#not scooped but this is a tragedy of equal weight

[lepitorus]

tfw you go blonde so you don't look like your serial killer dad but now you just look like your serial killer dad with horribly bleach-damaged hair

[tsarisfanfiction]

Tremor V

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: On the Teen/Mature border Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Gordon Tracy, Scott Tracy, Kayo Kyrano, The Hood

Part 5 of my contribution to Hear from @gumnut-logic‘s SensorySunday challenge. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

WASP!Gordon is fun.  WASP!Gordon also took my plans for this chapter and derailed them spectacularly.  We’re back around part 3 levels of violence; some torture and gun use in this part.

Each brother was one with his respective Thunderbird.  It made sense; each Thunderbird had been built specifically for them, after all.  Their hope, their determination, desperation whenever they went out on a mission, to save another family a tragedy shone through Tracy and machine equally.  Today was the first day Gordon had set foot in Thunderbird Four thrumming with suppressed anger; she’d responded in kind, an emotion unsuited to a rescue machine but mirrored all the same.

And Gordon was angry. He was furious, grip on the controls firmer than normal as his Thunderbird pushed through the water.  EOS had given them a starting point, but it had been another agonising forty-eight hours before his connections at WASP had located the Hood’s monstrosity – such a thing should never be in the air, let alone contaminating the world’s oceans – and a plan of attack had been formed.

The ocean was Gordon’s domain.  Outside the windows, murky shapes kept pace with his submarine; the ocean was WASP’s domain, too, and WASP took offence to the Hood’s presence.  The fact that one of the accompanying submarines was the same one Gordon had served on as an officer, manned by that very same crew, was just an added bonus.

Behind him Kayo shifted, International Rescue’s own security agent too agitated to remain still in the confined cockpit of Thunderbird Four.  They hadn’t exchanged any words since Thunderbird Two had dropped them off to the south of Iceland, Virgil trying one last argument to come with them rather than remain on standby.  The blanch when Gordon had offered him a gun had been enough to defeat that argument.

This was a rescue, but it wasn’t one in International Rescue’s domain, despite the presence of Thunderbird Four.  Unarmed civilians like his brother would be nothing more than a liability.  Gordon didn’t want to use the gun stowed safely in his baldric, but if that was what it came to, he would.  Kayo had equally declined a gun, but she was more dangerous without one.  No-one would dare consider her an unarmed civilian.

Up ahead, the Hood’s ship loomed, and Gordon allowed him a brief moment of Scott’s in there before calling on his military mindset and letting it settle over him, pushing detrimental emotions to the back of his mind.

Get in.  Locate the hostage.  Get out.  Do not engage with hostiles unnecessarily.

Behind him Thunderbird Shadow’s pilot stilled, her breathing carefully regulated and even as she slipped into her own professional mask.  There was too much at stake for careless mistakes.

Latching onto another craft was second nature, Thunderbird Four designed to pull off that exact trick, and he slipped under the belly of the craft, locating the airlock.  WASP carried on past, surrounding the machine with loaded missiles at the ready if it tried to escape.  Only one submarine stayed behind – Gordon’s old one, with men he knew and trusted.

The boarding party was small.  WASP paperwork indicated they’d been selected by their Commander.  That Commander had once worked with Gordon during his days in service and selected the names Gordon picked.  They all convened at the airlock, nudging it open with practised ease and slipping inside.

What was a mass of junk on the outside was a refined interior, better at home in a billionaire’s private yacht than a criminal’s lair.  Polished floorboards with plush rugs, more than likely all obtained through less-than-legal means, greeted them as they edged forwards.  From here it was all luck; they had no plan of the interior, no other known ship to compare to for even the vaguest idea.

Gordon gave the order to advance, a sharp hand gesture they all heeded instantly.  Kayo, hurriedly drilled through the basics of WASP’s signals once it became apparent it would be a joint operation, stuck close to him. Around them, there was the hum of life support, muted but audible in the silence.  Lights buzzed almost silently overhead, suspended with decorative shades rather than the bare-bones of a typical submarine.  Beneath their feet, the plush rugs muffled any and all footsteps, and it was with guns in hand that the team cautiously proceeded.

“Hey!”

They spotted the masked person the same moment they saw them and following the brief the two front-most aquanauts reacted, dragging them down before they could flee or raise an alarm. Whoever it was, they were naïve and sloppy, and their resistance was flimsy at best.  Outnumbered and unprepared, they were down in seconds.

An empty bottle dropped to the floor, bouncing off the floorboards with a dull thunk before rolling onto the rug and remaining still.  Gordon narrowed in on it immediately, padding forwards and trusting his companions to keep watch on the area as he scooped it up.  Droplets of clear liquid trailed down the inside. Helmeted, Gordon couldn’t catch a scent, but it seemed most likely to be water.

Why was their now-unconscious opponent carrying around an empty water bottle?  He gestured his intentions to check the alcove they’d appeared from, and immediately Kayo and two others were with him as the others kept the area secure.

A plain white door greeted him, firmly shut.  Faint thudding and an accompanying unrecognisable sound were barely audible from the other side. Gordon turned his attention to the access panel beside it and withdrew a little present from John and EOS.  Barely a fraction of the AI’s processing code – not enough for her consciousness to be within it – it was enough to have the door unlocked and opening in seconds.

The room was not large, but it didn’t need to be.  A thrashing, flailing body was chained to a table, mouth open in a soundless scream. Behind him, Kayo made to step forward but Gordon threw an arm to stop her, tearing his eyes from the scene to survey the rest of the room.  No-one there.

Satisfied, he firmly gestured for Kayo to guard the door and edged in, taking one last check around for unwelcome surprises, before he let the military ebb away slightly and all but ran to his brother’s side.

Relief at finding him was fleeting at best.  Electric sparks were flying around each of the shackles, providing an immediate answer for Scott’s distress, and Gordon grit his teeth, looking for the source. A small black box, tucked under the foot of the table, caught his attention and he didn’t waste time looking for the off switch.  Muffler on his gun, he took aim and fired.  Sparks fizzed around the hole, but the low hum of electricity stopped, and Gordon holstered the weapon, attention solely on his brother.

Scott was pale, washed out beyond anything that could be considered remotely healthy.  His eyes were open, but it was clear he wasn’t looking at anything, the usual sharp blue muted and dulled as his chest heaved, mouth open for air.  Brown hair was dishevelled and matted, wet and plastered to his face, some droplets of water still running down his cheeks.

Gordon wasted no time in picking the locks of the shackles, noticing irregular spasms in his muscles and bruised fingers at unnatural angles, and the carefully suppressed anger bubbled below the surface.  Scott came first, but if the Hood showed his face before they’d left, Gordon had a bullet with his name on it.

How dare he do this to his brother.  Gordon was under no illusions that Scott’s five days with the madman had been any different to what he’d just witnessed, and there was a part of him very relieved to find him still alive.

The shackles fell away to show burnt and bleeding skin beneath.  Gordon touched one still-twitching arm gently and Scott’s head rolled away from him with a barely-there noise, arm flinching minutely.

Gordon wanted to take his time, reassure Scott he wasn’t going to hurt him – while mentally deciding what, exactly, he was going to do to the Hood if he made the mistake of appearing – but a muffled gunshot still made a noise, and from outside the room he could hear a small commotion.

“Hold on, Scott,” he murmured as he ran a quick assessment for any damage that would make moving him ill-advised, appalled but unsurprised at the lack of clothing.  He tossed the small cloth that was present to one side, damp and rubbing the sensitive skin beneath it raw, determined that moving Scott wouldn’t kill him, and scooped him into his arms.

Scott was taller than him by some margin, but whether it was Gordon’s determination to get him out of there or a drastic loss of weight during captivity, lifting him was barely more strenuous than if it were Alan.  Gordon pushed the thought away to be dealt with once they were safe.

“We’re out of here,” he said curtly to Kayo, who nodded without turning around – although Gordon’ didn’t miss the look out of the corner of her eye, or the harder set of her jaw – and advanced into the corridor.

They didn’t wait for WASP – with International Rescue’s primary objective in Gordon’s arms, their aims now differed as the military moved into the second phase of the operation: capture the Hood.  Former comrades offered him little more than a nod of the head as they passed, keeping their passage to the airlock clear before joining the advance ahead, but Gordon ignored them.  Scott wasn’t reacting to being moved, limp and unseeing in his arms, and the sooner they got him off the ship, the better.

They’d need to swim to Thunderbird Four.  It was barely any distance to the closest airlock on the small submarine, ten metres at most, but Gordon couldn’t be sure Scott was conscious enough to hold his breath.

“Go,” he said to Kayo. “Get the stretcher ready.”  She gave Scott a concerned look before nodding and launching herself out of the ship.  Gordon didn’t watch her go; instead he knelt and propped Scott up against his legs, supporting him with one arm while the other hand dug out the rebreather.  “Just a quick swim,” he promised his brother, pressing it to cover his mouth and nose.

Immediately, Scott reacted, lurching away from the equipment and almost falling sideways.  Gordon clung to him tighter, hushing him as he moved his head from side to side, blue eyes wide with terror.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed, heart constricted at the sight of his strong big brother reduced to blindly thrashing with trembling muscles barely under his control.  “It’s just until we get to Four, I promise.  Come on, Scotty.  I can’t get you out of here without it.”  His words had no effect, and he brushed Scott’s hair back, desperate. “It’s me, Scotty.  Gordon.  I’m getting you out of here.  It’s just a rebreather.  Just like when you used to fly fighter jets,” he promised.  He couldn’t use a tranquiliser, not when they had no idea what Scott had been dropped with originally, or what might have been used since.

There were footsteps approaching, heavy enough to be heard even though plush rug.  Not WASP.

“Come on, Scott,” he pleaded quietly. “You can do it.  Twenty seconds, that’s all.  Twenty seconds and you’ll be safe in Thunderbird Four.”  Scott stilled and he cautiously tried again, only for his brother to panic again as soon as it came into contact with his face.

The footsteps were getting closer.

“Please, Scott,” he hissed. “Please!”

Step.  Step.  Step. Gordon dropped the rebreather and went for his gun, turning and firing a shot as a man came into view.

There was a cry of pain and the helmetless man dropped to the floor, hands around the hole in his leg.

“Another Tracy,” he hissed, eyes a green-yellow and glaring daggers at him.  Scott flinched violently at the voice, and Gordon pulled him closer protectively with the hand not holding the gun trained on the other man.

Gordon hadn’t watched the old footage as obsessively as some of his brothers, but even he recognised the man in front of him.  Scott’s reaction was unnecessary confirmation, and his finger squeezed the trigger again. Again.  Again.

One bullet hit the Hood’s other leg.  The other two found his shoulders, the Hood jerking back with each hit and Gordon levelled the barrel at the bald head as the man screamed hoarsely.

“That was four bullets,” he said coldly as pained yet furious eyes found his and widened at the barrel still aimed towards them.  “You had him five days.”

He pulled the trigger.

Part VI

[meetmeinthematinee]

Torn ------- Chapter 5

AN: It’s been a long while for this fic! Catch the previous chapter here.

Content warnings: Angst! Injuries (scrapes, sprain), Mention of DV -- none takes place but it is questioned about. Lotta swearing.

Kristen gasped. Her hands shook violently and John reached over and gently took her thermos from her. He wrapped his arm around her---or tried to but she pushed him away. “You mean to tell me. You just got upset with me for not telling you my business---the place my whole life revolves around, is newly in business with organized crime. How dare you. HOW FUCKING DARE YOU.” She got up and grabbed Gremlins leash and started walking into the night. She was furious and terrified in equal measure. They were a long way from anywhere but she felt compelled to move. It was dark and in her rush she didn’t notice the pothole. She felt sick when her ligaments stretched as her foot rolled and she pitched forward. She threw her hands out in front of her to break her fall. Her palms and knees burning as they skidded across the rough pavement. Gremlin, forever oblivious, meandered at the end of his leash wondering why they’d stopped moving. Gravel scraped underfoot and familiar, warm hands grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t! Just, don’t.” She said coldly as she jerked her shoulders away from his touch. John relented and let go. He sat beside her on the pavement instead. “You’re hurt. I saw how hard you fell.” He said quietly. 

She tried and failed to get to her feet. Pain radiated from her ankle as soon as she tried to put weight on it. She shifted from her hands and knees and very carefully sat next to John. Gremlin sat beside her. She stared at the bloody mess of her hands, the ripped knees of her jeans. “I’m pretty sure it’s sprained. I’ve done it before. Same ankle.” She caught the nod of his head from the corner of her eye. She was too angry, too hurt to look at him. “I’m sorry. I had no right to lash out at you like that. No right at all.” For the first time since she’d left his side she turned to look at him. John noticed how her eyes were bright with pain. “Please get me home. That’s all I care about right now. I want to go home.” She curled her injured hands toward her chest and leaned her head against John’s shoulder. “I’m going to carry you to the car ok? Once we get there I’ll open the door and help you in.” “Ok.” 

He carefully took Gremlin’s leash off her wrist, making sure to avoid her injured palms. “I’m going to pull you up into a standing position, then I’m going to pick you up.” He said everything matter of factly, giving her a chance to object before he’d move or touch her. It brought her comfort, in an odd way---it cut through her anger, her fear. “Alright, here we go.” He said as he gently got her into a one-legged standing position and then scooped her into his arms bridal style. Kristen closed her eyes and leaned her head on his shoulder. She heard the skittering of Gremlin’s paws over the blacktop and the louder footfalls of John’s feet. His steady breathing not showing any signs that carrying her was an effort. Silent tears were making their way down her face and onto his shirt. He stopped moving and pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “We’re at the car. I’ll put you down and you can lean against the car and then I’ll help you get in, alright? I just have to open the door and slide the seat back so you have room for your leg to be up.” He gently eased her down and helped her lean against the car. He slid the seat into position and folded their blanket to make a footrest for her injured ankle in the footwell of the passenger seat. As soon as she was safely in the car John shepherded Dog and Gremlin into the back seat and made sure they had everything before they drove off. 

Kristen broke into loud, wracking sobs as soon as they were in motion. Her ankle hurt badly but not as much as her torn up hands and knees. They burned intensely and that combined with her ankle and the panic over what John had revealed was overwhelming. Gremlin was whimpering in the back seat and Dog was unsettled too. When her sobs became shuddering gasps John pulled the car over. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder and one hand on her thigh. “I really need you to take some slow, deep breaths. Can you do that for me?” She shook her head no frantically. “You can.” He encouraged softly as he rubbed his hand across her back. “I” She gasped. “I, ok.” She managed to get out before she took a slow and shaky inhale followed by a shuddering exhale. “That was good. Let’s go for another.” This time there was less shaking to her breathing. He kept encouraging her until she was breathing normally again. 

She leaned back against the car seat and rolled her head to the side. Glancing at John for the first time since he’d gotten her into the car. He could barely hear her over the rumble of the engine. “Please, don’t leave me alone tonight.” She said softly as another tear slipped from the corner of her eye. John traced his thumb along her cheekbone, leaned in close and gently kissed her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll drop the dogs at home and then I’m taking you to get checked over. Everything will be ok, Kristen. I promise.” He said. “Ok.” She whispered.

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

“Sir, can I ask you to step out for a moment? I’ll let you know when you can come back in.”

John nodded. “Of course.” 

“How did this happen again?” The doctor asked once John had stepped out of the room.

“It was dark at the park and I stepped into a pothole and went flying. We were watching the meteor shower tonight.”

“You know whatever you say here is confidential and that you’re safe.”

“I know---and really, that’s what happened. I understand what you’re getting at and really, it’s a comforting thing to know you ask these questions---but really, I’m safe and he had nothing to do with my injuries.” She said, the paper of the exam table crinkling underneath her as she shifted.

“Alright, I always ask -- and let people know we’re here to help.” The doctor cleared their throat. “When was your last tetanus shot?” 

“Umm. I have no idea to be honest.” She said.

“Here’s the plan, we’ll wrap up your ankle. The good news is, it’s sprained not broken and I’ll clean up your hands and get you a tetanus shot. Alright, Kristen?”

“Yeah, that works for me.” 

The doctor crossed the room and stepped into the hall. “You can come back in now, sir.”

“Is everything?” The concern in his voice dulled the edges of her anger. 

“I’m fine, John. Sprained, not broken. We can go soon. Just waiting for a shot. 

“Tetanus?” He guessed.

“Yeah.” 

“Better safe than sorry.” He conceded.

“Phrase of the night, I suppose.” She said grimly.

She decided staying the night at John’s would make the most sense. Gremlin was there anyway and his house was all on one floor---unlike hers where the bedroom was up a narrow, steep staircase. The pain medication they gave her at the hospital had kicked in and she laid her head against the headrest of the carseat. “What do we do now?” She asked quietly, rolling her head to the side to gaze up at him. His lips parted and he wet his lower lip with his tongue. “Nothing.”

“What?” 

“We do nothing.” 

“John, you’re not making sense.”

“I’ve been thinking. The guy who came to the shop---you thought he was joking. So, if he comes back that’s what you stick with. You don’t know anything.” 

“But I do know….”

“Just enough to get you in trouble.” He said as he parked the car in the garage.

“You’re trouble.” She regretted saying it as soon as the words left her mouth. 

John’s shoulders sagged defeatedly. 

“I didn’t mean--” Kristen reached out for him but he leaned away and got out of the car instead.

He reappeared on her side of the car, opening the door and offering his arm to help her out. 

“John.”

“No, I am.” He said, avoiding her gaze.

“Fuck.” She whispered more to herself than to him.

“Let’s just get inside and we can talk about everything tomorrow, alright?”

Kristen just stared at him with her mouth slightly agape. 

“Please?” He asked without meeting her eyes. 

The night air was cool and the only sound came from the waves lapping at the shoreline behind the house and the occasional cricket. He was still avoiding her gaze, but kept his arm outstretched, waiting for her.

Tag List:

@inlovewithliferuiners​ @nnneith​ @xo-dragonette-xo​ @i-cant-remember-my-old-login

@fanficsrusz​ @baphometwolf666​ @sgt-morgan​ @thesadvampire​ @mikaneonox​ @paanchu786​

@ficsnroses​ @keanuwwu​ @kathorax​ @beyond-antares​ @fics-not-tragedies​ @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day​ @jardani-jovonovich-bitch​ @21stcenturyyfoxx​ @ladyreapermc​

@holiday-armadildo​ @harrisongslimited​ @keandrews @danceoftwowolves​

[128andfalling]

Who’s Saving Ladybug? - Chapter 1

So I had a fic idea a couple months ago, but I’m wondering if I should continue. Would love to hear your thoughts/ideas!

Link to Ao3.     Next Chapter>

Chat Noir refused to let her go.

“Get out my way,” Ladybug growled. “I don’t want to fight you too.”

Ladybug could see Chat silently assessing her but he made no move to clear the pathway. Determined to seek justice whether he supported her or not, she removed her yoyo and sent a round house kick in Chat’s direction. To her surprise, he swiftly moved towards her and caught her leg against his hip.

“Let me go!” she screamed in anguish, even more frustrated by the fact that she had to put her hands on his shoulders for balance.

Without saying a word, Chat placed his left hand on the back of Ladybug’s other thigh and lifted her into a straddling position. Ladybug was too shocked to react before he had taken a few steps and pinned her against a nearby chimney using his own weight to insure she could not move and his hands remaining securely on her legs. Ladybug ensued a tantrum of trying to get the cat off of her, pushing at his shoulders, kicking her legs, and letting out a torrent of swearing, threats, and grunts as she attempted to fight his grasp on her. Blinded by anger, she let her fists come down on Chat’s back as she did anything to escape. Chat remained still with his head pressed against her shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and hands unmoving. He patiently waited like a dog who willingly accepted a beating, refusing to bite the one who maintained his love and loyalty.

Ladybug’s outcries grew quieter and her hits softer as her rage faded to be replaced by grief. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she moved her head forward to rest on Chat’s still unflinching shoulder. The cat waited a moment to ensure that she would not return to anger before moving Ladybug away from the wall and sinking into a sitting position with her still straddling his waist. Free from having to support her weight and restrain her legs, his hands swept around Ladybug’s waist to embrace her tightly. Shaking from her outburst and the sobs that were now racking her body, Ladybug clung to Chat with her head buried in his neck.

He did not know, did not care how long they sat like that. Chat was here for his lady as long she needed him and he refused to let her go unless she pulled away first. He was quiet, knowing that she need only his presence, and not a distraction as she came to terms with had happened today. After that akuma, all of Paris seemed heavy and somber. No akuma had instilled terror and confusion like this one before. It had not only disrupted the daily lives of the Parisians but had intruded their very minds and left wounds that would need time to heal. Ladybug, more than anyone would need time and support from her loved ones. But without people knowing her identity, Chat knew he was the only one who could truly be here for her. No one else would know that she had watched as the man threw himself off the building, that both of their reactions were mere seconds too late to stop the tragedy that unfolded before their eyes. No one else would understand her guilt at his death or the weight crushing her shoulders as the protector of Paris. When Ladybug tried to take on the responsibility of the world, as he knew she would, Chat was the only one who could take on the responsibility of Ladybug. He would do everything in his power to be there for her in this dark time. Protecting her from her own rash and dangerous decisions like he had tonight or holding her as he let her release her tears on his shoulder. Whatever it was, Chat was going to be there, being her hero while she was everyone else’s.

At this thought, Chat embraced Ladybug a little tighter and noticed that she had stopped crying and her breaths had evened, having drifted off. Leaning his cheek against her hair, Chat filled his lungs with her scent as he thought.

“Ladybug?” he inquired softly, his voice slightly hoarse after being silent for so long.

“Mmm?” she responded, not quite awake enough to respond fully.

Chat smiled softly, sympathetically. There was no doubt that she was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted after today.

“Let me take you home,” he whispered into her hair. He knew taking her home could potentially reveal her identity, but he wasn’t ready to let go of her yet and she was in no state to make it anywhere by herself. To his surprise, she nodded in agreement.

Ladybug kept her head buried in his neck and tightened her grip around his shoulders as Chat stood. Before her feet could touch the ground, however, Chat scooped her legs up into his left arm as the right remained firmly around her back.

“Where to, my lady?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

As soon as she mumbled the directions into his collarbone, he started to move, a feeling of vague familiarity seeping into his consciousness. Chat didn’t pay it any heed to the feeling until he was preparing to make his last jump onto the balcony of the building his lady had directed him to.

Oh, he silently mouthed as he spotted the familiar bakery. Chat pushed his impending thoughts aside as his determination to care for the girl still cradled in his arms made itself a priority. With that, he landed as quietly as he could on the balcony.

“We’ve arrived, my lady,” he murmured, not sure if he was ready to leave her, still concerned about her well-being.

Ladybug wiggled her legs slightly to indicate that Chat needed to return her feet to the ground. Chat obliged but kept his arm wrapped around her back.

“Thank you, mon chaton,” she whispered, head still leaning against his shoulder. Ladybug stiffened at the realization of where she was standing with Chat Noir. She stepped back to look at him, expecting him to be grinning at her now known secret. However, her wide blue eyes were met with compassion and worry as his green eyes examined her. Ladybug—Marinette—released a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. As much as Chat wanted to know her identity behind the mask, he was concerned for her first and foremost. After everything that had happened today, she could see that he wanted to make sure she was okay. He had protected her, even from her impulsive self. He had let her yell at him and hit him in her anger. He had held her as she cried and drifted off to sleep. He had brought her home. All the while ignoring his own needs to take care of her first. As much as Chat flirted or made passes at her, Marinette saw for the first time that he genuinely loved her. Whether or not he knew the girl who lived above the bakery, here he stood for her. All of her.

Tears formed in her eyes as she watched him silently watch her, waiting for anything from her. Patiently waiting as he always did for her direction.

He really does love me, she thought as they continued to stare in silence.

“I-I can g-go if you want. I just n-needed to know y-you were... okay.”

Before he could continue, Ladybug crashed back into him, embracing him tightly. Chat gasped at the sudden contact, but quickly returned the hug.

“Oh Marinette…”

So he does know me.

“…I’m so sorry. I know you didn’t want to reveal our identities. And for what it’s worth, I’m happy that it is you. I just… After today… Today was bad. No. It was horrible. And I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to go through this alone. I want you to know that I am here for you. And whatever you want me to do, as long as it’s not completely irrational, like you trying to rip the city apart in search of Hawkmoth, I’ll do it. I’m here for you. I’ll stay if you want or go. Just as long as I know that you are safe, I’ll--”

“Stay,” Ladybug interrupted, head still buried in Chat’s chest and tears falling down her cheeks for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“What?” Chat responded quietly, realizing that he had started to ramble.

“Stay,” Ladybug said more clearly, pulling back slightly to look at his green eyes. “I… I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Relief flashed across his eyes, giving Marinette the sense that Chat didn’t want to be alone right now either.

“Of course, princess,” Chat tenderly whispered with an equally gentle smile growing on his face.

With the back of one hand, Marinette wiped off the tears that were streaked down her cheeks. With the other, she grabbed Chat’s hand and led him to her trapdoor.