#miraculously managing to stay sober through all of this. which is something i guess.

[tastyflowers]

sorry for becoming a depression blog but

[bard-llama]

Belated Start of Mini Kinktober Week!

So the @witcherkinktober​ provided the great prompts for this week and then I completely and absolutely forgot about it lol. So I don’t have finished fics for yesterday or today, but I will share a snip from each and if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll finish one for tomorrow!

So, my plan was to write 1 rorveth and 1 throne3 fill per day, but uh... that’s not seeming likely. So instead, have snips (more like my entire WiPs shhhh) from 2 throne3 fills + 1 rorveth fill under the cut!

10/3 - Collars | Gags | Hypnosis/Mind Control Warnings for homophobia-induced painful backstory and chronic pain

Unfortunately, no porn here, because I got too caught up in the explanation of how they got here again 😭😭😭 But Reynard got drugged with a truth/babbling potion. That counts as mind control, right? 😅

If there was one thing everyone knew about General Reynard Odo, it was that he kept his thoughts to himself and carefully chose every word he said.

Which is why Gascon knew immediately that something was wrong, because Reynard was surrounded by soldiers and waving his hands in a surprisingly uncoordinated way and, most significantly, openly shittalking people.

“Fuckin’ Reggie,” Reynard slurred, which set off about a billion alarm bells in Gascon’s head, because what the fuck!? First off, Reynard didn’t swear. Certainly not in front of his soldiers. He was meticulous about that kind of thing. Propriety mattered to Reynard and being proper in front of his men even moreso.

Secondly, nicknames and Reynard did not mix. Well, technically, Gascon was always giving Reynard new insultingly affectionate nicknames, but Reynard himself? Gascon had never heard Reynard shorten a name ever. Even the really long ones! Even the ones that everyone else used! Hell, there was one of Meve’s guards who even she called by their nickname. But Reynard? Never. It was always Lieutenant Razzah Ozzell, never Razzell like the rest of them.

Thirdly, who the fuck was Reggie?

“He was a right prick,” Reynard continued, snorting at his own words. “Didn’t know a damn thing about the military. I mean, he was always getting people’s ranks wrong, and who’s gonna correct him? He’s the fucking king!”

Gascon’s face blanched. Reggie as in King Reginald as in Meve’s late husband?

Yeah, he needed to make sure Reynard stopped speaking immediately. Whatever was wrong with him, clearly the General’s extensive control could not be relied upon at the moment, so Gascon would just have to have enough control for the two of them.

Nodding to himself, he wove his way expertly through tangles of soldiers and slipped his arm around Reynard’s, pulling the General up and pushing him towards the edge of camp. The soldiers groaned in protest, but Gascon ignored them, more concerned with the way Reynard was both still talking and did not seem at all bothered by Gascon’s grasp on his arm.

Only once they were a decent distance from camp did Gascon let go and whirl around to demand what the fuck was going on.

“What the fuck, Reynard?” he hissed. “What is wrong with you!? Why would you openly shit talk the King!?”

Reynard’s pupils were wide as the General snorted, “I didn’t even share the worst shit!”

“And it should probably stay that way,” Gascon spoke over him. “Seriously, what is wrong with you!?”

Tilting his head, Reynard leaned too far to the right and flailed for balance. Gascon was officially unnerved. Where the hell was the close mouthed and tight-lipped General Odo?

“I feel fine,” Reynard shrugged. “I don’t even hurt!”

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause you’re probably high as a kite on something. What did you eat? Drink?”

“Mmm, jus’ the ale. They’re – hic – they’re always inviting me, you know. To drink with them.”

“Yeah,” Gascon said uncertainly, brow furrowing, “you always say no.”

Reynard sighed, slumping as though all his energy had abandoned him. “Yeah,” he agreed. “They already have to put up with me all day. ‘M not gonna be so selfish as to ruin everyone’s time.” His lips twitched, “I’m Lyria and Rivia’s profesh – profess – pro-fesh-shen-al wet blanket, remember?”

Gascon winced. He hadn’t realized that jab had stayed with Reynard like this, but even worse was that Reynard seemed to think it was true.

“I was being an asshole,” Gascon protested. “You’re not a wet blanket. You’re – I mean, you’re very stoic and uptight and stuff, but like, that’s not always a bad thing! If you want to drink with your soldiers, you should!”

The laughter that fell from Reynard’s lips was haunting. “No one truly wants me there. It’s better to keep from intruding.”

Something about that made Gascon’s heart hurt, but he swallowed hard, refocusing. “Reynard, there must’ve been something in the ale you drank, ‘cause you may feel fine, but you are definitely not. Honestly, when you sober up, you’re probably gonna hate that you told me any of this.”

Reynard hummed, nodding in small movements. “Hate being sober. Hurts too much.”

Gascon blinked. “Wait, really? But you practically never have more than a single ale!”

“Of courshe,” Reynard wiggled his jaw like that would make his lips form the right shapes. “I have a resp – responc – re – ah, fuck it. Duty. I have a duty to Her Majesty.”

“Yeah, but – wait, why does it hurt?”

Snorting again, Reynard shrugged. “It always does. Though, not right now. Like, I can do this!” He shrugged his shoulders once more, seemingly engrossed in the miraculousness of basic movement.

“Can you… not usually shrug?” Gascon tilted his head, considering that. Had he ever actually seen Reynard shrug?

Reynard shook his head emphatically enough to make himself stumble for balance again. “Pulls on my back.”

Gascon’s brow furrowed. “Your… back? I don’t remember you having any particular back injury?”

Snorting through his nose, Reynard hummed. “Wasn’t an injury in battle. Nothing so honorable by far.”

More confused than ever, Gascon opened his mouth to say something, but Reynard didn’t seem to notice and talked over him instead.

“Fuckin’ Reggie,” Reynard muttered again, digging the toe of his boot into the ground.

“Reginald… hurt you?” Gascon asked cautiously. Usually Reynard was the first to insist that no one speak out against their rulers, past or present.

My vague thoughts were that somehow Reynard ends up dirty talking to Gascon on accident ‘cause he can’t shut up, so Gascon gags him? Aaaaand... idk how the collar comes in, but I like making life difficult for myself, so I wanna try to include all 3 prompts.

(throne3) 10/4 - Overstimulation | Monsters | Temperature Play Warnings for monsterfucking, rough sex, and serious size kink

“Troll want mate!” the massive rock troll declared.

Having been sent out scouting near the base of the mountain, General Reynard Odo found himself regretting having chosen to explore this cave. 

“Reynard,” he said loudly, pressing a hand to his chest, “wants to leave.”

“No leave!” One humongous fist smashed into the ground far too close to Reynard for comfort. “Want find mate!”

“You… want help finding a mate?” Reynard repeated uncertainly. Where the hell was he supposed to find a mate for a troll!?

The troll nodded emphatically with a sound like rocks scrapping together. “Us need mate! ReyRey help find!”

Reynard winced at the atrocious nickname, then frowned. What did the troll mean ‘us’?

As he watched, the rock formations behind the troll materialized into more trolls. A lot more trolls.

“Uh,” he started, “why do you think I can find you a mate?”

“Humie no come here before!” the first troll he’d spoken to said cheerily. “You be special!”

Well. That was encouraging. “Where would I find you a mate?”

“If we knew, we no ask!” Another troll huffed. “Is season! Must mate! But where mate?”

His frown deepened. “So you don’t need a mate as in a life-partner, but more… uh, for one-time use, so to speak?”

The trolls hummed and groaned, looking at each other in confusion. “What humie mean?”

“Uh… I guess that you,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “you need to physically mate with someone. Urgently. Yes?”

“Urgent, urgent, yes!” One troll waved its leg up and down and Reynard’s brow furrowed in confusion. Except then the troll wrapped its hand around the leg and Reynard realized that it wasn’t a leg at all. “Need mate soon!” the troll said, stroking the massive cock that hung between its legs.

“I don’t know where to find you a mate,” Reynard said. “And I have urgent business I must conduct for my queen–”

The first troll he’d talked to cut him off with a low grunt, hands punching into the ground. “Need mate now!”

“ReyRey,” another troll – he really couldn’t tell them apart beyond size, but this one was a little smaller than the others, and troll dicks must have been retractible, because this one didn’t have a huge limb hanging between its legs. But there was the start of something peeking out where the troll’s underbelly met its legs.

Reynard found himself oddly entranced, watching the troll’s cock slowly protrude and grow larger and larger until it was around the length and width of Reynard’s entire forearm. If these things were proportional to the troll’s size, then this was the smallest one.

He swallowed, unsure why his mouth was watering, but he still couldn’t look away and the smaller troll grinned.

“ReyRey want mate?” it offered. 

Choking, Reynard flushed scarlet and shook his head. “I – no! We aren’t – aren’t compatible. You’d break me!”

Why did thinking that send a shiver of interest down his spine. These were trolls! He was absolutely not mating with trolls!

Except when he finally managed to look away from the smaller troll’s cock, his eyes got stuck on the one beside it, their cock slightly bigger than the other troll’s. 

“ReyRey want be broken,” the smaller troll said confidently. “ReyRey get hard like troll!” So saying, the troll reached out and poked Reynard’s pelvis where, to his great shame, his cock was getting hard.

“I–” he fumbled for words. Surely this was not going to happen. It couldn’t happen! What would his men think of him, getting railed by a rock troll!? By several rock trolls!?

It was ridiculous that this question should even be raised! Of course he wasn’t going to let himself get fucked by a bunch of trolls. He couldn’t!

So why did he kind of want to? Why was he thinking about what it would feel like, getting stretched so wide. And deep! These trolls were huge, and that should make him scared, but instead, he was… kind of getting excited.

Gods, what was wrong with him? He was – he was genuinely considering mating with a troll! That was most definitely not normal or in any way appropriate.

But… who would know? He’d only left camp about half an hour ago, so they wouldn’t expect him back for several hours yet. And it wasn’t as if he would ever tell anyone just what he was contemplating doing. So really, who would ever find out? 

And it had been so long since Reynard had last been fucked. He would – he would have to prepare himself thoroughly before even considering taking the trolls, but…

He really actually wanted to do this.

Biting his lip and shifting his weight, Reynard looked around the cavern. “What,” his voice cracked and he coughed, trying again, “what exactly would it mean? To – to be your mate?”

The trolls let out excited hums and rumbles and the smaller troll grinned at him. “ReyRey look good on cock,” it said brightly. “We mate. Means ReyRey takes pearls.”

“Pearls?” his brow furrowed. Was that a euphemism for ejaculate?

“Lil trolls,” the troll nodded, “pearls. ReyRey say yes?”

“I…” Reynard swallowed and for once in his life, let himself do the improper thing. “I’ll need stretching first.”

“Trolls help!” the smaller one said enthusiastically. “ReyRey take off metal shell? No good for mating.”

“Right,” he cleared his throat, and even though part of his mind was screaming in horror, he actually did start to pick at the buckles on his armor. “Uh. We’re gonna need something slick. To – to open me up,” he blushed. 

“We slick ReyRey!” one troll proclaimed loudly and as soon as Reynard’s armor was removed, they grabbed him, manhandling him with an ease that made his heart beat fast. Then, before he really knew what was happening, they bent him in half and something long and wet was prodding at his ass as stone-encrusted fingers held him open.

He yelped in surprise – and then moaned as the troll’s tongue pushed into him with no warning, thrusting deep and wiggling inside him the way nothing ever had before. “Oh, fuck,” he gasped, gripping his own ankles tightly. He hadn’t even realized he could bend down so far, but with the trolls holding him, it was somehow easier than anything to just let himself go and let them have what they wanted of him.

“Me turn!” another troll grumbled and Reynard suddenly found himself empty and moving, until a different tongue thrust deep into him, fucking him rapidly.

He couldn’t help his whine, cock already very interested. And folded in half and angled down like he was, when his cock leaked, it dripped down onto his face in a way that made him feel both embarrassed and horrifically turned on. 

“Oh fuck, please!” he heard himself beg before he’d consciously decided to.

“Good humie,” a troll praised before something larger prodded at his hole next to the tongue rocking into him. “ReyRey take troll like meant for it.”

Reynard shuddered, the praise making his face warm as it flushed red.

Should I tell you where the story is going next? ‘cause it decided to get long, dammit, so who knows when I’ll finish it. So I guess if you don’t wanna know, then spoiler warning Additional warnings for breeding kink, oviposition, extreme oversensitivity, and extremely bad attempts at acting casual

Okay, so this was supposed to be some basic monsterfucking, but instead, romance had to happen lmao. So Reynard gets fucked by troll after troll and he discovers that unlike his assumption, “pearls” was not a euphemism, but literally trolls laying ‘eggs’. Each one gives him about two dozen pearls, so he’s huge and hella sensitive and just kinda losing his mind. But that kinda fucking takes time, which means Meve and Gascon are worrying over where their crush general is. They’re not together yet in this, but I think all three of them kinda recognize that, were the world different, they could have something special together.

Anyway, Meve and Gascon go searching for him and find him in the cave getting fucked by trolls. And they’re about ready to go charging in and cutting off heads of all sorts when Reynard begs for more. So then they’re confused and far too intrigued and they watch Reynard take another twenty pearls and he moans orgasmically and unlike Reynard, Gascon is not known for his self-control. So he darts out and gets his mouth on Reynard’s cock, making Reynard shout. Then Meve comes out and Reynard is freaking the fuck out and the trolls have all kinda frozen (and no, no one is distracted by the way cum drips out of his stretched out hole) and then Meve kneels and pets through Reynard’s sweaty hair and pulls him up to pillow his head in her lap. and Reynard is very confused, but like, weirdly, they seem to not find this as suuuuuper weird as it was and seemed to even like it.

So the trolls all finish with their mate while Meve pets his hair and Gascon explores his rounded belly and his cock. When everything is done, Gascon and Meve work on cleaning Reynard out - which is when they discover that the pearls can’t be ‘laid’ yet. They need to incubate for a couple of days, and obviously they can’t just leave Reynard with the trolls who didn’t realize that that sort of thing should be mentioned beforehand. So they decide they’ll take Reynard back to camp and hide him away for several days, giving the men a chance to take leave in the area. 

Except Reynard’s armor can’t fit him anymore, so Meve covers him in her cape and Gascon carries the armor (he thinks he got the shit end of the deal here) and Reynard attempts to stumble back to camp when he’s filled with like 700 pearls. But he can’t really walk and every movement nudges the pearls inside him and he’s ridiculously sensitive and he would be horrified at being half-carried into camp by his queen while wearing only her cape and stuffed full of fucking troll eggs, but tbh he can’t think much beyond feels so good and oh god, do not come, do not make a noise! Fortunately, Meve and Gascon are more than aware of how much it would bother Reynard, so Gascon creates a distraction while Meve sneaks Reynard into her tent. 

When Reynard realizes he’s in his queen’s bed, he tries to jolt upright - except he really can’t move much and his attempt just sents pleasure sizzling through his veins. So of course Meve, being Meve, decides she wants to see him mindless with pleasure again. So she kisses him and presses against his belly and explores his cock. By the time Gascon arrives, Reynard is already halfway to another orgasm (dry by this point, though he might’ve recovered a bit since the trolls) and Gascon is absolutely delighted to join in. 

So basically, they spend a couple of days making up ridiculous excuses that none of their men believe about why they quite suddenly have leave time on their urgent march to free Lyria and, more importantly, driving Reynard out of his mind. Then, after the pearls have incubated long enough, they bring Reynard back to the cave with the trolls and hold him and soothe him as he ‘lays’ the pearls, shuddering and moaning with every twitch of a muscle.

And then the throne3 talk lmao. They get together properly and give Reynard some much needed aftercare, ‘cause dude took 700 fucking pearls!

(Also, the men definitely go wild with rumors as to what happened and why Meve and Gascon and Reynard remain shut in the queen’s tent. Some of them are even partially right, but I don’t think anyone calls the troll bit lmao)

(rorveth) 10/4 - Overstimulation | Monsters | Temperature Play Warnings: implied desire for a noncon gangbang, but Roche shuts that shit down quick and between Iorveth/Roche, there is enthusiastic consent 

I actually started this one for the Rare Pair Bingo, but I still haven’t finished it 😭 But it works pretty well with the prompts. Also, inspired by this art. 

I cannot find the article/study, so it’s probably bullshit, BUT the ongoing joke that I will use to death is “arousal smells like candied watermelon”

When Vernon Roche was a child, his mother used to tell him tales of the majestic creatures of the ocean. Gain one’s favour, it was said, and they would do anything for you.

Of course, then Roche actually went to sea and it turned out, the only creatures around were fish or monsters, not the fabled legends his mother had spoken of.

Or so he thought. After all, everyone knew that monsters were mindless, driven purely by instinct like any beast. Right?

Roche had always thought sirens were just another category of beast, but now… now he was starting to wonder. Because the creature they’d accidentally caught in their net was anything but a beast.

It looked like one – its skin was green and blue, and luminescent in a way that was wholly unnatural. Its torso was shaped like a man, but large bat-like wings protruded from its back and instead of legs, its bottom half had fins to swim through the ocean. But its face…

The skin may have been a lovely blue-green and its eyes were unlike any human’s Roche had ever seen, but they looked at him with intelligence, hatred and fury exuding from the creature’s snarl like they would from any other man’s.

It was… actually kind of beautiful, except for the part where it might try to slaughter his men and his crew. It squirmed, trying to free itself from the net before they could haul it onto the deck, but its fins and wings were tangled in the rope and there was no way it could break free.

“Heave!” he ordered his crew and with one last back-breaking haul, the creature sprawled onto the deck of the ship, net wrapped around it as effective as any trap. 

There was a moment of relative silence as the crew stared at the creature and the creature snarled back at them. Then Thirteen, the lookout who’d spotted something worth throwing their nets out for, stepped closer and the creature lashed out, long talons on the end of its fingers shining in the sun.

“Whoa,” Thirteen reeled back. “Jeez, was just trying to help. Can it talk, you think?”

“It,” the creature growled, voice reverberating oddly across the deck, “is right here and if you do not free me, I will kill each and every one of you.”

Roche and his crew frowned down at the creature and it glared right back.

“What even are you?” Roche eventually asked when their stare off was getting them nowhere and some of the men had started shifting uncomfortably.

It scoffed, “I’m a siren. Obviously. What kind of sailor doesn’t recognize a siren!?”

The creature squirmed around to face him, its finned pelvis pressing against the wooden planks in a way that was suddenly drawing Roche’s attention. It was almost as if… did he smell something sweet? Like candied fruit, almost, and he took a deeper breath, inhaling the scent. Yeah, it was definitely like candied fruit. And it appeared to be coming from the self-proclaimed siren.

Weren’t sirens the legendary creatures that could ensorcel men and send them to their deaths?

“Stop that,” Roche snapped and the creature blinked up at him in surprise. 

Around them, Roche’s crew was growing restless, clearly smelling the same delicious scent that he was – and wanting more of it.

“Whatever you’re exuding, stop,” Roche ordered. “Seriously, unless you want this to end with a whole lotta humans vying for one siren, you need to stop.”

The siren ground sharp teeth together, lips pulled back in a snarl. “I can’t,” it grunted and Roche blinked.

“Why the hell not?”

The siren shot him a look, but it was quickly distracted by assessing the crew around them. Several of the men had bulges in the fronts of their trousers and Roche could admit, he was feeling oddly horny, but it was nothing he couldn’t control.

The same, apparently, could not be said of his sailors, because one man – Roche totally hadn’t forgotten his name, but if he had, it would be totally understandable, as the man had only been with them for 3 weeks so far – stepped forward, towards the creature, who snarled and growled and bared its teeth and raised its claws, but who was also, Roche noticed, unable to move terribly much, not with the net tangled around its wings and fins and it not having legs.

“Cap’n,” the new guy said, “I’ve – I’ve heard that hauls like this sometimes get shared with the crew. Could we–?”

Roche saw the creature freeze at the question and something sour built in his chest.

“No,” he snapped. “Get back to work!”

“But what about–?” Thirteen asked, now keeping his distance from the siren.

“I’ll take care of it,” Roche decided. If it was doing something to make his crew horny and it couldn’t stop, then Roche needed it to not be out in the open, distracting his crew and making them far too likely to do something unforgivable.

There were a few huffs and laughs. “Enjoy, Boss,” Fenn muttered, returning to swabbing the deck. The others dispersed shortly thereafter, though they were definitely still distracted, glancing over at the creature.

“Can we–” the new guy started, “can we watch?”

Roche blinked. “Watch… what? Just – get back to work,” he shook his head, pulling his knife and beginning to cut through one of their best nets. It was snarled beyond repair, so they would need to weave a new one anyway.

The siren growled at him as he approached, but he felt oddly entirely unafraid. This creature was dangerous, certainly, but the way it was posturing hid the way that it was entirely helpless. As long as Roche was actually helping, he was pretty sure the creature wouldn’t attack him.

“What, you want to stay tangled?” he asked rhetorically, trying to lighten the mood. 

The siren narrowed its eyes, watching him come closer and closer to the knots around the siren’s left wing.

“What do you want?” the siren demanded.

“Well, let’s start with keeping you from distracting the crew from their duties,” he let his voice carry across the deck and more than a few people looked away guiltily. “Uh, I guess you don’t exactly have a lot of options to walk. Can I – uh – carry you? Just into the captain’s cabin where we can talk and whatever it is you’re doing that makes everyone,” he waved his hands in demonstration, trying to say ‘really fucking horny’ without saying it, “if you can’t turn it off, then let’s start with getting you away from the crew, huh?”

The siren frowned at him, head tilted to the side. But when he motioned to pick the creature up, it nodded, though very clearly reluctantly.

Roche lifted the siren with one hand under its lower body fin and one around its back below the wings. As he rose, most of the netting that hand tangled around the siren fell away, but not quite all of it. He’d have to take care of that, but first–

“Back to work!” he ordered and more than half of the crew jumped, looking away quickly and pretending to be busy.

He shook his head, carrying the siren into the captain’s quarters and setting it on the bed. Then he withdrew, very deliberately stepping away, even though that smell was incredible and made him want to–

Well, it didn’t matter what he wanted, because he was not going to let his ship become the kind of place where ‘hauls got passed around’.

“So, uh… do you have a name?” he asked belatedly. It was probably kind of offensive to keep calling it ‘it’ in his head. 

The siren stared at him for a long minute, then its head dipped in a nod. “I am called Iorveth.”

“Vernon Roche,” he introduced himself. “I’m the captain of this ship. Um. No offense, but I’ve sailed these waters for decades and I’ve never caught anything like – well, like you before. How did you end up caught in our net?”

The creature – Iorveth – huffed in irritation. “I was distracted,” it – he – said. “I’m – the reason I can’t make it stop,” Iorveth hesitated, looking at Roche and biting his lower lip.

“What?”

“I’m – um, I don’t think humans deal with this, but I’m – I’m in heat,” the siren’s cheeks flushed green as Roche watched and he found himself oddly fascinated.

“Uh… okay. So… how does that lead to getting caught in a net? Shouldn’t you be – I dunno, enticing lovers to, uh… deal with it?”

“I was… avoiding potential ‘lovers’ when your net tangled with my wings,” Iorveth admitted, still looking at him with eyes that blazed. 

“Oh,” Roche blinked. “Well, that’s unfortunate. Uh… should I just like… let you go find someone to – uh, to mate with or whatever?”

“You would let me leave?” Iorveth asked, surprise clear in his voice and on his face.

“I… yes? Why? What am I supposed to do with a siren?”

Iorveth tilted his head again, frowning at Roche. “Your crew had an idea about that.”

Roche blanched. “That would be entirely inappropriate!”

The corner of Iorveth’s lips ticked up. “I’ve heard tales of other sirens caught by humans. Many would disagree with you.”

“Well, fuck them,” Roche growled, suddenly infuriated. “My ship is not somewhere things like that are acceptable!”

“Hmm,” Iorveth hummed. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course!” It was possible a hint of offense leaked into his tone, but really. “You’re clearly an intelligent creature. Your refusal should be respected, no matter by what species.”

Iorveth’s smile grew. “What makes you think I’ve refused?”

Roche blinked at him, taken entirely off guard. “What?”

“Well, technically, you haven’t made an offer for me to refuse. But are you so sure that’s what I’d say?”

“I… yes?”

Iorveth licked his lips, leaning back on the bed and running his hands down his body until he reached an area just below where his hips would be if he were a human. The scales were darker there and it took Roche a moment to realize that that was because there was an opening there. A wet opening.

Mouth suddenly watering, Roche licked his lips, wondering what Iorveth would taste like. But he didn’t move, even as Iorveth dipped the tips of his own fingers into the slit. Then Iorveth hooked both pointer fingers inside the slit and pulled it open, making Roche gasp as the dark cavern inside was exposed to view.

“Don’t you want me?” Iorveth asked softly, smirk confident and coy. “Don’t you want to fuck me?”

“I…” Roche swallowed hard, staring at that slit. “Why… you’re asking me to mate with you?”

“I’m asking you to fill me and fuck me through my heat,” Iorveth murmured, removing one hand and bringing it to his lips.

When Iorveth’s tongue flicked out to lick his finger, Roche couldn’t help the punched out moan that escaped him.

“Why?”

Iorveth smiled. “Because you let it be my choice.”

“That’s just basic decency!” Roche argued, but he did take a step closer. Then another. “You’re sure you want–?”

“I’ve never had a human before,” Iorveth said, half-lidded gaze locked with his. “Don’t you want to play with the prize you’ve captured?”

Roche gulped. “I – you – is that what you want? To be – to be treated like stolen treasure?”

Iorveth’s eyes lit up. “Yes,” the siren breathed, “steal me. Take me.”

Stepping up to the edge of the bed, Roche looked Iorveth over for any sign that this wasn’t truly what he wanted. 

Iorveth rewarded his scrutiny by dipping his fingers into that slit again, then holding them out. “Have a taste,” Iorveth invited and Roche was lost, leaning forward to wrap his mouth around those fingers, tongue eager to taste everything he could.

He moaned as Iorveth’s flavor spread across his tongue. If he’d thought about it, he might have expected Iorveth to taste briney from the sea. But instead, his tastebuds quivered with delight because Iorveth was slightly salty and slightly sweet and slightly something else altogether on his tongue and he immediately wanted more.

“You’re sure?” he asked one last time, missing Iorveth’s cool fingers as soon as they moved away.

Iorveth smiled, touching his face lightly. “Fuck me, Vernon Roche.”

Roche couldn’t help his moan, but while Iorveth probably expected Roche to pull out his cock and go for it, there was something Roche needed first. 

He licked his lips, crawling up the bed until he was hovering over Iorveth’s lower body. Then he leaned forward and swiped his tongue along that wet opening, enjoying the way Iorveth gasped sharply.

He moaned again, tongue delving into that opening like he was a starving man and Iorveth was a royal buffet. Iorveth’s taste and scent overwhelmed him and Iorveth knocked off his hat, tangling fingers in his hair and pulling him closer.

After a while of that, Iorveth’s muscles started twitching, close to the edge, and Roche thrust his tongue as deep as it could go.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Iorveth began to swear, slipping into another language as his hips rocked up into Roche’s face. Roche devoured him, licking and sucking and generally dedicating himself to thoroughly exploring Iorveth’s opening.

“Gods, your cunt is delicious,” Roche groaned, lips moving across the slit in Iorveth’s scales.

“It’s not a cunt,” Iorveth said. “It’s a – it’s – oh fuck,” Iorveth gasped, body arching and twitching as Roche’s face was soaked. 

Roche did not stop the attention he was paying to Iorveth’s not-cunt, continuing to lick and suck and devour Iorveth.

Iorveth clung to his head, hands clutching desperately at his hair as the siren’s hips continued to buck and overstimulated whimpers filled the air.

Still, Roche did not stop and Iorveth cried out in that other language as he came for a second time, far too close to the first to not be painful.

And again, Roche did not stop.

Iorveth’s crying was agonized, but his hands were still tangled in Roche’s hair, holding Roche against him.

“How many more can you give me?” Roche asked, lips moving against Iorveth’s slit.

“Nnnh,” Iorveth arched, “f-fuck me, dammit!”

Roche smirked, lips curling up against Iorveth’s scales. “Is that not what I’m doing?”

Iorveth let out a strangled sound, fingers tightening in Roche’s hair.

“Unnh,” Iorveth gasped desperately. “Your cock! Fuck me with your cock, gods dammit, or I’ll–”

Roche pulled away, still smirking, and the noise Iorveth made was unhinged. 

“Vernon,” Iorveth growled, and Roche just grinned, kneeling up and unbuckling his belt. He stripped his shirt off with minimal ceremony, then reached for the waistband of his trousers, which were mostly being held up by the very hard cock inside them.

Iorveth licked his lips, a quick flash of tongue, and Roche swallowed hard, debating if getting his boots off was worth moving away from Iorveth.

Meeting his gaze squarely, Iorveth sent him a hot look. “Fuck me, Vernon.”

Roche moaned, deciding that nothing mattered except giving Iorveth his cock, even if that meant his trousers tangled around his boots. He gripped the base of his cock, teasing it around Iorveth’s slit until the siren snarled again.

“Vernon!”

Tilting his head, Roche smiled. “I think you can ask nicely, can’t you?”

Iorveth’s glare was impressive, but when your second glared at men as if they should apologize for existing, you became rather impervious to such intimidation tactics.

Plus, Iorveth wasn’t as scary as Ves. Nothing was as scary as Ves.

“Gods just – fuck me!”

Clicking his tongue, Roche ignored his own urgent need. “That wasn’t very nice now was it?”

Obviously this is just an excuse to explore nonhuman genitalia lmao, but my vague plan was that Iorveth begs, Roche finally fucks him, and fucks him through like 3 more orgasms and he’s crying and hoarse from screaming, but he needs Roche to come in him and Roche has been holding off to give him so much pleasure and he wants to make Roche feel good too.

Then they pass out from too much sex lmao

[backtothestart02]

Remember That Night - 3/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: Another chap! I hope you enjoy!

...

Chapter 3 - After One Month

Iris sat in class, gazing out the window, daydreaming about nothing at all, and not hearing her name being called apparently. A rough nudge to her right brought her back to the present, and she saw it was Linda that had nudged her. She looked worried. So did the rest of the class. Their professor, however, just looked annoyed.

“Are you with us, Ms. West?”

“I, uh…” She cleared her throat. “Guess I drifted off.”

The professor sighed deeply.

“Yes, I can see that.” He shifted his gaze to Linda. “Ms. Park, maybe you could enlighten us with a riveting answer?”

Iris didn’t know if the answer was riveting or not. She turned her head out the window again and lost herself in the buzz of the city until she felt Linda nudge her arm again, more gently this time, to inform her class was over.

“Ms. West, if I could speak with you before you leave.”

Iris froze and looked to their professor, then to Linda.

“I’ll wait for you in the hall,” Linda mumbled, and left her side.

Their professor waited until everyone had exited, asking the last student to shut the door on his way out, which he did. The silence was deafening.

“Ms. West, do you know why I asked you to stay after class?”

“I have an idea,” she managed, shifting her books higher in her arms.

“Then why don’t you enlighten me.”

She restrained what would’ve been a long drawn-out sigh that would’ve no doubt gotten her in even deeper trouble.

“I wasn’t paying attention in class.”

“Not just today, Iris. But every day since classes started two weeks ago.”

She winced.

“We have our first test coming up next week, and honestly, I don’t know how you see yourself passing it.”

She swallowed.

“Would you like to tell me what’s going on? Your records state that you’re a straight A student. One does not get straight A’s by daydreaming in class.”

“I…”

She debated telling him about Barry, about the break-up, and how it had her so shook up that a month later she was still finding it hard to focus on anything but how her stomach was still twisting inside, her heart still crushed into pieces, her love for him still so strong that she knew she’d take him back in an instant if he were to show up in her life today.

But this professor wouldn’t understand. He would roll his eyes and advise her not to get into relationships that could distract from schoolwork and ruin her academic reputation.

So she opted for something more vague.

“I had a rough end to the summer, Professor. It’s made it difficult to focus on much else. I apologize and will try to do better.”

He eyed her with the suspiciousness of a hawk but did not ask for details.

“You better, Ms. West. Because if I don’t see you starting to pay attention by our next class period, and if you don’t get an A on our first test, I’m going to seriously consider you drop from my class until next semester.”

Her jaw dropped.

“It’s only been two weeks!”

“And you’ll be refunded in full for this class if you drop out by the end of next week. I know the rule is one week in, but I’m willing to make an exception. I’ll even speak to the admissions office on your behalf.”

She didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.

“Your other teachers may be okay with your lack of participation and effort, but I am not. Good day, Ms. West.”

She stood staring at him, as he started to gather his things.

“I trust you know where the door is?”

She swallowed, nodded slightly, and somehow managed to pick her feet up off the floor to make her way out of the room. She closed the door softly behind her, but it somehow sounded so loud and final, like the death of her education was near at hand. And it was all her fault.

“Iris,” Linda whispered from across the hall.

Iris looked up and forced herself to pay attention to her best friend who had waited for her during her summons. Her brows furrowed as she walked over to her.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” she said.

Linda huffed. “As if I’d leave you alone after that monster had eaten you whole.”

She looped her arm through Iris’ and tugged her down the hall till she came easily and they were walking in sync.

“What did he say?” she asked.

Iris finally let her long, loud sigh out.

“Oh, just that if I don’t start paying attention in class and get an A on our first test next week, that I should strongly consider dropping out of his class.”

“No.”

“Mhmm.” Iris rolled her eyes and added, “He even said he’d talk to admissions and make sure I got a full refund on my tuition for the class.”

“How generous,” Linda muttered.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“So, what are you going to do?” she asked.

Iris shrugged. “Find a way to pay attention in class, I guess.”

“You will,” Linda said. “And I’ll help you study for the test. We’ll get you back to your usual self in no time.”

“I’m not so sure about that…” Iris trailed off.

Linda didn’t have to ask why. She knew it was about Barry. Iris had told her every delicious, heartbreaking detail about her whirlwind romance with the cowboy that had stolen her heart. She had no problem believing that this was the first time her best friend had been in love with the sullen way she’d been acting ever since she got back. She’d hoped that school would be a distraction for her, a way to focus on something other than her lack of a love life. Apparently that had been the wrong approach. Iris West needed something a little more…direct.

“How about we go out tonight?” Linda suggested. “Get some drinks, flirt with some boys, sing some karaoke…”

“I don’t know, Lin…”

“Why not?” she pressed. “I’ve still got those fake IDs for us made if you want to get drunk. I know you keep turning them down, but-”

“My dad is literally a cop.”

“And your dad is also literally two states away.”

Iris frowned, as if that knowledge made it worse.

“I just want you to let loose, Iris. Forget about…him for one night and just have fun. I miss seeing you having fun. And maybe, maybe, one of the guys you flirt with will be interested in more than just a little flirting.” She winked.

“I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl, Linda. You know that.”

“Iris West might not be, but…” She flipped out the fake IDs she’d been referring to. “Is Sasha Malone?” Her eyes twinkled.

“Sasha Malone?” she sputtered. “That’s-”

“Your alter ego from your dreams, I know. I thought I’d add a little spice to our aliases.”

“Oh, God, Linda, I can’t believe y-”

“And I,” she continued, unthwarted, “will be Lindsey Spic.”

Iris raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “Spic?”

“Well, it was going to be Spice, but then I thought people probably don’t have that as a last name. It’s too obvious for a fake ID.”

Iris snorted. “You think?”

“Just promise me you’ll come?”

“Linda, I don’t know…”

“We have no more classes today. We can go shopping for sexy dresses, grab some dinner, and then head over to the bar.”

“What if I don’t want to flirt with any boys? Let alone do karaoke?”

Linda smirked slowly. “Trust me, the boys will come to you.”

“And the karaoke?”

“Iris West may not be into singing, buzzed, in front of a live audience, but-”

“Sasha Malone is?” Iris added dryly.

Linda showed her pearly whites, and Iris actually laughed.

“You’re impossible.”

Linda hugged her side.

“That’s why you love me.”

…

An hour into hitting the bar, Lindsey Spic was having the time of her life dancing to one extremely horrible singer amidst the tables by the karaoke stage. Sasha Malone was still staring into her first glass of alcohol that Lindsey had insisted on ordering for her. She had yet to take a sip. It smelled abhorrent.

Lindsey had been right about one thing however. The boys were drawn to her like moths to a flame. She supposed she did look pretty hot tonight. She’d always looked hot, especially when she dressed herself up, and Lindsey had insisted on paying for everything when they went shopping earlier. This was the first time in a long time though that Sasha didn’t feel hot.

Maybe because Sasha wasn’t really Sasha. She was still Iris.

“Woo!” Lindsey sang out, stumbling over to Iris at the bar and miraculously landing on the first stool she tried. “That was some song, wasn’t it?”

“Mmm,” Iris obliged.

Lindsey looked at the untouched drink and frowned, coming across remarkably sober at the sight of it.

“Why haven’t you touched your drink yet, Sasha?”

Iris glanced at it again, felt no yearning to touch it and leaned toward Lindsey before saying under her breath, “Maybe because I’m 19, Lindsey.”

Lindsey clapped her hand over Iris’ mouth.

“Shh! Not so loud!” she whisper-shouted.

Iris pulled her hand away.

“You’re the one being loud,” she informed her, still talking quietly.

Lindsey pulled back. “Oops.”

Iris shook her head. “It smells gross too. I don’t know what you were thinking.”

She shrugged. “I drank mine.”

Iris snorted. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“Sasha.”

Iris turned her head despite herself and found a new drink sitting in front of it. This one looked fruity and half-appetizing with a cherry popped in the middle.

“From the guy at the end of the bar.”

Ugh. Not another one.

But Iris looked anyway and found herself staring at a handsome-looking blonde. Her usual type before Barry. She didn’t feel the attraction towards him she was hoping to, but for some reason his smooth smile and wink didn’t bother her as much as it had with the other boys at the bar. Maybe because this one looked more like a man.

Then she noticed his badge.

“You’re a cop?”

Startled and then embarrassed, the man took off his badge and stuck it in his pocket.

“I’m off-duty.” He held out his hand for her to shake.

“That’s a strange name. I’m leaving.”

“Nooo, whyyy?” Lindsey complained behind her.

Off-duty stood up just as she started to.

“So soon? The night’s barely begun.”

“This one is my plus one.” She pointed with her thumb behind her. “She needs to get to bed.”

“I do not! I am not sleepy!”

Iris looked over her shoulder.

“You will be. Trust me.”

“It was nice meeting you, Off-duty. And thanks for the drink, but I think I’m going to pass on everything but the cherry.”

“You can go ahead and drink it,” he said. “It’s non-alcoholic.”

She froze, worried more for Lindsey than herself.

“It was nice meeting you too, Leaving.”

She couldn’t bring herself to banter back, so she looped her arm through Linda’s and pulled her out of the bar, thoroughly rattled.

“Why are we leaving?” she demanded.

“Because that cop hitting on me could’ve ratted you out.”

Linda frowned. “So why didn’t he?”

Iris frowned too. “I don’t know.”

...

*will be posted on AO3 and FFnet when beta’d.

[litniche]

Love Will Find a Way

Ch. 9

on ao3

  CW: characters use a shotgun in sports shooting

First three lines by   @hauntingincorrect  on Tumblr

 “I have an idea.”  

  “A good one?  

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”  

 That’s how the day had started - Owen telling her he had an idea and before she knew it, Dani and Jamie were climbing into a rented van along with the rest of the gang. Hannah sat next to Owen, avoiding the stick shift every time Owen had to change gears. Owen made it all the more difficult, never failing to ‘accidentally’ let his hand land on Hannah’s knee rather than the knob of the gearshift. Jamie found it almost surreal to know that Hannah was ticklish, but as the normally graceful woman jerked and flailed every time, she found herself grinning and shaking her head at the pair.

 Rebecca sat next to Hannah in the front, rolling her eyes at Owen and Hannah conspiratorially with anyone who met her gaze. She was a good sport, though, even when Hannah’s attempts to escape Owen’s tickling meant the woman was half on her lap at times. Jamie was glad she could join them. She needed the break from Henry's London office, having been kept so busy since Henry had decided to take a bit of a step back.

 In the middle row sat Flora, Miles, and Henry. The little girl was bouncing far more than the country roads warranted. Miles and she pressed their faces to the window as the French countryside rolled by. One would think, growing up in rural England, that the sight of an odd cow here and there would not raise a fuss, but apparently the novelty of French cows was enough to afford rapt attention. Jamie, for her part, wondered briefly if French cows went ‘moo’.

 In the very back sat she and Dani. The au pair was almost as bad as the children. Her energy was electric as her eyes roamed the hills and plains they passed. When they came upon a road travelling alongside a small lake, Jamie could swear Dani's eyes became heart shaped. She brought their hands, laced together, to her lips to kiss Dani’s knuckles gently as she gave a faint and fond chuckle.

 “We’re here!” Owen called at last. He parked near a small cottage overlooking the lake and at the foot of a vineyard.

 Dani looked at Jamie with a question mark written all over her face.

 “Don’t look at me, Poppins.”

 As soon as Henry opened the sliding door of the van, the children bolted for the vineyard, running through its rows with peels of laughter and ‘catch me if you cans’. Henry muttered something about getting too old for this before jogging after them. The rest of the crew followed after them.

 “After you,” Jamie said to the au pair with an ornery smile.

 “You’re kind of in my way,” Dani grinned at her, and she was right. She’d have a rough time exiting the van without Jamie’s cooperation.

 “Guess you’ll have to get creative, then.”

 Dani, as was her habit, gave Jamie a look that never ceased to make the gardener marvel at how they ever stepped foot out of a bedroom. “Creative?” she asked, letting her fingers draw a light trail up the inside of Jamie’s thigh.

 Jamie slammed her thighs shut to block her path. “Christ, Dani,” she whispered, thankful there was no one else in the van any longer.

 “Hmm,” Dani hummed. “Not creative enough?”

 The au pair’s next strategy seemed to be taking the lobe of Jamie’s ear between her teeth. Her fingers travelled further north and slid between Jamie’s shut thighs. “Am I getting closer?”

 The gardener let out an exhale in the form of a laugh. “Might be.”

 “Oi!” they heard along with a sudden knock on the tinted windows. “You lot better be keeping it PG in there!” Rebecca’s voice teased.

 Dani pulled away, clearing her throat. “Excuse me,” she said before she proceeded to crawl over Jamie toward the van’s door, presenting her rear directly in front of Jamie's face.

 “Right,” Jamie said, clearing her throat, “We’re coming!”

 ***

 “Un! Deux! Trois!”

     BANG!  

     ...CRASH!  

 “Un! Deux! Trois!”

     BANG!  

     ...CRASH!  

 “Whooo! Nice one!” Jamie whooped, swinging her arm in the air to cheer Dani on.

 Dani grinned at having hit every single one of her clay pigeons as she readied the shotgun for another.

 “She’s American. She has an unfair advantage,” Owen smirked behind her as Jamie stuck out her tongue at him before conceding a laugh.

 “Shall we make it interesting?” Rebecca said, wiggling her brows. “Well done, Dani!” she called when Dani hit another.

 “What’d you have in mind?”

 “Très bien, Madamoiselle,” their guide said to Dani as he took the gun.

 “Merci,” she replied. She left Owen and Rebecca to arrange their wager as she made her way for Jamie.

 Jamie encircled her arms around the au pair’s waist. “And here I thought you were frightening with just a fire poker, Poppins.”

 Dani leaned into her fiancée, resting her arms over Jamie’s shoulders. “They didn’t call me Annie Oakley when I was growing up for nothing,” she commented as she leaned forward for a kiss.

 “Oi, James!” Owen called.

 “Yeah, mate?” Jamie quirked a brow in his direction as she turned both her and Dani, apparently refusing to part from their embrace.

 “I just realized…” he said, his grin spreading slowly.

 “Oh no. I know that look.” Dani said softly, brows coming together in a mock-serious expression.

 Jamie’s eyes narrowed at the chef. “What is it, then? Spit it out.”

 “You’re having a shotgun wedding after all.”

 Dani’s jaw dropped at the audacity.

 Jamie hung her head. "Asked for it, didn't I?"

 ****

 An afternoon stroll along the lake’s beach, a rather decadent meal (with perfectly splendid tea for the kids and far too much wine for the adults) later, the brides and their friends were enjoying further libations in the living area of the small cottage.

 Hannah called out “Who makes the better breakfast?”

 Dani lifted her own shoe and heard chuckles from their friends gathered around them. The rules of the game they were playing was simple: when Hannah asked a question, Dani could choose between raising her own shoe to indicate herself or Jamie’s which represented her fiancée. Being back to back, the brides couldn't see each other's answers which was half the fun.

 “My cooking is shite; I’ll admit it,” Jamie said grudgingly, apparently holding Dani's shoe in the air, too.

 Dani smirked, sharing a knowing glance with Owen.

 “Who takes up more than their share of the bed?”

 Dani raised her own shoe again, feeling herself blush a little. She tended to sprawl all over the bed, her limbs spread out across Jamie and pillows alike. “Guilty,” she said, knowing which shoe Jamie was holding up without looking.

 “Damn right, you are, Poppins,” Jamie said behind her, making Rebecca giggle.

 “Who has better hair?” Hannah asked.

 “Awwwwww,” their friends collectively cooed at them. Dani had held up Jamie’s shoe and based on everyone's reaction, Jamie had held Dani’s up. She smiled softly, feeling her cheeks go pink.

 “Who talks the most?” Hannah asked next.

 “Really?” Rebecca bent over in laughter. “Jamie, you had me believing you’re the quiet sort!”

 “I talk!” Jamie said defensively.

 “She’s right. Get her on a midnight stroll and she’ll deliver a full monologue,” Dani called out.

 “Who said ‘I love you’ first?” Hannah asked, interrupting their light laughter.

 Dani felt butterflies in her stomach at the memory as she lifted Jamie’s shoe into the air.

     Jamie placed a single moonflower in a vase on her desk in the teaching room at Bly. Flora and Miles had long gone to bed, and Jamie had stayed late while Dani worked on the following week’s lesson plans.  

     “I’m actually pretty in love with you, it turns out,” Jamie said, and it had taken every modicum of self control Dani possessed to take Jamie’s hand and lead her to her bedroom rather than having her way with the gardener right there in the classroom.  

 Owen pretended to sniffle. “Jamie, I had no idea we were so alike. Romantics, you and I,” he said.

 Hannah chuckled. “I could have told you that, but I wonder about this next one: who initiated the first kiss?”

 Dani’s cheeks warmed at the memory of the greenhouse on Bonfire Night last November. She held up her own shoe as it played in her mind.

     Jamie was saying something about understanding. It was that understanding that made Dani do it. All her life she’d been looking for this - looking for someone who quite simply understood her. She surged forward, tired of not acting on something she’d been feeling since the moment she’d seen Jamie. To her great relief, Jamie’s understanding was in her kiss as well. She deepened it, bringing them closer together, making it harder for them both to breathe, but giving Dani much needed reassurance that she wasn’t the only one crazy about the person sitting beside her. Briefly, the gardener pulled away and asked if she was sure. And Dani was. She was more sure of this than anything she ever had been. She nodded and Jamie’s whispered ‘thank fuck’ was enough to ruin her for anyone else ever again.  

 ***

 Jamie stumbled along, held up by an arm slung over Owen’s shoulder. Dani was miraculously managing her own way despite the vast number of glasses of wine she’d imbibed. Owen gracelessly dumped Jamie onto their bed in the small cottage.

 The gardener gave a small groan in protest and swatted Owen’s hand away when he started unlacing her shoes. “Mmm not th’bad, mate.”

 “Sure, sure,” Owen chuckled as he wavered backward, not altogether sober himself.

 Dani sat down at the foot of the bed. “It’s, um, it’s fine. I’ve got her.”

 Hannah gave Dani a look that communicated quite effectively that Dani’s words gave little reassurance. “Get yourself sorted and I’ll help Jamie. Owen, I’ll be downstairs in a tick.”

 Owen saluted upon his exit, making Jamie giggle.

 The next few moments were a blur of shoes being tossed to the floor and clothes exchanged for pajamas. A more sober version of Dani might have been shy that Hannah was in the room, bearing witness to it all, but something in her told her there was no reason to be.

 Hannah made them both drink a glass of water each before kissing both of them on their cheeks. “Goodnight, my dears. Did you have a good time?”

 “Best hen do a girl could ask for,” Jamie said with a sleepy smile. “Thanks, Mum.”

 Hannah tsked as Dani giggled. “No really,” Dani said, taking the woman’s hand in her own. “Thank you.”

 “We all pitched in. You two mean the world to us, you know.”

 Dani felt a warm glow envelop her heart and her eyes threatened to spill tears. “You mean everything to us, too, Hannah. Love you.”

 “Love you, too,” Hannah smiled and rose. “Get some rest,” she said before closing the door.

 Jamie immediately rolled half on top of Dani. “'Member earlier? We could get creative tonight,” she giggled in Dani’s ear.

 Dani felt herself smile, though her eyes were closed as she hummed softly, barely awake. She tugged on Jamie’s arm currently slung across her middle in an attempt to somehow bring her impossibly closer. She nodded and her hands began to roam, muscle memory taking over, but their roaming slowed as she began to drift.

 “Shit, Poppins, you’re about to pass out.”

 “Hmm?” Dani asked, jolted back to awareness. She opened her eyes and raised her chin to peer at Jamie. “No, no. I’m here.”

 Jamie chortled. “It’s all right.”  She kissed Dani’s sternum before laying her head there. “‘M tired, too. ‘Night, Poppins.”

 “‘Night, Jamie.”

 A beat passed before Dani was jolted awake by Jamie's voice once again. "Poppins?"

 "Hmm? What is it?"

 "Marry me?"

 "Asked you that already."

 "Just making sure."

 "Go to bed."

 "Not the boss o'me."

 "Goodnight, Jay."

 "Goodnight, Poppins."

  Notes:        

Thanks again for reading! I just didn't figure these two for a what might be considered a 'typical' bachelorette party. P.S. Every time you leave kudos or comment, Dani lays a gentle hand on Jamie's shoulder as she sleeps. So... XD

[razzle-zazzle]

1879 Words; Sad Jay Noises

“Kai, please.” Zane held his hands out as nonthreateningly as possible. “Put the bottle down.”

Kai swayed where he stood, blood still dripping from his nose and lip. “Fffuck offf.” He slurred, bottle still in hand.

Zane loved his brother, really. And truly, it hurt to see him like this—drunk, beaten, hurting—but Zane was pissed. He was so done with Kai’s self-destructive tendencies. In what way was this okay? In what realm was it okay for Kai to tear himself apart like this? Even worse, how long had Kai been doing this? How long had he been going out, getting drunk, getting into fights?

How long did I allow this to go on?

“Kai.” Zane was not messing around now. “Put the bottle down.” He took a step forwards. Kai tensed reflexively. “Now.”

Kai huffed. “You want me to put it down? FINE!” He lifted the bottle, chugging what was left in it, before tossing it to the ground. “Tasted shitty anyways.” He muttered, stumbling forwards.

I’m going to strangle him when he’s sober. Zane took a step forwards, moving to perhaps support his brother, but Kai, in all of his drunken wisdom, slapped him away.

“Don’ touch me.”

Zane pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration mounting. “Kai, I’m trying to help.”

Kai stumbled backwards, glass from the bottle crunching under his foot. “Well I don’ wan it.” He snarled, venom in his words.

Zane glared. “What is wrong with you?” How the hell did Kai even develop this self-destructive streak, when he’d grown up having a little sister to take care of? Had Nya had to deal with this—this absolute wreck? Or had these tendencies developed after Kai joined the group, in the aftermath of Zane’s death? Zane wasn’t sure which thought was worse, and now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. Somebody had to put a stop to this.

“What isn’t wron wim’me?” Kai hissed bitterly. He backed away from Zane until he was pressed up against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting.

Zane stared, unimpressed. “Kai, get up.”

“No.”

“Kai.”

“Make me.”

Now, Zane would admit to being very frustrated here. But, in all fairness, Kai wasn’t the only one having a terrible night. So maybe Zane shouldn’t have been so harsh, but Kai had no right to be throwing his little pity party, either. Everyone was hurting. And if Kai could just grow up and realize that, even if for only a moment, then Zane wouldn’t be out at who-knows-when cleaning up after him. Wouldn’t be dealing with Kai’s self-destructive bullshit.

So Zane decided to heck with the gentle route, roughly lifting Kai over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Kai’s shrill protests fell on deaf ears as Zane carried his brother out of the alley, down the street, past shops and offices until they were at the Bounty.

With more care than he felt like using, Zane set Kai down on his bed, pushing him back down when Kai tried to sit up.

“Listen here, you piece of shit,” Zane began, noting how Kai stiffened at the swear, “I am not in the mood to deal with any more of your self-destructive tendencies tonight. So you are going to stay here and get some masterforsaken rest, and if you so much as try to cause any more problems for me then I will tie you to the bed.” Zane stared Kai dead in the eyes, praying his brother would take his bluff seriously.

Miraculously, somehow, Kai’s ability for rational thought broke through the alcohol-induced haze, and he relaxed into the bed, looking ready to pass out. Not one to do things halfway, Zane sat at the edge of the bed, ready to attend to any further problems that cropped up throughout the night.

“Oh, and Kai?”

Kai stared blearily back at Zane. “Ye?”

“We’re going to be discussing this when you’re sober again.”

“Suuure…” Kai trailed off, clearly not processing Zane’s words. That was fine. He needed his rest.

+=+=+=+=+

Awareness came to Kai slowly, in bits and pieces. The first thing to register was the pounding headache—holy shit, it felt like his skull had been split; definitely a hangover—and how much his body ached, likely from whatever dumbass shit he’d done last night. The second thing to register was the soft light filtering into his room—how did he end up in his room? The last thing Kai remembered was that fight in the alley—light which was far too bright.

The third thing, predictably, was the thirst. Kai didn’t want to move, but he needed water and he knew it. He’d dealt with enough hangovers in his life—and wasn’t that pathetic, that he’d used alcohol to deal with his problems that many times.

Despite the ache in every inch of his body, Kai managed to sit up. He was about to get out of bed to get some water, when—

“Feeling better?” The automated lilt of Zane’s voice cut through Kai like a knife as he realized his brother, who was sitting on the bed with the most unimpressed look Kai had seen, had very likely been the one to bring Kai home—and, Kai belatedly realized, had to deal with his usual drunk bullshit.

Oh, fuck.

“H-hey,” Kai croaked, his throat far too dry. Zane said nothing, simply handing Kai a glass of water, which Kai gratefully chugged.

“Thanks.” Kai murmured, handing the now empty glass back to Zane. At Zane’s impassive stare, Kai continued. “For the water. And… bringing me home last night.” He stared down at his lap, nervously kneading the sheet in his hands. “I… I wasn’t too much of a hassle, was I?”

“Oh, you were very difficult. I was half-tempted to slap you”

Kai chuckled nervously. “That bad, huh?” He shifted awkwardly, “Sorry.”

Zane sighed. “It’s fine. I was not acting like myself last night, either.” He stood up. “Which is why, once you’re feeling a bit better, we’re going to have a talk.”

Kai gulped. With Zane, a talk could mean anything from a short conversation to a full-on psychoanalysis. But, with no better choice, Kai stood up and followed Zane.

+=+=+=+=+

Now that Kai had eaten a bit and drank more water, Zane decided he was ready. He sat down on the couch next to Kai. Thankfully, they were the only ones still at the Bounty—the others were out trying to locate Vengeance—which gave Zane and Kai all the privacy they needed to hash things out.

Kai smiled morosely. “Guess I’m not getting out of this one, am I?”

Zane smiled back, equally as humourless. “No, you are not.”

“Alright then.” Kai sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What are we talking about?”

“The first thing I would like to know, Kai, is why.” Zane began. “Why do you feel the need to resort to such self-destructive means to deal with your problems?” He moved to put a hand on Kai’s shoulder, but thought better of it. “You know we are here for you.”

Kai grunted. “I think you know damn well why I pull this crap. Does it really need to be said that I’m not a functional person?”

Zane stared. “You know that’s not what I’m asking, Kai.”

Kai crossed his arms, refusing to respond.

Zane continued to stare.

Kai shifted awkwardly.

Zane did not relent.

“Okay, okay! Fine!” Kai threw his hands up in frustration. “You know why I do this? Because it hurts.” Kai’s voice began to crack. “It hurts, Zane. He’s gone and it hurts.” His lip trembled. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“Kai,” Zane began, “You know you can always talk to me—”

“Like that’ll do any good.” Kai muttered.

Zane was taken aback. “Why would that not help, Kai? I do know some of what you’re going through right now. I can—”

“And what would you know?” Kai asked, “What would you know about grief that I don’t?” He glared, even as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. “Nothing, because you weren’t there the first time this happened, because the first time this happened, you were the one who died!”

Both of them froze. An apology made its way up Kai’s throat, but died in his mouth. Zane blinked uncomprehendingly.

The silence was deafening.

Finally, Kai spoke. “When you—when you died, to defeat the Overlord. And we realized that it really isn’t a game.” He started, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Fuck, Zane, you should have seen us. We were all wrecks. We split up, because we couldn’t deal with the pain of losing you.” Kai stared at Zane imploringly. “I started drinking. Joined an underground fight club. Did all sorts of shit I’m not proud of. I wasn’t okay, I wasn’t coping—I was hurting.”

Zane did not know what to say.

“And somehow,” Kai’s voice trembled, “this time is that much worse, because—” He swallowed, “—because Cole didn’t die sacrificing himself. He died because we messed up. There was no reason for it—no reason Cole had to die.” Kai whimpered.

“But he died, and now—there’s no coming back from that. There’s no building a new body, no magical eclipse, no realm to find him in, he’s just—” Kai was shaking now, “He’s gone, just like that.”

Zane was at a loss. “Kai...”

Kai laughed humorlessly. “And I know that there are better ways for me to deal with it, better ways to cope, but—” He stared at his hands, tears starting to spill out, “—it’s hard.”

Zane put his hand on Kai’s shoulder, causing his brother to look at him. “I,” he began, “I was not aware of this, Kai.” His expression softened. “I wish you would have told me sooner…” he chuckled dryly, “Better late than never, I suppose.”

Zane took a breath. “I know I am not always emotionally present. And I realize there are subjects with which I am little help, if at all.” He met Kai’s gaze with his own, “But please do not discount my ability—or my willingness—to provide comfort to others. I already know what it is like to lose someone important. Cole’s absence hurts me, more than I am willing to say—”

“Of course it does.” Kai snapped. “We left him behind and you kept us flying away.”

“And you think that doesn’t haunt me?” Zane asked incredulously. “You think it doesn’t bother me that if I had just slowed down, just once, the whole thing could have been prevented?”

Kai growled, “If it bothers you so much then why didn’t you? Why didn’t you slow down?”

Zane glared, before his expression softened to something more impassive. “If drinking as a coping mechanism bothers you so much, then why do you do it?”

Kai deflated at that, all of the anger escaping him. He stared at his hands. At the floor. At Zane.

“Touche.” He said softly, before leaning on Zane.

They sat in silence for a moment longer, nothing left to say. Zane wasn’t sure if anything had even been accomplished in that conversation, but he was just as content to sit there in silence.

“Wow.” Kai said breathlessly. “We just had an emotional Talk without getting physical. If Cole were here, he’d be proud.”

“Yes.” Zane said softly. “Yes, he would.”

[2sunchild2]

The Remnants

Guess the show lol

Lowkey not v happy w/ it but I wanted to post something

Long ago, in a time long forgotten by mankind, magic ruled over all. Witches and wizards were seeing aiding and cursing people. Giants roamed the lands. Werewolves, vampires, ghosts and ghouls alike, haunted the night. Humans themselves were gifted with the supernatural power. But only four weld the most powerful magic of them all.

Blessed by the gods, four maidens were given a specific power, each one corresponding to a season of the year. Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall. Many seemed them out, to use and manipulate for their own selfish needs. They managed to kidnap one of the maidens, unaware of the chaos that soon followed. Pain and destruction washed over the world. Death loomed over every kingdom, house and family.

Upon seeing the destruction caused by the four maidens, the humans decided their magic was too strong and powerful to be contained. They had found and killed off the other three in hopes that it would rid the world of their power.

The gods were furious when the humans presented the corpses of their blessed chosens, they cursed mankind, stripping them from their magical abilities, and they promised, the four maidens’ magic will live on, impossible to erase, merely transferred from one woman to another.

The humans, upset by this turn of events, began opposing the gods in every possible way, which only angered the deities more. They wiped the world clean of living beings, disgusted by their creations and, in a beam of divine light, they left the depressing planet, leaving nothing but two moons, one of which had begun to break apart.

We are the remnants of what once was, of what will never be.

——————————————————————

Punch.

Punch punch.

“You know, you should really wrap your hands, this isn’t healthy,” Chloe leaned on the doorframe and crossed her arms, “You could seriously get hurt.”

Punch.

Punch punch.

“Oh, so we’re in a ‘Shut up Chloe I don’t feel like talking to you’ mood today?”

Punch.

Chloe tilted her head sideways and hummed, “Hmmm, I wonder what Kagami will say when she sees you punching the life out of that bag with your bare hands.”

The punching stopped. Marinette let her hands rest at her sides and took deep breaths, in a desperate attempt to regulate her breathing again. How long had she been in the gym? One look at her bruised hands and she knew the answer. Too long.

“What is it Chloe,” she asked the blonde, not bothering to look back as she grabbed her bottle and slowly drank the cool water, enjoying the feeling of it going down her throat.

Chloe sobered up and walked over to the blue-haired girl, grabbing the medical kit on her way. She sat Marinette down and began to gently work on her bruised hands. She could feel her teammate’s impassive gaze.

Chloe took a deep breath, “Fu called,” she watched her friend’s other hand twitch, “he said he’s expecting us to report on what’s happening with the winter maiden… and if she’s being targeted,” she put the now bandaged hand down and began working on the other one, “he wants us to meet with him at Dupont.”

“Is Kagami aware of this?” Her friend asked, checking the bandages on her hands. Chloe gave a nod in reply. Marinette got up and stretched her arms out, “well then, it seems Dupont is getting a visit from a few old students.”

————————————————

“Agreste,” the blonde man turned around to see his general at the door, “Are you aware of the stop we have to make at Valentino?”

Felix nodded, “The kingdom of Love is harboring the winter maiden, is that correct?”

His General nodded firmly, “You and I will be escorted to Dupont to discuss this matter with Master Fu,” at the sight of Felix’s scowl, the general continued, “he’s a respectable man, Felix, he knows what he’s doing. I’m willing to give you an hour to pack before we depart.”

“Yes, father,” Felix whispered to himself father the general left. He looked out his window, to see the breathtaking view of the snowy kingdom of Arise. He sighed and left to pack his bags, at least he will be reunited with his brother, even if it were for a brief moment.

——————————————

Adrien had been chatting with Bridgette when it happened. They were walking along the courtyard when he noticed Arise ships landing at the port of the school. He stopped talking and stared at the ship, seeing the drone-soldiers march out while being led by the general, though he was only hoping to see one face.

“Felix!”

He grabbed Bridgette by the arm and began racing towards the stiff blonde who just exited the ship, chanting his name over and over again. Saying Bridgette was confused would’ve been the understatement of the century. Who is this man? And why does Adrien know him?

They slowed down as they neared the man, “Felix!” The blonde boy yelled again, causing the other to turn his way. Adrien walked up to him, smiling like he’s been offered all the presents a fifteen-year-old boy could ask for.

“Adrien,” the man replied with a nod, “how have you been?”

Adrien beamed, “Well, I’m at the top of my class in monster theory, I’m in the top five ranks for—”

“No you dolt,” Felix whacked the boy upside his head, “I asked how you’re doing, not what ranking you are. Are you eating well? Are you getting enough sleep?” Felix led the boy towards the school entrance, questioning his brother in his well-being, if he’s enjoying his classes and if he’s made any friends.

Adrien smiled and gestured to Bridgette, who had been silently following them, “This is Bridgette! She’s the team leader!”

Bridgette jumped and tried to address the older man formally, “I… uhh…” she curtsied clumsily, almost falling over, “merry— uhhh, very! Nice to make… your… acquaintance? Sir?”

Felix raised a brow at the girl, “This is the famed leader of team Miraculous?” Bridgette sweat dropped.

“That was my aunt… uhhh, we’re team Prodigious,” Bridgette answered hesitantly. Bridgette glanced over to see Allegra waving are her and muttered a quick “excuse me” before leaving. Felix merely gave her a nod and kept walking, the drones following close behind.

That is, until one of their heads were ripped off their body and thrown on the ground.

“This is what you call a high tech super soldier?” A rough feminine voice called out, causing Felix to stop in his tracks. He turned around and glared at the woman.

“Do you know you just destroyed Arise military property?” He questioned, his voice low and dangerous, “I could have you arrested.”

The woman let out a laugh and took a swig from her flask before replying, “what are you gonna do sweetheart? Sue me? A bunch of stuck up pussies.” She laughed out loud, the two other women she came with decided to let her have her fun before they attended business.

Felix glared at the blue hard woman and unsheathed his sword, “Say one more disrespectful thing about us, and I’ll cut off your tongue,” his piercing blue eyes narrowing as she flipped her hair, showing everyone the scar on her left eye.

“Make me.”

—————————————

Adrien couldn’t believe his eyes, this woman, though beautiful he had to admit, had come out of nowhere, destroyed Arise property, challenged his brother and was now dueling with him. She had pulled out a yo-yo of all things, but then she pushed a button and it became a glowing staff.

They circled around each other for a moment, waiting to see who would strike first, and all the woman had to do was smirk for Felix to lose his temper and strike.

They had been fighting for a good two minutes already, there was a crater in the courtyard and rubble littered the stone floor. She was skilled, he had to admit, but Felix had strict military training, he should be capable of winning.

Bridgette heard the sound of an explosion in the courtyard and ran back to check if Adrien was okay. She saw him at the front of the crowd and, while struggling, she pushed through to get to him.

“What’s going on?” She asked him breathless.

“Some crazy woman came here and challenged my brother! They’re dueling as we speak.”

Bridgette gave him an odd look, “really? Who’s he fighti— OH MY GOD THAT’S MY AUNT!” Adrien gave her an incredulous look and opened his mouth to reply but Bridgette, without meaning to, interrupted him, already invested in the fight, “Kick his butt Marinette!”

Adrien huffed, “Show her some respect Felix!” He wanted to support his brother, and he wanted him to win.

Marinette stood on one end of the courtyard, the opposite side to Felix, his stance was ready to pounce, he activated his aura and a dark wisp of shadows spreads from his right hand, to the rest of his body. Marinette’s smirks, but doesn’t activate her aura. She shifts her weapon to a scythe, her eyes never leaving Felix’s and then, she stops, shiftiest the weapon back to a yo-yo and placing it back on her hip, earring a disappointed boo from the crowd.

She raises her hand and beckons Felix to come closer, in a fit of rage he does, and almost strikes her with his sword before being stopped by a very stern, “Agreste!”

“But sir, she started it,” Felix argued. The general looked at his son before settling his eyes on Marinette, who simply raised her hands up in defense.

“He’s the one to struck first, sir.”

The general’s mood did not shift, “You are here for a reason Marinette, don’t waste your time on silly games,” he turned around, but stopped, “ oh and do bring your friends with you, you’re here in business with the master,” he began walking away and let out a rough, “Agreste, come.”

Marinette wanted to let out a retort but her arm was grabbed by her niece, “Aunt Mari! You’re here! You didn’t tell me your we’re going to visit! I missed you! Did you miss me?” Her face was mere millimeters away from her face, eyes wide in excitement.

Marinette let out a smile and ruffled her hair, “No.”

Bridgette laughed as she slid down her arm to the ground and looked up at her, “ Are you staying for long?”

“I’m just here on business honey,” Marinette crouched down ruffled the girl’s hair affectionately before getting back up, “ Don't get into too much trouble okay?”

————————————

“I still can’t believe you’re allowed to listen to this sort of information,” Felix hissed, not too pleased with the fact that he just fought (and technically lost) someone in the same rank as his father.

Marinette shrugged and observed herself in the elevator mirror, “Fu needs a man on the inside, we’re the best for the job.”

Before he could retort, the elevator door opened and the duo was met with the deadpan looks of Fu, Marinette’s teammates, Marianne and General Gabriel.

This looks promising, Marinette mused.

Tag list uwu: @thyladyanput @gloriafee4 @slytherinsheashire @realrandomposts

[thewritewolf]

Rekindle Chapter 11: Mask Ball

Marinette meets with Chat Noir at a New Year’s Mask Ball. 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30  31

@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Even though the rented space was large, the dim lights and mob of people made it feel much smaller than it was. While there was still plenty of space to move around, Adrien had detached from the throng and was seated in a quiet spot near the food and drinks. There wasn’t really anyone he knew here - not yet, anyway. Another advantage of this spot was it was easy to keep track of the entrances. Hopefully he’d see Marinette the moment she entered. Until then, he was left alone with his thoughts. And boy was there a lot to think about.

His father, for instance. He’d always been demanding, but usually that had taken the form of keeping Adrien close at hand. Everything from renting him a house close to the Agreste mansion, to having him work at the Agreste fashion house, to planning every facet of his life that Gabriel could get his hands on. Which is why his father’s most recent demands had come as such a shock.

Why would Gabriel Agreste - infamously overprotective father and control freak - want to send Adrien abroad for an indeterminate amount of time? It wasn’t just the complete turn around in his father’s years long plots that made Adrien uneasy, it was the timing. The anniversary was coming up soon. Just under more two weeks to go.

One would think that the upcoming ten year anniversary of his mother’s disappearance would be weighing on his mind, but the truth was that he’d moved on ages ago. Friends and therapists and time had helped him through it. His father? He had only sunk further into bitterness and anger. But there was something else. It sounded weird to say - so weird that he hadn’t even mentioned it to Plagg - but it felt like his father was getting desperate. Why?

He shook his head and struggled to stop worrying about it. Regardless of what was going through his father’s head, Adrien had no desire to leave Paris. While there was his duties as Chat Noir, he found that the strongest tie that bound him to the city he loved was a beautiful, talented woman who had seen fit to become his friend. This last month of being barely able to squeeze in time to see her had been torture after visiting so often.

Now if she could just hurry her butt up and get here so he could start basking in her presence, everything would be fine…

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

With a last check to make sure this was the address that Chat Noir had sent her, Marinette took a deep breath for courage before pushing open the door. Inside, the large space was mostly filled by knots of people in varying levels of fashionable clothes laughing, drinking, and dancing. She breathed a sigh of relief - not everyone was dressed as a character, like Chat Noir said he would be. There were certainly some, but most were just dressed nicely.

She frowned as she scanned the groups of people, searching for someone tall, blonde, handsome and dressed all in black. Except for a green sash, apparently. Worry started to creep in when she realized that no one of that description was milling about on the floor. Did he change costume? No, he would have texted her. Did he leave? The thought was dismissed almost as soon as it occurred to her. Chat Noir would have stayed here all night to meet up with her.

It was then that she saw a lonesome figure blending in with the shadows across the room. He’d taken off his black hat, leaving his blonde hair free. It was surprisingly well tended to, compared to the mop that she normally saw. A lime green sash, partially concealed by the black cape, perfectly suited his summer green eyes framed by an unfamiliar fabric mask. It turns out that he didn’t even need to bother with the sash - just from seeing those eyes against the black, she would have been able to pick him out from the crowd.

She refrained from running up to him when she saw the look on his face. He was frowning down at the table in front of him, wearing as pensive an expression as she had ever seen the feline hero wear. Clearly, this was going to require a more subtle touch.

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

It all happened very quickly.

One moment, Adrien was thinking about how he’d have to confront his father once again, and then the next someone had latched themselves around his chest in a hug. Before he could do anything, Marinette’s voice appeared right next to his ear.

“Hey, kitty! You get cleaned up nicely.” He only had a few brief heartbeats of returning the hug when she pulled away. She moved in front of him, giving him a good look at the dress she was wearing.

It reminded him of something out of old Hollywood. It was full length with a scoop neckline, fitted through the hips with intricate crystal beading covering the bodice. Lace gloves that ended at the wrist covered her hands as she smoothed out her dress. His eyes lingered on the slit in her dress that ended at just above her knee. It took a feat of heroic willpower to pull his gaze towards her eyes, and that was where his willpower failed him. He hadn’t noticed her mask until now. How was he supposed to function when he saw those vibrant blue eyes staring out at him from Ladybug’s colors?

As the moments dragged out, Marinette’s smile grew. “Cat got your tongue, kitty?”

“You look beautiful,” he blurted out. To his pleasure, she blushed as much as he did.

“I, well-” She cleared her throat. “Thank you, Chat. You look pawsitively dashing tonight.”

“Please don’t pun. My heart can’t take it.” They shared a laugh, light and carefree. Despite the way his heart was pounding, he was determined to at least sound casual. “Your dress is exceptional. Where did you get it?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Why would I buy a dress when I could make one?”

“You made that?!” Marinette silenced him with a hand over his mouth and glanced around after his loud outburst, but the only ones who even heard were those closest to them. After a curious look in their direction, everyone was content to return to their conversations. He shrugged apologetically and she leaned back into her seat with a roll of her eyes.

“Yes, I made it.” She fiddled with the crystals. “You wouldn’t believe how long these took to sew on.”

“I think I can guess,” Adrien replied, thinking of the long nights he’d seen his father at work on designs. She looked up at him strangely. “Uh, I’ve been watching you at work for months now, right? I got a sense of how hard particular parts of it can be.” He propped his chin up on his hand. “That really is a wonderful dress. And an amazing sweater. And quality mittens. You’re very good at what you do, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. The best.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you’ll just have to trust that it means a lot coming from me.”

A warm smile lit up her face. “It already does, kitty.”

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

A couple glasses later and the two of them were an hour deep into conversation. There was still plenty of time before midnight rolled around, but Chat Noir had stumbled across an embarrassing fact about Marinette. She blamed her lack of discretion on the slight buzz from the quality wine - a perfectly sober Marinette would’ve taken an hour longer to spill the beans.

“You can’t dance?!” Chat whisper shouted, scandalized.

“I've tried plenty of times, but I’m… well, I’m clumsy and its hard to get anywhere without falling over or stepping on my partner.”

Chat shook his head and stood up, putting his hat on as he did. She blinked up at him as he held out his hand for her.

“C’mon! I’ll teach you.”

“Chat…” She looked around the room full of people and frowned. She prefered to make a fool of herself in more private locations. “I don’t know if-”

“Do you trust me?”

She was drawn back to his eyes - unaltered by the magic of the miraculous, eyes filled with earnestness and hope. She took his hand and he lead her towards the dance floor.

There was a lull in people dancing, so when they started it was mostly just the two of them moving slowly in a circle, vaguely in time to the music. Her eyes darted around to the people watching them and Marinette felt herself wither under their scrutiny.

She whispered to him, “Kitty, maybe we should just-”

He’d followed where she was looking and gently pushed her chin so she was looking back at him. “Hey, don’t pay any attention to them, princess. It’s just you and me here right now. Just the two of us, dancing the night away on New Year’s Eve.” He shifted closer to her to whisper conspiratorially in her ear. “Besides, they’re just jealous that we’re the hottest people here.”

She snorted and playfully pushed him away with her shoulder, but she listened to him. After making sure she was following his lead, she redirected her attention to his emerald eyes, now so human. The rest of the world faded away as she got her bearings. And all without stepping on his feet more than twice! Even when they switched to more energetic dancing, she managed to keep up with him. She raised an eyebrow in challenge when she took the lead, which he accepted with a grin. For all his talk, he didn’t seem to been a much better dancer than her. All he had going for him was he didn’t trip over his own feet.

They were dancing for over an hour by now and Marinette’s head rested on Chat Noir’s chest. The soft fabric was definitely preferable to his sturdy leather, at least as a pillow. They were interrupted by their slow swaying by the lights turning off and the large television at the back of the room lighting up to show a countdown. Chat lead her towards where everyone else was gathering while Marinette noticed that the people were breaking off into pairs. She gripped his hand more tightly as her heart skipped a beat. She had made up her mind. Maybe it was time to let Adrien go.

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

Adrien counted down with everyone else and cheered just as loudly when the New Year came. Or at least, he tried to. It was hard to cheer, after all, when Marinette was kissing him.

After a brief moment of surprise, he melted into her embrace and pulled her close to deepen the kiss. As far as he was concerned, it was the perfect start to the new year.

[paganinpurple]

Be Careful What You Wish For - Ch 4

Will write for coffee

This chapter was commissioned by the lovely Simply_Zerah from AO3 who I would totally tag but I’m not yet 100% sure if they have the same Tumblr URL lol

Enjoy!

Adrien and Nino find themselves in an alternate timeline where Hawkmoth never attacked and so the Miraculous heroes were never chosen. Just how much has changed in this universe? And how will they find their way back?

AO3

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7

A shadow sat atop the Parisian rooftops, the Place de Vosges a less than ideal perch for one attempting to stay hidden, but Chat had never been very good at sticking to a low profile.

His baton open in front of him, he was zoomed in on the windows of the Agreste mansion, checking them one by one, vainly attempting to catch sight of the person he hadn’t seen in years. The one he desperately wanted to lay eyes upon again.

He sighed despondently as he desperately tried to merge together the picture he had in his mind’s eye of his mother -warm and sweet with such a lovely youthful face- with the one Marinette had shown him pictures and video clips of. It had been obvious to him that she would look so much older now, that was just to be expected after fourteen years. Although she had aged gracefully, the lines on her face, and the distinguished streaks of grey were still apparent. But that wasn’t what had unsettled him.

From the pictures and videos he had seen, she rarely seemed to smile anymore -or at least not the way he remembered it. In his memory there was a wonderful light to her, a glow which lit up the entire room she was in whenever she graced someone or something with her radiance. In the past, she had always shown warmth with her whole face, expelling pure joy and love when she did. Her photographs now seemed to consist solely of modelling expressions, her head held high and face blank -aloof and unattainable. The video interviews he had watched showed her smiling at reporters and other fashion icons, but the look almost had a calculated and almost wrong look to it. The sweetness seemed false and her face held none of the energy he remembered. The smile never reached her eyes.

She looked almost tired.

There was a soft thud beside him, and it was so recognisable that Chat never even took his eyes from his baton screen as he continued to cycle through the windows. “Thought I’d find you here,” said Carapace as he settled himself on the tiles below, “Any luck?”

“Nope. No sign of her or my dad,” he said with a sigh, “Though if you check out my old bedroom, you’ll see yours truly.”

Carapace’s head lifted abruptly in shock. “Really?” he asked, lifting his finger to tap the side of his goggles as he too zoomed in on the mansion windows. A few seconds of silence passed as Carapace adjusted his focus until he finally spotted the figure slumped over on his front on the white couch, having apparently dozed off while watching TV.

“Wow,” he told Chat with a sarcastic snort, “Attractive.”

One of alternate Adrien’s arms had clearly been thrown over his forehead before he rolled over onto his stomach and was currently lodged between him and the couch awkwardly. His shirt sleeve was sure to leave strange lines on his face when he finally moved. He had also managed to wiggle his knees beneath him so that his butt stuck up in the air and, of course, he was drooling, the light from the television making the moisture glisten so it stood out even from this distance.

Chat sniggered despite his dark mood. It had been unsettling at first -to spot himself- and it had only added to his list of things to freak out about internally. As it turned out, it wasn’t the same as seeing an advertisement or an interview like had often happened years ago, because he was too actively aware that this was another living version of himself. But he had to admit, Marinette was right when she told him he looked utterly ridiculous while he slept. Why did she always have to be right about the embarrassing things?

The picture on his baton screen cut out unexpectedly and a harsh ringing tone sounded on it, startling a yowl from him. It only took a second for him to calm himself, one hand on his chest to try to slow his thumping heartbeat, before he raised an eyebrow at Carapace. He recognised the number showing on the display and he knew there was only one way that number would have known how to contact his baton. “She’s always been better at getting you out of your own head than me, dude,” the other hero said with a small smile he noted was laced with sadness, before he leapt to the edge of the row of buildings in order to afford Chat some privacy.

Taking a deep breath and screwing his green eyes tight shut for a moment, he exhaled deeply before finally pressing the button to answer the incoming call. “Hello?”

“Um, Hi…Adrien?”

His chest ached horribly at her hesitance. She even sounded unsure about a simple phone conversation. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Nino said you might need to talk to someone,” she said, a hint of trepidation in her voice, “He…he seemed to think…that it should be me.” A pregnant pause followed and Chat remained silent for a moment as he considered how to talk to her. Normally he would spill out everything to Marinette -every painful and ugly thought that briefly passed through his mind, but that wasn’t what people did to someone who barely knew them. And this particular Marinette wasn’t likely to know how to deal with his rants, because she was in fact a stranger to him.

“I…miss you,” was what finally fell between the empty ends of the line.

“Well, um, I guess I get that you kind of do, even though I’m right here because actually I’m not. I mean, I might be me but I’m not your me if you know what I mean, and I guess you do ’cause that must be all you’ve had to think about since you got here. I must be so different and after all you love me-”

There was a muffled squeak as she pulled the receiver away from her face and he heard the distant remains of “Ohmygod did I really just say that?!” as she panicked. “Anyway, what I mean is,” she said, returning to her rambling, “how are you- Uh, Adrien are you okay?”

He absolutely wasn’t okay, he was far too busy trying to keep the volume of his laughter at a minimum so that he wouldn’t alert any of the Parisians in the park below to his presence. Tears began to stream down his face as he shook in utter mirth. He sobered up a little when he heard a hum of disapproval from her end of the connection but continued to break out into little giggles as he spoke.

“You’re not that different,” he told her, stopping momentarily to give a snort as he tried to repress another wave of laughter, “you still ramble when you’re flustered.”

“Oh.” She sounded a bit embarrassed and he could almost imagine the blush dusted across the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be.” Her refused to let her spiral into self-doubt right now. Not when he was finally feeling somewhat human again. “I think it’s funny when you do that. It’s…cute.”

“Oh!” Now she really sounded embarrassed.

“Honestly, I think it helped. Things are different here. But…you’re still you.”

She remained quiet and if it wasn’t for the whisper of breath his hearing detected on the other end, he would have thought she’d hung up or left.

He wiped away a remaining tear from the corner of his eye. “Thanks, Mari,” he said, and he couldn’t have held back the affection in his voice if he tried, “I’ll be back soon. I’ll see if I can pick up some peppermint hot chocolate on the way, though I might need to send Nino to get it, so I don’t get recognised.”

It was her favourite drink on chilly nights or when she was in desperate need of extra comfort of some kind and he expected her to comment on that, but she didn’t. “It’s going to be okay, Adrien,” she said, “You’re going to fix things.”

“See you soon, My Lady.” He ended the call a moment later, a hint of a blush on his face from his automatic use of the pet name he’d always used for her. She hadn’t said anything or spluttered at it, and that just made the dusting of pink across his cheeks intensify.

Just as he was moving to depart, Carapace reappeared, landing beside him once again. “Dude,” he said, shaking Chat’s shoulder as he did and pointing at the same window he had been trained on for the past few hours, “There’s something floating above Other-Adrien’s head. Take a look.”

Opening his baton again, he zoomed in on his alternate self’s sleeping form, narrowing his eyes as he tried desperately to focus on the tiny blue blur moving around him rapidly. The thing slowed for a moment to land on the golden tresses beneath it and Chat gasped.

“Is that a Kwami?” he asked.

Will write for coffee

[veliseraptor]

angels are bright still, 2.2k, post-ragnarok au, major character death for a prompt by @questionablemotivations, man I haven’t written anything this sad in a while

Thor watched Asgard burn from the bridge of the Sakaaran ship. Surtur’s fire, all-consuming, devouring the city.

No: he watched the ship, docked at the door to the palace. Waiting for it to take off. Waiting for another miraculous escape. So he saw it consumed, melting and then swallowed entirely by flames.

He heard himself make a small sound, quickly cut off. A trick, he thought. It’s a trick. Like before, so he can run, yet again.

In his heart he knew it wasn’t true.

Asgard burned, and it was somehow fitting that Loki received such a grand funeral pyre.

**

There was so much to do that Thor scarcely had a chance to take a breath.

He threw himself into the work with a vengeance: organizing medical care for the wounded, assigning people to monitor supplies, finding engineers who could ensure that this ancient ship continued to function for as long as it took to get to Earth. Heimdall was an invaluable help; Thor told him, half joking, that he should take on the kingship himself.

“I wouldn’t want it,” Heimdall said, entirely serious. Thor could understand that. Thinking back to not so long ago when he had thought of the throne as a bauble to be claimed, he could not believe how young he’d been.

It was only when he finally sat down and took a breath that he let himself think of Loki.

Some part of him still thought he must be alive somewhere. Some part of him, Thor thought, would never quite believe that he was gone. Somehow he’d survived Svartalfheim, and there Thor had held his seemingly lifeless body. Was he to believe that this time…

But there was no reason that he should have run off now. That he should not have come back. He’d come to join Thor, to fight alongside him, to turn from the path he’d been walking. He’d gone - Thor had sent him - to unleash Surtur. Had he died in the violent moment of the fire giant’s release? Or had he been running for the ship, inches from it when the conflagration caught up?

There was no point in wondering. No point. There were only two important (unavoidable, inescapable) facts: Loki was dead, and Thor had sent him to it.

Loki had chosen, of course. It would be unfair to take that away. But Thor felt the weight of it nonetheless.

**

Valkyrie found him holding two bottles of indeterminate origin, holding one out awkwardly in his direction. “Here,” she said. “Sorry about your brother.”

Thor looked at her for a few moments before taking it and cracking it open. It tasted somehow both over-sweet and too bitter. Perfect, Thor thought.

“He died well,” Thor said after a moment, and then laughed roughly. “For the second time. Dying well, that is. This is the third time.”

Her eyebrows went up. “How does that work? Generally people only die once. Except for with the help of the Eternal Flame, and he didn’t look undead.”

“No,” Thor said. “No, the other two I just thought he was dead. He survived, somehow. I...can’t help but wonder if he might have survived this as well.”

“Sounds like a story,” Valkyrie said after a moment. Thor glanced at her and looked away.

“Not one I think I can tell just now.”

“That’s fair,” she said, cracking open the bottle she was holding. They drank next to each other, in silence. Thor’s throat burned for trying not to cry.

How fitting, he thought bitterly, that the moment he thought he might have his brother back, he was snatched away. The universe, of late, seemed to delight in taking what he loved.

Perhaps it was a good thing he did not have so much left to lose. At least then there was less that he needed to protect; maybe, that way, he could actually do it.

**

A small group came to ask that he organize a mourning ceremony for the fallen. It could not be according to the usual custom, of course, but it would be something, and Thor recognized the value of it. The necessity, for managing their grief.

When they spoke the names of the dead, though, he could not bring himself to utter Loki’s. Heimdall said it instead, his hand coming to rest on Thor’s shoulder.

He wished he had Mjolnir, that he could destroy something with it. Wished he could spar with Hulk without breaking the ship. Wished, at least, that he could unleash his lightning without fear of hurting anyone else. Instead he bowed his head and forced himself to mouth the words.

“Nor shall we mourn, but rejoice for those who have died the glorious death,” he said, and thought, nor shall we mourn?

What a hideous joke.

That night he dreamed of Loki reaching out for him, fire at his heels. “Thor!” He shouted, frantic. “Help me!”

“It’s a trick,” Thor heard himself say. “You’re not really here,” but he was already reaching out anyway, grasping Loki’s outstretched hand, solid in his. For a moment he was holding on, ready to pull, and then Loki’s hand melted through his fingers like snow in summer.

Thor woke up with a crick in his neck, tears on his face, and a headache.

He didn’t try going back to sleep.

**

The headache persisted. He suspected it was due to the eye Hela had taken from him. He’d grown edgy around his newly limited peripheral vision as well, and his tendency to misjudge distance, but the headache was the worst.

He caught himself longing for Loki’s talent for easing them: the way he would grumble and mutter before finally caving, touching his fingers to Thor’s temples and soothing the ache away. Every time he caught himself thinking of it brought a pang in his chest worse than the pain in his head.

It was just like the first time. And the second. Loki haunting him. Their lives had been intertwined for so long it was still hard to separate them. And now that Loki was gone, Thor almost did not want to.

He’d almost managed it. To draw himself away, to let Loki go and accept that he would do what he would, and all the pleading in the world would not change that. And then-

Cruel world.

“You are brooding,” Heimdall said, standing beside him on the bridge as he stared into the depths of space.

Thor turned, finding a smile. “It probably means I am not doing something I should be.” Heimdall just looked at him, eyebrows raised, and Thor glanced away.

“I don’t have to guess what occupies your thoughts.”

“No,” Thor agreed with a sigh. “You probably don’t.”

“Loki and I may have seldom been friends,” Heimdall said, “or even particularly friendly. But I am still sorry for his loss.”

Thor bowed his head. “He died well.”

“That’s not much of a salve to grief.”

It wasn’t. It never would be, however much Thor repeated it; he would rather Loki lived poorly, he found, than died a hero. He would rather Loki had run, gone off alone to wreak Norns-knew what mischief, than that he had burned.

What agony must it have been, for one born of ice?

Thor pushed that thought away. “It isn’t,” he said, “but it is the only one I have. And I cannot afford to grieve too heavily. My people - our people - need me to be strong.”

“And strength means a lack of feeling?” Heimdall asked, though mildly. “I think seeing your sorrow gives others permission to feel the same.”

Thor sighed. “Perhaps,” he said, though he wasn’t certain he believed it.

**

He didn’t know why it hit him when it did, or why it had taken so long, but it didn’t seem to be anything in particular; just the thought, suddenly blooming in his head: I’m the only one left.

He’d known it, of course. Had felt it in each hammer blow - it was part of what had precipitated his leaving Asgard after Malekith’s defeat. And then his father had still lived - and, though he didn’t know it, his brother. But now - his family’s deaths stuck in his throat and he fought to swallow.

The bar, when Thor found it, was empty. Which was probably for the best. He wondered how much had been there to begin with, and how much had disappeared into Valkyrie’s gullet.

He sat down, nonetheless, and eventually Val joined him.

“There’s nothing here,” he said.

“I know,” she said. “It’s still sort of comforting. I’m trying to absorb the remaining fumes.”

Thor laughed, weakly. She rolled one of her shoulders forward and back and sat down next to him.

“In the fight against Hela,” she said abruptly, “I mean, the first time around. When it was me and my sisters rather than me and...the rest of you people. The Revengers.” She was quiet for a long moment, and then seemed to shrug like she was coming to some kind of decision. “My lover died. She jumped in front of one of Hela’s swords that was coming for me. Kára. She was always telling me I was a reckless idiot.”

Thor looked toward her. “I am sorry,” he said.

“Don’t,” she said. “I don’t - I’m not saying this for sympathy. Just...I don’t know. I don’t know why. I haven’t actually said her name to anyone for...well, kind of lost track of time for a while there.”

“What was she like?” Thor asked after a moment.

Val’s smile was a little, sad, twist of her mouth. “I can hardly remember,” she said. “Probably all the drinking, right? I remember that I...she had this stupid giggle. It was adorable. And she was ticklish.”

Thor stayed silent, and Valkyrie exhaled.

“Fuck,” she said. “I need a drink.”

“So do I.”

A silence fell between them. Weighted.

“It’s childish,” Thor said after a moment, “but all I can feel is that it isn’t fair.”

“It never is.” Val’s voice sounded more sober, less sarcastic, than Thor could remember hearing it.

“No,” Thor said. “I suppose it never is.”

**

“You said,” Loki said, sitting cross-legged in front of him in what Thor recognized as Frigga’s garden. “You said it would be better if we never saw each other again.”

“I didn’t mean you should die,” Thor said. Loki cocked his head to the side.

“It’s habit-forming,” he said.

“I was baiting you,” Thor said. “It’s what you kept saying you wanted. Acting like you wanted.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Loki said. “Not so much.” He paused. “Didn’t I prove that?” He asked, and there was something faint, plaintive, hopeful in his voice. Thor swallowed.

“You did,” he said. He reached out a hand, but Loki wasn’t quite close enough to touch, and he couldn’t move forward.

Loki sighed. “Well,” he said, with the bare flicker of a smile. “That’s a relief.” He leaned back on his hands. “The other thing is a relief, too.”

“What other thing?”

“That you didn’t send me there to die,” Loki said simply. Thor stared at him, and Loki shrugged. “I thought it was a possibility.”

“No,” Thor said, appalled. “No. Of course not. I wouldn’t - I didn’t want-”

Loki just looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Well, I didn’t necessarily think it was deliberate. Just a - necessary sacrifice? You’re a king, now. That’s the sort of thing kings have to do.” Thor shook his head, muted. “Like I said,” Loki said. “A relief. I believe you.”

“Loki…” Thor groped after something. “This isn’t a dream, is it?”

“Not exactly,” Loki said. “Sort of. It’s complicated.”

“Are you-” Thor choked, awful hope rising in his chest. “Are you alive? Is that how-”

“Oh, no,” Loki said. “I’m not. I’m pretty - thoroughly dead. But you’re…” He half smiled. “I guess you’re just special.”

Intertwined. There were so many things Thor wanted to say. They piled up and he struggled to say anything. “Loki,” he said, and took a deep breath. “You should be here.”

“Maybe,” Loki said. “Maybe not. But you know I was never very good at should.” His smile was rueful. “I am still...glad to see you. To know you made it out. At least...that makes it worth it.” He smiled wryly. “Written any plays about me yet?”

“I am no writer.”

“No,” Loki said, “you’re right about that.” He rubbed a thumb across his lower lip, like he was still flesh and blood. Once again, Thor opened his mouth to say something, and the words caught in his throat.

“You’re going to be a great king, Thor,” Loki said. He stood up, brushing invisible dust off his pants. “I hope I don’t see you for a very long time.”

“Loki,” Thor said, and finally he could move, lurch to his feet. “Wait-”

He woke up. He could feel the hum of the ship churning through space, making its slow way forward.

He is with Frigga, Thor thought, covering his eyes with one hand. With Odin. At peace.

But Loki had never been peace. Loki had always been chaos and mischief, quicksilver, always slipping through Thor’s fingers.

[foxyclocks]

Miraculously Taken Aback

Description: Ladybug and Chat Noir haven't seen each other in years. Hawkmoth had been arrested and all seemed well for the team of heroes - but what if it was all an illusion?

***HI HI HI THIS FIC IS FINALLY UPDTED!***

You can read it on Ao3

Chapter 1: Dead or Alive

“I think it’s pretty weird guys…” Alya said slumping over in the outdoor café chair, resting her forehead in her arms – phone sliding away, unlocked on her Ladyblog site, into the middle of the table.

Marinette glanced down at the phone, shuffling uncomfortably in her chair. It was opened in the search tag labeled, “WhereIsChatNoir”. Nino, who sat beside her grabbed onto the phone and began scrolling through the various posts that other users had created.

The blue shirt hiked higher on his shoulders as he lifted them in a shrug and placed the phone back down on the metal table. “No idea where that guy is.” Nino picked up the cappuccino and took a small sip of it, “At least Ladybug’s still around, right?” his cappuccino splashed around in the white mug as he nudged Marinette with his elbows.

Marinette, already zoned off into space, snapped her attention back to the two teens that were staring at her, waiting for a response, “Huh? Oh... Uh... Yeah, at least Ladybug’s still around…” she fell silent.

It had been about a month since Marinette and the gang had graduated from secondary school.

About a month since Alya and Marinette had decided upon moving into an apartment-

Almost about a month since Marinette pulled through and found a cheap place for the two of them.

It had been about a month since Adrien left for University and work in Milano.

It had been about a month since Chat Noir disappeared.

And lastly, it had been about a month since Paris’s famed duo had captured the infamous Hawkmoth, sending him to a high security holding facility in Paris called La Santé Prison.

As Ladybug, she knew that she should have gone at least once to see Hawkmoth, to question him but – as Marinette, she was terrified because now she had to face him alone. She didn’t have Chat to lean on.

I’m coming for you Ladybug.

I’m coming for you Ladybug.

I’m coming for you Ladybug.

It echoed in her mind, the last words that Hawkmoth had said to her before he was detained.

Sure, Ladybug was the ‘team leader’ but she needed Chat. Without him she felt like she was on a teeter-totter, sinking slowly into the ground waiting for someone on the other end to lift her up but there was no one there. She was alone with no one to help her and her legs weren’t strong enough to keep both ends up on her own.

“Hey Nette, you feelin’ alright?” Nino asked leaning on the table, trying to catch her gaze.

Marinette slowly eased her eyes over to her friend, who adjusted his hat by turning the bill backwards, “Yeah I’m fine, I just… zoned out I guess.” She said picking up the white mug of Chai tea and taking a sip of it.

“You sure, cos something’s been off lately…” Alya added in reaching over and placing her hand on Marinette’s arm.

“Really I’m fine, I guess I’m just a bit tired from backing up my room and a little stressed out to not be living with my parents anymore…” Her phone vibrated in her pocket against the metal chair and she pulled it out.

Master Fu: Marinette, if you have time I need you to swing by the parlor. We need to talk about the current situation.  Stay strong my Ladybug, you will get through this.

Marinette could feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she locked her phone screen and slid it back into her pocket sobering up before looking back up at her two friends.

“Hey guys I’ve got to go.” She said standing up and pushing her chair in, “Mister Fu just texted me, he has the keys for the apartment ready, and I need to go pick them up.” She said then grabbing her bag from around the chair back and slung the strap across her chest.

“I’ll come with! It’s my apartment too!’ Alya said cheerfully standing up and grabbing her bag.

“Well shit, I don’t wanna be stood up by two girls, I’ll tag along too, Mister Fu always has these weird enlightening conversations with me.” Furrowing his eyebrows as he recalled their last discussion, his expression growing comically blank, “I have yet to get any of them but I soon hope to understand one day…. One day…” He commented jokingly, but trailed off at the end.

“No!” Marinette practically yelled causing the heads to turn at near by tables, “I mean you can’t come. I have some stuff I have to take care of a-alone. I-I’ll meet up with you guys later. Sorry…” She said in a panicked tone waving them goodbye and rushing out of the café’s courtyard before any protest could be mounted.

Alya and Nino exchanged glances and shrugs before continuing down the street trying to steer clear of Marinette.

Marinette heaved in a large breath before grabbing the clasp of her purse and cracked it open to see a concerned Tikki staring wide-eyed up at her. Marinette gave her a small crooked grin of reassurance before closing it back up.

She arrived at the massage parlor within a matter of minutes, knocking at the wooden door as she placed her head close to the wood to hear through it. “Master Fu..? It’s me.” She called out before hearing his response through the door:

“Ah yes, Marinette, please, come in.”

Marinette opened the door to see Fu sitting at the small table in the center of the floor. Wayzz sat beside him with a small cup of green tea that matched Fu’s and the one sitting across the table from him – presumably Marinette’s and beside her cup, a plate full of chocolate chip cookies which was safe to assume was an offering to Tikki.

“Please, have a seat.” He gestured  before taking a sip of the green tea and replacing it on the table. Marinette tucked her legs beneath her as she laid her hands against the heated mug, “As you know, the butterfly miraculous is still in custody of one of Paris’s high security prisons awaiting your arrival. As the Guardian, it is my duty to watch over the butterfly, but they are not about to let an old man, with no real ties to the miraculous, waltz in and secure it.” He said, cracking a grin at the ridiculous image.

Marinette looked down at the wisps of steam that rose from her mug and nodded, “I know… I just-“

“You’re nervous without Chat Noir. You’ve lost your confidence as Ladybug –.” He stated, his expression unchanged as he continued taking sips of his tea.

“I-…” She stammered and furrowed her eyebrows, “Yes.” Her expression grew flat. Why should she have confidence in herself? She couldn’t even manage to hold on to her partner, someone who she thought she’d have forever. Chat was her best friend then out of nowhere- Poof. He was gone. No last word, nor a goodbye. Her delicate fingers clenched around the tea mug as she let out a sigh, “I just don’t understand... Why would he just leave…?”

“Those are questions beyond our reach, both you and I. While you have grown used to the presence of your Black Cat, we can no longer afford to wait for him to return to us..” Master Fu said flatly not making eye contact with Marinette, “But know that this is not your fault. Chat Noir has vanished for reasons beyond you or I, and now more than ever Paris needs it’s only remaining hero to stay strong for them.” Fu hated to admit it but he was disappointed in Chat Noir. Never in his time as a guardian of the miraculous has he seen a Chat Noir disappear on his Ladybug like this one has. The old man knew that Ladybug would be fine on her own without the Black Cat but he also knew that she didn’t want to do it on her own, and he wasn’t about to force her to do so, “It would probably be best to get this over with, the sooner we retrieve the Butterfly, the sooner this pain will be over.” He said trying to crack a smile for her sake.

Marinette shuffled in place, laying her palms on the table before standing up slowly on shaky legs, “I’ll go tonight then. I can swing by after to drop it off before I head home.” She sighed before looking at Tikki with a nod. “Alright then, Tikki... transform me.” Marinette was engulfed by the bright red light appearing before Master Fu in her superhero attire.

Master Fu stood up from the table, Wayzz floating over shoulder, and walked Ladybug to his alleyway entrance, “Before I forget, I’m getting the apartment key copied for you and your friend tomorrow. I will contact you when I am ready for you to pick them up.”

Ladybug smiled and clutched her yo-yo before tossing it out, letting it latch onto a nearby chimney, “Thanks again, Master Fu. The two of us really appreciate it.”

Master Fu placed his hand on her shoulder with a smile, “No, thank you. I needed to get that space off my hands anyway, and what could be better than having Paris’s number one superhero living nearby.” He gripped her shoulder tightly and smiled before letting go, “Good luck, Ladybug.”

Her footsteps traced along the red Parisian rooftops, she was moving slower than usual. Chat was the one that promised her that he would retrieve the miraculous after seeing how much Hawkmoth had made her uneasy, but he was gone now. She never wanted to do this on her own but she had no choice but to follow through, after all, it the butterfly miraculous would be much safer in the hands of Master Fu than any prison. Part of her wished that Chat noir would just magically return to her from his hiatus on her walk to the prison but that never came true. He wasn’t coming back and would never be able to know what happened to her kitty to keep him away.

Ladybug dropped down from the rooftops into an alley before exiting out to an unpopulated city street. The prison wasn’t too far now, but it was too close for comfort. The raven haired girl dragged her foot along the pavement in attempt to slow her movement, she could feel her heart beating against her chest and it echoed in her ears, too loud to allow her to think and calm herself down. Ladybug sucked in a large breath and tucked her stray hairs behind her ears.

You can do this.

She thought to herself,

Paris won’t be safe until I get the miraculous back, suck it up Marinette.

“Ladybug?” A voice called out to her.

Her head turned quickly, startled from having her thoughts interrupted.

“It is you! Would you mind doing a quick interview!” She smiled being greeted by her familiar, bouncy haired, friend. Whither she was Ladybug or Marinette, Alya always tended to give off an aura that calmed her no matter what.

“Oh-um… Sure! I guess I have a few moments to spare.” She managed, making her smile a little more genuine this time.

Alya took out her phone, this time using her recorder in an attempt to be able to write down the interview that she had with Ladybug instead of recording the action as she usually did, “It’s been almost a month now, do you have any idea where Chat Noir is?” She asked switching the microphone of her phone from hers mouth to point at Ladybug’s.

The masked hero’s mouth opened and shut a few times before she was able to gather her words, “Somewhere safe, I hope…” Her eyes averted away and focused on the surrounding areas.

“Do you think that he’s abandoned Paris-“

“Chat Noir would never abandon Paris. He lives to protect this city as I do.” Ladybug interrupted, the last thing that she wanted to do was spread rumor that Chat no longer cared for the city they loved. She was sure that no matter where he was, he still loved Paris and the people within it.

“How can you justify that when he’s disappeared? There has been no sightings of him in Paris- let alone France in the past month.” The brunette scrunched her face at her statement realizing how It came off like she was spitting daggers at the hero’s partner and she could see how much it bothered her, “Not that this is what I want to believe, but – how can you be sure that nothing bad has happened to Chat Noir.” She re-stated, her ton deep and quiet. Sure, she had thought about it plenty of times but to hear it said out loud? That made it real.

Ladybug’s jaw clamped shut and it felt like it took all of her strength to get it to open, “I can’t know. I can only hope.” She responded shifting uncomfortably on her feet. Still trying to suppress the reminder of retrieving the miraculous.

“Are you going to see Hawkmoth?” Alya asked, letting her phone sink down to her side. She could see the confidence shrinking in Ladybug’s eyes, something that she’d never seen before in one of their interviews.

Ladybug managed a nod.

“Why?” Alya said in a sort of spitting tone. The name ‘Hawkmoth’ was not said without it within city limits.

Ladybug bit the corner of her bottom lip, “I need information…” She paused for a brief moment, standing up straight, “ I need to know how he got the butterfly miraculous, it was not ever given to him but rather stolen. It has been out of our Guardian’s protection for quite some time now, several generations actually. It’s my job to retrieve the butterfly and find the best way to keep it secure.” She inhaled calmly trying to keep her composure. She remembered that it was people like Alya that she needed to protect; she couldn’t just let another Hawkmoth run loose around Paris. She could never forgive herself if that happened.

The reporter locked her phone and slipped it back into her pocket. She cracked a smile for the hero’s sake, “The people of Paris will always be on your side, Ladybug.”

A smile crept across the spotted hero’s face, “Thank you, Alya…” She paused, taking a step backwards trying, “I really needed that right now. I’ve got to go though, I can’t wait out all night.” She stated looking off in the direction of the gated building a couple blocks down the road.

Watching her leap off down the row, “Good luck, Ladybug.”

(read the rest on Ao3!)