy cameras that gives Tibor a treat if he’s not around.

Sometimes Ziggy will come over and let Tibor out or he stays with Ziggy when Alojz is working late.

Ziggy and Alojz are half-brothers.

If any of the wolves get thrown in jail Alojz is normally the one to tell the officer human or otherwise that they are his undercover operatives and to let them go.

His prints like everyone elses do not show up in the system. The human police side just assumes it’s a fluke.

The supernatural side knows why. Alexander hacks into the system and deletes them.

The human side of the police always makes fun of the calls he goes on. If it’s a weird call he’s going to it.

He likes to listen to old records when he can. At his house, there is always Led Zepplin or pink Floyd playing in the background.

Favorite food is poutine.

Does not actually like donuts despite everyone giving him shit for it.

Carries bagged lunches around in case he stumbles upon teens he wants to help or someone who needs food.

Drinks coffee but actually prefers peppermint-flavored tea.

Drinks water with peppermint in it.

His second favorite food is peppermint.

6′9″

Can deadlift over 300 pounds.

Thic thighs.

[mae-dwrites]

Taking Flight - Chapter 12 - Not All Can Win, So Prepare The Gates

| Masterlist | Previous | Next |

| Ao3 | Wattpad |

“What is this I hear of me going to New York,” Chloé sneered into her phone once he finally picked up.

“Oh well, I thought you would like to go to New York! It’s a wonderful city you know,” André explained with nothing but the same charm he used on his clients. It made Chloé seethe, he really thought so little of her?

“It’s a stinky dump, with even stankier people,” Chloé hissed and clenched her fist. “And if you think I’m going there you’re really losing it Daddy.”

Chloé heard a “humph” from the other end. There was a moment of silence before he responded, “I wouldn’t be so sure darling. As I could send you there for other reasons…”

When he didn’t say anything else an understanding made Chloé’s blood rush, “You wouldn’t.”

“It’s where your mother went, and where your sister went. I have no doubt if I paid the right fee you’d come back out fixed,” there was a smile in his voice. Nothing gave away exactly what he hinting toward, he didn’t like to reveal his hand so easily.

“Besides,” he continued, “It’s much nicer than the stinky New York City streets.” Chloé could feel his smugness through the phone. He had won this battle, and he knew it, and he was going to suck in all the glory of it. Chloé faced the sky and leaned against the wall, “Fine. I’ll go on the trip.”

“Good girl Chloé, see you when you get home darling,” Andé cheered before hanging up, not waiting for his daughter to reply. Chloé couldn’t believe this, couldn’t believe she had willingly excepted this. Okay not willingly, but she didn’t want to go to that place.

“Ugh,” Chloé whined as she slid down the wall. Why couldn’t her father actually be pathetic as he pretended to be? It sucked, why did he get to dictate where she goes? Didn’t she decide they wouldn’t control her anymore? Had she really forgotten just who her father was after Hawkmoth showed up?

Her stomach suddenly flopped, as another part of her seemed to sing. Yes.

“ Well, well, what do we have here? The Queen crying as she is powerless against her daddikins? Do not fear for I am here to help you once again dear Chloé ,” a cynical voice echoed in her head. Her vision became impaired, a husky purple layer making it near impossible to see anything around her. Everything around her became muffled, the cars outside more like a memory.

“ Why don’t you let me help you get rid of the oppressors in your life and the pesty fools that surround you? All I require are the Miraculous of the Ladybug and the Cat, as you know. ”

Chloé’s breathing became hard, her mouth seemed too wet all of a sudden. This couldn’t be happening again. Not again, please not again .

Yes, take it. Take it all.

“ Please don’t fight me Chloé, or should I say the Mistress Decree? Just accept my help, that’s all I want to do is help you, ” Hawkmoth pressed. Not again , Chloé choked on air. “ Let’s not go through this again, we both know that was a fluke. After all, you said yes the second time. Just get it over with and you’ll finally be free .”

This isn’t what she wanted, she wanted to be a better person. She wanted to be the girl that invited her classmates to her birthday party for the first time, the girl that Ladybug trusted even though she was bitch, she wanted to be the girl that told Hawkmoth to fuck off. She didn’t want to be her mother again, she didn’t want to look like her, let alone sound like her. She wanted to be her own person.

Chloé clenched her jaw, she was done taking orders, that was the last time her father got to tell her where and what she was doing. Double Strike was the last day Hawkmoth got to play with her, she refused to be anyone’s puppet. She got to decide where and what she does! These monsters don’t scare her anymore.

“No,” she growled. She felt her face twist into a nasty expression but didn’t care.

“ No? ” Hawkmoth’s voice came out stranded. It brought a smirk to Chloé’s face.

“I told you before,” Chloé opened her eyes, her sight was still unclear from the purple haze. “So get out of my head. I don’t want your dirty magic!”

“ You can’t say no to me ,” Hawkmoth seethed at her.

“I said no !” Chloé screeched as she pounded her fist into the cement ground. Finally, she could see again the haze clearing, she could hear the air make the trees move outside the windows. She watched as the Akuma flew away from her still the dark purple with white light shining from spots. “Fuck off little butterfly,” Chloé chuckled to herself.

“Oh,” was all Chloé’s voice made before she lunged for the trashcan near her. She pulled it down as the vomit made its way out of her body, Well there goes breakfast .

“Holy,” she heard from behind her. She tensed and wiped her mouth on her hand, Ew , she thought before throwing up again. She heaved over the garbage can as someone held her ponytail up so she wouldn’t accidentally get vomit on it.

God bless them , Chloé thought to herself. She didn’t care who was behind her, just that despite it they had the courtesy to hold her hair for her.

☾•☽

Marinette detransformed after landing on her balcony.

“It’s fine, it’s okay,” she started pacing to herself. “He probably goes to a completely different school, it’s not like he’s in my class!”

Tikki watched her chosen with concern as she munched on a cookie.

“It’s all planned out anyway, I’ll use Kalkki and he’ll become Astrocat when the time is needed.” Marinette gripped the railing, her knuckles white, “He might not even be going to New York! Might be a family trip that just so happens to be taking place at the same time as I go to New York!”

Marinette rested on her forearms. “Who am I kidding? It’s too much a coincidence,” Marinette whined.

“This is a disaster,” She moaned into the night.

“What’s a disaster?” A voice asked. Marinette jumped up with a surprised squawk.

“Oh I’m sorry Marinette, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Chat Noir’s ears flattened in shame. He jumped down from the roof to the actual balcony.

“Ch-chat! You didn’t scare me, I promise. You just surprised me is all,” Marinette said with a nervous chuckle. She didn’t meet his eyes, Be chill Marinette . Marinette looked up at Chat. “So what's going down dawg,” Marinette cringed, oh Kwami can’t save her, can they?

“I’m pretty sure it’s “up dawg” not down,” Chat teased, “and since when was I a dog? I’m quite re-felined.” Chat Noir grinned at Marinette, Marinette sighed with exasperation. What did she get herself into?

“That was terrible,” Marinette looked at him unimpressed.

“You’re just jealous,” Chat raised his nose at the baker. Marinette rolled her eyes at his antics, it’s not like she wasn’t used to them. Either as Ladybug or Marinette, just Marinette didn’t spend as much time with Chat.

“You gotta admit that was good,” Chat insisted.

“I can admit I walked myself into that one,” Marinette sighed and slumped against the railing.

“Yes you did,” he grinned at her. “So what’s the big disaster this time?”

Marinette held back a groan, He doesn’t let go .

“Nothing important, I’m just overthinking things again,” Marinette said resting her chin in her hand.

“Mmm. From what I hear any idea you have goes right, much like M’lady,” Chat smiled at Marinette. Marinette’s cheeks got a dust of pink on them, “I wouldn’t take that to heart.”

“You convinced Gabriel Agreste to let his son out of the country for a week, without his supervision,” Chat said leaning against the balcony railing, facing away from the street. “And you’ve been able to get his girlfriend’s mom to let her have friends and be out of the house more.”

Marinette looked at Chat Noir with confusion, “How do you know that?”

“I visit Adrien sometimes,” Chat admitted. “You may be my favorite but you’re not the only one I visit.”

Marinette blinked, of course Chat would go around talking to multiple people. Adrien had been the target of a few Akumas himself, Chat usually liked to talk to people when he was out and about the town. Making friends with people of all ages, heck he had introduced her to the girl that was rooming with her aunt.

Well, Ladybug not Marinette, but she had a feeling that he was the reason Makzenie came to them in the first place.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re jealous Princess,” Chat teased getting in her face.

Marinette shoved his face away, “I am not, just surprised is all. But I should’ve expected that from an alley cat.”

“You wound me Princess! How will I ever recover from this heartbreak,” Chat “fell” onto the deck chair with a sniff. “If you see Ladybug tell her that she was my only real friend! As you hurt me, Marinette.”

Marinette snorted at the dramatic cat, she grabbed her nose as if that would make it so it never happened. The girl’s face became red from embarrassment, she swallowed really wanting to just hide in her room. Chat tried to say something but he was laughing so much he couldn’t get anything out, soon enough he was clutching his stomach.

How could he be laughing as if this was the funniest thing he had ever seen!

“You only like me for my food anyway,” Marinette huffed after regaining her composure. Chat took deep breaths trying to calm himself, “No-no, I-”

Chat went into a fit of giggles as he tried to steady his breathing, it was shaggy if anything. Marinette crossed her arms and stared down the hero, with a frown. Chat snorted when he saw her expression, Marinette couldn’t help the airy laugh that came out of her.

“I can’t believe this,” Marinette shook her head. She felt her mouth twitch up, she hid her face not wanting to show her smile.

Chat let out a quiet laugh, “I promise I’m not just here for the food Mars.”

“I know,” Marinette mumbled before looking at her table.

They fell into a silence, a nice one. Marinette loved moments like these, it didn’t matter who it was or what mask she had at the moment. The wind gently brushed against their faces and their hair tickled their skin.

Marinette looked at Chat, he was looking up at the sky his breathing steady. He looked so soft in the lighting of the moon and the fairy lights that hung around them. Another sweep of the wind brushed his hair in a smooth rock, his cheeks having a light shade of pink. The slight chill of the October air left a chill go down Marinette’s back.

Chat Noir’s dirty blond hair, a mop-like mess, seemed to cover the top of his eyes more as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The mask had gotten a little bigger, spreading more on his face like it was connected to his face, the mask reminiscent of a Balinese cat’s face.

Or maybe a Birman was more accurate? No.

A Ragdoll, his mask was like the pattern of certain Ragdoll cats.

Chat’s eyes opened again meeting Marinette’s eyes.

“So what’s your dilemma?” Chat asked with an innocent grin and a quirked eyebrow.

“Ugh,” Marinette groaned.

☾•☽

“Luka!” Marinette called as she ran down the street, her dress flowing behind her.

“Marinette,” Luka turned around and smiled.

Marinette tried to slow down but before she could her foot caught on a crack on the sidewalk. Luka leaped and caught Marinette. Marinette sighed, Just the luck . The Universe had to balance her out somehow.

“Marinette please be careful,” Luka chuckled with a fond smile.

“S-Sorry Luka,” Marinette laughed with embarrassment, not making eye contact with him.

“Marinette don't apologize,” Luka gently cupped her cheek. He ducked his face to be more in her sight and lightly motioned for her face to move up.

“Rr-right,” Marinette gave a nervous smile before brightening up. Her cheeks were red, Luka could make out the light freckles that decorated her face like stars. They went from one cheek across the bridge of her nose to the other cheek. Her big eyes looked at him with a slight squint, from the shining sun and the content smile that came on her as he looked at her. “What is it, Luka?”

She had a slight tilt of her head, Luka smiled at her, “Nothing, you're just as beautiful as your melody is all.”

“Oh-oh um, you much thanks. Wait no, thank you very much! I can't believe I said that,” Marinette whined, she covered her face with her hands. She mumbled some other unintelligible words before Luka gently grabbed her hands and brought them down.

“It’s okay Marinette,” Luka gave a reassuring smile to the girl.

“Yes, of course. Duh, everything is fine!” Marinette took a deep breath, “Thank you Luka.”

Luka simply nodded and let go of one of the girl’s hands, “So where do you want to go first?”

“Well, we could go…”

They went on the Ferris wheel, they pointed out certain spots, and laughed at how small everyone looked; found André for his ice cream, sharing some as they walked around the area; they found a teens center that was having karaoke throughout the day, they sang a few songs. Marinette tripped a few times and the dress got caught in corners, chairs, and door handles it was pure luck the dress hadn't ripped at some point, but that wasn't a problem.

The problem was whenever there was a Gabriel Fashion poster or billboard Marinette clammed up or glared at it; it had Luka a bit concerned if he was being honest. Her melody seemed to skip a few notes or harsher ones came up, he didn't want to ruin their date but he thought it would be better to bring it up rather than avoid it. He knew Marinette tended to avoid her problems from time to time.

Walking down the sidewalk Luka looked over at Marinette, “Marinette are you okay? You’ve, uh, your melody has been off.”

Marinette seemed to forget to take a step but caught herself and kept in step with him, “Well, um, I-” Marinette sighed, “Honestly I don't know. Everything is just all so confusing! I think I know something but if I'm right it changes so much; I- I almost don't want to be right, it's scary.”

Her melody seemed to sway and pull, almost an overlapping of two. This undertone seeming to be a more intense rendition of Marinette’s usual melody; it felt out of reach for both Marinette and Luka. He knew this melody that underlaid her usual but couldn't pin it down. It didn't happen often but enough for Luka to take note of it.

“Is there anything I can do?” Luka asked with his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Thank you, but there's nothing you can change,” Marinette laughed. “It's either true or I'm being paranoid.”

Marinette bit her bottom lip as they walked, coming close to the Seine. She only looked at their shadows that lay before them.

“Is there anything else bothering you?” Luka's frows came together, he didn't want to push but he felt it would be better to ask.

“I, well actually no this is a date! I shouldn't be dumping all my anxiety on you, we should just be enjoying the date, and having fun,” Marinette frowned and looked up at Luka. Luka pulled Marinette to a bench nearby.

“I promise it won't ruin our date, it’s okay to talk about our problems even on dates,” Luka gave her hand a gentle squeeze and smiled. “You don't have to but I want you to know I don't mind if you “dump” your problems on me”

Marinette looked away from him frowning to herself, she pursed her lips in thought. Her eyes moved as if reading lines of a book, perhaps like she was reading her thoughts as they came. Her melody was quiet before swirling in a crescendo of clear scales. She finally looked up at him after she made a determined huff to herself.

“You know I'm going to New York at the end of this week?” Marinette asked very seriously.

Luka nodded, “Juleka and Rose have been talking about the trip for a while.”

“Okay well, yesterday morning I convinced M. Agreste to let Adrien go to New York with us. But before that, after I told Adrien I would Alya was kinda weird I guess,” Marinette’s lip came out in an unintentional pout as she thought about it. “I want to get over Adrien, I don't think she really gets that yet. She’s always tried to help me talk to him, to admit my feelings,” Luka nodded as he listened.

“And she asked if I could even handle being in New York with him for a week. Which I personally think is kind of stupid, we're there to learn not to party in the city that doesn't sleep! Which isn't the point, ugh.

“Like yes it'll be weird, definitely awkward sometimes but I always am! I'm so awkward, but I'm not trying to do anything. He’s dating Kagami, and I'm with you,” Marinette swallowed. “And because of what she said, I'm scared that maybe she's right and I can't handle it. And my feelings won't go away, and then I’ll hurt you.”

Marinette said the last bit quietly and glanced away from Luka in shame. Luka didn't like how scared she sounded, how skittish she looked, her melody started skipping notes similar to earlier but far quicker and choppy.

He took her hands and squeezed them real quick to get her attention so that she would look at him again.

“Marinette, you don't need to be scared about how you feel. Those aren't things we can fully control, I wouldn't hold it against you if you still like him. What's important is that you know what you're trying to do, not me, not Alya. You. You're not perfect and you don't have to be, no one should expect you to be perfect.

“And if your feelings for Adrien outweigh your feelings to be with me it’ll be okay. You don't owe me your feelings or to be with me, you don't owe me anything. You only owe it to yourself to do what makes you the happiest,” Luka smiled at her.

“I personally don't care that you may still have feelings for Adrien, but I know you're trying. That's enough for me, I trust that when you finally figure it out you’ll tell me,” Luka took a breath. Looking at Marinette for a moment, “How about you use the trip to figure out how you feel about Adrien?”

“What?” Marinette seemed to have nearly fallen off the bench. She probably would have if Luka hadn't been there.

“I think the trip could be more helpful than meddlesome, hang out with Adrien during the trip. You’ve been doing better at talking to him you mentioned before, so why don't you put it to use.”

Marinette looked away from him in thought, her lips becoming a line, her eyes slightly squinting. As if the stitching on her dress held the answers to the universe that she had yet to decipher.

“I,” Marinette paused before looking up at Luka again. “I guess I could give it a shot.” Marinette gave a timid smile.

“How about we go to the park before you go home?”

“And before it gets too cold,” Marinette shivered as they got up.

☾•☽

“So how excited are you to go to New York?” Bridget asked lounging on the chaise tossing an orange from one hand to the other.

“You asked the wrong question,” Marinette laughed as Alya gasped up some air.

“We’re going to New York , Knightowl and Sparrow’s main city, and they share it with Majestia . She’s the coolest, she has most of the same powers as the Supers. Also she’s so tall ,” Alya gripped the back of the chair. Bridget swears she’s on the verge of shaking the chair the girl already rocking her upper body back and forth.

Marinette giggled as she watched her friend, “I can’t tell if it’s the supernerd in you or your big crush on her that’s blabbing when you talk about her.”

“Yes,” Alya hissed at Marinette’s teasing. Marinette rolled her eyes making Bridget laugh.

“Isn’t it a theory that she’s the same species as the Supers? I think you brought that up before,” Marinette asked, she genuinely looked curious. Marinette never had a big interest in heroes, which Bridget was thankful for the more she went on. Marinette’s biggest distaste was their suits, due to those rants Bridget had started looking at her colleague's suits with a more critical eye.

“Yes, because she has so many powers similar to Superman, Supergirl, and the Superboys.” Alya started tapping the chair and swinging her legs in excitement. Bridget smiled, while she didn’t like how Lois Lane this girl was she had to admit she had less self-preservation skills on par with other heroes Bridget had met. Alya continued, “But she’s super tall, not like Supergirl. Superman around or in the six feet range, no one knows for sure, but Supergirl is a good few feet below that.”

“Um, so a couple of centimeters taller than Kim?” Marinette asked.

“Uh yeah, yeah. Sorry Marinette, I forgot to use metric,” Alya smiled sheepishly.

“No, it’s alright. Just helps with the mental image,” Marinette patted Alya before going back to typing on her computer.

“I do the same thing all the time,” Bridge spoke up. She leaned over so that she was facing the girls, “Most of life was spent in America. I only remember a few years of living in China before moving, Sabine stayed with Jiù Wang while I moved with Mǔqīn to America. Sabina whacks me when I use the wrong measuring system.”

“Mookin?” Alya asked, her head slightly tilted.

“Oh, I mean mother, sorry,” Bridget let a nervous chuckle out. “That’s my bad. It’s Mandarin.”

“Oh okay, that’s alright. Marinette does the same thing sometimes.” Alya said and Marinette groaned.

“I need to practice,” Marinette whined, “All of Jiù Huang’s kids speak it so well. And then Li speaks it for formal conversation, and he acts like he’s one-upping me! Upping me on what! And then he always switches for some reason, and I don’t know what language he’s using!”

Marinette was practically fuming, Bridget couldn’t stop the smile that came on her face before she rolled back to her previous position.

“I know what you mean, Bao does it all the time. I think that’s where the entitled brat got it from,” Bridget went back to tossing the orange between her hands.

“Bridget,” Marinette hissed, her face scolding.

“You know I’m right, he’s a brat.” Bridget pointed at her orange in hand.

“We don’t need to call him names,” Marinette huffed.

“I feel like that’s a great reason to call him names,” Alya grinned and leaned back in her seat. “Also it’s not like you had time to learn Mandarin from your mom, she has the bakery to run.”

“They could have practiced while running the bakery together,” Bridget chimed in pealing her orange. “Also our Mǔqīn was the same way with me. Sabine knew French, Mandarin, English, and I think one or two more. Bao knows, er, so many I don’t think I could list them all, and Huang studies mostly dead or dying languages and cultures.

“English wasn’t my first language but it became my primary language very quickly. I don’t Mandarin as much as I’d like, but I’m fluent in English, and I’m able to hold continuous conversations in French. I studied Spanish in high school and still practice it with friends.

“Even with Sabine being busy with running the bakery she could have been teaching her, or even while having dinner together,” Bridget set the peel on her stomach and popped an orange in her mouth. “I love her to death but Sabine sometimes forgets that multitasking is an option.”

Alya and Marinette shared a look, Alya raised an eyebrow at Marinette. Marinette just shrugged, she faced her aunt, “Uh, Āyí Bridget-”

Bridget's phone went off, in a high-pitched beeping. Bridget winced much like the teen girls. I really need a new ringtone for business calls , she thought as she sat up retrieving her phone from the floor, “Oh. I need to take this.”

Bridget threw her peal in Marinette’s trash before opening the trapdoor, “Love you, sweetheart. Nice seeing you again Alya, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do ladies.”

Bridget could barely make out them saying goodbye as she hastily made her way done the stairs.

“Hey Donna what’s the deal,” Bridget opened the front door making her way to her apartment.

“Diana set word back, she says she’s going to come back sooner than planned.”

“Did she say when?” Bridget got her keys out unlocking the door. She told Makzenie that the door would be locked so she knew that it would be very likely someone who was coming in wasn’t someone they didn’t trust.

“No, but she said she trusts you to work it carefully until she can come deal with it. She wants you to stay there for as long as necessary, she’s talking to her mother so she knows as much as possible about the jewels as possible. So just hold tight, do what you believe is the right way to go,” Donna finished as Bridget waved to Makzenie before going into her room.

“I’ve got everything to contact my brother, with that from Diana I’m bringing him in if it’s possible he can come,” Bridget said getting her laptop up and on.

“Just be careful, maybe contact the kids yourself. I don’t want you or them kids being risky,” Donna said sternly. Bridget sighed, “Don’t worry I will be.”

“Good, and for the love of Hippolyte come drink with me before you go scouting for Diana,” Donna exclaimed making Bridget laugh.

“Of course, of course, I promise I will next. Invite your arrow friend next time why doncha?”

“I will, we’ll bring Zatanna and Hood too.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bridget laughed. “I’ll talk to you if I need anything.”

“Alright then.”

Bridget held back a sigh as she opened up her laptop, she stared at it for a moment. Why was she getting on it again? She couldn’t remember, but it’s fine she can go call her brother up instead. Summon was probably a better term if she was being honest.

After dinner Sabine let her go in the storage room, “Just don’t blow anything up.”

“I won’t Xia,” Bridget grinned at her. Sabine just gave her a stern look not amused in the slightest.

“I’m not joking, we can’t afford for you to make a mess in here,” Sabine said lifting some bag of flour onto another table.

“Xia come on, Huang made the spell himself. He wouldn’t have given it to me if it made an explosion.” Bridget set her notebook down, careful not to let anything fall out. “It’s just a quick “Hey come help me, some kids are fighting an adult man-child over and with ancient magic!” it shouldn’t take long. Besides, he loves learning about new magics. He doesn’t constrict himself like most magic users, he’ll have more at his disposal.”

“Just be careful, I don’t want more magical residue on my Patisserie than the Bug, Cat, and Moth have already left,” Sabine all but huffed as she moved the now cleared table against one of the shelves. “How come, Huang, didn’t send me the spell when he first made it anyway?”

Bridget looked over at her sister, she hadn’t turned around she was still facing the shelves.

“I guess he didn’t want to send you it since you’re so antsy with magic. I mean, you know how you get sometimes. At least with-”

“I know,” Sabine cut her off. “I just,” she sighed. “I’m scared really, because what if one-day Ladybug can’t stop the Akuma and save everyone? What if that’s the day I finally lose my baby?”

“Oh Xia,” Bridget pulled Sabine into a hug, the short woman stiff for a moment before relaxing. “I promise Huang and I will do anything to keep that from happening. Bao may be distant but I know he’d drop every one of those twisted protocols to come and get her back for you.” Bridget pulled away and held her sister’s face making sure she was looking at her, “You’re his sister, he loves you so much that he took your place. He would do anything for you, for me, or for Huang. But you have always been his favorite.

“Oh come Xia just let it out for once, I won’t let a single butterfly near you,” Bridget finished, Sabine’s eyes stung trying not to cry. But for her sister she let them fall, she let them fall but she barely made a sound.

“I don’t want to lose her Baihu, I can’t live without her. She’s so kind, she’s pure, I don’t think Tom and I could handle losing her,” Sabine sobbed. “I don’t want them to take her when she turns sixteen.”

“And I won’t let them,” Bridget held her sister tight. “They aren’t going to take her, I won’t let them.”

“You don’t know the League like we do Baihu, Mǔqīn took you away from it. Marinette wouldn't survive it, how she’s dealt with this I don’t even know but they’d break her so quick,” Sabine shook her head. “I don’t want that for her, I don’t want a life of fighting for her. We’ve already had our fair share of it but Marinette deserves to be happy, to be normal.”

“Xia,” Bridget held her sister’s hand, “We can hide her away, glamour spells work wonders when done right.”

“She doesn’t deserve to be hidden away,” Sabine mumbled out.

“We’ll find another solution,” Bridget stated firmly. “I can bring it up to Huang real quick and then you can talk to him yourself when he gets here.”

Sabine took a deep breath, and steady her breath as she gave a nod, “Okay.”

“You want me to call Tom to help you back to your room?”

“No, no I can do it. I just need a moment,” not even a minute after saying so Sabine got up and left the storage room. The young woman now left alone took a breath before turning to her notebook and taking out the folded paper, “Here it goes to peaceful spells.”

She laid the items as instructed around a circle with an emblem that looked like a Hanzi for connect. The bone was the farthest away from the caster; a sheet of mulberry bark on the left; an Azalea across from the mulberry bark; and lastly a coin from the Han dynasty, with a Vermillion bird on it.

“You always loved being as meaningful as possible,” Bridget shook her head as she prepared to speak in incantation. “Here we go.

“Venire, ire. Lái, qù.” - The Hanzi started to glow a light blue - “Hic vel illic, sed non ubique. Zài zhèlǐ huò nàlǐ, dàn bùshì wú chù bùzài.”- The circle started to glow the same shade of light blue as the Hanzi had a mist come from it. -“Invocans, vocatum, Huang Cheng, ille Phoenix.Hūhuàn bèi hū zhào de rén, Huáng Chéng fènghuáng.”

More mist came up as she finished, once she had finished the mist spun around before a figure appeared.

“Who calls upon me, Huang, Tayir Alfiniq!” He figure called out in dramatics, the circle and the Hanzi still glowing beneath him. The mist still mostly concealed him, leaving him to be just a shadow in the room.

“Huang it’s me, your sister, Bridget. Baihu Cheng,” Bridget spoke up before her bother continued with his dramatic monologue of himself.

“Aw come on Bridg, couldn’t have let me say the whole thing? Zatanna let me,” Huang grumbled at the end, with a sweep of his hand the mist cleared. Only going up to his knees, “What do you need Bridget, because if you called me for something stupid I will lose my shit.”

Bridget smirked, “Yeah I need you to do me a solid and curse one of my exes.”

“Goddamn it, Bridg,” Huang pinched the bridge of his nose. “What did this one do?”

“I’m kidding I promise,” Bridget said with a laugh. “Well mostly, anyway I,” Bridget let out a sigh, “I need you to help me out in Paris.”

Huang frowned, “Why? What’s going on?”

“There’s a magic war going on, practically kids fighting so this old man doesn’t get their jewelry. According to my sources, it’s ancient magic, some of the oldest from the sounds of it.”

“How come I’m just hearing about it?”

“I just found out almost a month ago. I needed to observe first, not to mention we’re helping a kid that asked for help,” Bridget crossed her arms and leaned on one leg. A more comfortable position in her opinion.

“How is that?” Huang softened uncrossing his arms.

“I can tell you all about it when you get here, I just want to ask you a quick question,” Bridget said redirecting them.

“That being?”

“Have you heard of the Miraculous?”

Huang’s eyes widened as he hummed, “Do you remember that headline in May about the old temples in Tibet coming back with monks living in them? As if by magic.”

“Yeah, I remember Zatanna and Constantine bringing it up when it first was covered,” Bridget’s brows came down. “Are you saying that the Miraculous had something to do with the temple?”

“Those temples were where the Order of the Miraculous protected them until almost two hundred years ago,” Huang explained. “The League has always sought after them for their selfish needs.”

Bridget turned away from her brother her chest tight. The League could be why no one knew about it, Bridget doubted Sabine would be the one reporting this to them. Bridget rubbed her temples, this was bad. Possibly worse than bad.

“Sabine still hasn’t been able to have more kids since Marinette,” Bridget said facing the magic user again. His face became dark with understanding, “It’s almost time.”

“Exactly, she doesn’t want to lose her but…”

“The League won’t give her a choice.” Huang sighed before giving a small smile to his little sister, “You always put a lot on my plate.”

His image became fuzzing as the spell began to eat up the last of its materials.

Bridget couldn’t help but smile back, “What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t?”

“I’ll be heading there shortly, should I bring my family? Or is too dangerous?”

“Leave them, you’ll know why when you get here,” Bridget shook her head. His image was almost gone as he nodded, “See you then.”

“See you then,” she affirmed as his image finally dissipated.

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

So Bridgat spoke a spell made by Huang, it’s spoken in Latin and then the same line is repeated in Mandarin.

“ To come, to go.

Here or there,

But not everywhere.

Calling upon the one called,

Huang Cheng,

The Phoenix. “

[voicestm]

[ EXPLORE ]  sender gets flustered while making out with receiver after becoming aroused. (To Astarion // from Gale)

Budding Romance - Accepting - @architaciturn

"Gale.." His tone is lower than usual, near husky, that sweet name purred against the shell of the wizard's ear. But of course it would be. He had claimed Gale's thighs good and proper ten minutes earlier, knees digging into his hips. But it wasn't his fault he had given into temptation! The mage had been babbling in that nonsensical way of his, the words meant to deliver wisdom and knowledge but his thoughts were swift and twisting until Astarion could let him ramble no longer. He pounced, bodies slotted together and mouths captured in a kiss that was meant to burn.

When finally they break away, he's gripping his jaw in the palms of his hands and forcing his face upward. He wants to see the glow of his flush coloring his face, he could smell his arousal and that it matched his own..

"Look at you.. Look at that pretty blush.. If I didn't know any better.. I'd say you enjoyed these little meetings in the dark.." He teases sweetly, voice a sing song that rumbles with pleasure.

Oh, to know that Gale wanted him.. That the first few times they had come together hadn't been a fluke or a few rounds of tumbled pleasure thrills him to the core. It's tantalizing, to feel throbbing flesh lengthen and harden as blood pumps into his cock, his hunger for the vampire impossible to hide. It's flattering and more than that.. It soothes that worry he had been hiding carefully within himself. To truly be wanted? And by a man like Gale?

The mage was mad to feel anything for such a despicable man such as Astarion was and yet he wouldn't be releasing his grip on him anytime soon.

"..Oh, the wicked things I'll do to you.." But he'd start easy, carefully even, he promises himself while a pale hand slips between them. Room is made between them, greedy fingers searching beneath fabric for that most delicious cock. "Do you think you can force yourself quiet, mage?" The words are pressed into the line of his throat when finally his grasp curls around that impressive length.

[pandamusrex]

Who gave you the right

Fluke Husky

[audio-luddite]

Subjective subject.

Audio Technica AT7V is a boutique phono cartridge usually restricted to Japan, its place of birth. You can get them and I have one. There is a reputation that anything that Japanese try to keep to themselves is worth seeking out. They like quality you know. It is also not very expensive.

I swapped out my GRADO (Opus 3) woody for the 7V last night. Then I ran through some usual suspects albums. I tried the same ones I had listened to a couple nights ago. First up Loreena Mckennitt "An Ancient Muse" on 180 gram vinyl. The sound is really nice especially if you like plucked instruments and traditional percussion. The thing that stood out to me was just a bit more pluckiness to the strings. Very metallic sounding when metal was involved. AT carts are noted for usually rising high ends.

This plot from "audio science review". The 7V rises less than most ATs or so I am told. I know they are sensitive to capacitance loads. Fortunately or not my hearing has a dropping high end. Generally this sucker has pretty flat response.

Subjectively there were some very small differences compared to the GRADO. Some sounds were more obvious, so I noticed them. Old story different but not actually better.

Next Album Diana Krall "Live in Paris" double 45 rpm 180 gram fancy limited numbered issue with Bernie Grundman's signature on the damn mold. Apparently some discs sound better than others, but I got lucky. It is a phenomenal record. I like live albums as the applause is more real, and it gives you a bit of "room sound". I heard a bit more into Ms Krall's vocal texture kinda husky, just like a real person. Again different and good but not actually better.

Third and last was Steely Dan's Aja. It is a notorious work. Another high end reissue. Aja is justly famous for the OCD recording process of the artists and it is a complex sounding thing.

All these albums sounded different from using the GRADO, but this was the only one I thought was better with the AT. The mix is dense and complicated and the little beast pulled the bits apart just a bit better. I heard each of several background singers distinctly. The crazy overdubs of single notes with different instruments stood out.

I admit being fixated on detail and clarity.

I did this to get in practice for when I land the ARC Cl60. Yes the deal is made. I want to play with the sounds. I have expectations. Those are less detail, and more space effects. I do miss that since the all tube preamp left the house. Glass enhances the illusion.

ARC is known for being almost clinical while still devoted to romance of glass. The 35ish year old amp is the contemporary of my current SP 14 preamp which I love. It will appreciate the 100k Ohm input impedance of the CL60. The Franken-amp is like 20k.

I have a small fleet of cartridges. Three of them are ATs if you include the ancient TK7E I may even pull that one out of the box, I have a couple extra headshells though they require shimming to be squared up.

I have too many actually, but they are very small.

In a related item I found a new source for LPs in a nearby city. It was a total fluke they popped up in a search while I was listening and I found two records and they are on the way to me. One is my old warhorse Emmylou Harris "Quarter Moon.." BUT it is a MOFI issue! Another is a Heart album with several songs I like, but I never bought one before.

Busy Weekend coming.

[purplehanfu]

It seems that they're going to let them air the danmei dramas they just dropped the abyss and there are rumors a lot more are coming . Except they have to cut literally everything that people want to see them for. The entire point of the novels in most cases is to tell a love story, if you're cutting that entirely plus cutting the 100 other things that don't pass censorship what are we watching exactly? Lmao this is gonna be a mess

I just finished episode 23 of A League of Nobleman, and it has gotten to the point where the edges are really fraying. Props to the editors who did what they could to keep at least some semblance of a coherent story... but while watching it all I can think is 'how was this originally intended to be?' It takes you out of the viewing experience because a lot of the edits are so obvious and I think the people who own these properties are going to be surprised by the lack of interest that their edited, sanitized dramas are going to generate. A League of Nobleman is a fluke because everyone checked it out to see what the first BL drama post danmeipocolypse would look like. And that's based on a novel that isn't even a BL. Imagine how awful it will be to see a story close to your heart (Sha Po Lang for me, The Husky and His White Cat Shizun for everyone else) totally trashed. It will be a travesty. I think they will have only a fraction of the success they could have had, and nowhere near the fan frenzy of Word of Honor. As you say- what a mess.

p.s. Just watching A League of Nobleman, I can see that if it had aired as intended it would have been a true knockout. The characters, the setup, Lan Jue's ever expanding harem of husbands and boyfriends... oh what could have been 😭

p.p.s. My favorite obvious edit: Someone pours Lan Jue a cup of tea, camera cuts to Lan Jue talking, camera cuts back to same person pouring another cup of tea as if they hadn't poured the first.

[fursuit-gifs]

Source

[cobra421]

Fanart I drew for Fluke the Husky! He's so cute!

[awoonews]

source

Fluke Husky is a rising star in the fursuit dancing community, winning several major competitions in 2018! If you want to learn more about how he makes the curl twirl, check out his Q and A

Thanks again so much for the interview, Fluke! If you love what he does, then go follow him on Twitter, Instagram, or Youtube for more fursuit tips and tutorials coming soon!