Miraculous Ladybug AU: The Follies of Kidnappers
BOOM!
"Aah! He's here!"
"Shoot him! Shoot him now!"
RA-TA-TA-TA-TA!
"I can't see him!"
BANG!
"Someone shoot Chat Blanc now!"
The empty, abandoned mansion, that was now covered in smoke and gunfire, sat in the middle of a swampy marshland. The minor gang, Le Pigeon, thought that it was the perfect place to carry out their dark deeds, since it was a secluded and unmonitored location. Though their gang was small, they were as persistent as cockroaches, something they took pride in.
Their impossible life mission was to take down one man. The man who ruled over France's crime syndicate with an iron fist. The man who was heralded as the underworld's king. The man who now hunted Le Pigeon with vengeance. And it was all because they kidnapped a pretty little thing that had the audacity to insult and beat their leader up. It wasn't their fault!
How were any of them supposed to know that she was that man's woman? But when they found out, it was already too late. The damage had already been done. They had already set themselves up for complete and total annihilation as soon as they laid hands on Chat Blanc's wife.
Before they all knew it, Le Pigeon was gathered into the haphazard foyer by men dressed in white combat suits. The minor gang was tied, gagged, bloodied, and was soon overtaken with sheer terror. The darkly regal man that stood before them was only spoken through hushed tales of fear and awe. An absolute monster that held himself as a king. He was an untouchable presence that demanded respect and obedience. He was the notorious Chat Blanc.
Chat Blanc stood before the pathetic gang with his rage barely leashed, though he controlled his expressions in a cold and tight manner. His white Italian suit that was usually in pristine order was slightly unbuttoned, and his typically slicked back silver hair was tussled and unkempt. The matching white-leather gloves he wore tightened around his clenched fists, as if he was ready to unload another volley of his deadly power. But what terrorized the gang the most were his blazing glacial blue eyes. They practically glowed in the moonless night. A monster. The sharp ice in those orbs vowed a swift and merciless retaliation.
"Ch-Ch-Chat Blanc!" Xavier Ramier, the leader of Le Pigeon, cried out, his reedy voice shaking. "P-P-Please, monsieur, we did not know!"
Chat Blanc continued to stare coldly down at him, not at all phased by his words.
"H-h-have mercy on us, please! We-we will do anything you tell us! Yes, anything! Just-just please s-spare me and my men!" Xavier pleaded desperately, his eyes tightly closed and his body bowed towards the floor.
"Anything, you say?" Chat Blanc's smooth, deep voice asked in amusement. Xavier's eyes snapped open and went to meet the king of the underworld's gaze in hope. But it was brutally shattered when he saw that there would be no mercy given that night. "Then, I suppose you all can choose how you want to perish."
Chat Blanc's thumb immediately caught his middle finger, his hand prepping itself to flick the massive white ball of energy that gathered in front of him. "Decide now. You may die by my hand or you may shoot yourselves to oblivion," he stated chillingly.
Le Pigeon could only stare in horrific realization of their impending deaths. "Chat Blanc, please-" Xavier never got to finish his sentence. The last thing he and his men saw was a flash of white before they crumbled away.
All was silent in the destroyed foyer, nothing but piles of dust filling the old cracks. They meant nothing to Chat Blanc. Nothing. Nothing was more important than getting back his wife, his partner, his lady.
"Plagg," Chat Blanc called out.
A tall, lean, and cloaked individual came out from behind Chat Blanc's men. His hood fell back to reveal bright green eyes, a sharp Cheshire smile, and two peculiar ears sticking up from his dark head.
"You called, Master?" Plagg bowed with a sly look.
"Did you find her?" Chat Blanc asked coldly, glaring at his kwami and second-in-command. Plagg could only grin wider, as he was greatly entertained by this rare showing of his master's anger.
"Of course. Right this way." Plagg gestured towards the stairs that led to the upper floor bedrooms. Chat Blanc was led to the very last room down the hall to the right. The door looked to be the most maintained out of the list of doors he passed, he noted in slight approval. As Plagg did the courtesy of opening the door and lighted the room with a snap of his clawed fingers, he stepped aside for his master. "I made sure to soundproof this room before the shooting started, so, she is still peacefully asleep. Tell me when you're ready, Master, and I will snap us back to headquarters." And with that, the king of the underworld's kwami and second-in-command quietly closed the door to leave him alone with his wife.
Chat Blanc carefully eyed the sparse but clean room, and finally spotted a petite figure lying on a sheetless bed asleep. He almost lost hold of his rage when he spotted the bruises that littered her dainty body, his nails almost breaking through his leather gloves. He wanted to kill Le Pigeon all over again. But he settled with a dark curse under his breath, and the knowledge that they were no longer in existence.
He glided over to the bed and sat gingerly near the curled up woman, her long dark hair splayed out against the stained mattress. Several fine strands stuck to her damp, delicate face, and Chat Blanc knew it was because she had cried. He cursed once more, his dark desire for blood festering in his heart. He tightened his fists once and released them to try and relax. Now was not the time to explode in a fit of rage. He took deep breaths, and decided to peel off his gloves so he could confirm for himself that his wife was real and there and alive.
He carefully cupped her damp cheeks and used his thumb to stroke her tear tracks away. The man simply soaked in the sight of his wife. Ignoring the obvious bruise marring one of her cheeks, which he was oh so careful with, he noticed the bags under her eyes, the pale pallor of her skin, and her raw bottom lip, which he knew was due to her habit of biting it when she got stressed or excited. Though she definitely looked worse for wear, she still looked heartbreakingly beautiful in Chat Blanc's eyes. His glacial eyes melted and his heart stuttered in relief to know that he finally had his wife back.
With quiet ease, the king of the underworld slowly bent down to gently kiss each of his wife's softly-lashed eyelids. Her delicate eyebrows that were scrunched before relaxed, and her hands that were tightly clasped against her mid-section loosened.
"Marinette, mon amour. I need to see your eyes, ma belle. Wake for me," Chat Blanc whispered coaxingly, as he continued to gently stroke her unbruised cheek.
Marinette's long lashes fluttered open in a sleepy daze. She recognized that warm, gentle touch, that deep, soothing voice. She knew it was him. She had been waiting for her husband patiently, confident that he would find her.
As her gaze focused on her husband, she gave him one of her most dazzling smiles, bruise and all, and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her body. "Mon chaton, you came," she said sweetly.
"Always," he promised, a dark undertone hidden in his word, as he carefully gathered her in his arms. The two sat on the bed holding each other, taking in each other's very-missed presence. Their arms were tight, un-relinquishing, and very near-desperate. They were in a tangle of limbs and body as they practically clung onto each other as if it was a matter of life and death. They didn't want to let go, because to them, they could have easily imagined what it would've been like had he not found her. The possible future of that consequence was unacceptable, and yet it almost happened.
Chat Blanc almost lost his Marinette. Inexcusable.
He loosened his hold so he could softly tilt her small chin to meet her mesmerizing, lovely eyes. Marinette's watery smile turned into a frown when she saw the complete and utter sorrow in his ocean eyes. "I am sorry, milady. I should have found you sooner."
Marinette's soft blue eyes widened and she seamlessly transformed into the woman who dared call herself the king of the underworld's wife. She cupped his face that was etched in sorrowful lines with her dainty hands, and gave him the fiercest, sharpest, and most stern look. "No, minou, don't apologize."
He began to disagree, but she quieted his opposition with a swift, hard bite to his lip. He could only flinch and accept her judgment. Her eyes burned with anger. "Xavier Ravier deserved what he got coming. He should rot with the trash that was Le Pigeon." She eyed her husband with a questioning look. And Chat Blanc answered it with cold satisfaction bleeding through his ocean eyes. "Très bien! I'm glad that they've been obliterated to , besides," her face and baby blue eyes softened, "the waiting made seeing you that much sweeter."
She smiled beautifully and closed the distance between her lips and her husband's, soothing her hard bite earlier. "Don't apologize, mon chaton," Marinette said softly. Chat Blanc looked helplessly at the bruises that covered her petite frame, and Marinette simply laughed. "Oh, minou, they will heal. I've had worse, as you well know, mon chaton. Besides, the majority of these bruises was when I nearly ended Xavier myself. If it wasn't for my-" Marinette stopped dead in her words, her eyes wide in shock.
Chat Blanc tensed as he quickly swerved around to eye his surroundings ruthlessly and destroy anything that posed any further danger to his wife. When he found that it was only the two of them, he twisted back around to eye his petite wife in question. "Mon amour?"
Marinette's cheeks began to flush and her long lashes fanned downward to cover her beloved bluebell eyes demurely. She began to gnaw her already-raw bottom lip, which Chat Blanc immediately raised his hand to gently thumb it to stop it from becoming worse.
"Marinette, what's wrong? Are you hurting somewhere? Shall we go home now?" Chat Blanc asked worriedly. She simply shook her head, dark strands flying and shimmering in the light.
"There's something I want to tell you, Chat," Marinette said shyly.
He immediately straightened. He knew that when his wife called him by his name, it was something to be taken seriously and was of the utmost importance. "Tell me," he said firmly, his gaze and attention completely focused on his most precious lady, ready to move heaven or hell for her.
She leaned over to cup a hand over his ear and whispered a very, very sweet surprise.
Chat Blanc's ocean blue eyes grew wide as he stared wondrously at his smiling wife. He stared and stared and stared, and finally, a tear slid down his stoic cheek as he tenderly, oh so tenderly, lowered his shaky hand to behold his sweet wife's slightly swollen tummy.
"Marinette," he rasped out. "Is it really tr-?" He couldn't finish his sentence. He was too choked up and in awe of it all. Chat Blanc have already considered himself incapable of anything but destroying. He already considered it a miracle that Marinette loved him, let alone choose to marry him. He shouldn't be capable of creating anything precious or good, and yet here he was, holding his beautiful miracle who was carrying another miracle inside her.
How dare he craved such a thing as a family? How dare he believed he could deserve anything other than death and destruction? How dare he?
But then, there was his beautiful Marinette. She dared for him. She dared crave a family for him. She dared believe that he deserved life and creation. She dared.
Marinette simply held his shaky hand against her tummy tight against her, and pulled his silver head down so she could softly kiss her fierce, powerful, and precious Chat Blanc.
"Je t'aime, Chat," Marinette whispered against her husband's lips.
Chat Blanc couldn't help but gaze down at those soft, trusting, and loving eyes. Eyes that adored and hoped for him. "Je t'aime, milady," he whispered back shakily, almost guiltily, but meaning every word he said.
The king of the underworld, the ruler of France's crime syndicate, the monstrous and cruel Chat Blanc didn't deserve her or their unborn child, but he was going to spend the rest of their lives proving why he should.