#silent treatment for no reason Ah I thought I did a good job on my anniversary pierces ;-;

[cali-kabi]

~ Happy 10th Anniversary Kirby Triple Deluxe🌿🌸💫🍄this game means so much to me I have so many good memories of this game it helped me get through my sadness from school, the music is also very good and I get eeeeee excited whenever I get a keychain <3💫🌟💖

[ofainur]

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ pre corrupt!vanimóre ⠀〳 navëquen⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. eager to see his counterpart for being tardy — the last thing vanimóre expected was to be standing there, caressing his hair

· ⊰ note. I'm so obsessed with these two please. if you want to know more about navëquen, check out this post. he is my darling friend @cilil 's oc, the maia and attendant of námo ~ I love him so much<3 I thought I'd give these two some fluff since their story absolutely breaks me

♡. — 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅

‘Where could that pesky creeps be?’ 

Raking a hand through dark hair, Vanimóre groans from the strain in his legs and arms — still heavy with the weight of lingering sleepiness. He has always been the ‘slacker’ of the two, as Navëquen put it. In Vanimóre’s humble opinion, his counterpart was a workaholic and thus made him look bad in comparison. He took breaks when needed and indulged in slumber; many would assume he was the Maia of Irmo rather than older Fëantur. 

That aside, Vanimóre now scoured for his other half with pursed lips and a small irritation in his crimson eyes. Navëquen was typically the first one sitting in their shared office. However, upon entering the other found him nowhere to be seen. Granted, it was rather early but was the creep not uselessly good at his job? One would expect him to be there in that blasted, favourite chair of his at the onset of a new day. 

‘Maybe he is still sleeping?’ The thought crosses his mind as he approaches a particular cobblestone corridor. A tickle pricks at his fëa. A brief tug. A melody seeping into his own. Vanimóre thus glances in the direction of this allure and realises the aforementioned Maia’s room is right down the corridor. He must still be there — their bond tells him so. 

“Hypocrite. You’re still in your fifth dream I bet.’’ Clicking his tongue he steers his steps down the hallway and makes a beeline for the room. To think, the one time he shows up early the criticising voice that always buzzes in his ear is in fact late. Oh, Vanimóre simply could not let him live this down. He’d do anything to drive both his colleague and closest friend up the wall. Even if it resulted in the other giving him the silent treatment for a few good hours. It mattered not to Vanimóre, he knew that Navëquen couldn’t resist him for long. 

“Creeps!”

His voice echoes the hallway as long-nailed fingers wrap around the doorknob and fling it open carelessly. Hoping to startle the Maia awake and witness his spout of dishevelled panic. Eager to tease the poor thing on being ‘tardy’ when in reality neither of them was to start shift yet. 

Yet that was not the sight that awaited Vanimóre’s eyes. At the far end of the room stood a man. Tall and of fair face. In front of a silver, full-length mirror with a brush in hand and viridian ribbons wrapped around his wrist. It took a second for Vanimóre to recognise this man as Navëquen. Which many would deem strange at first — but the reasoning behind it was far too valid. For not only did Vanimóre behold his closest friend in a dishevelled state, but with his hair, which was typically fastened in a tight braid without a strand out of place, now framing his stunning — ahem. . . pale face. 

Ebony tresses lay loose and extend down to his waist. Messy, yet perfect in every way. It was certainly a rarity to see Navëquen’s hair open, let alone a little all-over-the-place. But coupled with those deep grey eyes and his porcelain-like face staring back at him, Vanimóre could only find one word to describe him in this moment. 

‘Gorgeous.’ 

“Vanimóre — How many times have I told you to knock?”

The spluttering tugs him from his brief haze and only then does Vanimóre take notice of the flustered, almost panicked expression spread across Navëquen’s face. His cheeks give away his embarrassment with a soft pink tint and Vanimóre cannot help but think it adorable. 

“Ah, when do I ever listen to you?” He coughs, hoping that his own cheeks did not mirror the blush of the other. Nevertheless, he attempts to brush it off with his typical, sharp-toothed grin. Yet it trembles, and barely reaches the likes of a smile as he takes a small step forward. “I was wondering where you were. I arrived early only to see that you’re slacking off.’’ He chuckles at the click of tongue he receives in response and watches as Navëquen shuffles back to the mirror. Ignoring — or at least trying to ignore — his presence. 

An awkward silence sets upon them like a heavy sheet. Neither Maiar utter a word despite stealing each other small glances through the mirror; if only to avert their eyes swiftly once caught. Vanimóre fumbles a little, taking a gander at the door and wondering whether he should head back to their office. Instead, his own words betray him as he takes another step towards the chest of drawers displaying the mirror. 

“Would you like some help?”

The question stiffened Navëquen’s brushing movements and struck a lump in Vanimóre's throat. Grey meets crimson through the reflective glass and for a few, silent seconds, they aimlessly stare at one another. Pink faces and surprised expressions galore. 

“. . . Or I could just —”

“Yes.’’ 

Vanimóre swallows the lump in his throat at the acceptance of his offer. His fána moves on its own accord and he soon finds himself directly behind Navëquen who continues to eye him through the mirror. “Alright then,’’ Vanimóre mutters, motioning to the seat in front of the vanity, waiting for Navequen to adhere to his instruction before he takes a hold of the dark locks. 

So soft, he almost mutters, but manages to bite his tongue at the last second. For awhile he gently rakes his fingers through the silky strands — if only to be handed the brush. 

“Ah,’’ he blushes. “Sorry. Forgot about that.’’ Chuckling to quell his own fluster, Vanimóre sets to work on brushing through long hair. Admiring each and every inch of it. So soft, silk-like. . . stunning. It felt as though he was holding his breath for the entire styling process and had to practically scold himself to set the brush down and actually fasten the hair into its signature braid. 

Much to the surprise of the common eye, Vanimóre was expertly skilled in the art of hair-styling. He recalls the number of times his little sister would run to him with pink ribbons and dazzling eyes. Tugging at his sleeves and begging him to try a new style she had learnt of. All those times of endless brushing and ribbon fastening paid off. Vanimóre recounts that she too preferred her hair in a braid, so it was something he could do blindfolded and with one hand tied behind his back. 

From the corner of his vision he sights the faint specks of pink on porcelain skin. A quick stolen glance would confirm that Navëquen was indeed still blushing. 

‘How cute.’ He smiles to himself. If not only to immediately mentally reprimand himself. ‘Damnit, Vanimóre. Would you give it a break? His heart’s not yours.’ 

The smile on his lips falters at the reminder — only emphasised when he takes the viridian ribbons from around Navëquen’s wrist and works on fastening them into the braid. The soft silk of the ribbons felt like a burn on his fingertips. For he knew what this specific colour choice represented. Their lord’s preferred colour.  A certain swell spreads throughout his chest, and Vanimóre is unable to stop his sigh which escapes into the air. 

“What’s the matter?” Navëquen’s quick question prompts him to curse at himself as he finishes the braid off with a neat, viridian bow at the end. “It’s nothing.’’ Vanimóre quips and brings his gaze back to the mirror where pools of grey await him. The arch of a brow and the shine of disbelief tells him that Navëquen was not so easily fooled. He should be aware of that. Navëquen knew him well.

Navëquen knew him most. 

“It’s just. . .’’ releasing the braid, Vanimóre cannot escape the awaiting eyes of his counterpart. With another sigh, he shakes his head. “I was just thinking that you actually look quite. . . pretty,’’ a brief pause. “With your hair down.’’ 

‘Why do I feel like this? It's just a braid.’

Red not only shined itself on Navëquen’s face but on Vanimóre’s as well, and the latter immediately backs off and starts making his way towards the door with a few coughs. “Anyway, I’ll see you back at the office. Lord Namo’s probably already looking for us.’’ Escaping not only his own embarrassment, but his true feelings once more — Vanimóre scampers out of the room without another word, leaving Navëquen all by his lonesome. 

Cheeks still burning with blushes, Navëquen timidly glances back at the mirror. His hair was back to its average stature — yet something felt different. The warm, fluttering feeling within him told him so.

Subconsciously, he shifts the braid over his shoulder and glances at the Maia’s handiwork. Not too bad, he thinks before bringing his gaze to the mirror once more.

Was that a smile?

He blinks. 

Indeed it was. One that only grows with fondness as he relives the recent encounter. . . Who knows when he’ll bring himself to unfasten his hair again. 

·⊰ masterlist.

·⊰ tip jar.

·⊰ get tagged for my writing. @doodle-pops @rurifangirl @a-chaotic-dumbass @cilil

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ please consider liking, reblogging and / or commenting if you enjoy my work! all feedback is greatly appreciated ♡ 

[openheart12]

You’re Losing Me

A/N: is this shit? yes. but this song? not shit

Summary: She’s at her breaking point. (dun dun dun)

WC: 1,427

~ You say, "I don't understand, " and I say, "I know you don't"

We thought a cure would come through in time, now, I fear it won't ~

It had been six months and nothing changed, his empty promises remained unfulfilled. She was at her breaking point.

She loved him as if he was oxygen, needing him to live, to survive. His drinking had only gotten worse since his release from prison. The oxygen she needed turned to suffocating her. Things had gotten so bad that she started to dread going home, catching up on missing paperwork instead or sitting in her office wondering how things got to this point.

He usually wasn’t home until after midnight most nights, drinking at the bar that was close to their house. It was just after ten o’clock when she arrived home, surprised to see his car in the driveway.

She expected a fight when she walked through the door. The kitchen was trashed, plates shattered to pieces laid on the ground, an empty twelve-pack sat on the counter, the empty bottles strewn everywhere.

~ Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light

Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time

Do I throw out everything we built or keep it? ~

Fighting back tears, she grabbed the broom and started sweeping up the pieces of glass. “Home early?” he asked, coming into her view. She didn’t dare to speak, she was pissed. She was hurt. She was over it. “Silent treatment now?” he asked, slurring his words. “Did you at least have a good day at work?”

More silence.

“Jesus christ, Michelle, do you not know how to have a decent conversation?”

“How much have you had to drink?” she asked bitterly.

“Ah there it is, blaming me yet again. I had a couple beers, big deal.” he said defensively.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Whatever.” she wasn’t going to fight with him tonight, she’d save it for tomorrow night.

“Why are you being a bitch?” he asked.

~ I'm getting tired even for a phoenix

Always risin' from the ashes

Mendin' all her gashes

You might just have dealt the final blow ~

Stopping dead in her tracks, she turned around to face him, glaring at him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Fuck you, Tony.” she said before going upstairs to their bedroom. She pulled out a bag and started throwing clothes into it.

“Where are you going?” No answer. “Hello?” he snapped his fingers. “Earth to Michelle?” he tried again, knocking his hand over her hand.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she hissed.

“What the fuck is your problem tonight? Sorry you had a bad day at work but that isn't a reason to take it out on me.”

~ Stop, you're losin' me

Stop, you're losin' me

Stop, you're losin' me I can't find a pulse

My heart won't start anymore

For you

'Cause you're losin' me ~

“Do you honestly think that work is my problem?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ “Wanna know what my problem is?” he asked. “My problem is that you still work for the bastards who put me away and expect me to be okay with it.”

“Who’s going to pay the bills then? I’m not the one who can’t find a job.” She hadn’t meant to throw that out there, she knew how hard he looked for a job when he first got out. She remembered seeing the defeat every time he got turned down from one when they found out about his background.

His shoulders sank.

~ Every mornin', I glared at you with storms in my eyes

How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?

I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick

My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick ~

Grabbing everything she needed, she zipped the bag shut. She retraced her steps back down the stairs, her hand on the doorknob. “Where are you going?”

She didn’t know where she was going. She hadn’t planned on leaving not until he gave her a reason and he had tonight. Ignoring him, she headed towards the door.

“If you walk out that door, then we’re done. That’s it.”

“We were done the moment you got out of prison. I can’t do this anymore.” her voice broke ever so slightly.

“You can’t do this anymore?” he laughed except there wasn’t anything funny about it. “What about me, Michelle? I can’t do this anymore.”

~ And the air is thick with loss and indecision

I know my pain is such an imposition

Now, you're runnin' down the hallway

And you know what they all say

You don't know what you got until it's gone ~

“You’re killing yourself, Tony, don’t you get that? I can’t stand around and watch it happen.”

“I’ll stop, I promise. I’ll get help, whatever it takes.” She was fighting back tears. The mood swings were the worst part. One minute he was begging her to stay and the next, he was telling her to leave him alone. It was a constant war with both sides losing.

“Don’t promise me that. Don’t promise me when I know that you’ll end up breaking it.”

“I went to prison for you, Michelle. Fucking prison. I had to make a decision whether to save you or everyone else. And I chose you, I’d choose you a million times over and this is my thanks?” he scoffed. “I think I deserve a little bit of leniency.”

~ Stop, you're losin' me

Stop, you're losin' me

Stop, you're losin' me

I can't find a pulse

My heart won't start anymore

For you

'Cause you're losin' me ~

“You shouldn’t have.” she said quietly. She didn’t need the reminder of why his life was a living hell. She lived it.

“Shouldn’t have what?”

“You shouldn’t have saved me. I would rather be dead than to know that all of this,” she gestured between the two of them, “is my fault.”

“You get to live your perfect life at your perfect job so screw me for having a hard time wondering what could be so bad for you.”

“My perfect life? Perfect job? What makes my life so perfect, Tony? My husband won’t even look at me.”

“I’m looking at you right now, Michelle. You’re making everything about yourself. God forbid that you suffer because I went to prison. Not everything is about you.” That pierced her right through the heart. He continued, “what do you want me to do? Get on my knees and beg for forgiveness?”

“I want you to care. I want you to want to get better. You’re looking at me, but are you listening?”

“Dammit, what the hell do you want?” There were a few beats of silence. “Just go,” he said finally.

So she did without another word. Closing the garage door behind her, she leaned back against it, her tears now streaming freely. What she didn’t know is that he stood on the other side, his head against the door. Both of them in their own hell with no end in sight.

He heard her sobs through the wooden frame and as much as it tore him up that he was the cause of her pain, he knew she’d be better off without him.

~ How long could we be a sad song

Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?

I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy

And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier

Fighting in only your army

Frontlines, don't you ignore me I'm the best thing at this party ~

But all she wanted was him.

He debated on whether to open the door. Were they too far gone? Fuck, he murmured to himself.  He had been an asshole, he wasn’t willing to lose her so he opened the door.

But she was already gone. Her perfume still lingered in the air, the only trace that she was ever there.

~ And I wouldn't marry me either

A pathological people pleaser

Who only wanted you to see her

And I'm fadin', thinkin'

"Do something, babe, say something"

"Lose something, babe, risk something"  

"Choose something, babe, I got nothing

To believe

Unless you're choosin' me" ~

He lost her. She warned him, giving him so many signs and he didn’t see it until it was too late.

~ You're losin' me

Stop, you're losin' me

Stop, you're losin' me

I can't find a pulse

My heart won't start anymore ~

[jwnchstr]

the one with the silent treatment pt.2

title: the one with the silent treatment | c.l16

characters: charles leclerc, you!reader, carlos sainz jr.

summary: in which, you didn’t invite charles to lunch wiht you and pierre and he is sulking and gives you the silent treatment.

masterlist | part one

*   *   *

     “ah,” a familiar voice hummed. it was carlos. he was at the door of his driver’s room. “look who’s here.”

     you looked up and smiled guiltily at him. there’s no reason as to why you found his driver’s room more comfortable when charles’s driver’s room is literally beside his.

     carlos entered his room. he’s not complaining about you in his room, this time. it’s not bothering him at all that you’re here. he’s not worried about his girlfriend finding out that you’re in the same room with him even though could feel uncomfrotable about it.

     the older spaniard took a seat beside you, though left a reasonable space between you two. “does this mean that you still haven’t apologised to charles and you guys are still not talking to each other?”

     you took a deep breath and sighed. you’re not sure if you’re relieved that you and charles fine. what happened after blew up your mind. “hmm.”

     “what ‘hmm’? i asked you a question,” carlos seemed annoyed. “oh, wait. did he...” carlos left his question hanging on purpose to watch your reaction.

     you raised your eyebrows at carlos, pretending that you didn’t understand what he was trying to ask. you tried your best to mask your sheepish smile, but carlos caught you blushing.

     “you’re blushing!” carlos’s face lit up.

     “i’m not blushing,” the sentence came out of your mouth way too fast.

     “you are! so, i guess, it went well. in fact, maybe too well,” carlos teased you.

     you snorted as you rolled your eyes at carlos.

     yes, maybe it went well with charles last week even though his confession was out of nowhere, but you’re not sure if you wanted to talk about it with anyone at the paddock. maybe they will figure it out by themselves.

     “i’ll see you around, chilli.” you stood up to leave.

     carlos pulled a face. “you’re leaving? no! not now! i want to know what happened!”

     “no, carlos. i’m not going to tell you anything.”

     “huh.” carlos snorted in annoyance. “not like neither of us here don’t already know what’s happening between you two.”

    hearing that, you returned back to your seat beside carlos like a happy little girl who gets a christmas present. with shiny eyes, you asked, “what happened between me and charles?”

     “nothing.” carlos winked his eyes at you. “now, irme. i need my beauty sleep before the fp2 this afternoon.”

     *   *   *

     the garage had never been so busy, though it’s only free practice for the belgian grand prix. you were standing in the fan zone box, with noise cancelling headphone on your ears, watching the mechanic doing their thing with charles car. you love how determined they are at their job, always wondering if they ever wanted to quit theirs like you with yours.

     “hey,” he greeted you. he was smiling as usual, though this time you felt different.

     he looked shy, but he’s not hiding it. it’s like he’s comfortable to let you know that he’s shy whenever you’re around him.

     as he rested his hands on the rails, you smiled back at him. “hi.” his face was so close to yours.

     “having fun yet?”

     “no,” you answered honestly. not like this is your first time being blunt with charles, though. “i don’t know what you guys are doing, for instance. and i have work to be done, but i don’t have the moods to finish them either.”

     charles chuckled at your honest answer. “did you find isa? have you eaten? anything i can help before i get into the car?”

     “i found her not long after you left. we had lunch together just now and i think we’re going to have a walk while you’re working.” you genuinely smiled at him. “don’t worry. i’m good.”

     “good.” charles never stopped smiling at you. not even a second. it looked as if he’s dreaming about this moment with you. “i’ve got to go.”

     “okay.”

     charles pushed himself closer to you, giving you all these wild thoughts about what people around you. he also gave you butterflies and weak in the knees, but you didn’t pulled away when he has his lips on your lips.

     “see you.” charles winked before he turned around to his car.

     you watched as his crews helped him as he got into his car and as he settled in the cockpit. you saw him pushing some buttons on the steering wheel as his engineers communicate with his through the team’s radio. maye you stared too much at your boyfriend that you didn’t realise what’s actually going on around you, but the second you’re taken back to reality, you felt someone staring back at you.

     you turned towards the direction, only to see carlos smirking at you.

*   *   *

tags list:

@charlewiss @enjoymyloves @o0itsjustme0o @hufflehans @leclerc16s @daikenkki 

[yostresswritinggirl]

hi! ik sojourner's already ended but i have an(other?) idea in case u ever pick it up since i love ur albedo 😳😳 ok so

what abt a reader who is rlly excited abt alchemy, but they avoid talking abt it bc they start rambling and stuttering and stumbling over their words bc they're so excited? they get assigned/asked to go w/ albedo bc they're rlly good at alchemy too, but they end up fidgeting a lot, muttering and stopping just a few words in before their volume rises and giving short answers when w/ him bc they're afraid of rambling (since they do it to think better when alone, sometimes insulting and arguing w the objects when they don't get the expected result) & being seen as annoying or unprofessional?? i'd like to see how he reacts to these and what he'd think!! and how or when he discovers the reason reader is acting like that

it's kinda (a lot, rlly skowkskdk i always have ideas but never write them) specific, but i rlly like the idea!! i'd love to see what u do w/ it if u ever pick it up in the future :D hope you're staying hydrated and well🥺🥰 -🌌

What do you mean Sojourner's already ended, Sojourner is eternal, Sojourner is forever-

Kidding aside, this is too cute to pass up, even if it's quite a lot! Cute Albedo brainrot moments always please. It might be too much sometimes but I hope you enjoy my interpretation of it! Scenarios format! Starry night, oh I'm always hydrated, thank you and I hope you're well!

For the Record

Albedo working with a Reader that's highly enthusiastic about alchemy but insecure about rambling... (masterlist)

You dealt with Alchemy a year before the Kreideprinz entered Mondstadt, your attunement to the mystic arts baffling and intriguing you every time. During that period, you're not really sure of what art you're doing but in the end, you kept doing great that the people had acknowledged your talents.

Through your own effort and self-study even if unnamed, you managed to put your talent into this art of Alchemy and created discoveries regarding powders and mineral-focused ingredients. It was a shame there was no one to share it to, and when you talk to scholars/practitioners alike, you end up rambling so much to the point that on their end you barely make sense. Whether this was caused by your eaten words or lax and personalized vocabulary over the matter, you're not sure.

Their confused and judgmental stare haunts you, leaving you alone with your raging thoughts and overworking mind when you just want to learn and expand your discoveries to other people without driving them away. Your enthusiasm is great and all, but it's not enough to make others understand.

So when the Chalk Prince entered Mondstadt, blessing the city with his scholarly knowledge and boundless creations, he easily made a name for himself and in extension the city itself.

Before Sucrose and Timaeus, you were called upon by the Grand Master Varka to accompany Albedo and be his temporary assistant seeing as his field in the division is still quite new and you were the only other 'Alchemist' in town besides him. You're both giddy and nervous, like really, really nervous.

You've heard of Albedo and maybe a caught a glimpse or two, but you've never actually interacted enough to know exactly what he looks like or how he is as a person. All you know is that he's a very, very attractive person overall.

"Good-looking, carries this aura of wisdom around him, he's just really charming," were the words that rang through your mind as you pointedly watched your steps, following the carpets leading to Ordo Favonius' laboratory while Lisa's words rang through your head.

Is he really that kind of person? You've heard that he's quite stoic too, but if he's really that distracting, you're scared that it would be harder for you to focus and help out. Honestly how would you even deal with him when your fields of Alchemy are so different from each other?

You have no idea how long you've been thinking, standing in contemplation in front of the set of double doors that leads to the workshop with nothing but doubt in your mind. But upon realizing the teal gaze of another person silently waiting instead of wooden doors, you figured it was far too long.

"Ah, I'm sorry! I was in my head, I wasn't expecting you to-!" You flailed your hands around comically before abruptly stopping, noticing the now confused stare of Albedo of which are distracted by your hands. Clearing your throat, you extended a hand towards him to shake, trying to stare anywhere but his face. "I'm (Y/N), I'll be your assistant until you're well settled in the city. It's nice to meet you, Ma-"

His hand finds yours in a firm grip, a firm shake so sudden you bit your tongue back, "Albedo, Kreideprinz of the Art of Kemia, but just Albedo is fine, I'll be under your care."

Albedo finds it intriguing and surprisingly not that distracting whenever you talk to yourself or to the ingredients whenever you so much as feel the slightest frustration. "Ugh, this Zinc powder is so stubborn, clingy," you angrily mumbled under your breath as you washed off the blue powder that spilled at your hand, "So, so clingy." Since you're facing the sink, you couldn't see the way he was holding himself from laughing audibly at your amusing antics.

You seemed lively and open, is what Albedo thought when he first met you. But this observation soon shattered when he kept getting hanged upon your abrupt stops when delving into your field, something he was really irked about the first few times. Your art of Alchemy is much different from his and he's wishing that you'd clarify and expound all your learnings to him, but in the end, you somehow step back everytime your words became lengthy.

Are you hiding something? Did you not want him to learn the same arts as yours? If those were the case, he couldn't bring himself to ask a simple question such ad why. Every time it crosses his mind, it brings a purse of a pout to his lips and furrowed eyebrows.

Every response you gave always hints even tiny bits of trivias and tips he's never heard, Albedo always takes note of your spills that always cuts before reaching its climax. "-sorry, yes, this is activated charcoal Geo and Pyro slimes reaction." He lets out an audible sigh upon your retreat, your frustrated mind too occupied to notice.

"Please," his desperation drips in his word when he looks at you with eyes filled with raw emotion you'd never know he'd be able to pull off. Your tightly locked lips only pressed on further at his puppy eyes, "Please continue, I wish to know more about your Alchemy, if you would be so kind."

"It's not really- I'm not really the best at explaining it..." You're almost fidgeting, cheeks aching from tensing and warmth. But he regarded you with a blank stare, forcing you to fill the silence, "If I- If I start, my ramblings may not uhm they're not easy to comprehend... or something."

Albedo had been watching more than he'd like to admit, and he's come to relieved (yet still confused) realization that your treatment with him wasn't his alone. You always step back before things get lengthy, words then cutting short and concise with a steeled expression. Lips caught between teeth.

"I digress," his hand motions to yourself to emphasize his next clause. "As your field and sole practitioner of this art, like my own condition, your word of mouth is the best ground of knowledge."

If he was irritated, he's doing a very good job in hiding it. And even with the respectable yet close distance in between you still felt cornered. This is still your master and it's not professional to refuse a scholarly talk, "The electro crystals when charged... ionized? create sparks, while also producing the same result when smacking- mining!"

The scribbles of his pen against his clipboard as he nods in attention urges you on, realizing his focus and sincere interest on the topic, "So when you put the little tidbits or even powdered version in a beaker thingy, depending on the material, they interact with the spark. Honestly, I'm unsure yet how lethal it is but if you put the sparks under fire too, they make like those makeshift gunpowder as well as additional reactions such as-!"

The lilt and proceeding high pitch in your voice usually signifies the approach of your insecurity as well as the climax of your enthusiasm. At this point, you pull your hand up to shut your mouth forcefully, and when Albedo really detests the abrupt end of the conversation his hand would shoot forward to grasp your own.

He'd intertwine your fingers to distract, before urging you to continue with a challenging stare, as if daring you to use your other hand to pull that off again. This whole scene felt oddly scandalous, but oh boy does it send your mind into a bambling, overloaded mess. A heated head forces your lips open even if they sometimes come out in a jumbled string, he learns to decipher them.

The more you get used to or feel more comfortable, Albedo uses that fondness skillfully whenever he wants. "Can you tell me more about the scarlet chunks from Dragonspine?" He throws it so casually in the silence as you two work back to back in your stations, without a beat as your mind is partially preoccupied, you answered into a narrative of trivia. It almost feels like you're talking to the flames of the bunsen while you wait, but Albedo smiles at the now filled silence as he listens with divided attention.

He really likes your voice, and the word of wonders you bring along with you.

"For the record, I don't mind it at all," his breath hovers on your lips, cold and prickly, "Whatever comes out of these lips, I want to hear it all."

That last part eheh

Woah, this went long. Like reader babbling hahaha. I said I'm gonna speedrun, not freaking write this long smh

@zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @just-some-stars @volleybloop @tartuu @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @albaedhoe @xiaophilia @heisenwurst @childe-simp-exe

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE BLOOD Vol.2: Mukami Kou [Track 1+2]

Original title: 目隠しされて & 無神コウ

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Vol. 2: Mukami Kou [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here (00:00~14:03)

Seiyuu: Kimura Ryouhei

Translator’s note: Continuing my marathon of MB CDs, everyone’s favorite idol Kou-kun is up next! I’m not a huge Kou fan myself, but he’s the main bias of my best friend so I’m always reminded of her when I translate his CDs. :p I used to find his voice quite annoying in the past, but in this CD, it didn’t bother me too much.

Track 1+2 ll Track 3+4 ll Track 5+6 ll Track 7+8 ll Track 9+10

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 1: Blindfolded

“...Hey!”

*Creaaak*

“Hey, you...!”

*Creaaak*

“Are you listening?”

*Rustle rustle*

“Say, say...~”

*Rustle rustle*

[00:15] “...Ah! Seems like you finally woke up! Ahー Thank god! You just kept on snoozing forever, for a second I thought you’d never wake up again!”

You look around, seeming confused.

“Eh? You want to know where you are...? Eeh...~ How cruel! You don’t recall? ーー Everything that happened before getting here, I mean.”

You flinch.

“Ahaha~ Seems like you remembered, huh? Exactly. I kidnapped you here~”

You ask him why.

[00:52] “...’Why’? You’ve been asking an awful lot of questions this whole time, haven’t you? Oh well, I guess it can’t be helped. After all, you’re currently stuck in pitch-black darkness. I guess it makes sense to grow anxious or scared...Fufufu~ But rest assured.”

*Rustle*

“I’ll explain the whole situation step by step, okay? First and foremost, you’re currently blindfolded, lying on top of my - Mukami Kou-kun’sーー

*Rustle*

ーー bed, you see~”

*Rustle rustle*

[01:31] “As for why I kidnapped you. Hmー There’s a few, but one of them would be because you’re a special human. ...Fufu~ Do you know what that means? It basically implies that you’re in a different league from just any other regular human out there. You might not be aware of it yourself, but to our species, your existence stands out as extraordinary.”

*Rustle*

“Actually, you know that already, don’t you? You’re being kept as a pet over at the Sakamaki manor after all.”

You protest.

“...Eh? You’re not being ‘kept’? Ah, sorry, sorry! I didn’t quite put it right, did I? I take back my words. More accurately, you’re their...prey, aren’t you?”

He pins you down.

*Thud*

[02:23] “Fufu...Ahahaha~ No need to look so dissatisfied. It’s the truth, isn’t it? Besides, that’s the second reason which made me interested in you so I dare argue it’s a good thing?”

*Creaaak*

“Hm? You want to know who I am? Didn’t I name myself earlier? You’ve got such bad memory.”

You shake your head.

[02:51] “Ah...That’s not what you meant? Ahー Gotcha. Hm...Can I spill the beans already? But I feel like Ruki-kun will give me an earful if I do and he’s a pain to deal with when he’s upset. ...Let’s see...~ Fufu...~ I’ll tell you when I feel like it, okay?”

*Creaaak*

“Anyway, I gave you an answer to your questions so happy now? More importantly, I want to know about you first. All sorts of things...~”

*Rustle*

[03:32] “We actually managed to get a hold of their weakness, so just like Ruki-kun is always saying, I should get an idea of what I’m dealing with. So to start off, I better do a little investigating to find out what exactly makes you so special...~”

*Rustle rustle*

“Fufu~ You’re shaking...My touch is still foreign to you, isn’t it? No need to be so scared though. I’m a nice guy after all.”

He pulls you close.

[04:04] “Here, I’ll stroke your head for you. ...Good girl, good girl...So stop trembling, okay?”

*Rustle*

“Hm...You’re more alert than I thought. Fufu~ You’re letting them have their way with you despite that?”

You protest again.

[04:28] “How odd...Or perhaps you’re simply feigning this cautious attitude? In that case, you’re one hell of a naughty kitten~ They say that a skillful hunter gets a kick out of going after highly alert prey and honestly, I think I may understand where they’re coming from. It’s boring when something is too easy to get. ーー I can already get my hands on pretty much everything I want through my job after all.”

*Rustle*

“...Ah! But I don’t really like how I’m implying those guys are skilled by saying that. What do you think? As the one they’re hunting for, how do you feel about them?”

You remain quiet.

[05:17] “Heeey~ Aren’t you going to answer? Giving me the silent treatment is a little mean, don’t you think? Hmー I guess it’s a little difficult of a question to start off with. In that case, let me ask you an easy one. Ah, right! How about this? ーー Does it really feel good to have them suck your blood? You know, does it make you feel like you’ve ascended to another world? Like your body is just floating mid-air~”

*Rustle*

“...No answer once again? You really are dull, geez. What will get you to talk? Should I ask you about your favorite spots? Or perhaps you really don’t care about those guys at all?”

*Rustle*

[06:12] “Ahー I’m kind of fed up with this already. I’m out here trying my best to be nice and all I get in return is the cold shoulder. What are you playing at?”

You explain.

“...You can’t say those things to someone you’ve only just met? Heh~ I see...That makes sense now that you mention it. In that case, I suppose I have to introduce myself  first.”

Track 2: Mukami Kou

He removes the blindfold.

*Rustle*

“Here. Take a cloooose look at my face. I removed your blindfold as well. See? I’m this close to you. Our lips could almost touch.”

You look straight at him.

[00:19] “...Fufu~ Can you see me? I guess I should say ‘nice to meet you’? I’m sorry for suddenly abducting you like that earlier~ However, it would have been difficult to take you away otherwise. I guess you could say it was the optimal timing? It really was my one chance.

...Say, are you the type who doesn’t watch television very often? Well, I guess you don’t strike me as a girl who would.”

You tilt your head to the side.

“Ah, no, I’m just talking to myself. I just figured that you’d probably recognize me if you watched TV every now and then. Not that it matters though.”

*Rustle*

[00:57] “But really, things went surprisingly well if I may say so myself. I’m sure those guys are frantically looking around for you right about now. After all, their precious little treat was snatched away from right underneath their nose, haha~! Fufu...Ahahaha! Just remembering those foolish expressions on their faces makes me laugh.”

*Rustle rustle*

“And I’m going to dig into their precious meal soon...Haah...Somehow just being this close to you makes my breath hitch.”

*Rustle*

“Is this what you’re capable of? Say, how come you’re this delicious?”

*Sniff sniff*

“...You smell amazing. What kind of scent is this? Hm...~”

Kou takes a deep breath.

[01:55] “I can’t get enough of it...I wonder where it’s coming from?”

*Sniff sniff*

“Not here...”

*Rustle*

“Then here maybe?”

*Sniff*

“I can’t quite tell through your clothes...”

*Rustle rustle*

“Why not take them off? It’s not like you need them, do you? ...Come on, hurry. The scent on the fabric is throwing me off.”

*Rustle*

“Come on, go ahead!”

You hesitate.

[02:29] “...Hurry up, will you? You might not guess it, but I’m not the most patient guy around. If you refuse to take them off yourself...You’re not going to have a good time.”

You refuse.

“...Tsk. Ahー What a fucking drag! Do you think I’m a joke or something? Do you have any idea what’ll happen if you oppose me like that?”

*Creaaak*

“Ugh...”

*Thud*

“I’ve gotten a little irritated you see. And once that happens, everything starts to annoy me. So that look you’re giving me...Ahaha...It pisses me off.”

*Rustle*

[03:12] “...I’m going to gauge out those eyes of yours, for real. I happen to kind of like that sorta stuff.”

You start taking off your clothes.

“...Huh? You’re gonna strip? Ahー So you’ve chosen to obey? How boring. I just had so many good ideas of things to do to you.”

*Rustle rustle*

“Anyway, if you’re just gonna bend to someone’s will in the end anyway, wouldn’t it be better to simply listen from the very start? Or did you want me to snap at you?”

You shake your head.

“Ah, I see! Right! You’re that kind of girl, aren’t you? You wanted me to lose my temper...so I’d treat you horribly, right? Fufu~ What an M-neko-chan you are~”

You seem confused by the nickname.

[04:03] “Hm? You want to know what ‘M-neko’ means? Isn’t that obvious? You’re more stupid than I thought. The ‘M’ is the same one as in ‘Do-M’, duh! Masochists, you know? You’re the type of girl who gets a kick out of the pain, aren’t you?”

*Creaaak*

“With that kind of personality, I can understand why you’d enjoy spending time with those guys. We’re capable of pleasing you in ways a regular human never could after all. Fufu...~ Is it true the pain is addictive?”

You try and explain.

[04:45] “When you put it like that, I almost want to turn into a human girl for one day and have a bunch of Vampires feast upon my blood~ Well, of course, I much prefer being the one doing the sucking. ...Aah, I was told this as well. Apparently having your blood sucked feels like strong currents of electricity running through your entire body, is that true? How nice~ I’m envious~”

You frown.

“That being said, I’d rather not get bitten myself. I’d love to get a taste of that pleasure, but I’d rather die than let some other Vampire pierce me with his fangs. Heh~ ...Ah, oh no, I’ve been rambling...”

*Rustle*

[05:39] “Come on, take those clothes off. I’ll figure out where this delicious scent is coming from first. You’re hiding it underneath that dull (1) outfit of yours, aren’t you? ーー Your precious secret~”

You start to take off the rest of your clothes.

“Fufu...Exactly~ You’ve got to show me your meek side like that, or else I might just poke your eyes out~”

You tell him you’re done.

[06:08] “...Eh? You took them off? Now don’t be ridiculous. When I say ‘strip’, I obviously meant everything, right? You move your jacket to the side a little and call that ‘taking off your clothes’? Heeh...You really must be making fun of me, aren’t you? ...Listen, I hate being ridiculed more than anything...There are many girls in this world who would kill to be in this kind of situation with me, you know? Yet here you are, living that dream...”

*Rustle*

“Ah, right! You’re just pretending to be embarrassed but you’re actually happy, aren’t you?”

*Rustle*

“Oh! Or perhaps...You want me to rip you apart? I would never resort to such violent actions though. I mean, there’s nothing fun about tearing apart someone who won’t even scream from the pain, is there? Fufu...~”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) More specifically, he describes her clothes as lacking even the faintest hint of sexiness.

[binwoo-knock-24]

ASTRO reaction~ Their girlfriend being short~

Genre: fluff

Requested: no

Synopsis: astro has a short girlfriend. How will they react?

~MJ~

“Myungjun baby?” You called. “Hmm?” your boyfriend answered from the other side of the room. “Can you help me?” You asked as you tried to reach the plates in the upper cabinet. “Ah, you’re so short.” He smiled at you. “Hey, instead of making fun of me, why won’t you help me instead, hmm?” You sassed, trying your hardest not to hit his arm. “Nah, I’m good.” He turned away. “You’re good? Good? SO I guess you’re not hungry.” “NO! No! Please. I was joking. I love you.” He pulled you into a hug. “Mhm, I thought so”.

~Jinjin~

You and your boyfriend were walking down town hand in hand. It was one of those nights where Jinwoo would take you out, out of nowhere and just hang out together. Getting midnight snacks together and enjoying your time together. “Kiss?” You asked your boyfriend out of nowhere. “Come here then.” He said with a little smirk playing on his lips. “An, babe. Lean down. I cant reach you.” You whined. “C’mon a little further” He laughed. You pouted before you turned and were about to carry on walking, but JinJin grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you closer. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” He smirked before pecking your lips.

~Cha Eunwoo~

“So, How is it having such a short cute girlfriend?” SanHa said as he threw himself down on the couch next to Eunwoo. “Yah, don’t call her short. Only I can do that.” Eunwoo laughed. “She's just so cute, I love the fact that she is so short. She always has to ask me to grab things for her and it is the cutest thing ever. I really love it. I really love her.” Unbeknownst to Eunwoo, you were standing right behind him. “Well, I’m glad you do, because I don’t know if I love you as much as i did after i know that you love to talk about my height.” You said, leaning down close to his ear, making him jump. “H-Hi baby.”

~Moonbin~

You and your boyfriend were sitting together as the boys had a break from their dance practice. They were filming a video for Aroha where they were being themselves dressed in onesies. You and Binnie were cuddled up on the floor, not really caring that the others were literally 2 metres away from you. You wrapped your legs around him. “Ah, you’re so small.” “do you have to point that out?” “Yes. I do. I’m your boyfriend. Its my job.” “I love you weirdo.” “I love you too shortie.” Suddenly a yell coming from SanHa was heard, “I WANT TO BE LOVED TOO!!” He yelled before jumping onto both of you. Within seconds, the whole group was cuddling with the two of you. You shared a glance and smiled at eachother. “Next time we hang out at your place?” MoonBin asked. “Definitely”

~Rocky~

Rocky has been teasing you all week about your height for some reason. You didn't mind at first since he teased you about alot of things. But after hearing the same joke 24/7, you were pretty tired and annoyed by it. So you decided to give him the silent treatment. “Baby~? Why are you ignoring me?” Your boyfriend asked as he followed you around. You kept silent, like you did all day. “Is it because I teased you about your height?” “DING DING DING!!! Bingo! Your prize is…...another day of silence!” You exclaimed, mocking him. “No! Baby! I’m sorry! Please!” He pouted.

~Yoon Sanha~

"Sanha~” you whined. “Hm?” he hummed. “Why are you so tall?” you asked as you looked up as him. You barely reached the middle of his chest. “I’m not tall. You're just small.” He smirked. “I'm not small. I’m fun-sized.” You frowned. “Sure you are, babe. But why do you ask? Do you not like being short?” He looked at you, curious. “No, not really. I can’t kiss you whenever I want.” You pouted. “Aww. Well I think you’re absolutely adorable. Here.” He said, kneeling before you. “Better?” “Mhm, a little” You gave him a kiss on his forehead.

A/N: My first Astro reaction on here. I hope you enjoyed it. Like if you did it gives writers motivation to carry on. Leave a request if you wish. Thank you for reading ❤️

Admin Koala 🐨

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Another One?!, Part 2

First > Next

Years passed them by. It’s funny how that happens when no one in the house has a distinct schedule to follow. 

The hours blending together was actually really good for them as vigilantes. People couldn’t just plan around their normal patrolling hours.

Also, it meant that they could take days off without anyone thinking much of it.

Like today.

He glared at his reflection, touching his hair for the millionth time in an attempt to fix it. Or, rather, un-fix it. He was going for a messier look, why couldn’t he just get it to cooperate?

He gave his wife a pleading look. “Help?”

She clicked her tongue and looked him up and down a few times to get a gauge for his outfit (which he had purposely made too vague for her to get an idea of what they were doing) then rested her hands on her hips. “Well, I’d love to help…”

“But…?”

“But I can’t use my expertise unless I know where we’re going. There’s certain looks for different occasions, after all.”

He sighed. “C’mon…”

She bit her lip. “Fine. Just tell me how formal I need to be.”

“Casual…” He hesitated as he mulled it over. “But not jeans casual, more like day-dress casual. And wear darker colors, you could get stains on it.”

“There, was that so hard?”

He raised his eyebrow at her. “Considering I’m sure you’ve now guessed the surprise, I’m going to say yes.”

She gave him a cheeky grin and a wink.

He pouted. Man. He’d been so careful about keeping everything a secret from her. It was their tenth anniversary, he’d wanted to surprise her. He’d pulled out all the stops, even using cash for the tickets so she wouldn’t have an easy way to trace the payments.

Only to have it spoiled because of his hair.

Dang.

Then, she laughed and he thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad that she’d found out. The smile was worth it.

She reached up and started running her fingers through his hair. “As always, your problem is that you use too much hair gel… you never learn, do you…?”

“Maybe I do it on purpose to make you mess with my hair.”

She gave him a skeptical look and then pulled away. “Done. Time to get ready for… a carnival…? No… a circus.”

He pouted.

Marinette gave him another one of those laughs before slipping into the bathroom to change.

Two hours later they sat in a circus tent. Front-row seats, of course, they weren’t stingy.

She rested her head on his shoulder as they waited for everything to start. He stole some of her popcorn and smiled at the halfhearted glare he earned. His smile dropped when she dropped some onto his head. He pulled away from her to try and pick the pieces out.

“C’mon, Mari, my hair took so long. The paparazzi always checks on us on our anniversaries. I’m a model, you can’t do this to me --.”

And then the lights dimmed. And the ringmaster walked out.

The both of them tensed. The crowd was buzzing with excitment, but the two vigilantes gave each other wary looks. The ringmaster seemed almost anxious, his knuckles white on his cane.

Still, he gave a brilliant smile to the crowd as he announced the first act.

They relaxed the longer they watched. Nothing seemed to be going wrong, the contortionist was absolutely fine. So was the person doing aerial silks, and the clowns, the snake charmer…

Maybe the ringmaster was just new. He seemed to be growing more and more confident with each act. False alarm.

But then the trapeze artists came onstage.

Marinette murmured something about their outfits that he didn’t catch but knew was insulting.

The young performer smiled and waved to the crowd, then started climbing the opposite ladder as his parents.

The mom grabbed ahold of the trapeze and smiled as she hooked her knees over the bar, then held her hands out for her husband. The man jumped out and caught her hands.

And then the wire snapped.

The couple barely had a chance to scream before they hit the dirt.

The tent was completely silent.

And then the chaos started. Parents rushed to cover their kids’ eyes, people stumbled over each other as they ran, others surged forward to see better.

He could feel Marinette hop the railing in front of them to go check their pulses. There was no need, everyone could see it plainly, but she still tried.

Adrien didn’t move, his eyes locked on the kid.

He was standing there. He was hugging himself tightly, shaking, tears spilling over his cheeks.

He needed help.

A hand wrapped around his wrist. Marinette was pulling him out of the tent. He didn’t want to leave the kid alone but he couldn’t do that as Adrien Agreste. They needed to transform.

It took way too long to find a hiding place because people were already hiding in every obvious place they could think of. After a while they just broke into a trailer and dropped some money on the counter as an apology, unable to waste any more time.

They ran back into the tent and found that, to their horror, the police were there already.

Marinette mumbled a curse. “You deal with the kid, I’m going to steal some evidence before they get rid of it all.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and then practically disappeared.

Adrien found his way over to the child, who had been covered in a shock blanket. They flinched when he got closer and he gave his most award-winning smile as he held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I don’t want to hurt you, I promise.”

They looked kind of skeptical, but they did scoot over a little on their bench so he could sit down.

He sat as far away as he could, setting his baton at his feet carefully. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

His eyes never wavered from the front of the tent. It was like he was waiting for something or someone, but Adrien couldn’t guess what.

“Dick.”

“Well, Dick, do you have any family that I can take you to?”

Maybe that was what he was waiting for --?

“No.”

His smile disappeared. Ah. Not great.

He followed his gaze to the door and mulled everything over.

The kid didn’t seem to be in much of a rush, the shock was wearing off but it would still make the passage of time kind of weird for him. Adrien could take the time to think his next words through.

He’d met kids who had lost their last remaining family members before. Sometimes Marinette and Adrien just couldn’t get there in time and she wouldn’t be able to bring them back. It was an inevitable and unfortunately common part of their jobs. But every single time felt like a punch to the gut.

But he couldn’t let that show, not really.

He watched the kid out of the corner of his eyes. You always base your approach on how the kid is reacting in the moment. Some wanted open comfort, but this one didn’t want that if the way he’d flinched when Adrien had come close was any indication. Others wanted to just talk, also not going to happen considering the short answers he’d been given thus far. This kid seemed to just want to be left alone, but leaving a child in a vulnerable state was never a good idea.

So, what was he supposed to do?

He sighed. “I’m really sorry about what happened, these kinds of accidents --.”

“It wasn’t an accident.”

Adrien blanked. “Sorry?”

“It wasn’t an accident.” Dick hugged the blanket tighter around himself. “There was two guys. Mean-looking. Tried to get Mr. Haly to do some… protection payments? Left all mad and stuff. Said they would get paid or get payback.”

He was so shocked that the kid had given an answer with more than a few words in it that his brain buzzed right past the information he was given and he had to backtrack to actually process it.

And, when he did, his fists clenched.

“Did they mention any names?” He asked quietly, fighting to keep his voice level. This was still a kid who needs help, he couldn’t allow his anger to mess that up.

“Zucco.”

Adrien filed that information away for later and then gave the kid a once-over. They were no longer staring at the door, instead just fidgeting under their blanket. It was good that they were coming out of shock, but he doubted that Dick would see it that way. The numbness would be wearing off soon, and the feelings that would come to take its place would be painful.

He did the only thing he could think of: try and distract the kid. Good to see he’s passing on the unhealthy coping mechanisms.

“Hey, are you going to stay in the circus?”

“Can I?” Said Dick. He didn’t seem all that excited, just confused. As if he hadn’t thought that an option.

Adrien shrugged. “I mean, there’s that whole thing about ‘running away and joining the circus’. Even if they force you into an orphanage, you can probably just come back here.”

“I hear orphanages suck.”

True. He doubted that Dick would get the mental health treatment he needed (if he got any at all) and the money at those kinds of places were always stretched thin, especially in Gotham. He didn’t like the idea of sending the kid there, but what other choices did he have?

Before he could really think of an answer a hand clapped itself over his shoulder.

He barely even looked back. He knew who it was going to be. He fought back a groan.

“Ross,” he said, the smile on his face becoming more strained. He wasn’t going to fight in front of Dick, the kid was already stressed enough. “Nice to see you again.”

The cop didn’t seem all that concerned about niceties, his grip tightening on Adrien’s shoulder. “Get away from my witness.”

“He has a name. And he doesn’t know anything. Leave him alone.”

Dick frowned. “But I --.”

Marinette popped up out of nowhere, arms crossed over her chest as she openly glared at the officer. “You guys should keep better track of the evidence you actually do have, someone might take it.”

Officer Ross went pale and then ran to his partner to ask where the evidence was.

Adrien was also pale, though for different reasons. This kid didn’t know that the police were corrupt and that telling them anything would likely end in him getting killed? He couldn’t let that happen. Where could he keep him that they wouldn’t check? An orphanage or the circus wouldn’t work, those would be the first places they’d go…

He brought a smile to his face as he carefully leaned towards the kid. To his delight, he didn’t flinch or lean away. Progress!

“Hey, I’ve got some friends that I think I can give you to. Good people. They’ll take care of you until we can find something more permanent, sound good?”

Dick looked a little skeptical but he nodded.

Adrien carefully scooped the kid up in his arms and looked at his wife. “I’m going to take him, you can go home for the night and relax.” He sent her a discreet wink.

She smiled faintly and gave Dick a tiny wave before slipping out of the tent.

Good. She’d understood.

~

She had definitely not understood.

You see, winks are ambiguous.

Adrien’s wink had meant ‘Get home and brush up on your acting skills because we need to sell this’.

She had thought his wink had meant ‘It’s our anniversary and we shouldn’t be working anyways. Go ahead and head home, we’ve already done too much and I want to relax with my darling wife’.

So, when she’d gotten home she’d detransformed and slipped into some comfy pajamas and plopped herself down on the couch to watch some TV.

And then the door had opened.

She’d smiled and poked her head up. “Back already? That was quick --.”

Adrien was still holding Dick to himself.

Tikki gave a quiet gasp of surprise and zipped between the couch cushions.

Her husband smiled. “Hey, can I cash in a favor?”

Marinette opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, and then pursed her lips tightly. She couldn’t exactly say ‘no’, because now that she thought about it they really didn’t have any other options (kids have a tendency to have no filter and this one seemed to lack any common sense at all if she was judging by his outfit)...

Didn’t mean she couldn’t be bitter. They should have had more of a conversation about this than a wink, and she was going to tell him that:

“I don’t know, Chat, my husband isn’t here right now. This is the kind of thing you’re supposed to discuss with your partner.”

Adrien winced almost imperceptibly and had the decency to look sheepish. “I’m sure he’d be fine with it. Please, I have nowhere else I can take him.”

She bit her lip and looked at the kid, then squeezed her eyes shut.

There was a more selfish reason that they both wanted to do this…

They wanted kids. It had just never really been an option for them. If she wanted to get pregnant, she would pretty much have to give up crime-fighting for those nine months (and possibly permanently, that stuff has long-term effects). They couldn’t really bring themselves to adopt, either, because their lives were hectic and every single book in the world says that adoptees need a stable home.

She couldn’t let their wishes cloud their judgment. She was supposed to be the rational one. They would certainly mess this kid up, taking him wasn’t an option…

But leaving him wasn’t an option…

And it was kind of like the universe was dropping Dick into their laps…

Dick started to sniffle, bringing a hand up to wipe his eyes. Damn. She’d taken too long and now he felt rejected.

Her heart clenched. The kid didn’t deserve this...

“I… we can take him… but only temporarily. We need to find a better home for him eventually.”

It was best that none of them got their hopes up. This wasn’t a good solution, just the only one they could think of at the moment. At some point they’d think of a better one, and they’d have to do that.

Adrien and Dick both nodded.

Marinette slowly walked over and leaned down slightly to be at the kid’s eye level. “I’m Marinette Agreste. What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Richard. You can call me Dick, though.”

Listen. She wasn’t proud of what she’d said. But she’d never heard it before -- she was far less social than Adrien was -- and, really, how do you get the name ‘Dick’ from ‘Richard’?

“I don’t think you understand how much I cannot do that.”

Adrien had had to set Dick down, he was laughing so hard.

~

When he came home (as Adrien, this time), he was surprised to see Marinette stress baking.

He wasn’t sure why he was surprised, adopting a child is a stressful situation even if you had been expecting it. And they definitely had not been expecting it.

He watched her bake for a moment in the doorway.

She clicked her tongue. “Are you just going to watch me bake or are you going to come inside? Or do I have to make a ‘look what the cat dragged in’ joke everytime I see you, now?”

He smiled and took a seat on the counter. “What’re you making?”

“Cookies.” She turned around for some flour and then sent him a half-hearted glare when she saw him sitting next to it. “I was using that counter.”

“Unfortunate.”

Marinette clicked her tongue again and then moved to another spot. “When...” She grimaced a little. “When… the kid wakes up from a nightmare -- because there’s no way that he wouldn’t have one after tonight -- I’d like to at least have something sweet ready for him. I know we’re not his parents or whatever, but he should at least feel welcome while he’s here.”

He sobered a little, pulling a knee to his chest. “The whole vigilante thing… we’re going to have to put it on hold for a little while, you know…”

“There’s no way we can properly take care of a kid and be Chat Noir and Ladybug. Or, at least, we’d need to make some changes.” She procured a whisk out of seemingly nowhere and started whisking the batter.

He raised his eyebrows. “Changes?”

“We could take shifts. I’d take night shifts as Ladybug and day shifts parenting the kid. You do the opposite.”

“We’d burn out,” said Adrien with a sigh.

“Well, what are we supposed to do? Give the city over to Superman? Guy is shady enough as it is.”

He rolled his eyes. “He’s not shady, you just can’t handle people being nice to you.”

“MY POINT IS that we can’t just stop protecting the city. Especially not if the mob is going after circuses of all things.”

“Yeah, why are they doing that? Is there really money from circuses? Aren’t they all going out of fashion because of that whole ‘animal abuse’ thing most of them have going on?”

“As they should,” she murmured. She finished whisking and started searching for something in the drawers. She procured a scoop and started making rows of cookies. “But, probably, smuggling. No one bats an eye when circuses cross borders, that’s kind of their whole thing.”

He nodded slowly. “Fair enough. Still seems like a hassle, especially now that they’re probably going to be more heavily regulated because those people died.”

“Well, hopefully their sacrifice won’t be in vain. The bit of trapeze wire I stole from the police might give us some leads on the guy’s pseuds.”

“Are you calling up Nygma?”

She shrugged and set the cookies in the oven. “Kinda. He hasn’t done anything in three months, so he’s due any day now. I’ll talk to him about it after saving whoever he captured this time… unless you want to talk to him instead?”

He grinned. “No, I could never go instead of you. You like making fun of his outfit too much.”

“Awwww, thanks, Chaton,” she cooed. She took a seat next to him and pressed a short kiss to his lips. “You know me so well.”

“Well, we’ve been partners for fifteen years. You’d hope I’d know you by now.”

She smiled faintly and leaned into him. She watched the timer tick down for a little while in silence, biting her lip.

“What’s wrong?”

“I mean, even if the trapeze was sabotaged, what are the chances that the acid is something special that we can trace to him? One of us is going to have to go undercover.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And leave Dick alone?”

“There’s no way Zucco is only going after this one place. We can’t take back what’s happened to him, but we can at least make sure he’s the only one to have to go through this.”

Adrien frowned. She was right, though he hated it. While they had given themselves the obligation of taking care of Dick, they couldn’t just drop everything for him. Especially considering their jobs.

“Okay, M’lady, what’s the plan?”

“Well, I hear that the circus is looking for new trapeze artists.”

~

She smiled as she set the last of the cookies in the Tupperware and started heading towards Dick’s new room.

Her conversation with Adrien had gone a lot better than she was expecting, honestly. She’d explained her reasoning for why it would be safe now and he’d, however reluctantly, agreed that she’d made sense.

She decided she’d wait a few days for everything to end up in the news properly before asking to join the circus. After all, it would be suspicious if she called just a few hours after a tragedy.

She stopped outside the former guest room and considered knocking… and then decided she’d better not. On the off chance that Dick wasn’t having a nightmare, she didn’t want to wake him.

She pressed the door open and then stopped cold when she saw that the kid was crying.

Marinette glanced behind her, wondering if she could get away with just walking past and acting like she was going to the bathroom or something. She wasn’t good with emotions, not with people close to her. Random people on the street were fine, people she’d never have to interact with again were fine, but this…

She was not nearly as good as Adrien… but Adrien was asleep, the fucker...

“Miss Marinette?” Said the kid.

She winced mentally and reached along the wall for the light. “Yes, sweetie, it’s me.”

The light flicked on and she saw Dick duck his head so his hair would hide his face.

“I brought cookies,” she said awkwardly as she walked over and took a seat on the edge of his bed. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I just went with chocolate chip.”

He nodded slightly and mumbled his thanks as he took the Tupperware from her.

She bit her lip as he nibbled at her cookies, and then couldn’t help but smile at the way his posture relaxed a little.

“These are good.”

“My parents were bakers. I’d have been disowned if I couldn’t make chocolate chip cookies.”

He cracked the tiniest of smiles.

She floundered again in the new silence. There’s a difference between comfortable silences and awkward ones and this was definitely feeling more on the awkward side.

“I could teach you to bake, if you’d like. I doubt you had time to learn on the road.”

He hesitated. “I’d burn the place down.”

“That’s okay. If I could teach Adrien to cook then there’s hope for anyone.”

She had not, in fact, been able to teach Adrien to cook. He had set the entire kitchen on fire in what they now called The Brownie Incident… but Dick didn’t need to know that.

He smiled a little more and leaned back against the bed frame, still eating cookies. He had to be on his third one by now. She wasn’t going to call him out on it, though.

She glanced him over. He was no longer really hiding his face, and the tears had stopped sliding down his cheeks. He seemed content. She didn’t want to drag any feelings back, but...

“Would you like to talk about your nightmare?” She asked quietly.

“No.”

She winced internally. “Okay. Would you like me to leave?”

“No.”

Marinette let a little bit of surprise show on her face for just a second before slowly scooting over to lay next to him. She took a cookie he offered her and closed her eyes, relaxing a little.

“Are you going to sleep again?”

“No.”

“That’s okay. Do you want that baking lesson now?”

Dick giggled a little. “But we already have cookies…”

“Well, we don’t have any cakes, now, do we? Or brownies. And there’s other types of cookies!”

She peeked an eye open and couldn’t help but smile a little at the grin on the kid’s face at the mention of all the possibilities.

Then he gave her a suspicious look. “Are you trying to fatten me up like an evil witch?”

“Yes,” she said gravely. “I adopt little circus kids and fatten them up to eat. The entire house is actually made of candy.”

To her surprise and slight horror, he actually brought the corner of his blanket to his mouth. Then he spat it out. “Liar!”

“I…” She trailed off. She didn’t know how to respond to that. Moving on. “So, about that baking thing, how do brownies sound?”

He grabbed her by the sleeve of her pajama shirt and pulled her out into the halls with a bright smile. She had to do a half-jog to keep up with him.

“Shhhh, Mister Adrien is asleep!” He stage-whispered.

She scoffed. “Me?! You’re the one running!”

“Shhhhhhhhh!”

Marinette clicked her tongue once and allowed him to pull her into a full on jog as they raced through the house. Really, it was a testament to how tired he was that Adrien didn’t wake up.

She grinned and offered him a hand to get up on the counter, and then was reminded of the fact that he was a literal trapeze artist as he vaulted off of her hand and jumped over her head to get to it.

She whispered a quiet “holy shit” in English, then covered her mouth with her hand. She and Adrien had a sort of unspoken rule that you can only curse in English, it’s just a weird thing that bilingual households do where cursing in the second language just doesn’t count, but now this was an actual kid who spoke (as far as she was aware) only English. She can’t teach him curse words!

But he didn’t seem to hear it, instead smiling as he reached towards the sink and started cleaning his hands.

She washed her hands after him and then started pulling down things to make brownies. Should she do chocolate chips or just cocoa powder…?

She remembered The Brownie Incident.

She shivered.

Cocoa powder. Definitely cocoa powder.

She put some butter in the microwave.

“What does ‘holy shit’ mean?”

She wheezed. “Uh-- I-- um--.”

“I’m just messing with you. I already know.”

Oh thank fuck.

Well, maybe not. She was kind of glad that he was feeling comfortable enough to joke around with her, but… the idea of him secretly being a little shit, while not necessarily surprising, was a bit worrying.

“Okay… good? Just… don’t swear in front of Adrien. I don’t really care, but if he hears you he might think I taught you… so it’s just our little secret, okay?”

He smiled and made a zipping motion across his lips. She copied the motion.

Aw, she’d almost forgotten how cute kids were when they weren’t in dangerous or sad situations.

The microwave beeped and she hummed as she combined the butter, cocoa, and sugar. She stirred a bit and then handed Dick the eggs.

“Here, you can crack three of them into the bowl. Do you know how to do that?”

He huffed. “Yes!”

He, in fact, did not know how to do that.

She watched in open-mouthed horror as he attempted to just pull the egg open without cracking it.

“N… no, sweetie. You need to break it on the counter, first.”

He nodded and then slammed the egg on the counter.

Marinette wiped some egg off of the front of her shirt and then took a few breaths to steady herself. Now that the shock had worn off, she was very tempted to laugh and she was not going to do that to this poor, confused kid.

“I think I did it wrong.”

She snickered and then coughed to cover it up. “I… yes. I’ll show you how to do it.”

He gave a tiny smile as she took his hand and taught him how to crack an egg. He repeated the process with the other two eggs and she worked at cleaning up the mess he’d made.

… how the fuck was there egg on the wall? That was a good seven feet away from the island they were cooking on. Sure, he had to be strong to be an acrobat, but what the fuck?

She sighed and set the napkin done now that he was done and smiled as she added the vanilla, salt, and flour.

She handed him a spatula.

“Stir. Go wild, kid,” she said, 

Big mistake.

Dick took her words to heart, and she watched as he stirred madly, batter flying everywhere.

She laughed, only to get splashed with the batter.

She managed to stop his hand and sent him a tiny glare.

“I'm starting to think you’re doing this on purpose.”

“Whaaaat? No.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly, and then gasped when he lobbed a tiny bit of batter at her shirt.

“Oops,” he said, giving her a feral grin.

Marinette couldn’t help but smile back… then she reached past him and grabbed a handful of flour. She flicked her fingers and smiled when it got on his face.

He pouted and started rubbing his eyes. “Ow…”

Panic.

“Oh, sorry, did I get it in your eyes?” She leaned down. “Let me see.”

He nodded and slowly brought his hands away from his face and she checked his eyes with her fingers carefully --.

Only to feel an egg smash itself on top of her head.

She wiped some egg from her face and narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll get you for that one, you traitor!”

He squealed and set the batter down, then did a backroll away from her.

Marinette and Dick grabbed their weapons…

An hour later, they were both breathing heavily.

“Truce?” She said, lowering her flour-covered arm.

He nodded slowly… and then threw an egg at her.

She dodged it easily and glared at him, her hand already reaching for her flour again —.

“Now truce! Now truce.”

She hesitated, then clicked her tongue as she let herself relax.

They looked around the mess that was the kitchen... at the batter still somehow untouched on the counter… the oven, which hadn’t even been preheated yet…

“Do you just want to eat the batter?”

“Let me get some spoons.”

A few hours later, Adrien walked in… only to stop short when he saw his wife and new kid there, covered in cooking ingredients. Dick had fallen asleep with his head on her shoulder. She was fine with this, there was still some batter left.

“Um…?”

“Brownies are cursed,” she told him, then she took another spoonful.

“What?” Said a bewildered and still half-asleep Adrien.

She looked her husband dead in the eye as she pulled the spoon from her mouth with a tiny ‘pop’.

“Brownies are cursed.”

~

Adrien felt bad homeschooling the kid.

Really, it had brought him a lot of grief growing up. He hadn’t known anyone besides Chloe and Kagami until he was twelve years old.

But, as it turned out, Dick really needed to be homeschooled.

On top of just… having no formal education whatsoever and his general knowledge being a toss of the dice, it was also the middle of the school year and everyone knows you can’t just dump new kids into a class halfway through.

Adrien tipped his head back against his chair and closed his eyes.

Dick was taking a test to see what he had to teach him, but he wasn’t concerned about the kid cheating. What was he going to do? Sneak away, grab a textbook, and start flipping through it without him noticing?

He sighed.

The kid was… weird.

He was always smiling, always in motion, always affectionate. It was something they’d figured out quickly, but it had taken longer to notice that he was only like that when he was talking about things he actually wanted to. If they asked how he was doing, because it had only really been a week since it had happened, he would clam up and start semi-subtly shifting the conversation away.

He was avoiding his problems. And Marinette and Adrien really didn’t know what to do. He had stolen their unhealthy coping mechanism and now they were forced to stand back and watch as the kid destroyed himself the same way they did. And they knew it was a terrible coping mechanism, even Dick might have known it, but what were they supposed to do? They had been around much longer and they hadn’t found a better mechanism, what could they do for Dick?

He peeked an eye open and looked at the kid, who was chewing on the end of his pen as he thought through the question he was on.

… damn, he was actually going to have to learn how to cope, huh?

So, that afternoon, he passed Dick off to Marinette like a baton in a relay race and took a bus to the bookstore.

The psychology section was huge and filled to the brim with case studies. It was honestly daunting to look at. Instead, he made his way to the clerk.

The woman looked him up and down once. “Rough week?”

“You have no idea,” he muttered. “Can I have some recommendations for books on adoption, parenting, and coping with trauma? And also a highlighter, that would probably help.”

He skimmed through the parenting and adoption books. He and Marinette had already done this a few years back when they had first been considering kids, he was mostly just getting a refresher.

And then he turned to the five books on coping mechanisms he’d bought.

He took a deep breath and started looking methodically reading his way through it, highlighter in hand.

The next day, he found Dick, who was drumming his fingers on the table as he glared at the textbook in front of him.

Adrien had some suspicions about the kid in front of him, though he wasn’t absolutely sure yet. Still, he figured he should test his theory.

Besides, it would also help keep the kid safe and physical activity was one of the things a book on coping mechanisms had suggested.

Multi-tasking!

Or maybe it was just efficiency…

Whatever!

He smiled. “Hey, kid, want to try something different for today’s lesson?”

Dick looked up, frowning. “Like what?”

“Well… how do you feel about learning self-defense?”

~

“Where are you going?” Asked Dick with a tiny frown as she started bustling around the living room in search of her shoes.

“Uh… work!” She said.

They’d both agreed that telling Dick that she was going to go do the exact job his parents had just died in was a terrible idea, so they’d thought up a cover story… too bad she couldn’t think of it at the moment. She finally saw her shoes tucked under the couch and dove down to grab them, then sent her kid a smile.

“Have a good day, sweetie, I’ll see you later,” she said, walking over and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

She ducked out the door and started running all over again. Her eyes found their way to her watch. It was a tryout and she was going to be late…

But she wasn’t.

Barely.

She stumbled inside with one minute to spare, panting, and it took everything in her not to slump over the nearest bench and die.

“Hi,” she wheezed at Haly, who raised his eyebrows slightly at her.

“You’re really cutting it close, here. Have anything to say for yourself?”

She rested a hand over her heart as if that would somehow bring it back to normal. “I need a fucking car.”

Haly paused, then nodded. “That explains that. I’ll let you off with a warning that you should try not to be late again.”

“Oka --.” She stopped, and then looked at him. “I got the job?”

He shrugged and pointed around at the empty tent. “You’re the only one here.”

Wow. She’d suspected that people would be less than eager to take the job offer, but to be the only person…

Well, she figured that she should just be thankful. That made things much easier.

She smiled faintly. “Cool. Should I still show you my skills and everything?”

He motioned to the trapeze. There was a net under it. The man had learned his lesson, at least. “Please.”

It turns out that being Ladybug is really helpful when you want to be a trapeze artist.

Actually, she found that being a trapeze artist was actually easier in some ways. Instead of having to hold tight to one thin string when swinging around, she was able to get a proper grip on a bar.

It was a lot of fun. Recently, she’d been using her cane more. Having a yoyo was impractical as a weapon when people were firing guns, so she’d more or less stopped using it. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel the wind in her hair. It was calming...

Also, she got to show off, which was always fun.

She stopped after a few minor tricks and gave a bow to Haly, who seemed to just be glad that she actually had an idea of what she was doing.

“You’ll need about a month of training before you do any shows. Do you have any other expertise?”

She shook her head. It was a lie, she would probably be good with aerial silks or contortionism, but she felt some weird need to do the trapeze…

Just then, her phone buzzed.

She glanced at it and read the news headline.

She groaned and turned to Haly. “Can I have a minute? I need to take this.”

The man nodded.

She scowled as she stepped out and dialled a number.

“NYGMA.”

“Ladybug!” Riddler said cheerfully. She could hear a woman sobbing in the background. “What’s up? Did you see the news?”

“Yes, I saw. I’m at a job interview!”

The smile in the man’s voice disappeared as he spoke next: “Oh, I’m sorry. I can reschedule the death trap.”

“YOU CAN, CAN YOU?”

“Yep! How does tomorrow sound?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to relax. “I can do tomorrow. Thank you. And let go of the poor lady, will you?”

“Fiiiiine.”

She hung up on him and then stepped back inside, giving Haly her brightest smile.

“I can start working in two days, if that sounds good to you.”

~

Adrien hesitated.

Really, he should be getting Marinette to train Dick on self-defense. They had similar movement styles…

But his hunch had been right. This kid seemed to learn a lot better when he was multitasking and, as much as he loved his wife, he didn’t think her English was good enough to teach someone else.

And, besides, he wanted to spend time with his kid, dang it!

He stopped Dick before he could throw another punch at the dummy to fix his form. “I know putting power into it is hard when you’re so little, but you need to rotate your hips so you can get at least some kind of force behind it.”

The kid pouted. “But this is so boooooooring. It’s just the same thing over and over again! I want to do cool stuff!”

“Not yet. You have to understand the basics before you start messing with it.”

Dick gave another pout, this time adding puppy-dog eyes, but, unfortunately for him, Adrien had never been fond of dogs. He raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

The kid groaned and started punching the pads again.

“I before E, except after C, or when sounding like A, as in neighbor and…”

~

It didn’t take long for Marinette to notice The Guy.

She had a pretty good vantage point from the ladder to her trapeze. She would stop at the top, her hands up in a salute, and pause for ‘dramatic effect’.

Her eyes flicked over the crowd and locked on the face of The Guy.

He was at every show, his face pulled into a bored frown as he rested his head on his hand. He’d sit there the whole time, watching the same performance over and over again, and then leave the moment the show was over.

She pursed her lips for half a second before bringing her face back to its smile.

She’d brought a camera this time. This time she’d be able to get his face so she and Adrien could get information on him.

But, for now, she concentrated on making the first jump to the trapeze…

She sat down after her act, still breathing heavily. She was in shape… but, kwami, that kind of stuff is hard! Still, she couldn’t help but smile. She hadn’t been challenged in a while. It was kind of fun.

She wondered, vaguely, if this was what she’d be doing if she hadn’t gone back into crime fighting.

Marinette pushed that thought from her head as she downed her water. It wasn’t the time. She only had a few more minutes before she was on again for the outro. She needed the picture now.

She grabbed her camera from her locker and snuck her way to the stands, and pointed her camera --.

The Guy had spotted her. He looked directly at her camera, his face set in an even deeper frown than usual.

She quickly snapped the picture, then darted back behind the curtain. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. Shit! Shitshitshit --!

Okay. Breathe.

He wasn’t going to just kill her. If the way they’d offed the Graysons was any indication, they didn’t want to draw too much attention to the circus. It was unfortunate what had happened, but not suspicious. However, the trapeze was new and there was a net. An accident like that couldn’t happen again.

No, they’d probably wait until after the show. That would be fine. She could deal with that. At least then she could stall until she had energy by waiting with someone.

She felt a hand tap her shoulder and looked over at the contortionist. “Time?”

“Time,” he said simply.

She hid the camera and ran out with him, smiling like she wasn’t about to face off with a mobster.

Two hours later, she stepped into her train car and crossed her arms over her chest. “Right, I know you’re in here,” she said quietly.

Or, at least, she hoped so. Because otherwise she would be looking a little silly --.

Wait, a knife pressed to her neck. Maybe she wished she was wrong.

She clicked her tongue and leaned into her attacker, closing her eyes. “You Americans still say ‘yo’, right?”

The Guy tensed a little under her, and then whispered a confused, “No…?”

She huffed. “Damn. Why do you change your greetings so often? Whatever. Kaalki, a little help would be nice.”

“Who --?” Began The Guy, but he was quickly cut off.

Because a portal opened under them and dumped them into a back alley in Gotham.

Marinette grinned and grabbed his arm, using his confusion to lean forward and flip him over her shoulder. He cursed as his back hit the ground and the blade clattered to the floor.

She grabbed it nonchalantly and her eyes flicked over the hilt.

A name was engraved there.

Zucco.

“You mob people make this too easy. Now, tell me everything you know.”

He glared up at her. “They’ll kill me!”

“And what gave you the impression that I wouldn’t?” She twirled the knife in her fingers. “Quickly, please, I have a kid to get back to.”

A half hour later, he had spilled everything he knew.

And his guts…

She rolled off of him and glanced at the bloodied dagger in her hand. Her nose scrunched up as she dropped it beside him. There. Now it looked like a mob hit.

She pushed herself to her feet and dusted herself off, only to groan at the sight of the blood staining her front.

She gave the corpse a kick as she cursed him out:

“Asshole. I liked these clothes!”

~

He smiled as he pulled his wife into his side.

Dick had finally gone to bed, so it was just them two. For once.

Marinette had a show in an hour that she needed to portal back for, and Adrien needed to go out as Chat Noir soon, but they didn’t want to get up just yet.

She yawned and curled closer to him. “I guess…” She yawned again. “I guess I should tell you what I found out. Which is basically nothing. Apparently, hardly anyone has ever seen Zucco in person, just the higher ups. He just sends people to do his bidding.”

He groaned and buried his face in her hair. “Great. Did you at least give the sample to Nygma when you saw him yesterday?”

“Obviously.” Her watch beeped and she mumbled a curse. “Alright, I have to go.”

“Nooooooo.”

“Yeeees,” she said, gently pushing his chest until he let go. She stretched out a bit and then walked to the bedroom door.

It swung open before she even touched the knob.

Dick was standing in the doorway, hugging a Chat Noir doll to his chest. “I had a nightmare. Can I sleep with you guys?”

Marinette glanced at her watch and then at the kid and then at her watch again.

“Or are you guys both going out again?”

Adrien winced. “You noticed that?”

“It’s, like, every night,” he said irritably. He sighed and wiped his eyes a little bit. “Fine. I’ll just go lay down again.”

She bit her lip and then leaned down to look him in the eyes. “I’ll be back in four hours, okay, sweetie? Can you handle that?”

Dick looked at the ground. “Sure.”

Marinette grimaced. “I’m sorry.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”

They could hear the coatrack hit the ground in her hurry to grab her jacket and get out the door.

Adrien sighed and looked at Dick, who was still standing in the doorway.

He really should be going on patrol. The people of Gotham had begun to notice that Chat Noir and Ladybug had been showing up less frequently. Crime rates were rising…

He laid back in bed and opened his arms. “I won’t leave. Come here.”

Dick gave a tiny smile, though it seemed a little forced. Still, he got into bed and curled up in Adrien’s arms.

“Would you like to talk about it?” He tried.

“No.”

He sighed. “You’re going to have to talk about it, eventually. Avoiding it is just going to make it harder to deal with later.”

“Nope.”

He gave a tiny laugh. Dang. This kid really was just them but younger. Now all he needed was a miraculous and he’d be a perfect mini version of them…

“Where do you guys even go?” Asked Dick, his voice muffled in Adrien’s chest.

“Work,” he said after a few minutes’ deliberation.

“I thought you didn’t really have jobs.”

He laughed quietly. “Marinette has a million jobs, and I have my one. Though we don’t really get paid for what we do most of the time.”

“Why do you do it, then?”

Adrien raised his eyebrows slightly, then gave a tiny shrug. “Why did you do the trapeze?”

He’d meant for it to be a rhetorical question, meant for it to be something that would make Dick change the subject, so it was a complete surprise when the kid whispered: “It was all that I knew.”

Internally, he was screaming. It was happening! Finally! He had opened up a little bit!

Externally, he nodded and rubbed circles into the kid’s back. “Hopefully, we can make it so it’s not all you know. Help you branch out a little bit while you’re here.”

He felt tiny hands clutch the back of his shirt. “Can’t do that when you’re always gone.”

“I know,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

They stayed in silence for a long time. Adrien was pretty sure that Dick had fallen asleep, but he wasn’t going to move. The kid had noticed that they were gone often, but the two of them had always made sure to wait until he had fallen asleep to leave. He had to be waking up at least once a night, so…

He held the kid close to his chest.

A few hours later, the door creaked open.

Adrien opened an eye blearily and saw Marinette get into bed. He lifted an arm for Marinette to join the cuddle and smiled faintly when she actually did.

He let himself drift off.

~

A few days later, Marinette and Adrien came back from patrols to find Dick talking to the kwamis. All of them gave sounds of surprise when they saw the two vigilantes in the door and disappeared except for Trixx, who turned and fixed their purple eyes on them.

Marinette pursed her lips tightly for a second, considering what to say, and then decided on: “What the fuck, guys?”

Adrien removed his arm from around her waist so he could bury his face in his hands.

Trixx smiled. “It’s not what it looks like. He found us.”

“He…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “So… you’re telling me that this kid pushed our bed aside, pulled up the exact right floorboard, and pulled out the miracle box...”

“... yes.”

“Forgive me for being skeptical, but I’m not buying it.”

Dick pouted and hugged the tiny fox to his chest. “Are you mad at her?”

Marinette hesitated.

Before Dick had known about the kwamis, they had a chance of giving him back. They would have been able to find better parents for him, been able to give him a genuinely good life. But now… they couldn’t risk giving him up. The reason they’d taken him in in the first place was that he was relatively loose-lipped. Now that he knew something so important, there was no way in hell that they could risk him ever telling anyone.

Of course, she doubted they would have been able to give up Dick anyways. She’d grown annoyingly attached to the kid, he was sweet and generally made her life a little more fun, but now there wasn’t an option at all.

Still, this part of their lives… beyond needing to keep things a secret, it was extremely dangerous to involve a kid in this kind of thing.

Adrien answered first: “No, we’re not mad. Just… this wasn’t exactly the plan.”

“And what was the plan? Never telling me that we have a bunch of… what did they call themselves? Kwamis? Whatever, they’re gods. There are just gods living in our house!”

Marinette shrugged. “We weren’t telling you because we didn’t want you to get dragged into this part of our lives, sweetie.”

Dick huffed. “And are there any other secrets that I should know about?”

“They’re Ladybug and Chat Noir,” supplied Trixx.

“TRIXX?!”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY’RE CHAT NOIR AND LADYBUG?!”

The fox kwami laughed and disappeared.

Marinette scowled. “I know you’re still here, Trixx, where are you? I will hunt you.”

“Please, Mari, you don’t need to do that. Just get the fox miraculous and summon her here, it’s much easier.”

“Smart.”

“WHY HAVE YOU STILL NOT DENIED IT?!”

Marinette and Adrien looked at each other awkwardly.

Well… the secret was out.

She opened her purse and he opened his jacket, and their kwamis slowly poked their heads out to look at Dick.

Poor kid was not prepared.

He covered his eyes with his hands and took a few deep breaths. “So… I… wow…”

Well, she supposed there could be worse reactions.

“Wait, so are you investigating what happened with my parents?”

Like that. That was a worse reaction. Fuck.

Marinette carefully took a seat on the floor by her kid. Adrien sat down as well.

“We’re working on it,” she said carefully. “I’m following a lead and I got help from a… an associate of ours.”

Adrien nodded. “It will take a while. It’s just the two of us -- and Nygma, I guess -- so it’s not going to be done quickly.”

Dick removed his hands from his eyes and looked at them both. “I want to help.”

“No,” said both adults instantly.

“But --.”

“Nope,” said Marinette.

“I --.”

Adrien held up his hands. “Not allowed.”

Dick pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why not? They’re my parents.”

Marinette shook her head slowly. “It has nothing to do with that. You’re a kid, we can’t just let you fight crime.”

“Oh? And when did you start fighting crime?”

“Eighteen,” said Marinette, which technically wasn’t a lie…

Which means it was unfortunate that Adrien gave a more accurate answer: “I was twelve, she was thirteen.”

She groaned and rested her head in her hands. “Damn it, Adrien.”

“So, when I’m twelve, can I join you guys?”

Marinette pursed her lips tightly. She didn’t want to be a hypocrite, but she also didn’t want to let an actual kid fight crime. She had fought crime as a kid, it had messed her up. She wasn’t eager to pass that on to someone else…

But…

“Fine. How about this: if we don’t solve it by the time you’re twelve you can join us for that case specifically.”

Dick pouted a little, but seemed to understand. “Okay.”

She and Adrien met eyes. They had three years to solve this case before Dick would get involved, and they couldn’t let that happen.

But it was three years.

How hard could it be?

~

He and Marinette sat on the floor in front of the miracle box, sorting the miraculi into two different piles: ‘Will Protect’ and ‘Can’t Protect’.

Once that was done, they started sifting through the ‘Will Protect’ pile.

“Turtle?” Marinette said.

Adrien shook his head. “Doesn’t fit his fighting style. Bee?”

She shuddered. “Don’t need another Chloe. Snake?”

They tipped their heads from side to side as they considered it, but then Trixx piped up: “I’m right here, y’know.”

The two vigilantes jumped out of their skin. Then they glared at the kwami.

“Must you always sneak up on us?”

“Yes. Anyways, I’m the best fit for the kid and you know it.”

Marinette pursed her lips. Adrien raised his eyebrows.

It was true. From the moment they’d started considering giving Dick a miraculous (because, even if they doubted he was ever going to get to that point, they figured they should at least make sure he was safe), they’d both been eyeing the fox miraculous…

Thing was…

“You’re just going to tell him more of our secrets,” he complained, sighing.

Trixx crossed their paws over their chest. “Do you really have any other secrets you care about?”

They considered this for a minute, before Marinette clicked her tongue.

“Fine. Fine! Adrien, you’ll need to train him on his powers, your secondary powers are closer than mine. I’ll take up sparring to teach him a fight style that better matches his circus training.”

Adrien pouted and fell back until his head hit her lap. “You don’t think I was teaching him well enough? Because our fight styles and training were completely different? I’m wounded, M’lady. I’ll never recover.”

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He smiled. “I’ve been cured.”

She clicked her tongue.

Adrien smiled…

And then her watch beeped. He groaned and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her stomach. “Nooooo, don’t gooooooooooo.”

“I can’t just not go, Chaton.”

“Why nooooot? It would be so easy.”

She slowly peeled his arms off of her, smiling fondly. “Relax. I’ll be back later. Hang out with… with Di --... Nope. With the kid. Maybe train him a little in his powers or whatever.”

He laid on the floor with a pout as he watched her leave, and then looked down at the necklace in his hands.

Well, he supposed he might as well. What else could he do? Protect the city? Nah.

He walked to his kid’s room and rolled his eyes when he saw the kid standing with his ear pressed to the wall.

“Hello?”

Dick’s face reddened and he turned to Adrien with a bright smile. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Wow, he really was a good fit for Trixx.

He sighed and offered the necklace. “You’re not in trouble. C’mon, we’re going to teach you to use these powers.”

Trixx floated over to rest on Dick’s shoulder and Adrien waved him along to the training room.

Adrien held up a hand before walking to the window and quickly shutting the curtains.

He smiled as the kid transformed.

Adrien stretched lazily. “Right, on your back right now is a flute. It… works like a flute. You can play music with it if you want, and also hit people with it if you want. It also summons your power.”

Dick nodded and pulled it off his back. “What can I do?”

“You play a note and envision an illusion of some sort. The limit is just your imagination.”

“Like a Green Lantern?”

“I… kind of. You just have illusions, if you touch them they disappear.”

“That sucks.”

“I guess. Alright, so you’re probably going to have side-effects.”

He watched the kid’s eyes widen and rushed to explain: “It usually isn’t bad. Just weird. It’s why I like to sit on counters and why Mari’s always so cold. It also changes looks a little. Like… Mari has a lot more white in her eyes and my hair has those two little tufts that I have to gel down.”

Dick’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Okay. So… powers.”

“Yep.”

He pulled out his flute.

Adrien smiled. “Right, let’s start simple. The main thing you need is a clear vision. I’m going to close my eyes and you’re going to make something appear in the room. If you’re doing it right then it should appear real, if not then we’ll figure out what’s going wrong.”

He closed his eyes and waited for a few seconds after he heard the shrill note of the flute. Then he opened his eyes.

And came face to face with a giant, bright pink inflatable elephant.

“I…”

Dick grinned. “Think we should address the elephant in the room?”

He blinked once, then broke into a matching grin. “You’re what’s been missing from my life. Oh my kwami. That was beautiful.”

Then he actually went to inspect the elephant. It was pretty good. The lighting was a little off but it wasn’t plainly obvious it was fake, if he wasn’t paying attention he doubted he would’ve noticed. That made sense. Powers were usually pretty instinctual.

He nodded slowly. “Now try something that makes sound.”

Dick brought the flute to his lips and played another note.

He had expected the elephant to disappear and get replaced by something. Instead, it let out a high whine as the air in it slipped out of a new gash on its side.

Adrien smiled.

“Nice.” He sighed and let his smile lessen. Now for the reason they had thought the fox miraculous could be used for protection: “Okay. Make yourself disappear.”

He got a frown for that one. “Sorry?”

“It’s… you’re still a kid. You need to know how to cloak yourself so you don’t get hurt. We can’t really stop you from coming with us in an ethical way, but we need to at least make sure you’ll be okay if you come along.”

Dick frowned. “I thought you were going to let me help.”

“In three years. If we haven’t already solved this case yet. And if we think that you’re going to be able to handle it.”

“But --.”

“We were heroes at a young age. True. We weren’t ready for it, though, and we don’t want to screw up a kid in the same way we were screwed up. That’s the whole thing about having kids, we want you to have a better life than we did.”

The kid gave an annoyed expression before bringing his flute to his lips. With a shrill note, the annoyed face disappeared.

Adrien tipped his head from side to side as he considered this. He was pretty sure that he could sense something off, but he wasn’t sure if that was just his mind messing with him because he knew that Dick was there…

He walked towards where he’d last seen him to make sure and then stopped short when he realized what was off. His feet weren’t making any sound.

There wasn’t any sound at all, actually.

“You’ve done too much. You got rid of all sound, not just your own.”

Dick appeared, a grin on his face.

“This is boring. Can we make it into a game? Like hide-n-seek?”

Adrien hesitated, then shrugged. “Don’t see why not.” He brought his hands up to cover his eyes. “Thirty… twenty-nine…”

~

She hummed absently as she and Dick stretched to warm up.

She was a little jealous, if she was honest, he was way more flexible than she was even though he was out of practice and she wasn’t. She’d been stretching before this kid was even born. How dare he still be more flexible than her.

Still, she rolled to her feet and offered him a hand up.

Dick’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly and he did a backhandspring from the floor.

How the fuck?

But she wasn’t going to act like this was an amazing thing. She was already bitter enough about his flexibility, admitting that he was also better at gymnastics would be even worse.

Instead, she grinned. “Hey, kid, what should we call you?”

He thought for a minute, taking his flute out and twirling it in his hand like a baton. “Robin?”

“I…” She held up a finger to say ‘one minute’ and then pulled out her phone. After a quick google search to make sure they were talking about the same animal, she gave her kid a confused look. “You’re a fox.”

“Yes.”

“Robins are birds.”

“Yes.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She really didn’t know why she asked a kid who called himself ‘Dick’ to name himself. Really, she should have expected this.

Marinette shrugged to herself. “Fine. I’m just gonna keep calling you ‘sweetie’.”

“Okay!” He stopped twirling his flute and pointed it at Marinette. “So, you’re going to teach me to use my circus training for fighting?”

She sighed and pulled out her cane, leaning against it. “Right. I’ll need to check to see how well you know the basics, first, though.”

Dick groaned. “I’m ready. I feel like I’ve been ready for ages!”

“I know, I know, but I need to make sure, okay?”

He gave her an annoyed look.

Marinette pursed her lips tightly. “Okay. Fine.” She dropped her cane. “Spar with me.”

Dick’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yep. You’ll have first swing and I won't get a weapon.”

True to her word, she let him have the first swing. She dodged and grabbed his arm, then pressed her foot to the middle of his back. He hit the ground with a groan. She pulled the flute from his hand and sent him a tired glare.

“You got lucky,” said Dick, his voice muffled against the floor.

She pulled him back to his feet. “No, you’re a child and I’ve been fighting for years. Like pretty much everyone else you’re going to fight. Which means that we can’t rush your training, okay? You have years before we let you into the field, if we do, so…”

He brushed himself off with a bitter expression.

“Fine. We drill basics.”

~

Riddler grinned, spinning around in his chair.

“Ladybug and Chat Noi --.” He stopped short, his eyes widening as they spotted something behind them. “What the heck? You guys brought a kid to this?”

He glanced behind himself and cringed lightly. He reached out and gently pulled Dick behind himself a little. Nygma had never been one for random attacks, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to make sure that this kid was safe.

And why had they brought him?

Marinette clicked her tongue once in annoyance. “Hey, sweetie, show the nice man your powers for a second.”

Dick brought his flute to his lips. With one high note he was gone.

Yep. They were really regretting giving him that miraculous right about then. They hadn’t even realized that he was coming along until Adrien had missed a jump and realized that his bones hadn’t audibly cracked like they usually did when he messed up like that.

He reappeared with a fox-like grin playing across his thin lips.

(Or maybe they just thought it was fox-like because he was currently dressed as a fox. Who knows.)

Riddler considered this for a minute, then nodded. “I understand now.”

Adrien sighed. “Yep.”

Marinette pulled out her yoyo and summoned a coloring book and some crayons. Dick beamed and plopped down on the floor to color.

The parents smiled fondly at their kid and then turned to Riddler.

“Now, you have news?” Adrien said.

“Good news and bad news.”

The adults looked at each other and gave tiny shrugs.

“Good news first,” said Marinette.

“Good news is that there’s only one person who supplies that specific acid.”

Adrien’s eyebrows knit together. That sounded good, but…

“Bad news is that she’s pretty popular. Over two-hundred customers popular.”

Ah. There it was.

Marinette covered Dick’s ears so she could curse.

Adrien, however, shrugged. “Do you have a list of her customers?”

Riddler nodded slowly. “Of course. I’ll forward it to you guys.”

“Thanks for the help, Nygma. See you in a few months.” With that, Marinette picked up Dick and held him to her hip.

“I’ll get you with the next one!”

“Mhmm. Sure.”

Adrien gave an apologetic smile and a friendly wave as he hurried out after his wife.

~

Marinette hummed absently as she pulled her jacket on, then froze up when she heard a gun click behind her head.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

She pulled a smile to her face and held her hands up in a kind of surrender, then turned around.

Wow. This man looked exactly like how gangsters looked in movies. She probably would have laughed if he wasn’t pointing a gun at her.

And, even with the gun pointed at her, she had to suppress a smile.

“Who are you?” He asked.

She frowned. “Shouldn’t I be asking that of you, sir? You’re the one attacking the random trapeze artist.”

“You’ve killed every single man I’ve sent in here to make sure everything was going to plan.”

“Maybe you should’ve sent a woman. We apparently get the job done better.”

“Who. Are. You?”

“Marinette Agreste, but I’m sure you knew that. Otherwise you wouldn’t know that I’ve killed ‘every single man you’ve sent here’.”

He scowled. “That wasn’t what I was asking and you know it.”

“Do I? Maybe you should be clearer,” she said. “Or, you could just tell me your name and I promise I would be much more compliant.”

The man seemed to consider this for a minute, his face tinged red with annoyance. She tried to push down the twinge of satisfaction. Even if this wasn’t Zucco, he at least had to be pretty high up and was likely the person who had ordered the goons to kill Dick’s parents. This bitch deserved all the hell she gave him, in her not-so-humble opinion.

“Giovanni,” he said carefully.

She smiled. “See? Was that so hard? Now, who am I...? I don’t know. I sometimes fight people. What else is there to say?”

He didn’t seem amused. “Why are you killing all my men?”

“I wouldn’t have to if they didn’t notice me noticing them every time. It’s getting very annoying. Send less observant people.”

Her eyes caught Kaalki’s. The kwami was hiding in a duffel bag that had been left open and she gave a tiny shrug to say go.

The man gave a scream as a portal sliced his hand off.

Marinette hummed absently and leaned down to pick up the gun. She pried the hand off of the gun and tossed it aside.

“WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK --.”

“I know, I know, it hurts, but could you be quieter?” She rubbed the side of her head. “Right, I have a few questions about Zucco.”

“He’d kill m --.”

“Yes. Yes, he would. But maybe you should concern yourself less with him, who has already made up his mind about killing you, and more about me, who’s still mulling it over.”

An hour later she stepped out of the changing room, humming as she tossed the gun back over her shoulder lazily.

“Haly?” She yelled, and smiled when his head popped out from his train care.

He looked stunned for a moment before he pulled himself together. “Yes?”

“I’m quitting. It’s been fun, though!”

She bit her lip as she strode out into the night.

Well, if she wasn’t already on Zucco’s radar she definitely would be now.

Greeeeaaaat.

~

It’s hard to look into people when you’re on the run from the mob.

They’d done everything they could think of. Marinette had withdrawn everything from their accounts, Adrien had altered all their appearances, Dick had... come along.

And it turns out tracking down 237 people is hard or something. Who knew.

You have to:

Figure out whether or not the person you’re after has pseuds. In order to do this you have to track their income patterns. This requires pretty high tech stuff, which they were generally trying to avoid because of the whole ‘mob out to get them’ thing.

Then, if they do have pseuds, you have to find all their assets. Then you have to go and check every single safehouse to see if it is, in fact, Zucco or someone working for him. It’s not fun. Most people in the mob are trained to not tell secrets no matter what, and getting to the point where you can get that information is… time consuming.

And they didn’t have time.

They glared at the remaining names. Dick was turning twelve tomorrow. They hadn’t even realized it because time was getting fuzzy again, but then they had come home to him hanging upside down from one of the lights on the ceiling and chanting about how close his birthday was.

After checking to make sure their kid hadn’t somehow gotten high or drunk, because what the heck, they had flown into a panic about how much work they still had to do.

“What’re the ethics of killing all 92 people tonight?” She asked, leaning back against her husband as he clicked through files.

“Even if we could, I’d say it’s probably frowned upon.”

She groaned and closed her eyes, then opened them again to glare at the papers in front of her. “How much you wanna bet that the very first one we choose after the kid joins us is going to be the right one?”

“Knowing our luck? That’s definitely going to happen.”

She gave a bitter laugh before pushing herself back up. “I’m going to break into a bakery to make a cake.”

“Cupcakes. You know he’s going to want to spend the day out in the field looking for answers, we might as well have food we can travel with.”

She clicked her tongue but nodded.

He fell back on the bed and glared at the list. He should have said they started at eighteen...

~

Well, at least it hadn’t been the first person that they’d looked into with Dick.

It had been the second.

After… ‘interogating’ the guy they’d found, they’d been given the name of this cruise ship and where it often docked. Then Dick had given them all cover so they could sneak on undetected.

And now night had hit. The three of them sat, perched on a railing as they observed the goons below them.

She watched Adrien send a wave before disappearing to take out the captain and destroy anything that could be used to contact land.

She turned to the kid next to her and reached out to ruffle his hair. “Ready, sweetie?”

Dick gave a slightly nervous smile before pulling out his flute.

“You’re only allowed to get involved if I’m dying, remember?”

He nodded, though she got the feeling that the kid wasn’t listening. Or, rather, he was listening and just opting not to take the words to heart.

She clicked her tongue once. Then she began walking along the outer edges of the ship, Dick trailing along behind her. She twirled her yoyo absently. They needed to get to the private quarters, as she was pretty sure that Zucco wouldn’t be anywhere else (he sent people out to do all his work, there was no way he was doing any work on his ship).

Then she heard laughter.

She looked up and scowled at the three henchmen who were leaning over the side of the railing above them.

“Oh my god, Ladybug has a kid!”

Her yoyo came to a stop. “Hilarious, I know.”

“Kinda! I mean the most deadly vigilantes in the world have a little kid trailing around like a lost puppy! That’s so good!”

She pressed her lips together tightly. “Mhmm. Please, tell me more...”

“Gonna say ‘or else’? Or else what? You’re going to change our diapers?”

She nodded slowly, then turned to Dick. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. She opted to ignore the way the three roared with laughter above her at the action, instead concentrating on him.

“Sweetie, I want you to cover your eyes for a second, please. I’ll tell you when you can look again, okay?”

He nodded and brought his hands to his eyes.

She wheeled on the criminals, whose laughter was quickly dying.

“Oops,” said one of them, his voice so quiet she’d barely heard it.

But she did. And she fought off some laughter of her own. “‘Oops’ is right.”

Three minutes later, she smiled and pulled Dick’s hands away from his eyes.

“Hey, sweetie, how’re you feeling?”

He glanced behind her and she winced, expecting him to become horrified, but then he suddenly tossed his flute.

There was a satisfying ‘thunk’ as it made contact with the guy’s head and he fell over the side.

Marinette looked at Dick and gave him a tiny smile. He beamed in return.

“Thanks for the save.”

“No problem.”

She tossed her yoyo and recovered his flute for him, then took his hand. She led her kid through the ship.

~

When he caught up with them, Adrien smiled and rested a hand over the top of the kid’s head. “I found out where the private quarters are.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Follow me.”

The three of them went along in silence. Whenever they passed someone they’d casually knock them over the side. They might live that way.

But probably not.

Still, it was relatively easy.

They walked along the private quarters, poking their head in doors and then closing them.

Eventually, they came to the most grandiose-looking cabin. Really, they should have checked it first, but whatever. Marinette, Adrien, and Dick all gave each other wary looks before Adrien kicked the door open.

The poor guy had been asleep. Sucks.

Zucco looked up slowly and then gasped, reaching under his pillow and pulling out a gun.

Ah. Now that sucks for them.

Dick gave a high-pitched whine.

Marinette and Adrien instantly reached for Dick to push him behind them, only to stop short when their hands passed through clean air. They turned to look, confused expressions on their faces, only to find that the kid was gone.

Uh…

They frowned slightly and looked around. Their faces drained of color when they found their way back to where Zucco was.

Or, rather, had been. Because he was missing, too.

Marinette cursed beside him and Adrien felt like punching a wall. Dick hadn’t been making that noise because he was scared, he’d been making that noise because he’d been creating an illusion.

They had to stop Dick before he did something he would regret.

Their eyes searched the room desperately, their ears strained. There had to be something off. Dick and Zucco hadn’t left, Marinette and Adrien were covering too much of the door for both of them to squeeze past without the illusion breaking, so they were still in the cabin.

Marinette pursed her lips tightly and pulled the door shut, then lopped off the doorknob with her yoyo.

Adrien nodded and they began to shuffle through the room.

It was needlessly huge, but there was a lot of stuff in it. A bed, a mostly untouched kitchen area, a bathroom with a jacuzzi, a possibly real treasure chest, a vanity…

He knocked his staff against things absently. It should reveal illusions…

Where was this kid?

He kicked some jewelry on the floor in irritation and then blinked when they hit the wall nearby without a sound.

Wait a minute…

He swung his staff in a large circle around him and couldn’t help but wince when he hit something that he couldn’t see. The illusion shattered and Dick groaned in pain as he stumbled off of Zucco, holding his side where Adrien had hit him.

But, for once, Adrien wasn’t looking at the kid. His eyes found their way to the floor, where Zucco had curled up. He was beaten and bloody, bruises starting to form on his pale skin.

“Robin…” He whispered, looking at Dick.

Dick was crying, the blunt end of his flute bloodied.

Adrien walked over and carefully pulled the flute from his hands and then drew him into his chest. “You can’t kill him.”

“But --!”

“No buts.” Marinette gave Zucco a kick to the head to make sure he was down before joining the hug.

“But you kill people!”

“And we’re also adults. When you’re an adult you can kill people, too.”

“M’lady…”

She winced a little. “Yeah, I hear it. But… anyways, sweetie, we can’t let a kid kill anyone. Killing… it messes with you. We don’t want that life for you.”

Adrien sighed. “You’re a kid. You can’t kill someone, it’s not good for your psyche. Leave that kind of thing to us.”

Dick took a shaky breath, and then nodded.

They’d been right to not want to include him in this. Vigilantism wasn’t healthy for kids.

And they especially shouldn’t have brought Dick along for this part, they should have expected that something like this would happen. He was too close to the case.

He swallowed thickly and hugged him closer.

Marinette pulled away carefully. She hummed, grabbing Zucco by the back of his nightshirt and dragging him away.

He gently rubbed circle’s into the kid’s back. “You want some ice cream? I think there’s still some at home…”

Dick giggled a little. “That ice cream is so expired.”

“You don’t know that!”

“It’s been, like, three years.”

Adrien sighed. “Okay, maybe, but hush.”

He pulled away slightly from the kid and wiped some stray tears from his cheeks.

“Want to go home anyways?”

Dick smiled faintly and nodded.

~

She dropped back on the bed and smiled as she curled in the blankets. The night had been… interesting… but at least she was home now.

She felt tiny hands wrap around her and her smile widened as she felt a face bury itself in her stomach.

But then her smile lessened. She slowly combed her fingers through the kid’s hair.

“I need your miraculous back, sweetie.”

“No. I want to keep doing it.”

She gave Adrien a pleading look and he sighed, slipping into bed and wrapping his arms around them. “She’s right. We don’t want —.”

“And what about what I want?”

It definitely wasn’t an angle they’d considered. They’d been very concerned about the kid ending up like them (they had given up on trying to fix themselves a long time ago, but they were still self aware of the fact that they didn’t cope healthily). But… what if they were too late? The kid had already been exhibiting signs of their bad coping mechanisms, had been since the start, had they accidentally encouraged it just by being around him?

She didn’t know.

What she did know, though, was that they’d messed up by letting him come along. He’d had a taste of the adrenaline, and there was no going back.

She flinched. “I… are you sure?”

Dick nodded against her stomach. “I want to help people.”

She bit her lip. Dick was one of those kids that would sneak out and do it anyways, the least they could do was make sure he was safe.

Adrien seemed to come to the same conclusion, because he sighed again and squeezed them both tighter.

“As long as you make sure to always be with one of us while you’re doing vigilante work…” he said reluctantly.

“I can do that.”

Oh, thank kwami. 

She smiled and ruffled his hair. “I guess it would be kind of cool to have a whole family of vigilantes...”

~~~

As it turns out, I am unable to write pure fluff. It eludes me.

On the other hand, I managed a Christmas update!! Go me!!

~

Taglist

@i-am-ironic @nathleigh @mialuvscats @golden-promises @sassakitty @deathwishy @toodaloo-kangaroo

[raendown]

I return from the dead with a fic that isn't even for the Naruto fandom and I don't really have an explanation for myself.

Pairing: SamBucky Word count: 2317 Fandom: MCU Summary: Visiting Steve was always strange now that the guy was old and retired. Still, of all the things Sam expected out of today, witnessing a prime example of gay panic from the co-worker that's been mysteriously avoiding him was not one of them.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info under the header!

Honestly, the fact that Steve's house smelled like prunes was probably one of the funniest things that Sam had ever heard in his life. More than anything he would have loved to go back in time, to the days of reading about glorified heroes in history textbooks, and tell his fifteen year old self that Captain America, Steve Rogers, retired in a house that smelled like prunes. God, his best friend just had to throw himself in to being old the way he threw himself in to everything else.

"Is there a special reason for you visiting?" Steve's voice was more tremulous these days, less steady but no less warm. Just hearing him again after the shameful amount of weeks it had been since his last visit made Sam grin.

"Nah, just thought I'd pop in and see if you'd expired yet. Your birthday's coming up. Gonna be, what, three hundred? A thousand?"

Steve narrowed his eyes but there was fondness in them so it wasn't very scary even if he could probably still tackle Sam across the room if he wanted to. At this point it would hurt him too but he could do it. "You, young man, are-"

He looked chagrined at himself when Sam cut him off with a laugh.

"You shitting me? Did you really just call me young man? See if I ever let you live that down."

His friend grumbled but accepted the teasing as his due. That was just what he got for going back in time and doubling down on being so much older than his own best friends.

Since it had indeed been a little too long after they last saw each other there was quite a bit of catching up for them to do. Over cool glasses of sweet tea and a plate of cookies the two of them spent a pleasant couple of hours shooting the shit until Sam could almost forget the years that stretched between them now. It was jarring, sometimes, looking away from those clear blue eyes to realize all over again just how many wrinkles they were set in. Sometimes he hated it. Other times he could only smile to know that at least one of their ragtag bunch had found the peace they were looking for.

Eventually all that sweet tea went right to his bladder and Sam excused himself to use the bathroom. When he returned he took in the sight of his friend all snug under one of the blankets his late wife had knit and sighed, feeling maudlin suddenly for no good reason.

"I should probably get out of your hair," he said. "Let you get in your afternoon nap or whatever. No, stay there man, I'll clean up." His smile was easy as he snagged the dishes from their grazing and hauled it all over to the kitchen.

"You sure?" Steve's voice floated after him. "Nothing else you want to get off your chest?"

"Huh?"

Sam frowned at the cups he'd just placed in the sink, running back through his mind. They'd talked about pretty much everything he could think of.

"You didn't mention Buck once, you know. I thought the two of you were friends now."

"Ah. Yeah. So did I." The corners of his mouth twisted with a little bitterness, a little confusion. After everything they'd been through and the number of times Bucky had accepted his invitations down to Delacroix he'd thought they were well past the point of calling themselves friends. Maybe he himself felt something a little more than that but he knew better than to push.

That was probably why Bucky's sudden radio silence hurt so much though.

"Trouble in paradise?" Steve called from the other room and Sam snorted.

“Shit, I don’t know. One minute we’re fine and the next he just up and disappears on me again. I may or may not have checked a bunch of obituaries for your name just in case because I have no idea what I might have done to piss him off.” Sam pursed his lips. He’s already gone over all this with Sarah a half dozen times and in all the recounts he’d done of their last couple missions he still couldn’t find any particularly bad moment between him and his best friend. Unfortunately the sweet tea he was glaring at didn’t have any answers either so he snatched the pitcher up and moved to put it in the fridge.

“Have you tried, oh I don’t know, asking him what’s wrong?”

“You think I didn’t try that?”

Steve’s hum drifted down the hallway with a distinct note of sass. “Neither one of you is very famous for your communication.”

“Excuse you, I was a counselor. A certified veteran’s counselor. Communicating with people was literally my job until your overly buff ass came running around all ‘on your left’ and ‘everyone I know is trying to kill me’.” Sam huffed as he snapped the fridge closed. “I damn well tried to talk to him but he’s not answering my texts or my calls. Short of breaking in to his apartment I don’t really know what else you want me to do.”

Without any other excuses to keep him in the kitchen Sam heaved a sigh, knowing he couldn’t dawdle any longer. He could only get to the door by going though the living room so his choices were either run away out the back, which he would never ever hear the end of, or go back in to the living room and face Steve with his stupidly wise and knowing eyes. Seriously, let a guy live to almost two hundred and suddenly he thought he knew everything. Annoying was what it was.

He was only halfway down the hall when he heard the front door open. Sam very carefully swallowed down the jibe he’d just been about to deliver and hoped that meant what he thought it meant. Maybe Steve had finally gone vague after all and bailed in the middle of their conversation; he’d rather chase a crazy old coot down the street than talk about his feelings regarding one James Buchanan Barnes. Actually if he looked at it from the right angle then chasing an old coot down the street was pretty much his job description whenever he and his partner teamed up on missions. Sam was just glad they hadn’t been called in to one since this whole silent treatment had started because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know whether or not Bucky would still have his back even when the guy was mad at him over reasons unknown.

Two more steps and Sam froze in his tracks, eyes wide with disbelief. Bucky’s shoulders were hunched in to himself with something bridling on panic as he fit himself through the front door and kicked it shut behind himself, eyes wild and fixed on the ground between his feet, nervous energy pouring out of him in a way Sam hadn’t seen before. From his spot on the couch Steve watched his childhood friend let himself in with serene indifference.

“Didn’t know you’d be over today,” was all he said. Then he smiled benignly when Bucky let out a soft whine.

“Help,” Bucky pleaded. “I’m dying.”

Then Bucky slid down to his knees and face planted in the carpet, arms and legs splaying out wide. Steve hummed.

“You know,” he murmured, “no one ever believes me when I tell them you’re this dramatic.”

“Steve! I’m having a crisis!”

“I tell everyone you’re a drama queen and they just shake their heads at me.”

“This is important! You have to kill me, Steve. Or I’m gonna just- just-!” Bucky’s voice petered out with another extended whine muffled by the carpet that probably didn’t smell any better from that close up.

Crossing one leg over the other, Steve folded his hands in his lap with a great lack of concern for the ridiculous scene playing out before him. Sam remained frozen in the hallway, wondering if Bucky even realized he was there, but he got an answer to that almost faster than if he’d bothered to ask himself.

“What’s wrong, pal?”

“It’s Sam!” Bucky cried. His arms lifted up like wings to flail briefly before falling back to the floor in a boneless sprawl. “Please just crush my head or something. I can’t take this.”

“Ah, yes, I hear you’ve been avoiding him.”

Whatever kind of noise Bucky was trying to make, it came out sounding more like he was choking on carpet fumes. “Of course I’m avoiding him!”

“Now why on earth would you do that?”

“I want to stick my tongue in the gap between his teeth!” Bucky said, entirely unaware of the sparks that were suddenly running up Sam’s spine in the hallway. “Help me, Steve! I want to press my thumb in the little dimple on his back. He has a dimple on his back! Why!? Steve I want to hold his hand! What the fuck!”

Steve had both eyebrows up near his hairline and the most shit eating grin any human on the planet had ever worn when he turned his head to look at Sam. Frozen with his eyes on the figure currently panicking in to the floor, Sam paid him no attention. He was busy processing. After getting to know Bucky, inviting him to stay in Delacroix time and time again, the dramatics weren’t actually that much of a surprise. Obviously as they grew closer he’d gotten a number of glimpses in to who the real Bucky Barnes was under the grouchy veneer he presented to the world. Watching him starfish on the ground and whine wasn’t too far from what he’d already seen.

Hearing him say anything about his tongue in conjecture with Sam’s teeth, on the other hand, now that was a bit unexpected. More than a bit.

“I think Shuri called this ‘gay panic’ and honestly I’m in agreement,” Bucky went on mindlessly. “If I have to watch him go through one more workout and not grab his ass with both hands then I’m just going to rip both of them off. Who needs hands if I cannot grab Sam Wilson’s ass with them!?”

“You may be slightly exaggerating the situation, I feel,” Steve told him.

Bucky snorted. “I am not. I absolutely am not. Why is he so hot? And nice? I hate that. Except I don’t. Steve why is he so nice to me?”

“That might be a question you should ask him.”

“Oh yeah, sure, I’ve got lots of questions for him! Hey Sam, why are you nice to me? Hey Sam, can I lick your cheekbones? Hey Sam, how big is your cock?”

“Well. Not that I’ve ever thought to ask that myself but, alright. Go on, Sam, how big is it?”

Sam had just enough time to cross his arms over his chest and assume a very casual pose leaning against the wall beside him before Bucky’s head shot up off the carpet. If possible, his eyes were even more wild than before when he fixed them on Steve, full of the deepest betrayal. Then he very slowly dragged them sideways to see the man he’d just been panicking over. Sam gave him a very friendly smile.

“Depends on your frame of reference,” he admitted. “I’d say sizeable.”

“Nnnggggg.”

“Hi Buck.”

“Ggnnn.”

While Steve very poorly disguised a laugh behind one hand, Sam pushed off from the wall and sauntered further in to the living room. Bucky slammed his face back in to the carpet.

“Leave me here to die,” he pleaded in a very small voice. Sam tutted, reaching for the front door, only looking over his shoulder once he was halfway through it.

“Come on, Buck, can’t lick my cheekbones if you don’t get off the floor. It was a nice visit, Steve, but don’t be looking out your front curtains for a bit. I think I’ll let Bucky decide for himself what sizeable means.” He thanked god for the mercy of Steve’s house being situated out here so far from any other homes, surrounded on all sides by enough trees that you couldn’t see it from the road. A gorgeous little island of privacy. Sam was fairly sure he wasn’t the only one grateful for this, judging by the mad scrambling noises he could hear going on behind him.

Bucky’s voice garbled out something that sounded like ‘fuck you, thank you, bye forever’ and then Sam was listening to the slam of the front door barely a second before strong hands were wrapping themselves around his hips. He laughed even as Bucky’s face came in to view.

“Greatest assassin of several generations and you didn't notice my truck in the driveway?” he said.

“I may have been a bit distracted.” That was definitely a pout on Bucky’s lips.

“By being so hot for all of this”-Sam gestured vaguely down his own body-“that you literally ceased being able to function.”

He didn’t expect such easy agreement as the sheepish nod that followed his words. “Pretty much.”

Sam blinked slowly once, twice. For one long moment he considered teasing the man. Then he decided that their time was much better spent doing things they’d both obviously been wanting to do while assuming they would never get the chance.

“I was promised a tongue in my teeth. Are you gonna get to that any time soon or am I gonna sit here and pine some more for something I apparently could have had all along?”

Bucky keened piteously. Then he surged forward to follow through on his own promises and Sam really hoped that Steve had taken his words to heart about the curtains. The man was way too old to be seeing all the ways they were about to defile the side of this truck.

[procrastinatorimagines]

Spoken For

Fandom: Chicago Med / One Chicago

Character/s: Connor Rhodes x Reader, Will Halstead

Warning/s: none

Word Count: 2,684

Request:  Hi there, can I get a Connor Rhodes x reader imagine? Where the reader starts at Med about a year after Connor did as she was taking care of their newborn son (they're married). When she starts at Med, Will immediately takes a liking to her, not knowing she's with his rival, Connor. He starts noticing Connor cozying up to reader and reader also being affectionate towards Connor and he gets jealous until one day their son comes to the hospital (he fell), thus exposing their marriage. Thank you

You didn’t regret the time you’d taken off of work after your son was born, but stepping through the door to the ED at Chicago Med you felt an instant sense of familiarity, it was good to be back.

The pregnancy had coinsided well with the move to Chicago, your husband Connor being offered a position there while you were in your second trimester. Being well into your third by the time of the move, you didn’t see the point in trying to find a job right away, and in the end your son had been nearly one by the time you’d made the decision to go back to work.

Given that both you and Connor were doctors you had very busy and demanding schedules, and with Connor already being offered a good job at Med, it made sense for you to be the one to take the time off, but you’d been getting a little stir crazy recently so you’d started to look into jobs in the ED again, by chance ending up with an offer from Med.

Connor was happy for you to be working with him, he co-workers knew he was married, but you knew he didn’t share much about his personal life and liked to keep both separate, so you were excited to finally get to meet the people he worked with.

It felt strange to be back in a hospital, but the rush of the ED had always been where you belonged, so with one last deep breath, you headed inside to start your first day.

You were heading through the waiting room, the desk you needed to go to to sign in right through the glass doors on the other end. The seats were packed, as expected, and you could see nurses and doctors bustling around on the other side of those doors, your new co-workers too. You didn’t see Connor, he’d had an early surgery and you’d refused to let him walk you in and make a scene, wanting to make a first impression based solely on your work as a doctor, not on your husband. 

Connor understood, knowing how difficult it was for you today anyway, your first full day without your son. You silently kicked yourself for wanting to call the sitter already to check in, it hadn’t even been a full half hour yet and you needed to make it through a full day. 

A cry for help ripped you from your worries as you turned quickly to where the sound came from. An older woman and her daughter had been sat at a couple of seats nearer the entrance, and the woman had now collapsed in her seat, slidling to the floor and seizing as her daughter called out.

There was another nurse in the waiting room, and she rushed to call for aid as you doubled back, rushing to the woman.

“I’m a doctor,” you informed the petrified looking daughter as you reached them, pushing through some onlookers you had started to crowd the woman and crouching down.

“Ma’am, ma’am can you hear me?” You asked her, immediately rolling her over and positioning her head and neck so that her airway was open. She was unresponsive and thrashing violently as you tried to get people to back up and give you room.

“Is she going to be okay?” The daughter asked, distraught as you held her mother’s head, trying to stop it smacking against the floor and attempting to take her pulse as another doctor and nurse arrived.

“She’s seizing, her heart rate’s rapid and breathing’s unsteady,” you informed the doctor who arrived, a tall red haired man who immediately got down next to you.

“Has this happened before?” The doctor asked the daughter who nodded, shaking.

“It’s why we came in, they’re getting worse,” she sobbed and you looked to the other doctor.

“We need to push diazepam and get her inside,” you told him and he nodded, the nurse who arrived with him handing you the dose as she readied a backboard and guerney.

Once it was administered you and the doctor carefully rolled the woman onto the backboard. “On my count, one, two, three,” he said as you both lifted the woman up and onto the guerney, wheeling her inside quickly.

“What we got?” A nurse at the desk inside the ED doors asked, most likely the one in charge, Connor had said her name was... Maggie right?

“Woman seized in the waiting room,” you told her, filling her in on the other details as she directed you to room 3.

You moved her again onto the bed and did a proper exam, the daughter rushing in behind you as you did. Once she was stabilised and tests were ordered, you turned to face the doctor who had helped you.

“Doctor Will Halstead,” he introduced himself, offering a hand and looking at you curiously. Your new ID clearly stated that you were a doctor here, but he’d definitely never met you before.

“Doctor Y/L/N, Y/N” you told him, seeing recognition on his face as he nodded. You’d kept your last name when you’d married Connor, mostly for professional reasons, so you doubted he knew you were married to him, he must have known you were starting today.

“Ah that’s right, Miss Goodwin said you’d be joining us today,” he said, “nice to meet you, and welcome to Med I guess,” he chuckled and you smiled. Despite the fact that any illusion you may have had about easing back into work had vanished quickly, it had been just like riding a bike, you were back to your old self pretty quickly.

The nurse from earlier reappeared. “Hi, nurse Sexton,” she greeted you and you returned the gesture, “you good to work this one with Doctor Halstead?” She asked, gesturing with the tablet in her hand to your patient.

“Definitely,” you nodded as she handed you her charts, it was time to get back to work.

Okay, so you might have called the sitter a couple more times than you should, but not nearly as much as you’d expected. This case had kept you pretty busy and you’d been running around with Halstead all day, even through your lunch with Connor too. He’d been okay with it, obviously understanding how hectic it could be, but by the time you’d had a break to eat he’d been back in surgery, so by the time your shift was finishing up you hadn’t actually seen him all day.

“Hell of a first day,” Will laughed as he entered the doctors lounge, going into his locker as you finished off in yours.

“Could have been worse,” you replied with a smile, not quite knowing why Connor had been off about this guy. From what you’d heard well, you hadn’t expected to like him so much, there wasn’t anybody in the ED that you’d met so far that you couldn’t see yourself getting on with, especially Will. 

“Night Will,” you told him, heading for the door before he called you back.

“Hey,” he said and you paused, “if you’re not doing anything tonight there’s a bar called Molly’s we all go to, buy you a drink to celebrate your first day?” He offered and you shook your head.

“Thanks for the offer really, but I have to head home,” you explained and he shrugged.

“Offers on the table if you’re ever interested,” he replied and you said your goodbyes, heading to the car park where you were meeting Connor.

He greeted you by the car and you headed home, discussing your day and spending time with your son. Connor didn’t seem too impressed that Will had asked you out for drinks, but you told him he was reaching, inviting a new co-worker out for a drink was a perfectly platonic thing to do, you reassured him, not that it did much good.

-

The next few days continued the same, Connor was slammed upstairs and today had been the first day he was back in the ED since you started, no one seeming to be any the wiser about your marriage. 

You still hadn’t gone for drinks at Molly’s, too busy with your son after shift, but you’d grabbed coffee and lunch with Will over the last couple of days when you could to go over your patients’ cases, or just because he was the only other person you were really getting to know at Med. You could tell Connor wasn’t entirely happy about it, but who was he to police your friendships? Just because he didn’t always get along with Will, didn’t mean you couldn’t.

“Hey,” Connor grinned as he met you at the nurses station, a tablet in your hand to give him on your possibly surgical patient. He took it without looking away from you, enjoying how you looked in your element of the ED. “I hear you’ve made a great impression so far,” he noted, nudging you playfully.

“So far so good,” you replied as he looked at your notes, nodding along. “It was Doctor Halstead’s call for a surgical consult, but I agree,” you explained as he read, his jaw clenching a little at the mention of Will yet again, but he said nothing, “she’s in treatment 4.”

“Well I’m sure you and Doctor Halstead are right, but I’d like to go speak to her first, and then we can get her prepped,” he concluded, looking back to where the patient’s family was talking outside her room, probably worried about the prospect of surgery.

“Sounds good,” you said, noticing Will approaching, the last of the labs in his hands, “I’ll see you later,” you told Connor, who winked at you and squeezed your upper arm as he left.

Will looked between you and where Connor was walking away with a puzzled expression, “what was that about?” He asked.

“Just going over the notes on our surgical patient,” you replied and he cast one last glance between the two of you before shaking his head a little and changing to subject to the labs he’d gotten back. Was he talking about the wink? You thought after a minute, but by that point you couldn’t really say anything, oh well, they’d find out about your marriage at some point.

-

“What do you mean he fell? Is he okay?” You asked frantically over the phone, drawing the attention of a number of doctors and nurses as you answered the call near the nurses station, including Will and your husband.

“Is it James?” Connor butted in at your side, watching you nod as you carried on listen to the sitter explaining what happened, apparently he’d taken a tumble near the coffee table and an empty glass had fallen, she said he had some cuts and was crying hysterically, so she was bringing him in right away. 

“Okay, okay, we’ll be here when you arrive,” you told her and hung up, turning back to your concerned husband. “He’s okay,” you reassured him, “he’s got a few scrapes but she isn’t sure how deep they are so she’s bringing him in now.” 

Connor took a sharp breath, “okay, okay, let’s just... wait until he gets here,” he said, more to calm himself down than you.

“Guys, who’s James?” Will asked finally, having been staring at you both perplexed during the entire conversation. 

“Our son,” Connor snapped back at him with a little too much force, but thankfully you saw that he did look a bit guilty about it.

“Your what?” Will repeated, the cogs turning in his head as he looked between the two of you, before he eyes settled on you, realisation dawning, “you and Connor... wait, you’re his wife?”

“Er yeah,” you replied, Connor gesturing for you to hurry it a long a bit so you could go wait for your son, “look, I have to go, talk later?” Will nodded, understanding the urgency but still looking confused as you walked away.

You met a very apologetic sitter at the entrance, your screaming child in her arms as you took him quickly, rocking him and shushing him as you brought him inside, grateful that Maggie had left a room open for when he arrived. 

Connor was in the room when you arrived, kissing him on the head as you set him down on the bed. He had cuts on his arms and legs, and a bump on his head from where he’d made contact with the table. To both yours and Connors relief, he didn’t need stitches, but the sitter had brought some of his favourite little treats and his favourite toy to distract him as your husband bandaged him up, checking the seriousness of the bump on the head. 

You strocked his hair lightly as he did, watching as he eventually began to settle back in the company of his parents, still sobbing quietly though as he sucked his thumb, arm of his teddy bunched in his fist.

Connor wanted to run a couple of tests while you were there, just to confirm his head was okay, and eventually you left to grab drinks, not wanting to leave your son but glad Connor was still with him. 

Will met you by the vending machine as you got a couple of waters. “How’s he doing?” He asked you, giving you a comforting smile.

“Good, Connor’s with him being his overcautious self,” you chuckled, “but he’s okay,” Will looked glad as he took your space in front of the machine to grab a snack.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He finally spoke up, and you got it, it was strange that you’d been at this hospital nearly a week and not told anyone you were married to one of the surgeons in the same hospital, a surgeon they all knew.

“I wanted to be judged by my own merit at the hospital,” you replied honestly, “not on who my husband is.” At your last hospital... you’d met Connor in your final years of your residency, and you couldn’t count the number of looks and whispers that surrounded you every time he gave you a case or you did well at the hospital, like being with him meant you were being handed success or something. You hadn’t wanted that here, and Connor had thankfully understood.

Will contemplated that answer for a second before shrugging, “fair enough.” You were about to head back to Connor and James when you saw that there was something else he wanted to say, he thought for a second before continuing: “sorry, by the way... for hitting on you,” he said guiltily.

You blinked at him, realising Connor hadn’t been paranoid afterall. “You were hitting on me?” You asked him, a little shocked. 

“Why did you think I was asking you out for drinks?” He laughed and you shook your head, you’d been with Connor so long it hadn’t crossed your mind that anyone else would be interested.

“I don’t know, to be nice?” You guessed, unable to believe that you hadn’t seen it from the start. You couldn’t blame Will, he hadn’t even known you were married, let alone to Connor.

“Yeah well, honest mistake, sorry,” he apologised again, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to Connor though,” he added and you laughed.

Telling Connor? Yeah, that wouldn’t go down well. “Already forgotten,” you told him and he look appreciative.

“Okay well, if you want to go to Molly’s as friends, I’d still like that,” he suggested and you smiled, “Connor can come too if he can stand my company,” he grinned.

“I’d like that,” you told him, glad that this hadn’t ruined your friendship with Will. Will grabbed his food from the vending machine as he got a message about a patient.

“Okay well, that’s me, glad your son’s okay Y/N,” he said sincerely, getting ready to head off down the hall.

“Thanks Will,” you replied, heading off back to Connor and James, laughing to yourself about the whole situation.

[animeyanderelover]

Hey can you write yandere Tooru with promo 21

Who would have thought that Tooru would be so beloved?

Warnings: Yandere themes, mental unstableness, killing, blood, violence, split personality

Prompt 21: “I don’t care if I’ll go to hell as long as I drag everybody who dares to touch you, talk to you and look at you with me!”

“I don’t care if I’ll go to hell as long as I drag everybody who dares to touch you, talk to you and look at you with me!” They had just snapped, you knew it from the way the whole atmosphere around them had just changed. It was the way all shyness had suddenly disappeared from them, the normal blush they always had on their face being completely gone. Instead this weird grin was on their face, and being put together with their quivering pupils and not even to mention the blood that was splattered all over their face and clothes made them look like a complete psychopath. The person under them, a ghoul who had tried to attack you, was by now long dead, the bloody puddle in which Mutsuki was sitting leaving no doubt about it. But that didn’t make it less shocking for you. You were used to killing ghouls, it was part of your job. But what shaken you to your bones was the way Mutsuki had killed her. You had chased after her for a while now, she had been A-rated and known under the name “Mistress”, telling everyone already what they could have imagined her like. She lured her victims with her body and looks away, flirting with them only to devour them, didn’t matter whether it was a man or a woman. She had been damn close to your district which had been the reason why you had wanted this case, fearing that your friends might get in contact with her.

So if you tried to look at it from the perspective of an investigator, you shouldn’t be angry at all. Mutsuki wouldn’t be the first crazy fellow the CCG had, you thought about a special stitched up boy who currently led his own squad, not to mention the legendary Mr. Mado. And sometimes a few crazy fellows were needed in a messed up world like this. But those two were a different kind of crazy, a good kind of crazy. But Mutsuki...You didn’t know what to think about this. You hadn’t even known that they had followed you in the first place. Weeks of tracking Misstress down, weeks of planning and taking her down had proved unnecessary. Not only that, but Mutsuki had just taken down an A-rated ghoul on their own. Sure, they had catched you both off-guard, but still. The sheer violence they had used together with the repeatedly chanted phrase they had murmured every time they had stepped her still being way too present in your way, even though it had happened just a few moments ago. “Stay away from (y/n)-sama. Stay away from (y/n)-sama. Stay away from (y/n)-sama.” And you, you had just stood there horrified, not being able to move. You-you had been afraid of one of your one people! This shouldn’t have happened, especially not since you had always supported Mutsuki since the day you had first bumped into them. But on the other hand, was this really the Mutsuki you had once known?

“(y/n)-sama.” You tensed up the moment they addressed you directly, their intense stare burning right into your heart and soul. You were afraid, you knew that from the way your heart started beating fastly against your chest and you felt sweat coating your forehead. Nothing new as a ghoul investigator, but this was a new kind of fear, a new kind of nerve wrecking situation. One with which you were faced for the first time, meaning that you didn’t know how to act and you doubted that even if you would have someone older with you, they wouldn’t have known how to handle this either. Ah yes, the fear of the unknown. “(y/n)-sama. Why are you looking so scared? I killed her. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.” They slowly stood up from the corpse, revealing a bit pretty sight and you guessed that every other person would have broken out in tears, vomited or fainted by now. But as sad as it may have sounded, you were faced with this kind of view on a daily base. “Bitch.”, Mutsuki mumbled, glaring heavily at the ghoul and kicking her dead body, in your opinion completely unnecessary, but you didn’t dare to say anything. How could you when Mutsuki was clearly not in their right set of mind?

It took everything inside of you to not suddenly pull your Quinke out and hold it against them. That would be too much of a risky move and right now you didn’t want to do anything to trigger them even more. You also hoped somewhere in the back of your mind that they wouldn’t hurt you because of their undeniable crush on you. Everyone in the CCG knew, Mutsuki being a bit too obvious with it. And no matter from which perspective you tried to look at it, you also couldn’t deny that they had done this to save you. You would have never guessed how far they would really go nor how unhealthy their love really seemed to be. For them to become a completely new person...It made more the impression on you that this was an obsession. You had successfully let yourself get fooled by their timid and shy appearance, a mistake no one who killed ghouls should make. Appearance didn’t matter, damn it! Even the tiniest girl could prove to be your worst and last enemy! But you had gotten carried away, had closed your eyes because they were one of your kind, they were on your side! So why...Were they even realizing how they were acting? Probably not. The only thing on their mind now was you, you could tell from the way they were staring at you as if you would be someone higher than them, someone to admire.

With slow and somewhat wobbly steps they moved closer to you, the two knifes in their hand which they had used to kill the ghoul off still dripping with blood. They looked like a butcher. But you didn’t run, you simply couldn’t. Mutsuki was a precious person to you, someone you had sworn to keep an eye out. You had always been there for them, always encouraged them, had always cheered them up and had shown them kindness. This was your fault, you had to fix this. Their eyes never left you for once, glazing with a worrisome and also eerily amount of obsession at you. “(y/n)-sama.” They straightened up a bit when in front of you, still keeping in mind that you were a special class investigator, a job you had hardly worked for. You didn’t doubt that in this condition they could easily take that title too, but even then they would still show you the same amount of respect. You would always be higher for them. “How did I do? I did alright, right?” “...” You couldn’t believe it. Did they seriously just asked you whether they had done a good job or not? And their voice...It had shaken a bit! Not only that, but there was a certain glance of insecurity which seemed to grow with every passing second you gave them the silent treatment. Oh god, they wanted your approval. They had killed for you and now asked for your approval, for your opinion whether they did good or not.

But your shocked state where you couldn’t form any kind of words seemed to discourage them. They hunched over, pale-green hair covering their face and suddenly they bowed. “I-I’m sorry, (y/n)-sama. It was bold from me to assume that my skills would ever be able to compare to yours. Y-you’re the greatest. I apologize for interrupting your investigation. I didn’t think clearly. But I would never doubt your abilities! I know that you could handle this on your own and that I had no right to-“ Before they could continue their apology speech from which you had the feeling that it would take a while you placed a hand on their shoulder. “Tooru, stop it.” Calling them by their first name was always a good way to calm them down, they loved it when you called them by their first name. They had already tensed up the moment your hand had touched their shoulder, but the moment you called them by their first name they instantly jolted up, looking shocked, but also touched at you. You sighed a bit, looking with a somewhat conflicted expression at them. You had to make a judgement call in here. And you guessed you had already decided. “There’s no need to apologize. You just took a raising threat for this district down so don’t even think about apologizing. You did great today. I knew you had potential. So stop doubting yourself.”

Hearing you complimenting them like this caused a furious blush to form on their face, trying desperately to stutter something out in response. You chuckled a bit upon seeing this, noticing with relief that the Mutsuki you knew was back once again. You quickly took your phone out of your pocket, starting to dial the number of one of your friends in. “Would you eventually do me a favor and tell my friend here that we caught Misstress? I’m sure we can make a very useful Quinke out of her Kagune.” You handed them your phone, number already on display. By now Mutsuki couldn’t even manage to look you into your eyes for longer than a few seconds, grabbing with shaking hands your phone. “Y-yes (y/n)-sama.” Whilst they nervously started to call your friends in the CCG, you took the time to observe the dead woman closer. And you couldn’t help, but press your lips into a thin line when seeing everything from close-up. Countless stabs were visible on her, the eyes being gouged out and the lips being cut that it reminded you almost of the way Joker in Batman looked like. It didn’t throw you out of your calm, you yourself had often made quite made the mess during missions. But all of this had been done by Mutsuki...

You glanced shortly at them, the way they fumbled over their own words whilst trying desperately to make sense on the phone, explaining what had just happened. They looked like they would suffer a heart attack at any moment, making you almost feel like that you had just hallucinated all of this. But you hadn’t, one look at the ghoul being enough to tell you that all of this had been real. And that could mean problems. You bit nervously on your bottom lip, glancing again at the green-haired investigator. It would be probably a wise decision to stay away from them or report this, that would tell everyone you right now. But you didn’t. You wanted to observe this for a bit before deciding what to do. And you also knew that trying to distance yourself now from Mutsuki would be dangerous, not being able to anticipate their reaction to this. You had to stay close. Because as much as you dearly hoped that Mutsuki would never go that far, you couldn’t deny a very possible reaction that could happen one day when they would snap again. And then the next victim wouldn’t be a ghoul. No, then they would have the blood of a human on their hands and it would also be your fault. “I have to watch them. I have to keep an eye on them. Or else...”

[songsformonkeys]

Digging Up Bones (whiskey x f!reader) - chapter 3

[Banner by the lovely @yespolkadotkitty ]

Summary: You work for the Statesmen as the head of their medical department. It’s your job to patch up anyone who gets back wounded and to work on ways to prevent them from getting badly wounded in the first place.

Agent Whiskey, in particular, seems to be more accident-prone than the rest and he never passes up a reason to come see you, whether for real injuries or imaginary ones. The two of you form a close friendship, which slowly turns into something more.

Then a British man with a headshot wound and a fascination with butterflies shows up in your emergency room and in the events that follow you’re forced to reevaluate just about everything you thought you knew about your partner.

Warnings: canon typical violence

Masterlist

Chapter 3

The following three days passed in a slow fashion. Not just because Whiskey was gone but the rest of the agents seemed to be staying out of harm's way as well. It was a bit boring, but that was something Tonic had taught you not to complain about out loud since it apparently made it sound like you longed for injuries and carnage.

On the bright side, the slow days gave you, Ginger, and Tonic time to begin interviewing the agents on base for their emergency folders for the Alpha-gel.

The three of you had realized that while the gel and the nanites healed the brain perfectly fine they still needed something to counter the retrograde amnesia, which seemed to be a standard side effect. The sample of agents that had needed to use the gel was still small and so you couldn't draw too many sure conclusions from it, but every single one of them so far had suffered memory loss. It had been Tonic's idea that reminders of a past trauma might jump-start the memory again. The results had been good but guessing and digging up past traumas had been painstakingly difficult and had taken up more time than ideal. So you had collectively decided that each agent should have a file or a folder containing their very worst memory and ways it could be triggered.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 On Wednesday evening, you curled up in your armchair and called Whiskey. He picked up after three rings.

“Moonshine, “ he drawled, voice sounding a little tired.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you asked, suddenly feeling a little bad. It wasn't that late in the evening but maybe Whiskey had needed to tuck in early.

“No no, I was awake,” Whiskey assured you, “Just got home from a looong day at an art auction. I'm not sure if you've ever been but it is possibly the most boring thing I have ever done.”

“Yeah? What was so bad about it?” you asked, smiling to yourself. You would be caught dead before admitting it out loud but you had actually missed him these past few days.

Whiskey began describing his day. A soon as he began talking, his voice relaxed you. You pictured him walking around in a swanky hotel room, with a view of the big city, probably still wearing his hat. You were half convinced he even slept in that thing.

Whiskey told you about the auction and the few stuck-up people who had pretended not to understand his southern accent just to make him feel less than. Then he told you about the way he'd later wiped the smug smiles off their faces by actually bidding home the small painting they had been ogling.

“Champ might kill me for it, 'cause it cost a small fortune, but it was worth it!”

“What will you do with the painting?” you asked.

“Hm,” Whiskey said and you didn't need to see him to know that he was shrugging, “Dunno. Might hang it in my apartment. It's a beautiful painting, reminded me of someone special... Speaking of my apartment, have you finished the cake yet?”

You nodded, before remembering that he couldn't see you.

“Yes, Ginger and Tonic helped me eat the rest of it.”

You had been over to Whiskey's apartment the day after he'd left. When you'd gotten to work, his key had been in a white envelope on your desk and you hadn't been able to keep your curiosity at bay for longer than a workday.

The apartment hadn't been quite what you thought Whiskey's home would look like. It had been much neater and cleaner than you had expected, for starters. You had expected more of a bachelor pad but Whiskey's apartment was quite nice. It looked lived in but not messy. Each thing seemed to have its own designated spot. As you had walked around the living room towards the kitchen you had taken in the big, comfortable-looking couch and multi-colored knitted blanket that looked like it was homemade.

There had been a couple of books on art history resting on the wooden coffee table. You had stopped, slightly in awe, in front of the big bookshelves that covered a whole wall of the room. You'd never pictured Whiskey to be the reading type, but here was clear proof otherwise. You had scanned the titles of the books and the exceptionally wide array of subjects made you suspect that a lot of these had been read for previous missions. But there had been a whole shelf of fiction too and you smiled a little as you noted that a lot of them seemed to be old western classics.

You had found the cake in the fridge in the equally clean kitchen. The cake had been in a plastic container and Whiskey had stuck a post-it note with a smiley on the lid.

“I liked your bookshelf. And I borrowed a book from you,“ you confessed over the phone and Whiskey chuckled in response.

“Is that so? Which one, if I may ask, was it that caught your fancy?”

“Lonesome Dove.”

“Ah, a classic! Didn't have you pegged as a western girl, Moonshine.”

“I'm not sure if I am, I've never read any. But you had a lot of them and I thought...” You cut yourself off, glancing over at the book on your bed, “You had a book on human anatomy as well that looked interesting and one on make-shift medical treatment when you don't have access to a hospital. I didn't take those, though. It felt wrong to take so many books without asking...”

Whiskey chuckled again and the sound did weird things to your insides, or maybe it was the nerves of having just admitted to raiding his bookshelf.

“Darlin', if it makes you happy, you are more than welcome to help yourself to any book in that apartment”

“Really? But what if it's a book that you suddenly need?”

“Then I'll know perfectly well where to find it.”

You couldn't really argue with that logic, didn't really want to either because the prospect of getting to read all those books almost made you giddy.

“So besides ogling my books, what else have you been up to while I've been gone?” Whiskey asked and you proceeded to tell him about the work with the Trauma Folders, which Tonic so affectionately called them.

“You still haven't submitted yours either, by the way,” you told him. Whiskey didn't immediately answer. The line was dead silent for a few seconds and just when you were about to ask if he was still there, he cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I know. I promise to get right on that as soon as I'm back, okay?” He sounded a little odd and your brow furrowed slightly. Whiskey cleared his throat again.

“Look, darlin', I'm pretty dead on my feet right now and as lovely as your voice is to listen to, I think unfortunately we gotta hang up before I start snoring on you.”

“Oh, of course! Sorry, I've talked too much.”

“Hardly,” Whiskey replied and his voice was warm and soft again, which eased the nervous knots that had begun forming in your stomach at his abrupt attempt to end the call. Usually, that was your role to try and say goodnight and his to try and linger. “I cherish every word, which is why I prefer to be awake for them. Call me tomorrow again?”

“Sure. Good night, Whiskey.”

“Good night, darlin'”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 If the previous days had been slow, the following day was anything but, at least when the afternoon rolled around.

Ginger had called you about some very strange low-frequency readings coming from a church nearby in Kentucky. She told you that she and Tequila were gonna go check it out but that you should be on standby, just in case.

You told her to be careful. Ginger was excellent at her job but she was also one of your closest friends and you couldn't help but worry.

After you'd ended the call, you immediately set about preparing the emergency room and double-checking to make sure everything was there. Seeing as neither of you knew what the strange readings had been about, it was difficult to prepare for every possible scenario, and while you knew that the health effects of exposure to extremely low frequencies were being discussed in the medical community, no one knew exactly what the effects were.

It seemed like a lifetime had passed before Ginder called you again. You heard the sound of the helicopter in the background. She told you that they'd be there in thirty and that they were bringing someone in with a headshot.

“I'll get the chamber ready for him!” you told her

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Thirty minutes later, on the dot, you watched as the helicopter landed and Tequila emerged, carrying a man in a suit. The man's face was obscured by the balloon containing the Alpha-gel but his clothes looked expensive.

“Entry point?” you yelled, over the sound of the helicopter as you waved for Tequila and Ginger to hurry inside.

“Straight through the left eye,” Ginger replied and you winced. The left temporal lobe would be damaged, for sure, maybe part of the occipital one too. You were confident that the nanites would be able to rebuild the brain matter but with the temporal lobe damaged you worried that the memory loss might be even more extensive than what you'd seen before and you wondered if it would affect his speech.

“Exit point or is the bullet still in there?” you asked.

“The bullet went all the way through as far as I could tell. Not sure what he was shot with though so we'll have to scan to make sure there's nothing left in there.”

Said and done. When you got down to the medical rooms you first put the man through a thorough scan of his skull. Just like Ginger suspected, the bullet had gone straight through and it luckily hadn't left anything but damaged tissue in its wake. Tequila helped move him over to the nanite chamber. Carefully, you removed the Alpha-gel balloon and quickly closed the chamber around his head.

“What happened?” you asked as you sat down in front of the computer and began tapping away at the keyboard, starting the machine and readying it for the healing and rebuilding process.

“We have no idea,” Ginger said. “We found him like this outside the church, no sign of who had shot him. Inside the church, however...”

“What?” you asked.

“Inside was a total fuckin' bloodbath,” Tequila supplied, “Whole congregation just...slaughtered.”

You looked over at the strange man.

“You think he did it?”

Both Ginger and Tequila shrugged.

“We don't know. But he's got blood on him that isn't his own and there was no gun in his hand so he clearly didn't shoot himself, which means someone got away from that Church alive.” Ginger reasoned, “And there's one more thing..”

She pulled a pair of glasses from the pocket of her jacket. The left glass was shattered.

“He was wearing these. These aren't normal glasses, which means he's not a civilian. And his watch... he's some sort of intelligence. I'll dig around and see if I can find out whom he belongs to.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 You called Whiskey again that evening. He sounded more awake today but you could practically hear the frown on his face when you told him about your strange new guest. He was not happy.

“He's an agent?” he asked.

“We think so. Ginger is running some tests on his glasses and his watch to see what we can figure out but so far we have no idea whom he's working for. So we just have to wait for him to wake up and see how much he remembers.”

“I don't like this,” Whiskey stated. “Not one bit. If he's intelligence, he's dangerous, Moonshine. You shouldn't be alone with him, not under any circumstances!”

“I won't,” you reassured him while rolling your eyes. “Agent Tequila also has an over-protective streak and has, therefore, put himself on guard duty until further notice. I've had him looking over my shoulder all evening.”

You had found it somewhat annoying but Whiskey had instantly calmed down upon hearing that bit of information. He told you to promise to listen to Tequila on this, which you reluctantly did. You didn't tell Whiskey that if the arrangement continued, you would have to come to some sort of agreement with Tequila on how close was close enough for protection. You couldn't have him reading over your shoulder all day long or you'd go stir crazy.

Whiskey continued to ask you a bunch of questions about the strange man and you couldn't answer a single one. He asked you about the signal too and you couldn't give him any answers to that either. It was all Ginger's area of expertise and you told him as much.

“Sorry, darlin', just wanna make sure my favorite girl is safe until I get back.”

Whiskey's words made you smile stupidly, despite the slightly patronizing undertone of them. You would like to think you knew how to take care of yourself, especially around your patients. But you did enjoy it when Whiskey called you his favorite. No one else had called you their favorite before.

After a few more minutes of chit-chat, you both said good night.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 The next day, your patient woke up.

It had been decided the day before that Tonic and Tequila would be the first ones to greet him. Tequila because of the whole bodyguard business and Tonic because he was by far the one who had the most experience with calming people in shock and panic. You had only sulked a little when you'd sat down the desk on the other side of the one-way mirror showing you the stranger's cell. You turned on the cameras in the other room to record the interaction before leaning forward over the desk to watch.

As anticipated, the man was more than a little freaked out by waking up in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces around him.

“Where am I? Who are you?” he immediately asked and you raised your eyebrows as you noted his British accent. The stranger tried to scramble off the bed where he'd been lying. Tequila took a step forward but Tonic quickly held up a hand to stop him.

“You are in a hospital,” Tonic told the frightened man and gave him a calm smile, “My name is To...Tom.”

“A hospital? What happened?” the stranger asked.

“We were hoping you would be able to tell us. You were in some sort of accident and when we found you, you were unconscious.”

Unconscious... that was definitely an understatement to describing having had one's brains blown out through the back of their head.

“Do you remember anything of what happened?” Tonic continued.

The British man looked around the room with wild eyes but he was already calming down a bit. While you were a bit jealous that Tonic, or Tom apparently, was the first one to get to talk to your new patient you had to admit that it was a privilege to get to watch him work. Tonic continued talking to the man and answering his questions by saying just enough to calm him but not enough to confuse him.

You found out that his name was Harry, but he couldn't remember his last name. He was from England and he thought he was 23 years old, which he most definitely was not. You caught Tonic and Tequila exchange a look as Harry told them his age. If Harry couldn't remember anything beyond his 23rd year then you estimated that he had forgotten more than half of his life. And since he wasn't one of your agents, you had no idea how to bring those memories back again...

Tonic and Harry spoke for a while longer and Tonic told him about his injuries. He also told harry about the memory loss. Harry didn't believe him until Tonic guided him over to the one-way mirror separating you from them and let Harry have a look at himself. You stood on the other side of the mirror and could watch as realization dawned on Harry. His breathing immediately sped up again and he was beginning to panic.

“Harry,” Tonic said calmly, “Harry, I'm gonna need you to breathe slower with me, okay? We've seen this kind of memory loss before and we will do our very best to help you recover the memories you can't remember right now”

“Think of it as one hell of a hangover,” Tequila supplied and Harry gave him an incredulous look.

“Hangover?” he asked in a weak voice “I look old enough to be a grandfather and I don't remember any of it... I don't think anyone has ever been drunk enough for that kind of hangover.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Tonic and Tequila handled the whole ordeal in a way that made you proud to call yourself their colleague and they stayed with Harry for most of the day, talking and explaining. Harry listened patiently and you had to give him credit for taking the situation a whole lot better than some of the Statesmen who had gone through the same thing. He was scared and worried, sure, but he managed to keep his panic in check and asked Tonic a whole bunch of relevant questions.

You wished you could have stayed and watched all afternoon but eventually you had to go back to your own office and begin typing up your report.

You had barely gotten two paragraphs in when your phone started ringing.

“Moonshine?” Whiskey said as soon as you picked up and you could immediately tell that something was wrong. He sounded scared. There were car horns blaring and loud crashes in the background.

“Yes. Whiskey what's...”

Whiskey cut you off before you could finish your question.

“Where are you?” he asked and when it took you a fraction of a second too long to answer, he repeated the question, “Moonshine! Where are you?”

“I'm in the office. Whiskey what's wrong?”

“Good! Whatever you do, stay where you are! There's something in the air! People are killing each other!”

“What?” Before you could say anything further, your door burst open and you screamed from surprise.

“Moonshine!” Whiskey yelled, panicked, as Ginger stormed into the office and pushed you out of her way to get to the computer. She began tapping on the keyboard and you watched as she pulled up live feeds from several cameras around the country. Your mouth fell open as you watched the chaos that filled the screen.

“MOONSHINE!” Whiskey yelled again and you realized you hadn't answered him.

“I'm fine!” you quickly assured him and you heard him exhale loudly. “Ginger just showed up. What the hell is going on?” The last question was aimed at them both. The quality of the feeds wasn't the best but there was no mistaking what was going on. All over the country, people were killing each other.

“The fuck if I know,” Whiskey said at the same time as Ginger supplied the slightly more helpful “It's the same signal! It's the same low frequency as we picked up from the church. But this is all over...well the world”

She turned and looked at the phone in your hand.

“Is that agent Whiskey?”

You nodded but then froze as you heard a banging noise on the other end of the line, which sounded much closer than the previous ones. You heard Whiskey curse.

“Whiskey?”

There was another crash and he cursed again.

“I'm sorry, darlin', I seem to have a visitor. I gotta go.”

“Whiskey,” you begged and you heard your own voice break as you spoke his name.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll deal with this and then I promise I'll come right home to you. You just promise to stay inside and stay safe, okay?”

What about you? you wanted to ask, but Whiskey had already hung up.

“He'll be fine,” said Ginger, who must have seen the expression change on your face. You nodded. She was right. Whiskey was an excellent agent. He would be fine.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 He would be fine. You managed to convince yourself of that up until about an hour later when the office phone called. You were too busy clutching your own phone, waiting for Whiskey to call back, to pay any attention to the other phone so Ginger picked it up and answered. She exchanged a few cryptic comments with the person on the other line before ending the call by saying:

“We'll be ready for him.”

After she'd hung up the phone she turned towards you.

“Whiskey's on his way back. He's been stabbed but according to the pilot, he's stable. They're flying him back now. “

[prettywordsyouleft]

MonX Hospital | Wonho

Pairing: Lee Hoseok x reader

Genre: paramedic – hospital au / co-workers to lovers

Warnings: naturally given the au of an EMT/paramedic there are more than one reference to accidents, a death and medical terms. Also there is a small fight, kind of a one-night stand but not and I wrote Y/N as on the shorter side, sorry if this offends taller readers.

Word count: 3525

Index: Shownu | Wonho | Minhyuk | Kihyun | Hyungwon | Jooheon | Changkyun

“Hey short stuff!” Hoseok greeted fondly and you rolled your eyes, looking over your shoulder briefly before turning back to cabinets you were stocking.

“You know, if you keep using that term, all the others are never going to stop teasing me for being the shortest here on the force.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it! Great things come in small packages.”

Your gaze fell directly to his loins and smirked. “Do they just?”

“Y/N!” Hoseok warned with a hearty chuckle, helping you with your final gear check in the back of the ambulance.

Truth be told, he liked that he got a rise out of you most days. Hoseok had been in the paramedic industry for four years now and out of all his co-workers he had been paired up with, you were definitely the most compatible. You made the long hours worth it, with the endless banter and the equally deep and thoughtful moments too. Working in such a high-stress, life or death environment was never easy to navigate but you had become a well-oiled machine together. Some of his greatest accomplishments had been at your side.

“Ready to go?” you questioned and Hoseok nodded, climbing into the driver’s seat of the vehicle and moving out of the parking lot. Every day was different on the job. Sometimes he spent more time in the office than behind the wheel, not being on the active dispatch team. Today, however, you were on the road, waiting to be called towards jobs that needed their assistance.

You wound down the window and placed your arm on the doorframe. “It’s too nice of a day to be cooped up in here.”

“You say that every day it’s sunny.”

“The sun will be gone soon and replaced with a busy Friday night, I bet you.”

“How much?”

“You’re willing to give me your money so freely?” you teased and Hoseok shrugged. “Twenty bucks that we only deal with drunk people.”

“Alright, the same if we have at least one sober patient.”

It wasn’t the most ideal thing to be waging on what type of work you would have for the night, but it kept it interesting.

And it made you delighted knowing he had to pay up at the end of the shift. “Oooh, we’ve been around so many intoxicated people tonight I think we’re starting to smell like a brewery!”

“You’re not funny,” Hoseok replied as he pulled out his wallet and handed you the money. You grinned and waved it around, doing a little dance alongside it. “What’s fair is fair.”

“You really do like giving your money away,” you stated, giving him a wink before going into the female changing rooms.

Hoseok waited for you to return out of uniform and jangled his keys. “Want a lift home?”

“You just like driving me around, don’t you?”

“I’m used to it, it’s not often you’re behind the wheel because-”

“Finish that sentence, I dare you,” you implored and Hoseok shrugged playfully, leaping away from your frustrated swipe in his direction. Chasing him out to his car, you just missed your chance to catch him when he slipped inside the driver’s side. Sighing and stalking around the vehicle, you slumped into your seat.

“Buckle up for safety!” he reminded as he turned the car on and you shot him an exasperated look. “Hey, everyone of any height needs to keep safe in a moving vehicle.”

“One day I’m going to get you so good and you’re going to regret every quip you’ve said to me.”

You managed to have him whining two days later before your shift, winning an arm wrestle against him twice. “It’s impossible!”

“Why, because your muscles are huge and mine aren’t? It’s called having a good strategy, you should look it up.”

Ducking his head as the other teammates in the break room laughed at his second defeat, Hoseok dived on the dispatch radio that went off on the table. “Let’s go, Y/N. I’ll show you just how good I am at my job instead.”

After attending a three-car pile up, thankfully all with minor injuries and only transferring one patient to the hospital for follow-up treatment, Hoseok glanced at you instead of pulling out of the ambulance bay.

You gave him a quizzical look. “What?”

“You did really well on that elderly woman’s treatment.”

“What are you talking about?” you muttered, picking up the tablet from its stand to log in more details of the event and close the report. “I just did my job, like you.”

“It seemed as if you got that leg injury stabilised before I was finished dressing the second car’s passenger though.”

“Did I?” You stopped tapping on the device’s keyboard and thought for a moment. “I guess I was efficient.”

“You’re a good partner to have in an emergency, Y/N.”

“What’s with all the praises, still upset about me winning earlier and trying to win me over now?”

“No,” he replied genuinely, and then frowned, trying to search for a reason for his compliment. When he started speaking, he hadn’t felt he needed one. But now, as he continued to look for an answer, he felt hot under his collar. Why were you affecting him today?

You looked at him and then smiled gently. “Thank you. I’ve learned from the best.”

“Me?”

“Chief Jung,” you corrected with a laugh and Hoseok groaned, leaping on another dispatched call and answering that they would take it.

The unease Hoseok was feeling towards you was fleeting and within a week it was back to the same constant bickering and comfortable nature you shared. The rapport you had together only strengthened after being faced with a fatal incident as well. It was never easy to be carrying someone in the back on a gurney headed for the mortuary, and the sombre silence in the cab only amplified this after driving back to the base. Hoseok gripped at the steering wheel at a set of lights, knowing somewhere tonight, a family would be grieving over the person they couldn’t get to fast enough to save.

“It’s the worst feeling,” you murmured as he began to drive off. Hoseok glanced at you briefly, your eyes stuck on the road ahead. “Even if it’s part of the job and not my first time, I don’t like it.”

“I don’t think we’re meant to like it.”

“I know it’s selfish, but I never want to be on the other side of the situation. I’ve had to treat friends before and I know it’s my job to remain calm and collected in a stressful environment like that was. However, say it was you; I don’t think I would be able to.”

Hoseok reached over to pat your hand lightly. “Hey, don’t go thinking like that.”

“It could happen.”

“It could,” he agreed softly, images procuring in his mind with coming up on a scene and finding you within it. He shuddered and blinked it away rapidly. “But I know you’ll do your best for me. And likewise, I’d give my all to save you.”

“Ah, we’re so emotional,” you stated shakily, clapping your hands together. “Does everyone crack like this after losing someone?”

“I don’t know, but you’re not alone in this tonight.”

You grew silent again until you climbed out of the cab and grabbed your things. Turning to look at Hoseok, you smiled sadly. “Want to go get a drink?”

“I was going to suggest the same thing.”

Once showered, changed and now seated in a bar with a drink in hand, you seemed a bit more alert. Hoseok smiled as he pushed the bowl of hot chips he had purchased towards you. You eyed the move cautiously. “What?”

“You need more colour in your cheeks.”

“I’m not feeling faint,” you replied sternly, though took a chip and blew on it lightly before chewing it.

“I know, but eating is a vital step in recovery for us.”

“I’d rather drink.”

“It won’t go away with the alcohol,” he reminded and you nodded distractedly. He could tell you were definitely more subdued than usual tonight. Looking around the bar, he pointed across the room. “Want to play a round of pool?”

“You only suggested that since I suck at it.”

“There’s always room for improvement,” he offered and you picked up the bowl of chips and your drink, standing up and gesturing to a free pool table.

It wasn’t until your second game where you had loosened up enough, laughing loudly at sinking the wrong ball than the one you were originally aiming for.

“At least you got one in!”

“I’m so ridiculously useless at this game!” you replied with another laugh, picking up your drink and taking a gulp.

Hoseok sunk the final three balls and you clapped at his triumph. He picked up his jacket and nudged you playfully. “Let’s call it a night, huh?”

“Good idea before you get drunk and start singing out of tune like you did last time,” you quipped and Hoseok reached out for you as you scooted out of his way. Accidentally, he knocked the man at the neighbouring table in the process.

And then, you turned around and let out a string of explicit words. Hoseok was conflicted. On one hand, his heart was thumping erratically at your instant defence for him, but with the way they acted towards him, he wasn’t exactly able to put in his best bid to protect you with the shock still keeping him to his spot.

“Sorry mate, I didn’t-”

A sickening punch came right for him in response and Hoseok was disorientated. He wasn’t expecting it at all and wobbled as he regained his balance. You came into his view immediately, examining his cheek.

He was in a daze, wondering if it was all a dream as he watched you twist the man’s arm who had just punched him now behind his back and made him drop to his knees. Details seemed to remain hazy even when you were helping him into the back of a cab and giving over your address. It wasn’t until you made him sit down on the edge of your couch inside your home and placed a bag of ice over his cheek that he seemed to snap out of his reverie.

“Did you just do all that?” he wondered out loud and you grinned at him.

“What, save your ass from doing something stupid?”

“I think you were a little too reckless compared, don’t you?”

“There was no need to punch you, and he had to apologise for it.”

Hoseok mirrored your grin as you rearranged the bag you were holding against his cheek. And then it faded, sliding forward to kiss your lips.

It had to be the alcohol, he concluded as he passionately continued to kiss you. There would be no other explanation for the hunger that you were showering him in otherwise. You had never expressed a desire for him like this. Although he had confused moments, you were impartial to dating and even frowned upon it in the workplace. So the events of the night and the alcohol consumed could be the only explanation for this.

Not that he needed one right now. He was all too immersed in running his hands along your curves, gasping when you hastily undid the buttons of his shirt. He enjoyed your instant appreciation of his exposed torso, the licking of your bottom lip urging him forward to capture them again, to continue making you his.

And then the fever cast over you caused you to press into his injury, a sudden hiss leaving him and ruining the mood. He panicked. “No, I’m fine!”

“More than fine,” you breathed, tenderly running your hand over his chest. “But you’re injured, let’s stop here.”

“Really?” he asked with disappointment as you puckered up your swollen lips and nodded sadly. You patted him on the chest before getting up, although Hoseok reached for your hand to halt your departure. “Where are you going?”

“To get you some blankets to sleep with, unless you want to uh… share my bed?”

He nodded then, following you down the hallway to your room.

The alcohol couldn’t hide either of your awkwardness now that the heated moment was left back in the living room. You looked at the space and then cringed. “We can’t, you know.”

“I know. Let’s just sleep,” he assured and you nodded, climbing into the bed first before Hoseok followed you in. Tense for a moment, you then rolled towards him, Hoseok slipping his arm after your neck.

Exhaustion washed over you both, pulling you into your dreams before you could question it any further.

When he woke in the morning, you were already up and making breakfast. Hoseok leaned against the doorframe and watched you move around the small kitchen, smiling to himself. He realised he could get used to this type of relationship with you. Those flustered moments and the unease he had felt thus far made more sense now that he had kissed you.

He was certain you could become better partners to each other on and off the clock.

His growing romantic notions were clipped short by your response over breakfast, however.

You smiled at him politely as you spread jam on your toast. “Your face looks a mess.”

“You did a good job of making me feel better.”

“It was a slip-up, it won’t happen again. Alcohol does strange things to people,” you replied and Hoseok’s expression faltered. You continued to eat your breakfast as if the heated embrace you had experienced wasn’t that special. Were you really that unaffected by it? Hoseok was sure you had felt what he had too.

Maybe you were only acting on impulse from the alcohol after all.

So he swallowed back the remnants of his feelings and chuckled. “Right, we had too much to drink.”

“Don’t go getting punched in any more bars,” you added on with a smirk.

And that was that. He had been lucid when it all happened, and he knew you weren’t even tipsy. Yet you both chalked it up as a drunken experience, working together as if you hadn’t had your hands all over his torso as his tongue wasn’t battling with yours all those weeks ago.

He had to admit, he was rather relieved when his planned time off rolled around. For two weeks, he wouldn’t have to endure through the unexpected moments where he’d catch himself thinking back to that night. Little things, such as you tying your hair back, were enough to give him a seconds’ flash of memory from that night.

Yet, you were unaffected, impartial even.

Or so he thought.

It was ironic how life worked in mysterious ways and if this was how he was going to get your attention, he wasn’t so sure he’d be willing to go through with it more than once. The impact of the other car hitting his was deafening, the screech of the wheels across the asphalt causing Hoseok to clamp his eyes shut momentarily.

He had attended far too many accidents but this was his first being involved in one.

When the noise all came to a halt, he opened his eyes again, assessing himself for injury. He had a few cuts on his arm from the glass shards on impact but nothing was substantially painful. Opening the door to his side of the car that thankfully hadn’t been the one to receive the impact, he went over to the driver in the other car, checking them for injuries as he called for emergency services.

Hoseok didn’t even notice it was you called onto the scene at first, too busy applying pressure to the thigh injury sustained on the other driver. However, he knew it was you who called his name out desperately, ignoring the other paramedic who was calling for you to calm down.

You dropped to your knees beside him, shaking visibly as you reached out for his face, looking him over as tears fell from your eyes. Hoseok smiled softly. “I’m okay, Y/N. We need to help Mr Laing here. He’s got three deep lacerations to his thigh and a suspected concussion.”

You merely stared back at him, still holding onto his face. “I told you not to do this to me.”

“Y/N,” he called, shaking you firmly. “Snap out of it, you need to help this man first.”

“I’ll do it,” Curtis announced and pushed you aside, stepping in to stabilise the patient. You seemed to snap out of your initial shock and assisted Curtis with getting the patient into the back of the ambulance. And then you came back to where Hoseok was now standing and took his arm with a tremble. “Come on, you’re getting checked out too.”

“I’m fine,” he told you but you ignored the response, guiding him into the extra seat in the ambulance. You seemed to have regained enough control over yourself to administer the correct care to the patient on the short trip to the hospital, and once you had handed him over to the awaiting medical team at the Emergency Department, you turned back to Hoseok, your knees starting to give way.

Lurching forward, he grabbed you before you fell. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“No, I’m in shock,” you told him simply, staring up at him intently. “How dare you get hurt and be there when I arrive on the scene.”

“I didn’t quite expect the guy to hit me in the intersection when he did.”

You shook your head and thumped him on the chest. “What are you doing getting involved in accidents anyway?!”

Hoseok shot Curtis a helpless expression, who gestured for you to stay with him as he closed the back door to the ambulance. Sighing, Hoseok walked slowly inside to the bed a nurse called him to and sat you down beside him. You didn’t let go of his injured arm, staring at the cuts over his forearm forlornly.

“Y/N,” he murmured and you hummed in response, tearing up. “Why are you being like this?”

“Am I meant to be fine about you getting injured?!”

“No, it’s just…” He paused to take in a breath. “I’m okay, it’s just a bit of soreness settling in from the impact and some cuts. I’m not dying yet you’re acting like I’m critical right now.”

“You mean too much to me to end up here like this,” you confessed shakily, blinking as a tear slid down your cheek. “You’re meant to help those who get hurt, not be the one hurt.”

“I know. You really are in shock, huh?”

“I like you too much for you to be hurt,” you continued and Hoseok nodded and then stopped, widening his gaze upon your face.

“Wait, like me too much?”

“Of course, I do!”

“As your partner?”

“As a man,” you corrected, wincing a little when you brushed your fingers too close to one of his wounds. “I know you didn’t think much of that night but I did.”

“Woah, hang on a minute!” Blinking rapidly, Hoseok then grabbed your chin with his uninjured arm to pull your focus up to his eyes. “You were the one who brushed it off for being intoxicated.”

“I didn’t want to put you in a bind by my feelings,” you mumbled and Hoseok laughed. You gaped at him. “Why are you laughing?!”

“Because we’re idiots! I’ve liked you a whole lot too, I just thought it was one-sided.”

“Definitely not.”

“So it really scared you to find me there, then.”

“If you ever get injured without me being there again,” you started, heaving in a deep breath as you shook your head with contempt. “Actually, you better not ever get hurt in front of me again.”

“You’re really protective, you know? You saved me in the bar and now you’re asserting yourself again for my safety. It’s really adorable.”

“I would hardly call this situation adorable, Hoseok.”

He grinned despite your lamenting statement, leaning over to peck your lips. You froze and Hoseok kissed you again before pulling you in closer to his side. He sucked in a breath when it hurt a little to do and you snapped out of it enough to look at him with worry.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course I am, I have paramedic Y/N at my side to help me.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

“I might need extra treatment after we’re done here getting this sorted out,” he admitted and you tilted your head to the side in confusion. Hoseok smirked. “With how much you like me, I might end up becoming lovesick.”

“God, you’re hopeless,” you told him despite a smile tugging at your lips. Nestling into his side, you buried your head into his neck and pressed your lips into him.

“Maybe you’ll need treatment too. But that’s okay, we’re medically trained professionals. I’ll save you and you can save me, deal?”

Looking up at him with another smile, you let out a breathy laugh. “Deal.”

_________________

Next: Minhyuk

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[MONSTA X Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

[lettersnorth]

It didn't surprise Aislinn an onze that Mivo'to had up and disappeared on his attendings one sun. Nor was she all that concerned. He had knocked himself out due to a miscalculation. It certainly wasn't the worst thing the clinic had seen. And he had clearly recovered. Win-win all around. She got to work stripping the sheets from the bed and cleaning  up the now vacant room.

Cravendy wandered into the clinic in search of fresh bandages and ointment. She could still feel the pressure pushing down on her bones, the smell of ceruleum burning after the explosion...and it didn't seem like it was going to go away any time soon. When she stepped in, she noticed Lin and called out to her on instinct. "Lin!"

An armful of sheets, Aislinn rounded the divider just as Cravendy called out. She halted, surprise flitting over her face for a brief moment before her expression pulled back to neutral. "Cravendy." she nodded a greeting and then scooted around the Seawolf to the waiting laundry basket. "What brings you in here? Everything alright?" she asked as she shoved the ball of sheets down into the overfull basket. Guess the wash was next on her list.

Cravendy awkwardly pressed herself against the infirmary partition to give Lin more space to walk, and got the feeling that she's not exactly a welcome sight. At best, a nuisance to entertain while there were chores to be done. With a shrug, she headed over to the cabinets and began pulling out all kinds of medical supplies. "Oh, ye know. Smartin' after the battle, lookin' for somethin' to make it all feel better. What about yerself? 'ow are ye 'oldin' up?"

"Me?" Aislinn asked as she straightened and brushed a flyaway wisp of hair from her eyes. "Aside from pulling Mivo'to out before the whole place went up I didn't do a damned thing that woulda caused me to be banged up." She eyed the collection Cravendy was haphazardly pulling from the potions cabinets and picked up a bulbous glass jar filled with a warm, golden liquid. This, she passed to Cravendy. "Drink two spoonfuls of this. Three if it doesn't take the edge off." she then nodded to the drawer below the cabinet. "You need a patch up? Afraid G'lewra is out so if you do, I can do it the mundane way. Or you can wait for her to aether-heal it."

“Could ye?” Cravs muttered as she gave Lin a curious stare. “I’m used to patchin’ myself up at this point but...I bet ye could get the ‘urt out faster.”

Cravendy grabbed the jar of golden liquid before heading back to take a seat. She twisted the medicine open and gave it a good sniff or two. "Bleh. Anyway, even if ye didn't do a thing, it's not every day ye survive an explosion. So, well, there's that. That and..." Cravs trailed off. "Well. I was surprised ye didn't use yer fancy math shields."

Aislinn paused, shooting the Seawolf a look of concern as she pulled the needed bandages and supplies from the drawers. The pain must be bad if Cravendy wasn't willing to wait. She went and joined the woman on the couch, setting a tray of the necessary items next to her. Careful not to meet the Seawolf's eye, she gave a half shrug at the observation. Silence reigned as she gingerly gestured for Cravendy to show her the burns. It filled the space until finally, with her time at the hot spring fresh in her mind, she let go a sigh and broke it. "I can't." she admitted, finally. "I can't use my shields or...any of it. Not since....not for awhile."

Cravendy unbuttoned her shirt, revealing bandages tied across her chest and around her back. There's also a significant scar on her lower abdomen that looks like it's healing weird, but healing nonetheless. "I applied ointment a few days ago, but it's 'ard to reapply it to my back. If ye could..."

Cravendy trailed off at Lin's admission, unsure what to say. She was originally going to poke fun at the situation, joke that Lin needs to practice the basics again. "Oh. Well, uh. What're ye doin' about that, then?"

The conversation was momentarily forgotten as Lin gathered the full measure of Cravendy's injuries. "Gods above, Cravendy. Why the hell didn't you come in the moment  you got back? Or say -anything- out there in the field. I coulda done something -then-!" To be fair, Cravendy had done a decent job, all things considered. She obviously wasn't new at this. Even so, the oddly healing scar drew Aislinn's attention and she carefully inspected it closer, her aether sense stretching out. She could, at least, still do that much.

"I assumed everyone got just as roasted! Figured, I could still move, so I could treat my own wounds. Bah, this was a mistake..." Cravs leaned a little away from Lin, nervous to show vulnerability. But when she noticed Lin drawn to the scar on her stomach, Cravs brought a finger to her lips. "Risin' gave me that one. Don't tell 'er though."

Cravendy tugged her shirt around herself so she's wrapped from the elbow down for the sake of modesty, though it really doesn't add much. "Anyway, ye were sayin'? About yer magic bein' broken?"

Aislinn jerked her chin up as Cravendy began to draw away, the look on her face all but daring the Seawolf to just try and keep it up. Small as she was, she wasn't letting Cravendy out of there without proper treatment. "No. Waiting to come here was the mistake." she chided. She shook her head in exasperation at the mention of the weird wound coming from Rising.

She could only imagine what raucous bout had caused that. "I have this way about me," she said, quickly surmising that if she kept talking, Cravendy would stay put. "Of absorbing curses. Cursed energy, hexes..." she trailed off as she motioned for Cravendy to turn around so she could get the ointment on her back. "Turns out, a person can only do that for so long until all that bad energy needs a place to go. It's made my aether...a touch unstable. I *could* cast a spell. I just don't know what'll come out."

Cravendy saw the face Lin was making - the same sort a parent would give a fussy toddler - and pouted. But she was already here, bandages exposed, back turned and ointment ready. It'd be even more dumb to get up and leave after getting so far. "Fine, but be thorough, eh? I want to be better by the time we 'ave to get blown up again."

Cravendy obliged to whatever Lin needed her to do in order to work and listened quietly, face forward and staring unfocused into the room. "Weird. So if I put ye in my room, would ye absorb all of the bad vibes? In the east, there's all this shit about Feng Shui and harmonizin' with yer surroundings."

Cravendy glanced back at Lin to see if her joke landed.

Aislinn blanched at the thought, even though she knew it was more than likely that Cravendy was just being a smart-ass. "Who knows...probably. Apparently I've been walking around for years just absorbing ambient refuse. Now I'm full up. Or close to it. It's...painful to be close to anything like that. Like I'm burning up from the inside. That's when I first realized something wasn't right." she said quietly as she cut away the old bandage and carefully pulled it back with delicate fingers.

Cravendy let out a disappointed breath at Lin's reaction and went back to looking forward. "That sounds...painful. I wish I could 'elp, but don't know the first thing when it comes to magical ailments. But I will say, ye should 'ang back until ye get this under control. Last thing ye need is suckin' up more bad energy and makin' worse."

Cravendy scowled as she revisited what Lin had just said. Burning up. Absorbing curses. A worrisome theory forms. "'ey, uh. When did this start? Just casually one day?"

"That's me, a walking bad luck charm." Aislinn muttered as she dressed the new bandages and applied them to Cravendy's back. "Don't worry, I've asked someone to fill in for me on the next job in Coerthas while I try and get this problem sorted." The ointment was cooling and numbing all at the same time and would dull the pain of the burns as the medicinal herbs got to work healing the skin underneath. Aislinn was quiet long enough that it was obvious she was trying to decide how to skirt the question.

She started reassembling the supplies back on the tray. When she rose to her feet, she figured the only way any of this between her and Cravendy was going to work was if she stopped hedging and just be honest. No matter what. "Probably ramped up while we were trying to find the Helm." she said as she took the tray over to the sink.

Cravendy tensed when the ointment is first applied, but breathes a sigh of relief quickly after. "Ah, thanks, already feels better. And the person coverin' for ye...is it that string bean fella I saw ye talkin' with in the library? What's 'e like? Don't often see 'im around. Guy looks painfully serious, the kind to take offense at small talk."

Cravendy was silent for a while after, staring at the partition rod as if it's the most interesting thing in the world. Finally, loudly and suddenly, she groaned. "Shit.”

"Shit! That really pisses me off!" Cravs stood up, shirt still dangling around her arms, and paced around in a circle. "Fuck! Goddamnit. Ahhh, bloody...Lin, why didn't ye say somethin' earlier?!"

Turning away from the basin, Aislinn leaned back against the sink with a faint air of amusement. "Aye, the string bean fella." she waved a hand up through the air. Anything more she might have had to say on the subject was lost in the wake of Cravendy's agitation. Caught up short, her eyes flicked away and then back to her. "Because I didn't know what the problem was. Only that these sudden burning sensations would flare up every so often. And then once I did, it was all said and done. What good would it have done to bring it up to you after the fact except to put you in a state like this?" she gestured to the anxious pacing the Seawolf was currently succumbing to.

Cravendy wanted badly to grab Lin by the shoulders and shake some sense into her, or maybe, just shake her until somehow she got better. Cravs nearly snarled, hearing reason in Lin's words but not having it. She clenched and unclenched her fists, not sure what to do with this sudden anger.

"Even worse, ye die a slow an’ painful death! I like to know when I've messed up so I can do somethin' about it!" Cravs huffed. You could practically see the steam hiss out of her ears.

In the face of Cravendy's anger, Aislinn breathed easy, slow breaths. Matching the Seawolf's temper had never worked for either of them in the past. It was on the tip of her tongue. The correction that if this would kill her, it wouldn't be slow but violent and sudden. She decided that really was besides the point right now. "How did -you- mess up? You weren't there. And what would you do about it?" she asked, trying to get Cravendy to see reason.

"Ye don't understand. This whole shitty business with the Helm...If I didn't suggest raidin' that Garlean ship. If I 'ad the balls to stick around and save my crew. If I didn't summon 'er, then, maybe..." Cravs breathed heavily until she was light-headed, but it worked to calm her down. She fell back down into the couch with a hand over her face to cover her reaction. "...Shit, I don't know. Maybe ye'd find some other stupid way to get yer fill of cursed energy and die anyway. I don't know. Maybe.”

Cravendy spoke, words muffled in her palm. "Lin, I. The fireball. That..." Cravs shook her head. "...doesn't matter. I don't know what I'll do about it, just that I'll do /something/ about it."

Aislinn heaved a sigh and pushed off from the sink, coming to join Cravendy on the couch. "And then you'd be dead, right? Isn't that how it all worked? Honestly, it was only a matter of time. It was always going to catch up to me at some point. The Helm business just ushered it along." she paused. "Which isn't to say that fireball that Wyda hit me with didn't hurt like hell. Hard not to take something like that personally." she said, in a rare attempt to lighten the mood.

She turned to look at Cravendy, mustering a smile. "Look. I'm working on it. A friend and I are tracking down someone in Ishgard that'll know about my problem. And...hopefully what to do about it."

Cravendy puffed up her chest, about to come up with a rebuttal to Lin's answer. As usual, she came up empty, and then similarly let out a tired sigh. "Feh, yer always so logical, even about all heavy shit like this. I....guess that's what I like ye for though. Just - just. I don't know. Leave the stupid to me."

Cravendy would take comfort in the fact that Lin was actively looking for someone to diagnose the issue, though this would linger in the back of her mind for long after. With or without Lin's blessings, she'd find a way to help. This was either going to lead to great success, or equally great disaster.

[henrystickminbrainrot]

I’m sorry I couldn’t resist-

I discovered this ask blog and I just- 🥺

This AU belongs to @rhmg-au , PLEASE check out their blog.

(This fic isn’t canon to the AU, it’s just based off the blog. If you want to see how the AU’s story unfolds, check out the blog)

TW: brief abuse mentions

———————————————————————

Charles was shaking.

He couldn’t help it.

He was scared.

This treatment was... inhumane. Even for a Toppat.

Green was... still human.

But Galeforce had snapped.

Not much Charles could do about that.

And there his mind went, racing for ideas to free Green, get him back to his clan.

Thoughts that would lead to certain death if acted upon.

Galeforce was powerful.

Too powerful.

If Charles tried to defy him, he’d... disappear.

What other choice did he have other then to stay? If he ran, the Government would find him. If he ran, the Government would kill him.

He would’ve had no impact on anything.

Charles’s breathing was slowly slowing down. He gradually stopped shaking like a leaf.

But just because he wasn’t showing it, didn’t mean he wasn’t scared.

Quite the opposite.

He curled up into a ball and took several long breaths.

His mind was still on saving Green.

The more selfish parts were brainstorming ideas for saving himself.

Charles eventually got up and dusted himself off. He stuck his hands in his pocket and ducked his head, trying to avoid everyone. He needed sleep.

Even though he knew his dreams would be nothing but nightmares.

As he kept walking, catrastrophy struck.

Green was walking down the hall, yelling his name.

“Charles!” he called. Charles jumped, thinking Galeforce had read his thoughts and was going to kill him. But no, it was just Green. Charles steadied his gaze on the floor.

“Green, I... I don’t want to talk right now,” he muttered. It was... awkward being around him, for more then one reason. Green grabbed Charles’s arm comfortingly.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone worried.

“I’m not in the best mood.” Charles replied, slowly removing his arm from Green’s grasp. “I just need some sleep. When I wake up, we can do something, ‘kay?” Charles had to admit, he liked spending time with Green.

As much as one could like spending time with a brainwashed mass murderer, anyway.

Green’s face fell. “Aww, c’mon Charli- Charles.” he begged, stumbling over his words. Charles stuck his hands back in his pockets. “I thought you said we could play Mario Kart!” Charles sighed.

“I did say that,” he replied. Charles looked up from the ground and made eye contact with Green.

This existence, brainwashed, working for the enemy, killing your friends...

It was the definition of torture.

Charles just hoped he was never out in that type of situation.

He took a couple breaths.

“Well, I’m never one to break my promises. If you wanna play that much, we can.” Charles replied. As much as he hated it, this was his job.

Green’s face lit up. He jumped up and down, squealing.

Despite his overwhelming terror, Charles smiled.

“Let’s go let’s go let’s go!” Green said happily, grabbing Charles’s arm again and dragging him toward the break room.

One Month Later...

Charles sighed as he tore up another paper.

Why were escape plans so hard to make?

He took a long sip of his mug of coffee, trying to hold back the wave of tiredness he felt.

Charles hadn’t slept in two days, but really, that wasn’t important.

What was important was recent revelations.

The Toppat Leader (Henry, as his brain reminded him,) had sent out a expedition to rescue all the remaining Toppats on Earth.

It went successfully (which made Charles feel... conflicted), except for one minor detail.

The Toppat Leader was captured.

Charles knew Henry got out lucky, knowing he at least wasn’t killed.

But seeing that crestfallen look in his face when he realized what the Government did to Green...

It made something inside Charles snap.

Henry was going to be turned over to the Wall soon, but not before he would be used as bait to lure out his right hand lady.

Charles tore up another paper in frustration.

“What can I do, what can I do?!” he sobbed miserably, taking another long drink of his coffee.

Green had started glitching more and more since Henry was captured.

Charles hoped Green would get his memories back, bust Henry out, and escape.

According to Galeforce, that was extremely unlikely.

Charles hugged himself as he started spiraling more and more.

He felt so useless.

As he started to write another plan, he heard a knock at the door. Charles yelped and shoved the paper in between two books. He warily approached the door and opened it.

Galeforce was at the door.

Pure terror shot through Charles, but he tried to keep his composure calm.

“G-General! To what do I owe the pleasure?” he stammered, fiddling with a pull string on his hoodie. Galeforce chuckled darkly and shoved Charles out of the way, walking into his room.

“I wonder, Calvin... what are you working on? You haven’t slept for two days. Your room is a mess. You’re neglecting your duties.” Galeforce said sinisterly. Charles felt goosebumps crawl up his arms.

“I- uh-“ Charles sputtered. He couldn’t lie. That was one of his biggest weaknesses. Galeforce knew that. Galeforce exploited that.

“Did you know, Charlie, that Dr. V recently developed a microscopic camera? It’s revelationary for spying on the enemy... and for weeding out traitors.” Galeforce gave Charles a sharp glare. His tired mind put the puzzle pieces together much too late.

“Wait- but I’m not-“ he started desperately. Galeforce cut right over him.

“You’re not a traitor? You’re not a threat? Oh Charlie, we both know you can’t lie. Trying to let our biggest weapon just escape like that? Your efforts are traitorous, and useless.” Charles felt all his tiredness he replaced by pure, cold, fear. That was the only way to describe it.

“Please, Galeforce,” Charles pleaded desperately. “I don’t know what you’re going to do, but don’t do it. I’m nothing but loyal! Please...” Galeforce scoffed.

“Perhaps you’re telling the truth. Perhaps you’re not. The answer makes no difference.” he said as two soldiers rushed in, grabbing both of Charles’s arms.

“What are you gonna do to me?!” Charles screamed as he struggled against the two men. Galeforce smiled unpleasantly.

“Oh, Charlie. If you only you knew,” he mocked. “Gentlemen, bring him to the prison. Put him next to Mr. Stickmin’s cell.”

There was nothing Charles could do.

Once again, he was useless.

He was a failure.

———————————————————————

Charles’s eyes shot open.

When had he fallen asleep?

He rubbed his back. The prison beds felt like brick.

He slowly started examining the surroundings. He had been put into a decrepit cell. The walls were cracked and filled with cobwebs. The floor was painted a faded yellow. There wasn’t much in the cell. Just a toilet, a sink, and the brick bed.

It made him feel even more miserable than he already did.

He looked at the bell next to him and saw a tall and skinny man peering at him through the bars.

“C-Charles?” he said, his voice hopeful and confused and sad all at the same time. It was... a lot of emotions to handle.

“Henry!” Charles cried, running over to the bars. Henry was... a brief acquaintance at best. But it felt so good to see a friendly face. Well, a slightly friendly face.

“How- why-“ he stuttered, his face fully shifting to confusion. Henry was surprised now, too. Like he never expected this to ever happen, like it wasn’t in the realm of possibility. 

“Long story,” Charles sighed, hugging himself as he sat back on his bed.

“We’ve got time,” Henry replied, also sitting on his bed.

“You might, but my time’s running out.” Henry’s face was pained. “How long was I asleep for, anyway?”

“Two days,” Henry replied, shrugging. “You must’ve been really tired.” Charles widened his eyes.

“Really? Jeez. Well, I was up for two days straight.” Henry frowned.

“God, you sound overworked.” Despite everything, Charles laughed, only for a moment.

“I was trying to figure out an escape route for you and Green,” he explained, leaning against the wall and shrugging. Henry widened his eyes.

“Really?” he asked, stunned. “You didn’t have to do that. Especially for me.”

“No, I did.” Charles replied fiercely. “You were gonna be used to lure out the clan. The plan was to slaughter them while you watched helplessly behind bars. Then pawn you and your right hand lady over to The Wall once every other Toppat was exterminated.” Henry was silent for a moment.

“Ambitious plan,” he remarked. “But there are a lot of us. How would they take us all out?”

“Maybe with a brainwashed robot programmed only to kill Toppats?” Charles prompted, his voice sad. Henry blinked, that crestfallen look returning for a moment.

“Why are you telling me this?” Henry asked suddenly.

“I’m a traitor to the Government, so might as well tell everything to a person I barely know.” Charles said, shrugging. Henry looked sad at the words ‘barely know’.

“You’re the bravest man here, Charles,” he said, closing his eyes. Charles teared up, not sure what to say.

“I-“ he began before guards opened up his cell. Charles blinked, confused. “What is it?”

“Dr. V wants you,” one said flatly. They grabbed Charles’s arms again. He looked helplessly back at Henry, who’s eyes were watering.

“Charles, please, escape. I can’t lose you again.” Henry said, holding back a sob.

Again?

Again?!

What did that mean?

Charles thought it over as the guards dragged him to Dr. V’s lab. They shoved him in roughly and closed the door. Dr V. was sitting there, alone.

“Ah, Calvin.” she said, her voice not betraying any emotion. Charles started shaking. Dr V. had always scared him.

“What do you want? What are you gonna do to me?” he blurted. Dr. V. chuckled darkly, sounding all too much like Galeforce.

“Fear is a good emotion on you, Calvin!” she said, her smile growing more and more sinister. Charles pressed himself against the wall, his eyes panicked.

“Don’t hurt me...” he whispered. Dr V. pressed a button as she pulled on a mask. Smoke filled the room and Charles felt loopy. “What’s... happening...?” He hit the ground with a THUMP! as he passed out cold.

Dr V. stood above him, smirking. Not like anyone could see it through the mask.

“Time to get to work.”

[krowfics]

A Spider’s Shadow Chapter 5

Fandom: Warrior cats/Sander Sides

Ships: Prinxiety, Logicality, Dukeceit, (eventual) Remile, otherwise platonic LAMP, familial Creativitwins+Thomas

Plot: Spiderpaw is the sole witness to a murder, due to this, he is no longer safe in Shadowclan. He soon finds himself amongst a group of secret rebels who disagree with the Warrior Code.

Words this chapter: 2152

Notes:Warriors typical violence/hunting, unsympathetic/morally gray Janus and Remus,

Chapter 1  Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

~~~

Lionbright bunched up his muscles in preparation, readjusting his footing for the pounce. He lept into the air and landed with a soft thump, muted by the squirrel that now struggled against his claws, he quickly delivered the killing bite to it’s neck and silently thanked Starclan for the catch.

“Great catch!” Nettlepaw purred, standing from their position across from Lionbright.

“Ah, thanks,” He scraped a bit of dirt over his prey, “Though I think that one was a bit slow, otherwise I’m sure it would’ve ended up in your claws.” They’d done a fairly simple hunting technique involving one cat standing behind the prey in case it ran, it was extra helpful for skittish critters like squirrels, but it proved unneeded for this one. Lionbright did catch the squirrel fine on his own but his leap felt lacking, his mind distracted by the occasional wandering thought.

“Maybe.” Nettlepaw shrugged before turning their head sharply, “Oh and another good catch!” They mewed, acknowledging Whitepaw stepping through the bramble with a sparrow.

“It was nothing.” He mewed happily, his head being held high despite his words.

Lionbright flexed his claws in and out for a moment as he suppressed a sneering response. Whitepaw always got on his nerves. It was just a sparrow, nothing all too impressive. Lionbright supposed that attitude was why he earned his warrior name before Whitepaw despite the other being older. But, hunting wasn’t a contest, he shouldn’t be thinking that way. Still, he couldn’t help a small grin at the fact that he was better than the apprentice.

“Nice squirrel.” Whitepaw said once his catch joined the other, kicked a bit of earth over it.

“Lionbright caught it.” Nettlepaw stated, bumping the warrior in question with their side.

Whitepaw sniffed, “Oh really? I suppose it’s a nice change in pace from catching spiders.”

Lionbright sighed, he should’ve guessed some teasing like this was coming, “And what if it is?”

Whitepaw’s ears pressed back slightly, “He’s a Shadowclan cat.”

The warrior frankly wasn’t sure what exactly his old denmate was trying to imply but he really didn’t care at the moment, “Wow, that’s amazing I hadn’t even noticed until you pointed it out just now. Thanks for telling me.” He stood, his mew mockingly sweet.

“Whitepaw don’t be rude.” Crowclaw rolled their eyes as she approached, a wren muffling her words, “I think we should head back and get these in the pile,” they said quickly, not giving her apprentice had a chance to defend himself. Lionbright dipped his head and picked up his squirrel before following the others to another few pieces of prey they’d caught earlier and buried a bit in earth.

Soon enough, he was following the patrol through the bramble and into camp. He felt the midday sun hit his back as he swiftly made his way to the pile. His head was held high, a grin hidden behind his squirrel. Maybe Spiderpaw would eat the squirrel, Lionbright wondered, would a Shadowclan cat like squirrel? Had he even ever tried one? He had plenty of questions to remember to ask his friend later, but for now, he was stopped by an all to common sight.

Just in front of the pile was his father and brother, along with the deputy and medicine cat. Ratpaw seemed a bit puffed up, undoubtedly ready to defend his actions, whatever they may be. He hadn’t run off again had he? Lionbright wasn’t gone for that long but if he could trust anyone to vanish in a moment just to turn up later smelling of twoleg stuff, it’d be his brother.

He stepped closer, more out of curiosity than to get closer to the pile, but stopped in his tracks as he listened to Ratpaw’s hiss, “So I gave Spiderpaw a poppy seed, I did what-”

“You gave him a what?” Lionbright barely acknowledged the fact that his kill had fallen from his grip, still a fox length away from its place in the pile. The rest of his patrol stepped around the group to set their catches down in the proper place before backing away, not wanting to interfere in whatever today’s argument would be about.

Ratpaw looked to him and soon gained an amused expression, “A poppy seed. It’s what you give annoying little nuisances from enemy clans to make them sleep for a really lo-” He was cut off by sudden paws pushing him onto his back. 

The gray tom fell backwards with a satisfying huff as the air was knocked out of him. Lionbright might have used more force than strictly necessary in the given situation, he knew that poppy seeds caused no real harm, but if it got his littermate to quiet for once, then it was worth it.

“The poppy seed was necessary.” Frostpool confirmed, she’d stepped closer after a moment whilst Lionbright was still giving Ratpaw a glare as he kept him pinned down, “He’s quite bothered by what he witnessed,” She spoke in a hushed mew, “And reasonably so.”

Lionbright glanced to see Fernstorm nodding, “He couldn’t get more than a bite of wren down.”

“See?” Ratpaw said in a mockingly distressed voice from under him, “Why must you antagonize me? What have I done to deserve such rough treatment?”

“Plenty.” Redstar said in the chiding tone of a father, “Lionbright, release him.” He continued with the commanding tone of a leader, Lionbright obliged begrudgingly. Redstar watched as Ratpaw jumped up, not looking bothered in the slightest. “Ratpaw, from what I understand, you made the situation worse before offering the seed.”

Ratpaw rolled his eyes, “Yes, Redstar, we’ve been over this before. What shall we describe my actions as this time?” He hummed, “Fox-hearted? Mouse-brained? No better than a rogue’s? No better than a Dark Forest cat’s?” He gasped dramatically, “No better than a Shadowclan cat’s?” 

His father’s face lost any commanding feature, he just looked done, and Lionbright could hardly blame him. However the younger warrior could not relate to the almost forlorn look in Redstar’s eyes, for he was bristling with fury.

He flexed his claws in and out for a moment, then forced himself to breath. “Where is he?” he turned sharply to Frostpool, unable to keep his tail from flicking.

“The medicine den.” She blinked, “Asleep.”

“Right.” Lionbright flicked his ear, his paws were moving before he knew where he was going yet. He just needed to walk somewhere. Actually he felt like he needed to shred a tree of it’s bark with his claws or hunt the whole forest clean but those wouldn’t be helpful. He instead grabbed his fresh-kill between his teeth to move it to the pile.

The day dragged on slowly. Lionbright tried to force himself to lay in the sun and relax but he was in no mood to share tongues and his thoughts were to focused on his friend to let himself nap, despite his sleepless night. It was at times like these when he was restless for an apprentice. With no apprentice duties himself, he’d didn’t have much to do. When Blossomfur’s kits were of age then perhaps he’d get to be one of their mentors, but it’d be a bit before they were even born let alone six moons old.

He scoffed at his own boredom. He wanted so badly to be a warrior as a ‘paw, but he’d take apprentice duties at this point just so there was something to do. Well, not if that meant tick duty, his nose scrunched up at just the thought of mouse bile. 

If Ratpaw hadn’t gotten himself banned from leaving camp again then Lionbright would be able to offer to go hunt or gather herbs with him, but even if his littermate wasn’t in trouble at the moment, Lionbright didn’t trust himself not to get into a hissing match the second he was alone with him. 

Ratpaw was in the medicine den, right? Along with Spiderpaw. Ratpaw had been practically dragged in by Frostpool talking about drying out herbs. Lionbright felt his shackles rise and he stood, trudging over to the den. He didn’t enter, not knowing what excuse to give. He just stood by and listened for a moment, seeing if anyone was talking inside. It was silent, so Lionbright stepped away to continue his failed nap.

It wasn’t long before he was wandering back over to the medicine den again. And again. And again until Frostpool was stepping out with a frustrated huff. “Do you have a thorn in your paw?” She asked.

“Um- No?” Lionbright said, taken aback.

“Burr in you pelt? Chaffed pads? No? Then why do you keep coming back here?”

Lionbright opened his mouth to respond but with what, he had no idea. Sometimes he forgot how scary medicine cats could be while they were doing their jobs. He glanced behind her, trying to discreetly peak into the den. Frostpool closed her eyes and sighed.

“Fine.” She said, her voice losing it’s malice, “I get it, you’re worried. Why don’t you go hunt for him?” She offered, “He could use a mouse, they always go down easy, I’m sure he’d appreciate one that’s still warm.”

At that, Lionbright felt like he was buzzing with energy, “I can do that! Uh, thank you.”

Frostpool nodding, laughing fondly, “You’d better be grateful, Ratpaw was offering to come out here and bite your tail off.”

“I’d expect nothing less from him.” He said, backing away and heading to the entrance. Hunting a mouse was something he could do. He was going to get his friend plumpest, juiciest mouse in all of Thunderclan’s territory.

Lionbright headed in the direction of the old owl tree but he didn’t need to travel that far before he picked up the scent of mouse, strong and incredibly recent. He dropped to a hunter’s crouch instinctively and let his eyes trail on the ground, searching for the rustling of leaves. He spotted a disappointing, scrawny little thing and promptly decided to ignore it.

He carried on, allowing a leaf to crunch under his paw that set the mouse running.

He stopped when he smelt mouse again, this one was easily spotted grooming itself. It looked nice and plump, Lionbright found himself liking his lips. But, as hungry as he was, this wasn’t for him. Hopefully when he returned, Spiderpaw would be awake and he’d be able to give him the freshkill and grab something for himself out of the pile so he could eat with him.

He did need to catch it first.

He shuffled forward, paws low on the ground even when lifted so he could avoid any noisy leaves. The mouse didn't spot him until he was pouncing. He swiftly bit down on it’s spine and took a breath to relax. The mouse looked delicious, perfect. 

He plucked it up and trotted back to Thunderclan’s camp with a bounce in his steps. Once there, he headed straight for the medicine den, only to see his darling brother’s head poke out. 

Ratpaw caught sight of him, “Your spider’s awake.” He said.

Lionbright would prefer to doubt what the implications of that would be when said by any other cat, in fact it wouldn’t occur to him at all. But, Ratpaw seemingly only ever had very few topics in mind, and none of them respectable. The only thing keeping a hiss contained in Lionbright as he realized that Whitepaw was probably having the same thoughts as the medicine cat apprentice was the mouse Lionbright diligently held in his mouth.

The gray cat backed up so Lionbright could bring the freshkill inside. “Oh good!” Frostpool mewed at the mouse, the carrier of which had only just poked his head in, “He can eat it outside, no point in making extra work cleaning. There's already plenty of work to be done.” She sent a sharp gaze towards Ratpaw, who just shrugged in response.

Lionbright turned his attention to the small tabby still laying in his nest. Spiderpaw blinked at him with his bright blue eyes and stood slowly, taking a long step to stretch out of his sleeping position. The pretty tom hunched awkwardly as he walked, he looked like he was fighting his hackles from raising. He nodded at Frostpool who responded with a blink.

Lionbright turned to step out of the den, only pausing when he saw that Spiderpaw had, just in front of Ratpaw.

Lionbright felt a moment of panic knowing that his brother could have said absolutely anything to the Shadowclan cat while Lionbright was out, but then, “Thank you,” Spiderpaw said, “For the poppy seed and the… moss pile.”

Ratpaw, to his credit, did look a bit surprised but he shook it off quick enough with a flick of his ear, “Yeah, yeah, go eat your mouse.”

Spiderpaw nodded at him and trotted out, leaving Lionbright to follow, and follow he did.

~~~

It’s been a while!,, like a year,,

please accept this animation meme of ratpaw and snakeface as an apology (be warned it has SPOILERS ,,,,,)

Chap 6

Tags~ @perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare