#her kit is ridiculously good for clutching fights…..

[zanypainterglitter]

It's been a long time since I talked about Sonic. This time about IDW, simply in comic #64 where Whisper and Silver investigate Duo because they suspect that he is actually Mimic, a former partner of Whisper who betrayed the group called Diamond Cutters and because of Mimic the others died, although in reality he is Mimic but Whisper and Silver don't know it and have no proof until Lanolin finds out and asks for an explanation and out of nowhere Whisper gets violent because she starts saying "it's Mimic, it's Mimic" she even tries to push Lanolin to shoot Duo and obviously Lanolin responds and the two fight while Duo leaves but Silver catches him and he grabs a chair and makes it float sitting Duo there and that's why he falls and gets hurt, which is why in the end Silver is expelled from the little group that the three of them had with Tangle. All this was a ridiculous and unnecessary spectacle. The culprit and the one who should be expelled is clearly Whisper, because she started attacking and accusing Duo, and her only proof was that she was traumatized by her former group, I consider that Lanolin did what she had to do. Although if she is supposed to be very good friends with Whisper, why doesn't she listen to her? I think she was just being neutral, or I don't know, maybe the others think she is acting unpleasant, and Silver could grab Duo with her telekinesis and be done with it, not make a fuss by grabbing the chair and "interrogating" him. Mimic didn't have to do anything, she didn't even have a plan against that. She could have perfectly humiliated Whisper because, as I said, she is traumatized and without proof, but the others played dumb and Mimic took advantage of the tremendous spectacle. And as a last criticism I would like to say that villains like Mimic, Starline and Clutch have not done anything remarkable, my favorite is Starline but he simply died, crying because he does not understand people or Eggman and therefore does not understand his failure, he was very reduced, Mimic was during the Whisper and Tangle arc but then he was left to be like a sidekick, a servant who does what they ask of him, he is not even a mercenary because he works for Clutch as Duo without receiving anything useful but you have to believe that he really is someone "evil and sadistic" and if I approve of this but it would be better to take advantage of it so that he redeems himself, or better yet nothing, than simply die or be trapped in the rat octopus, and Clutch has not done anything that deserves fear especially for Surge and Kit, literally with one blow he can be defeated and the only thing left for him to do is play dead and run away, it would be better if he were of the type "his power is in words" that is, he does not need physical strength and he does not know how to fight, since he has contacts. He has the means to create an identity for Surge and Kitsunami while simultaneously destroying the lives and dreams of others, but that's not the case. He has to introduce himself, and obviously people will know it's him and they'll find out. Of course, Surge could even kill him and they'll forget about him. That's my opinion.

[tennessoui]

Hello there, Miss Kit 😊 Hope you're having a good day. 21 from the kiss challenge if you please

the result of a bit of a bad day a few days ago:

21. A chaste kiss given to each other because they're in mixed company.

(wc: 950)

Obi-Wan pulls away quickly. He can't let himself linger. Lingering would be dangerous. For himself, for Anakin, for their children....

Both of whom have attached themselves to his legs now in their customary greeting. They always wait until after he's kissed Anakin hello. It's practically torture, though he knows they must not think of it like that.

Anakin steps back and Obi-Wan leans down to scoop both children up into his arms. His back and shoulders protest the weight, but he can't show weakness. His reward tomorrow is going to be an icepack and an ibuprofen, but now Korkie and Ahsoka squeal and clutch tightly to his shirt.

"Can we play in the park for a bit, papa?" Korkie asks, hands curling tightly around his shoulder. "'Soka's been teaching me how to do the monkey bars, I want you and daddy to see."

If Obi-Wan had a hand free, he'd adjust the boy's glasses. "Oh, Korkie, I think your daddy might have to go--" Anakin always has to go as soon as he's dropped the kids off with Obi-Wan. A few years ago, he'd even bother to tell him where. Who he was seeing, what he was doing. Now he doesn't usually say much at all.

"I can stay," Anakin speaks roughly, leaning over to ruffle Korkie's hair. "But your papa will have to put you down first to show us anything."

That gets the kids squirming, and Obi-Wan lets them down quickly so they can run over through the grassy area to get to the playground.

Used to, they'd done this trade off in a restaurant parking lot, but then Obi-Wan'd read a book about the damage parental divorce can do to young children, so now they meet up biweekly in a park and kiss each other hello as if they're friends. Friendly.

"Don't speak for me, Obi-Wan, not when it comes to the kids," Anakin mutters sharply under his breath. Obi-Wan fights the childish urge to stick his tongue out at him.

"Apologies, darling," the pet name falls like a lit grenade in the careful space between them. "Only I know you have better things to do than linger in a park with an old man on his weeks with the children."

Anakin sits on the park bench just in front of the playground enclosure stiffly and crosses his arms. Obi-Wan forces himself to sit next to him, crossing his legs loosely as he looks for his children among the others.

"We broke up," Anakin announces with no prompting. Obi-Wan doesn't move an inch. "Ahsoka didn't like her."

"Korkie?"

"Hated her."

Attaboy.

"I'm sure you'll find someone else," Obi-Wan says tonelessly. "Perhaps closer in age."

"Maybe I have a type."

"Heartbreak?"

"My heart's fine."

"It's really none of my business."

He can feel Anakin glowering at the side of his face and he resists the urge to clench his jaw, to turn and look. "You've made that clear," his ex-husband hisses at him.

"Following your direction, darling," Obi-Wan straightens as he sees Korkie climb up the ladder to the monkey bars. "There he is!"

"If he breaks his leg on your weekend, do we split the hospital bill if it's in the middle of hand off?" Anakin mutters even as he turns to look, hands clenched tightly around each other in his lap.

The question is so ridiculously Anakin, the old Anakin, that Obi-Wan can't help a sharp bark of laughter even as he watches Korkie swing up and out from the safety of the ladder.

Both breathe a huge sigh of relief when he makes it unscathed to the other side. He casts his eyes around the playground to find his daughter, only to see her perched in the look-out tower, staring intently at him and Anakin.

"What do you think Ahsoka's doing?" Obi-Wan leans closer to murmur to Anakin, who tenses but stays still. Some part of Obi-Wan notices that he's changed his cologne. Another part realizes that his lips are still tingling from their brief kiss. It's all very horrible.

Anakin's head moves until he finds her and then he stares for a few seconds, watching Korkie clamber up until he's next to his sister. The two children put their heads together and start whispering furiously.

Concerned, Obi-Wan moves his head away to turn to look at Anakin fully. Anakin's cheeks slowly start to turn red as he stares unblinkingly at the kids. "Ah shit," he mutters, bringing up a hand to rub at his temple.

"Anakin?"

"It's nothing, Obi-Wan," Anakin snaps, pursing his lips. His face is fully red now. "Only, for the past week they've been watching The Parent Trap nonstop."

Obi-Wan's mouth falls open slightly as he turns from his ex-husband to his kids and back again. He recognizes that look on their faces now. A look that means they're plotting something.

"I let them choose any movie from the store and Ahsoka picked some horror zombie film and Korkie picked that shit," Anakin mutters rubbing his hand over his face completely now. "Couldn't go back on my word and they told me you always let them."

Under normal circumstances, Obi-Wan would be quite content to bask in the collective realization that his ex-husband from hell had been conned. But this involves Obi-Wan as well.

"Well," Obi-Wan coughs and moves to put space between their bodies, lest his children get any more ideas. "I'd suggest going with the zombie movie the next time."

[milkiane]

home

pairings: rafe cameron x reader, platonic!pogues x reader

warnings: mentions of drugs, mentions of bruises and blood, profanities, angst

word count: 1181

prompt: ‘then something broke in me and i wanted to go home’ [wish that you were here, florence + the machine] for @pad-foots' 7 days of angst challenge.

note: you guys should really follow @s1ater <3

home is where the heart is, they said.

it could be a place, somewhere you’ve found solace in. the place you’d go back to and get thumped by a sense of nostalgia and sentimentality, yearning for the days where it was all so simple.

but truthfully, home is a person. home is a feeling. as you grow older, you’ll start to realize that the concept of home doesn’t have anything to do with stacked bricks and cement, but it’s more of the people you share it with, the people you’ve grown to love.

you haven’t felt at home in weeks.

maybe it was rafe’s lack of affection and care, or maybe it’s because he was high off his ass all the time, or maybe because he wasn’t the same boy you loved.

it was a tiring routine, really. he’ll text you to come over, you’ll get a smidge of hope that he’ll finally come around and apologize for being a dickhead, only to find out that you’re there to watch him snort some coke, take care of him as he comes off his high, and go home with a heavy heart.

you didn’t know what happened, the both of you were okay. you were two teenagers in love, not letting the rivalry between the pogues and kooks get in the way of your blooming romance. everything was doing great until he found the same love and happiness in the drugs he once had with you.

you were so sick and tired of it. you still loved rafe, but you don’t know how much more you could handle until you break.

the jingling of the doorknob interrupted your bustling thoughts, you’ve been waiting for rafe in his room. you sighed as you turned off the tv, completely missing half of the movie.

rafe stumbled across the dark room, fumbling with the light switch as he groaned.

as soon as he flickered it on, your gasp caught his attention, “oh, good, you’re here,”

“rafe, what the fuck?” you immediately ran over to him, supporting his figure over to the bed. his face was bruised and he had a bloody nose.

you went straight to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit under the sink’s cupboard. when you stood back up, your reflection caught your attention. you don’t even look like yourself anymore, features of exhaustion shrouding your face.

you sighed, shutting your eyes shut as you tried to keep your tears in bay. it was as if worrying for rafe 24/7 has sucked the life and ambition from you. your eyes looked dead and dark, full of hurt as you thought of rafe and the mess you’d have to deal with once again.

“y/n?” rafe called out, sitting up against the headboard. wincing as he felt the pain of the bruises.

you took one more deep breath before making your way towards him.

“y/n,” he mumbled softly, grimacing as you dabbed the alcohol-soaked cotton on his grazed temple.

you hummed, avoiding eye contact as you continued patching him up.

“i’m sorry, baby. i knew i said i’d stop getting into fights but-“

you let out a shaky breath, leaning your head on his chest. slowly, sobs racked your body as you clenched the bedsheets in your hands, “i’m so tired, rafe, so tired.”

“me, too,” he cooed, rubbing your back soothingly. you looked up at him to see his eyes red and droopy. he was coming off from another high.

you swallowed, applying more antiseptics on his wounds. as you cleaned up the kit, he grabbed your arm and brought you into his embrace. in his drowsy state, he got to slur out a soft, “i love you, y/n,”

ridiculously enough, tears blurred your vision once more. you let them fall as you whimpered against his arms.

“what’s wrong, baby?”

“everything, rafe. i’m so fucking tired of looking after you, you aren’t the same rafe cameron who i fell in love with,” you sniffed, “god forbid i sound pathetic but i don’t want this vile, cruel, and druggy version of you with a tough guy act. i want the rafe who used to cancel golfing out with friends to spend the day watching disney movies with me, the rafe who cooks breakfast in bed, the rafe who loves me and acts as if i was his world.”

you whimpered, ”i- i just want to go home,”

“what do you mean? you are home,” he sat up, trying to blink away the haziness of his eyes.

“no, i’m not, and i haven’t been in weeks!” you cried, removing yourself from his hold.

“y/n, come on. we could fix this, i promise i’ll get better,” he pleaded, his own eyes getting watery.

“i want to go home, rafe, let me go,” you sniffed, “let me go…” you whispered.

slowly, he approached you and pulled you into a hug, letting you cry against his chest.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he repeated over and over again. his own heart breaking with every noise of pain you made.

with one last kiss on your temple, he separated your bodies, “i’m sorry, i love you.”

you let the tears fall freely, squeezing his hand before letting go, leaving him alone in his room.

you drove away from tannyhill, sniffling as you turned on the radio to block out all intrusive thoughts.

putting your car in park, you didn’t realize that you drove yourself to the chateau until you took in the sight of the small cabin and fairy lights hung around from tree to tree.

you inhaled deeply, rubbing your eyes to wipe away all the tears. you didn’t know if they’ll still welcome you in, but all you could do was hope.

the sound of a car engine made all of the pogues pause their bonfire conversation, they didn’t know what to expect when they jogged towards the porch, but it definitely wasn’t a teary y/n.

“y/n?” kiara’s voice called out, her eyebrows were furrowed just like the rest of them.

your head snapped towards their direction, the sight of the group made your heart clench, you started fumbling with your words, “hey guys, i’m sorry. i don’t know what i’m doing here, i’ll just go, i’m sorry.”

“what’s wrong?” pope asked, watching as kiara walked towards you, opening her arms for a hug.

when she wrapped your arms around you, something about her warmth and their concern about you made you break. you clutched onto her tightly as you let your emotions flood, “i’m sorry,”

she shushed you, rubbing her hand up and down your back as you continued to cry.

their hearts broke as you continued to cry, john b walked past the two boys and brought you into a tight hug, followed by pope and jj.

they slowly lowered into the ground as they enveloped you in a group hug.

home isn’t a place. home is where the other half of your soul is, and home is with the pogues.

you finally feel at home.

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[mollymawkwrites]

My lovely friend @simplymyselff requested Jaskier hitting Geralt with his lute (maybe because he was afraid of him being a ghost) and patching him up because he feels guilty, so this is my attempt at it. Enjoy! CW: minor injury, blood, terminal stupidity from both of the boys.

There is someone in Jaskier’s chambers.

He woke up with a start a minute ago when a crashing noise broke the silence of the late evening. From his bed, he could see the window in the tiny living room of his student lodgings gaping open, the panes gently swaying with the light breeze of the summer night. He’s sure he closed it before going to bed; some drunkards had been belting out sea shanties in the street below and he needed to get some sleep before tomorrow’s exams.

There had been a quick scuffle, and then nothing, but Jaskier can see a large shadow moving in his living room from where he’s pressed against the wall now, his heart beating wildly. The light of the almost full moon bathes the room in an ethereal atmosphere, and the silhouette is moving from one side of his tiny living room to the other, silent. Slowly, it approaches the open door of Jaskier’s bedroom, and all he sees is a flash of white before he grabs the nearest object and swings with all his might towards the tall figure. It might not be of any use against a ghostly apparition, but Julian Alfred Pankratz is not going down without a fight.

There is a splintering of wood, a discordant twang, and a loud and heartfelt “Fuck!” that is definitely not at all ghostly, before Jaskier is thrown against the wall by a strong arm.

The most terrifying man Jaskier has ever met is snarling right to his face, a hand splayed across his chest to keep him still and a blade teasing at his neck. Pale hair form a halo around his head in the moonlight, and a pair of yellow slitted eyes are glaring at Jaskier with rage. Blood is running down the man’s face, dripping down his chin and onto the dark, studded armour cutting quite an impressive figure. It tells a lot about Jaskier that even in the throes of terror, he can’t help but remark how devastatingly handsome the man is.

“Who the fuck are you?” the man growls, and his voice is just as sexy terrifying than the rest of him.

“Who- what- excuse me?” Jaskier sputters, caught off guard by the stupid question. “I live here!”

“Why did you attack me?” The hand against Jaskier’s chest presses harder, and he feels his ribs start to protest against the weight.

“You just broke into my lodgings! I thought you were a ghost!” His voice definitely does not come out in a squeak.

The man’s glare doesn’t abate, but he does release Jaskier and sheathes the wicked-looking knife back into the holster on his hip. Jaskier flinches when he raises a hand, but it is only to prod at the gash on his forehead that is still oozing blood sluggishly. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Oh, excuse me for wanting to make sure! You could- you could have been a thief! You could still be a thief! What are you doing in my chambers?”

“Hm. ‘m a Witcher. There’s a spirit in your flat.”

“You just said ghosts weren’t real,” Jaskier definitely squeaks this time.

“Not a ghost. A godling.”

“... a what?”

“A godling. A mischievous spirit, like a lutin. Harmless, though it can play some mean tricks. I was trying to bargain with her to leave the city when she bolted and slipped in your flat. I followed her, but she must have hidden somewhere.”

“Oh gods,” Jaskier moans. “Am I going to be haunted? I really don’t need that, I’m in the middle of my end of term exams…”

“No, she slipped away when you… distracted me. It’s unlikely she’ll be back. I just hope she’ll follow my advice, or she might meet people who are less inclined to let her find a nice forest or swamp to settle.”

“Oh. Well, you shouldn’t break into people’s homes in the middle of the night. Unless it’s really important, I guess.” Jaskier looks down at his hand still clutching his makeshift weapon, and lets out a wail that has the Witcher taking a step back in startled concern. “My lute! I broke my lute!”

The wrecked instrument is nothing more than a pile of kindling, strings and pieces of the body still hanging sadly from the neck.

“I hum… I think I should leave you to it,” the Witcher is looking increasingly uncomfortable as Jaskier falls to his knees and cradles the broken instrument to his chest.

Jaskier raises his head and narrows his eyes at him. “You’re hurt.”

“Yeah. You threw a fucking lute at me.”

“Don’t remind me. You need to tend to that wound. You’re bleeding all over my rug.”

“It’s a head wound. It always bleeds a lot.”

“Well, I’m not gonna risk you fainting from blood loss because I attacked you. Though I had a good reason to.”

“I’m okay. It’ll stop eventually.”

“This is nowhere near reassuring.” Jaskier declares cheerfully as he rises from the floor, broken lute forgotten. “Let me help with it, at least. As an apology.”

The Witcher makes a face like he wants to say no, but Jaskier is already lighting the candles on his desk and unearthing the poorly equipped medical kit he never uses himself, except for pain relief medicine after drinking too much wine.

“Come on, sit down, let me give that a look,” Jaskier ushers his patient towards the bed, and the Witcher looks utterly confused and out of place but complies, sitting with his hands on his lap and his hunched shoulders failing to make him look smaller than he is.

Silence falls upon them as Jaskier cleans the wound with unpracticed but careful movements, and he becomes increasingly aware of the level of closeness their position demands. Jaskier is standing between the Witcher’s open legs, one hand cradling the man’s head while the other dabs a wet cloth over his bloody hairline. The student finds himself blushing furiously, thankful that the other man is oblivious to his current predicament, staring right ahead of himself, which happens to be the open collar of Jaskier’s light nightgown.

“I’m sorry,” the Witcher says as Jaskier turns to trade the bloodied cloth for the little jar of balm he uses when he cuts himself with snapping lute strings. He looks back at the Witcher in surprise, but the man keeps his gaze down as he answers Jaskier’s silent question. “For your lute. I’m sorry it’s broken. I can pay for a new one.”

A wave of fondness for the weird man leaves Jaskier rather breathless. He hides it behind a dismissive hand gesture. “It’s okay, really. I got it in a game of Gwent last year. At least it wasn’t my lucky lute, and it never made a great sound anyway.”

“How many lutes do you own?” The Witcher asks with an arched eyebrow, raising his head to meet Jaskier’s eyes for the first time since he sat down, which causes the student to smear balm all across the man’s forehead.

“Let me think… there’s the one I use for classes, the fancy one for formal events, the one I take for gigs in taverns… my first lute, which is also my lucky lute… that’s four. Five, if you count the one I’m still mourning.”

“Why the fuck do you need so many lutes.”

“So I don’t find myself without one when I use them as weapons against thick-headed Witchers,” Jaskier deadpans. “Can you imagine a bard without an instrument? That’d be utterly ridiculous. Why the fuck do you need two swords?”

“Some monsters require silver. Others require steel.”

“Hm,” Jaskier hums thoughtfully as he applies the last of the balm to the already healing gash. “Well, yes, I guess that makes sense.”

He steps away to clean his hands in the little basin he keeps on the vanity in his bedroom, and immediately misses the warmth the man radiates. When he turns back, drying his hands on his own nightgown, he finds the Witcher standing in the middle of the room, looking unsure as to what to do now. Jaskier wishes he had an excuse to keep the man from leaving.

“Well, my friend, I think you’ll survive this terrible wound,” he says instead, stepping closer and patting the man’s breastplate awkwardly.

The Witcher hums, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, and he raises his own hand to trap Jaskier’s against his chest. “What would I have done without you. My hero.” His voice drips with sarcasm, but it has Jaskier’s heart beating wildly beneath his ribcage. After a slightly too long silence, the Witcher steps away, back into the living room where the window is still letting in the warm summer breeze. “Maybe… I mean, we could…” The man pauses, a frustrated crease to his brow as he tries to find the right words. “I might come back. To check on you. Make sure the godling hasn’t come back to… haunt you.” He finishes with uncertainty, then curses under his breath. Once again, fondness seizes Jaskier’s heart, and he smiles softly in the darkness of his living room.

“I would love that.”

The man’s shoulders sag with relief, and he turns towards the window, swinging a leg over the ledge. It’s all very romantic, Jaskier thinks. Like one of those books Priscilla likes to say are terribly cliché. He quite likes it, though. “Wait!” He calls before the man jumps from his window. The Witcher turns to look at him, his eyes reflecting the light of the moon, and Jaskier finds himself breathless for the second… no, third time in the evening. “What’s your name?”

“Geralt,” the man offers after a second.

“Well,” Jaskier scrambles for something to say, trying to stretch the surreal moment as much as possible. “Use the door next time, Geralt.”

This has Geralt smiling for real this time. It’s more of a smirk, to be honest. But it suits him nonetheless. “I will,” he says, and jumps, disappearing from Jaskier’s life as quickly as he stumbled into it.

[haikyuuwaifu]

Trip

Genre: Drama, Angst, Humor, Crack, NSFW

Reader x Keigo x Bakugo x Shoto x Shinsou Poly

Warnings: Swearing

MASTERLIST

WAGYU NIGHTMARE

“This is a pretty fancy place boss!” Toga, muttered tugging her sweater over her holey jeans. “Stop worrying doofus, we’re only here to try the Wagyu beef, apparently it’s the super good shit.” Y/N muttered, practically salivating at the mouth. 

In the restaurant a man with deep purple hair in a man bun sat tapping his fingers against the table cloth. He had gotten his undercut lined up and had worn a nice white dress shirt and a pair of black slacks. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms showing off the intricate linework and the shirt itself stretched snuggly across his body; almost as if it would snap at any sudden movement. The man himself caught the attention of every woman and every gay man that passed him by. He had checked his watch again, and huffed a sigh when he realized Nejire was going to be late yet again. 

As Y/N and Toga made their way to the table, a blue haired woman rushed passed the two of them, all dressed-up. Toga scrunched her nose in disgust, as Y/N simply shook her head. “I know this is a fancy place, but the get up might be a bit much.” Y/N whispered to Toga as they sat down. “She’s a city girl, they always dress like their famous; when in reality they look ridiculous” Toga mumbled as the waiter made his way over. “You’re talking about wannabe barbie right?” the waiter asked pouring their waters. “I’m Aoyama by the way and I’ll be your server this afternoon; she’s here with this sinfully hot man covered in tattoos” he gushed nodding towards their table that was in perfect sight of the couple. Y/N flicked her eyes up and choked on her spit at the sight of the purple man. “Okay Aoyama, what the actual fuck is in the water here?! That’s the fourth sexy man I’ve seen in the course of the last couple of months I’ve been coming back and forth.” Y/N seethed, slamming the menu shot. “There’s no chance all Tokyo men are that hot!” 

The blonde man snorted a chuckle, “Sweetie they’re not. Men like him are the exception to the rule.” he mumbled as the trio watched the blue haired woman talking. “What do you think they’re talking about?” Toga murmured pointing towards the appetizer she wanted. “I dunno sweetie, but you bet your ass I’m gonna find out.” Aoyama declared waving down his floor manager. 10 minutes later found Aoyama serving Shinsou and Nejire who were in a deep discussion about Nejire’s plans for Shinsou. Y/N, Toga, and the floor manager were sitting together idly pretending like they weren’t invested in the drama. “Shinsou, seriously; you can’t just sit in that dingy shop forever.” Nejire huffed out as she perused the menu. “Do you have anything, with no fat, no carbs, no sugars?” she asked looking up at Aoyama. “Yeah, that’s called water sweetie and that’s free.” he answered flashing a grin in her direction. “It’s not a dingy shop jire, on top of that; I don’t have any plans of starting my own.” Shinsou answered still perusing the menu. “Why can’t you just be happy for me? That I’m doing what I enjoy?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers. Nejire reached her hand across the table to stroke his and she smiled softly. “I am happy for you babe, but I’m just thinking about our future. I want to be the wife of the boss; not someone’s underling.” At the sound of the word wife, Shinsou huffed out a snort. “Nejire, I’m not looking for a wife and we’ve only been together for a year.” he declared shutting the menu, and telling Aoyama his order. As the blonde man wrote everything down, his body shook with excitement.

Pushing the order towards the kitchen, Aoyama booked it to Y/N’s table. Toga slid over and made room for the man, hands clutched together in anticipation. “So get this shit, he’s a tattoo artist and he absolutely loves his job!” Aoyama started, gushing at the thought of the purple haired mans face of concentration. “So this bitch, wants him to leave the shop he’s at and start his own!” Toga, and the floor manager gasped for effect while Y/N just shook her head. “What a bitch, telling him to move on. It’s so hard to find good people you mesh with.” she mumbled biting down on a piece of fried cheese. “It gets better!” Aoyama giggled clapping his hands excitedly. “She said she just wanted to be the wife of the boss not the worker; and mans just looked at her like she was stupid!” Aoyama screeched, as Toga and the floor manager cackled. “He said...He said he wasn’t going to marry her since they’ve only...been together for a year....and she got the ugliest scowl on her face!” Aoyama declared between laughs. By this point the entire table was laughing, when they looked to see Nejire standing in front of them. “You’re supposed to be working! And I changed my mind about my order.” she huffed out stomping her foot slightly. “Jire, he is working, and it’s kind of rude to just barge in on another person’s conversation.” Shinsou mumbled standing behind her. Toga didn’t know how she did it, but she praised Y/N on her ability to not even look at the big purple haired man standing in front of their table; because holy shit was he a big man. “Look, I’m a paying customer and I demand five star service!” Nejire screeched, stomping her foot. 

“This is a 5 star restaurant Tokyo Bimbo, I mean barbie; so go back to your seat and shut the fuck up.” Y/N mumbled smiling up at the blue haired woman. “If it’ll get you out of my face faster, order whatever you want. It’s on my; but right now I’m about to devour the fuck out of this Wagyu and I don’t need a snarky bitch like you ruining it for me!” Y/N huffed shooing the couple away from them. Before Nejire could say anything else, Shinsou had her behind him and already facing their table. “You don’t have to do that, I’m sorry for disrupting your meal.” he mumbled. Y/N simple waved her hand towards him; motioning for him to bed down. As he leaned forward she shot her hand out and flicked the middle of his forehead. “ Don’t apologize for someone else’s stupidity; and if you’re happy where you are, fight to stay there.” she stated whispering the last part and shooting him a wink. Shinsou found himself smiling softly and nodding before turning and escorting himself and his girlfriend back towards their table. 

At the end of his meal he went to pay, when he was told that the woman he had spoken to earlier had already paid for his meal. Turning towards the table he was bummed to see that Y/N and Toga were already gone; the two of them having decided they’d get dessert elsewhere. They didn’t leave without setting aside a fat tip for Aoyama and a promise to be his regulars at least three times a week. But Shinsou left, a little disheartened that he couldn’t properly thank the stranger who not only paid for his meal; but gave him the small boost he needed to put his foot down about not opening his own shop. He loved working with his boys, and he didn’t see that changing anytime soon.

@dabilove27 @ouijaeater15 @kit-kat428 @lia-faerie-queen @stickystrawberrysyrup @mushimoon14 @iloveyouasmuchaspoohloveshoney @patricia-ceballos @starrygoblin @cathy8taffy @moon-spirit-yue @eraser-baby @yafriendlyfangirl @ditu-m9 @loverofallthingsfoxy @percabethismyotp14 @alorathebear

[prose-for-hire]

Love, and dust, is in the air

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: Do you think you could maybe do something where Spike always goes soft around the reader because he loves her? No matter what, even if he's yelling at the Scoobies and she walks in late he just instantly deflates and gets a dopey smile because he thinks she's so cute and innocent. Oo maybe he gets angry and protective cuz someone tries to attack her but she steaks them like a badass and then dotes on Spike cuz he got injured? And he's embarrassed cuz he wasn't scary but she finds him cute too?

Requested by: Anonymous

Part Two

Warning: Swearing. Fighting. Spike gets hurt.

A/N: Again, I got overexcited with writing the demon/backstory involved. No vampires today, but protective Spike and a reader who can handle themselves and be soft with him at the same time.

There was a demon out causing chaos in Sunnydale, which was not enough to haul you out of bed apparently. It was something that happened a lot, so you had to have a little pass for not hurrying just to have to sit in a long meeting that would probably involve a lot of reading and arguing about how best to get rid of whatever gross demon was trying to play havoc with the town you lived in.

At the Magic Box, everyone sans yourself, were discussing at great length the best way to remove the cursed Egyptian mummy that had started to suck people’s brains out through their noses. The mummy was flanked by two feral jackals that mauled anyone that interrupted the process. There was some debate around the ritual to return the mummy back into its resting place as it appeared that the jackals would not easily allow for the process to happen. They appeared to be the ones in control, not the mummy. This meant there would need to be some way of slaying the jackals so they could perform the ritual, but Giles and Willow were heatedly discussing the merits of humanely removing the jackals or just giving them a good stab from a big, pointy object. No guesses for who was arguing what.

This meant that Spike was getting irritated. It was annoying that the little group had to run the morality triathlon before it came back to what it always did. A good old fashioned fight. He was itching for it, ready to take them all on himself if none of them were willing to give over on the fight.

“But they’re sentient beings, Giles! You can’t just kill animals because they aren’t behaving how you like”

“They are bloody tearing half of the town limb from limb, Willow! To think that there is any other way is-”

“Bloody idiotic! The lot of you! You for entertaining the big song and dance about it and you for being, well, the bleeding bloody heart of the operation! They’re evil, they’re trying to kill you – it’s kill or bloody be killed so you can all have a big scholarly debate on the matter but I’m going out there and getting it done”

“Spike! You don’t make the decisions, we need to tread carefully or-” Buffy warned.

“Or what your head might bloody explode at the idea of actually slaying a demon and not shagging it to kingdom come? You wanna send it to hell in a nice neat little bow? Well let’s bloody go!”

“The jackals are just protecting the Mummy, something they’ve been bound to for centuries – we can’t just kill them for their loyalty!” Willow insisted, perhaps a little close to home for her. She had been with Oz for a long time and she knew that although the jackals were double the size they should be and highly aggressive, they could still feel.

“You’re fucking ridiculous – the lot of you! I’ve never seen so many self-congratulating, fake moral prats in one-” but Spike didn’t finish his sentence. You had walked in. His hand was still in mid-air from where he had been pointing around the room, but his face softened when he saw it was you. He didn’t want to shout in front of you, to hurt you, and he definitely didn’t want you to think that he was including you when he insulted the rest of the group.

He loved you, unconditionally. He was all-in, he just struggled to get close to you because the others were always getting in his way. You were sort of quiet, something he assumed meant you were somewhat innocent, but you weren’t necessarily shy around him. He liked the way your eyes lit up when he said something you found humorous and he liked that when you did manage to get a chance to speak to him, you were always kind to him. You even hugged him once after a fight and he thought he might pass out at how euphoric your affection made him feel. He had surprised you and wrapped his arms around you tight, making you smile so wide.

All of the fight that was in him had deflated when you walked in, all of the harsh words gone. His eyes were on you as you sneaked in and sat down without a word trying to hide the fact that you were late.

He appeared to have melted, smiling at you slightly, lowering himself into the seat beside you as you smiled back, despite Giles berating you for being late and the argument about how best to remove the mummy and it’s pets from the hellmouth started up around you again. But Spike no longer cared. You were here, they could talk in circles all night for all he cared, at least he’d be able to watch over you while they spoke.

Willow, Tara, Anya and Giles were staying behind to conduct the ritual so that when the jackals were either distracted or taken out (there still wasn’t a consensus) the mummy could be restored back to its sarcophagus in the Sunnydale museum with someone needing to attack when the Mummy was weakened. You had been paired with Spike to one part of Sunnydale with Xander and Buffy in the opposite direction. Spike had tried to insist you stayed behind but you told him you would be okay.

“You don’t need to be here, love, I can take care of this. Get yourself safely in bed, you look like you could use a nap”

“You think I look tired?” Your brow furrowed a little in that way he found cute. He spluttered, trying to assure you he definitely didn’t mean it that way. He had just wanted to protect you, it was more likely that Xander and Buffy came across the threat anyway, the demons had a tendency to go gunning for the slayer for some reason.

A figure started to stagger towards you both, interrupting the look Spike was giving you that was starting to make a heat rise in your cheeks. A figure started to walk slowly towards you, as if it could feel your presence. 

 “It’s the mummy!” You shouted, your eyes wide as Spike stepped in front of you, making sure he would be the target. Apparently, the threat was yours for today. It rounded on you, but Spike wasn’t having any of it.

“No you bloody don’t” Spike warned, spinning the mummy away with a hard kick to the chest after it lunged at you, knocking you to the floor. He helped you up, his touch in complete contrast to a second ago, he was gentle as he pulled you to your feet. As if he were scared to break you. The anger behind is eyes was evident, his jaw tensed when he saw the graze on your elbow. It was small and you were fine, but to him this was as if it had torn both of your arms off. He started to get brutal, as the jackals rounded the corner, prowling towards you both. Spike moved you behind him, a hand resting on you protectively, his touch always soft with you. The jackals circled you both, as the mummy walked towards you again, making Spike even more angry.

“You don’t come near them” He snarled, taking all of the attention from you. Spike, although he did have a brain that could be taken, wouldn’t be a target. They wanted human brains. Your brains.

The jackals leaped, both at Spike leaving the mummy staggering towards you, hands out as if ready to hold you down so it could extract what it wanted from you. Spike was violently kicking at the beasts, one had bitten into his side and the other was latched onto his leg. He had managed to fight one off but he was still struggling with the other. He looked over, the reason he was attacking them, even more aggressively than usual, was so that he could get to you. He was desperate to protect you. You had a sweet nature, he hadn’t been expecting what had come next. Even the jackal appeared to pause as it watched you punch the mummy before climbing it like a tree, kneeing it so it doubled over, allowing you to climb onto its back and secure it’s neck firmly between your hands, the way it had been threatening you.

Spike stared, his eyes wide at the way you so skilfully went for it. You didn’t even flinch as it thrashed at you. You struggled against it, trying to incapacitate it as Spike desperately tried to get out from the jackals jaw to help you. The ritual was complete, you could tell because strange golden light started to seep from cracks in the mummified flesh. It was now or never. You grabbed it’s head and twisted, it crumbled away in your hands and just as it did that, the jackals disappeared. A lot of dust started to pour from the mummy’s neck, flowing through the air as you ran over to Spike where he sat, clutching his side now the threat was gone. The mummy disintegrated as you both stared into each other’s eyes.

“That was…” He started, seemingly lost for words. He had forgotten his wounds at the sight of how capable you were in a fight. You didn’t usually get the chance to prove yourself like that, it was usually Buffy’s fight. You weren’t a slayer, just someone that had picked up some Sunnydale tricks along the way – you had to be like that on the Hellmouth, or you really wouldn’t last a week.

“You poor thing, it really bit into you” You said softly, kneeling beside him and stroking his side as he winced, “Sorry - come on, let me help” You had a mini first-aid kit you always brought on patrol that you took out and started to look for something to put on the wound. It wasn’t as deep as it could have been which you were grateful for. You didn’t want him hurt. You were really fond of him which is why you went kind of quiet around him sometimes.

“No, don’t – I just lay there like some useless git” He berated himself, his jaw tensing again in anger at himself this time. He had wanted to keep you safe. You shook your head softly, stroking your thumb along his jaw as you spoke.

“You didn’t, you looked out for me! You took on two were-jackals and lived, well – sort of, to tell the tale! That was so brave!” You insisted, giving him a smile that he savoured, your fingers still tracing his jaw. It was so sweet he was surprised when you came back the same sweetheart despite the rage he had seen as you attacked that mummy. He could tell you were being genuine too, you really found him brave. You smiled while he watched you begin to fuss over him, his gaze never leaving that face he loved so much.

As the last particles of dust lay upon the ground as a light scattering of icing sugar would, he made a decision. He was going to do it. He was going to tell you how much he loved you. He just had to figure out how.

[editorofeverything]

Day 6? of going through my drafts I never finished or posted because ✧Low Self-Esteem✧

Except I started going through my fanfic folder... and getting really into the plotlines I had going on there... and I may have started completing them all of a sudden?? I won’t question it because I’m afraid the will to write will suddenly go away so here is my now complete first part of my Daminette fic I wrote like a year ago?

So, without further ado, here is four times the Ladybug magic teleported Marinette to where she would be safest, and the one time she was already there—Part One.

~

When Tim Drake started his nightly shift in the Batcave with a pot of coffee in hand and a research project in the works, he didn’t expect a magical portal to spit out a ladybug themed superhero at the Batmobile with a cut off scream.

He froze as the swirling red portal disappeared and the hero that made a dent in the Batmobile stopped moving. He reached over and pushed the SOS button that would alert the others that something was wrong before grabbing his coffee mug as a weapon and heading over towards the girl.

She was small, was his first discovery. Probably shorter and younger than Damian, and yet she was wearing a bright red suit over her curled body and a mask over her closed eyes. She was hurt, and Tim didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t slept in over a week and the brain cells that were left were combusting at the sight of a child crumbled on the floor after playing the hero game.

He sucked in a breath and froze at the puddle of blood starting to pool under her head. The crashing of glass broke him out of his stupor and he barely noticed his favorite mug broken on the floor beside him before he threw himself at the girl’s side and eased her onto her back so he could look her over. All he could do was breathe a sigh of relief when he could feel her pulse beating weakly. He tried her mask first, and, after discovering that it wouldn’t budge from her skin, he realized that whatever magic she possessed would prevent him from checking her for injuries.

He brushed her hair out of her face and saw the bruises and scrapes all over before he checked her head. Her lips parted in a small cry when he touched a tender spot and he cursed at his red coated fingers when he pulled away.

“What the hell is it now, Drake? Do you even know what time it is?” Jason walked over with Alfred on his tail and rested his hand on Tim’s shoulder, startling him. “What’s up-? Who the fuck is that?”

“She teleported here. She’s… Jay, she’s hurt really bad and she’s some type of magic so I don’t even know how hurt she is and-” A beep interrupted his rant and they both looked for the source on her.

“Alfred, get the first aid kit and get the others in here.”

“Of course, Master Jason.”

~

“All I’m saying, Father, is that maybe if we put him through a rehab system, these ridiculous late night emergencies would decrease.”

“They’re not all hallucinations, Damian. We haven’t had an incident since last month.”

“Until now,” Damian huffed as he and his father ran into Alfred who was carrying a first aid kit, some blankets, and some towels.

“Was Tim injured, Alfred?”

“No, Master Bruce. There seems to be an intruder in the Batcave. I believe Master Tim and Master Jason are currently trying to assess her for injuries, but it seems she is of the magical variety and her suit is giving them some trouble.”

Damian was already sprinting to the cave while Bruce grabbed some of the items from Alfred and walked with him to the group of his kids kneeling around a small figure on the ground.

Damian saw the dent in the Batmobile before he saw the girl and actually stopped in surprise. “She did that?”

Bruce followed behind him and made a surprised noise as well before moving towards Tim and Jason’s side. “What happened?”

“A portal opened up and she was thrown into the Batmobile. She’s been unconscious the whole time. Her head is bleeding and I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a concussion. I can tell she’s hurt more, but we can’t take off her suit to check.”

Jason placed a towel under her head and she moaned at the movement, her eyes fluttering.

“She has these earrings that have been beeping for the past three minutes. I think they might be where she gets her powers from. They seem to be timing out.”

A final beeping noise echoed throughout the cave before a bright pink shine encased her body, revealing a small girl. She had blackish-blue hair tied in falling pigtails, pale skin that was speckled with bruises and lacerations. Her clothes looked impeccable, though the blood from her wounds was starting to soak into her red sundress.

“What the actual fuck is that?” Jason spotted a round, red figure moving on the girls collarbone.

The bat family took in the little red bug as it sat up and shook its head before seeming to notice the girl she was on.

“Marinette!” the thing spoke and Tim clutched Damian’s arm with an urgency that startled him.

“Please tell me you heard that thing talk.” Damian patted Tim’s hand lightly.

“You are not alone in hearing the kwami talk, Master Tim.” Alfred straightened up at the sight of the mystical being fretting over her charge’s unresponsive body.

“Kwami?” Bruce muttered under his breath, looking to Alfred for answers.

“Tikki, Goddess of Creation,” Alfred pressed his fist into his hand and bowed towards her, “how may we assist you?”

Tikki turned her wide eyes to Alfred and floated up to him. “Please help her! She’s more hurt than I can heal, and the fight is still waging on! Without Ladybug, the entire team will fail!”

Bruce straightened up at that and turned to his sons. “Jason, Tim, keep pressure on her head wound and wrap up any minor lacerations. She’s lost too much blood. Damian, come with me so we can get some more supplies for Miss Marinette.”

“Father, a word, please?” Bruce paused as soon as they exited the cave and were heading for the kitchen with a list of things Alfred told them to grab like water, cookies, and something light for Marinette when she would wake up. Damian had gotten better with being open and calm with his family for a while, but it still took time to unlearn years of life being taught one way for so long.

“What is it, Damian?”

“I… I know everyone’s concerned about the girl—I am too—but has anyone thought of what will happen if she wakes up? Will she recognize the Batcave? Will we reveal our identities to her, especially since she’s been forcefully revealed to us? What if she doesn’t wake up? How will we explain how a foreign girl ended up in Gotham?”

“These are all good questions, Damian, and I’m glad you’re able to share your concerns with me. In this matter, though… I believe we’ll just take Alfred’s que for right now. If at any point you feel uncomfortable with your identity being discovered when Miss Marinette wakes up, then you can leave and we’ll fill you in later.”

Damien’s silence carried into the kitchen as Bruce started handing things to him to take back.

“I’ll go back,” Damien finally said as Bruce pulled the cookie jar off the cabinet, planning on taking the whole thing. Who knew how much those kwamis could eat? Bruce certaintly didn’t, and the fact they were magic too didn’t help him any. “I think… Alfred usually knows best, and I trust his judgement… As well as the rest of the family’s. I want to make sure the girl is okay firsthand, and we can go from there.”

Bruce felt a wave of affection and pride towards his son, and wished Damian would look him in the eyes, but he would settle with placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Then, let’s go give them a hand, son.”

~

Bruce and Damian joined the group quickly enough to arrive just as Tikki and Alfred were starting their own conversation while Jason and Tim assisted the girl. Damian stood with his father, both with their guard up in case someone could possibly track Marinette and Tikki down. Magic, they agreed before they entered the room, is a fickle thing, and they didn’t want to take any chances of their family, or their sudden patient, to be caught off guard.

“You were a previous Miraculous holder, weren’t you? I can sense your bright soul. Who was your chosen?” Tikki asked, hovering just over Marinette’s collarbone. Alfred didn’t know if it was because she was protective of the girl or injured herself, but he felt it too rude to ask directly of the tiny god.

“Duusu, the Peafowl Miraculous of Emotion. We were separated after a year of us working together, and I never knew what happened to him or Nooroo, who was taken as well.” Alfred could tell Master Bruce and the boysr were listening intently on their conversation, but wouldn’t interrupt. Detectives they might be, but Alfred raised Master Bruce, and they, in turn, raised the boys to have manners. He could sense their questions piling up, but was confident they would save them for after they delt with Marinette’s most pressing wounds.

“Unfortunately, they ended up in the wrong hands. It’s why Ladybug and Chat Noir were called together in the first place. Marinette has made excellent work in finding and defeating Hawkmoth, but there has been too many obstacles in her way lately. She’s been through a lot…” Tikki turned on to face Marinette and Alfred was overcome at the overwhelming sense of sadness emanating from Tikki.

“We will do all we can for her,” he choked out, and shook his head at Jason and Tim, who paused at the catch in Alfred’s voice. “For such a young child to be a holder though…” Tikki sat on Alfred’s shoulder as Tim and Jason started wrapping Marinette’s head gently and patched up some larger cuts she had on her side. Her ribs were likely broken if the mottled bruised running down her side were anything to go by, and her ankle seemed to be sprained, if not broken as well.

“The previous Guardian made a rushed decision on who to choose for the Miraculous. It just so happens that Marinette is the one soul in this lifetime that resonates with mine. Despite her age, she has become one of the best Ladybugs I’ve had the honor of assisting, and she is now the Guardian of the Miraculous Box as well.”

“Guardian? She’s a Guardian as well? How could that be?”

“The previous Guardian’s identity was compromised by Hawkmoth, the villain with the butterfly miraculous. He’s been terrorizing Paris for almost three years now. Marinette had to step in as Guardian or the Miraculous Box would be lost.”

“Tikki…” The girl winced away from Jason and Tim’s hands and she whimpered.

“Tikki…” Bruce began in a steely tone, “how old is Miss Marinette?”

“She’s turning eighteen in a few months. I know she’s young, and I hate to put so much on her shoulders, but she’s the only one who can be Ladybug, and competent enough to be Guardian. She’s intelligent, strong emotionally and physically, and her heart is pure. She is the embodiment of what Ladybug is supposed to be.” After that speech, Damian took a breath and knelt down between Todd and Drake to assist. They still didn’t know everything, which could be dangerous for them, but Damian felt that if he were to take a chance on anyone, it would be this girl that was worthy of so much power and responsibility.

As soon as Damian brushed his fingers against her wrist to check for a break, however, the girl suddenly seized up and Damian jolted his hand away. Tikki gave him a strange look before floating over to her chosen.

“Tikki!” Marinette shot up, instantly collapsing with her head pressed into her knees with a groan. Tikki nudged Marinette cheek with her head reassuringly.

“It’s ok, Marinette. We’re safe for now. Please lie down or you’ll hurt yourself more.”

“Safe…? But where are we? School?”

“I believe that a Ladybug power was activated when Mayura cornered you. It teleported you to where you would be safest in the world.”

“Safest?” Marinette looked around and seemed to panic at the group of men surrounding her. “Oh my god, who are these people?! Did they see me transform? Tikki, you’re supposed to stay hidden!”

“Excuse me, Miss Marinette, but you can rest assured that you and Tikki are safe here.” Alfred rested a gentle hand on her arm, and she immediately relaxed. “I know first-hand the challenges of being a Miraculous holder, and we will do everything in our power to assist you if need be.”

For a moment, Marinette seemed paralyzed. She was looking at Alfred unfocusedly, as if she was seeing right through him. Suddenly, she met his eyes and started speaking a language only the three could understand.

“You have the soul of emotion and light. Touched by one who has been stolen and corrupted. You have my trust and thanks for your assistance, young Peafowl.” Marinette stated in an ancient, unfamiliar language before blinking out of her haze and nearly falling to one side if Damian hadn’t grabbed her and kept her propped up.

“Sorry,” she blinked slowly and focused on Alfred again, “I’m still getting used to that.”

“Your trust in me is an honor, my lady Guardian, but I doubt I can be considered very young anymore,” Alfred said with some humor in his voice. Marinette smiled warmly at him and, with the help of Damian, Jason, and Tim, eased back onto a few blankets and some towels to cushion her beating head.

“Damian, pass some water over,” Tim asked, still checking over Marinette’s head. Damian did so, being uncharacteristically silent during the entire conversation.

“My head is fine,” Marinette said in a thick accent. “I believe I hit it after I have been teleported, not during the battle.”

“You speak English very well, Miss,” Bruce praised, leading to Jason cooing at her blush.

“Ah, well, it’s important to be able to communicate with tourist during akuma attacks. I’m afraid I haven’t had much practice, though. And it’s definitely not as good as your French.” Marinette gave a shy, kind smile to Alfred.

“What did I hit my head on, anyways? I’ve been thrown before, but I’ve never hit anything so hard that I’ve passed out and detransformed.”

The resounding silence echoed throughout the room and Marinette took a breath before sitting up properly and keeping her gaze steady at the ground.

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to know. Don’t even tell me your names.”

“Miss?”

“I’m a superhero fighting an evil villain with magic jewelry, I know the awkward ‘I have a secret I can’t tell you’ silence. I haven’t exactly been on this side of the conversation much though. I understand. Just let me catch my breath and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“’Catch your breath?’ You have a concussion! And broken ribs! You can’t fight like this!” Jason was getting too worked up, but this was a child.

“Yes, I can. Just give me a minute. I’ve fought in worse conditions, and I’ll be better once I can reverse the damage.”

“Reverse the damage?” Damian said, and was almost disappointed when Marinette didn’t look at him directly. She wasn’t looking at any of them, except for Alfred, in the face. Deniability, most likely, but definitely not what he was initially expecting when he decided to stay with his family despite the chances of being recognized.

“Tikki?” Marinette said, and rested her head against the Batmobile while she started poking at her wounds.

“I give Marinette many powers. One of which is the power of the Miraculous Ladybug. It reverts ay damage done by a kwami instantaneously. In fact, the dent in your motorized vehicle should be back to normal as well once the battle is won.”

“Tikki, I need to know how the fight is going. Be stealthy and take a look, and grab Khalki. I’ll need him to teleport back to Paris. I don’t want to risk using whatever power got me here in the first place.”

“I’ll be right back!” Tikki turned towards Alfred and patted him gently on the cheek. “I leave my chosen in your hands, Alfred. Look after her, please.”

“Of course, Tikki.”

“Thank you, young Peafowl.” Alfred returned her smile instantly before Tikki disappeared through the floor.

~

“So, let’s play ‘Do I Have a Concussion 20 Questions!’” Jason announced after he and Tim propped her up between them, leaning against the dent in the Batmobile.

Damian sat in front of them while Bruce and Alfred had moved over to the Batcomputer to try and do some research into the Miraculous themselves.

Marinette giggled and focused herself from closing her eyes by chipping at her black nail polish.

“So question number one: what is your name?” Tim was holding the broken handle of his coffee mug in his fist and was talking into it like it was a microphone.

“Marinette, but you already knew that,” Marinette said in a teasing tone.

“True, but this is if you know your name, not for us, little lady,” Jason bumped her shoulder with his gently and she giggled again.

They went through a few questions that were vague enough not to uncover her identity completely, but still show that she had her wits about her. Where are you from? Paris, of course. Do you go to public, private, or home school? Public! I hate homeschooling. Do you live with your parents? Yeah… oh I left my phone with my stuff at school. They’re probably worried sick. Do you have a job?

“Oh!” Marinette suddenly exclaimed, jolting where she sat. “Maman and Papa are going to be so disappointed if I can’t get home in time to watch the bakery! They’re going on a date tonight, and we have three orders to fill… I wonder if I can get Chloe to push their reservation…”

Jason shared an apologetic look with Tim when they realized how much she just let out. Damian was alarmed. She didn’t even seem to notice how much she just gave away about herself during her rambling.

“Why are you telling us all of this?” Damian finally asked after a moment of silence. He didn’t understand this girl. She was in a strange place, surrounded by strangers, and willing to avoid looking at them or around to keep them comfortable with their secrets, and the she goes and basically tells them where she lives.

“I know it might not makes sense, but as Ladybug and Guardian, I can sense things most people can’t, and I’ve learned to trust myself above all. My powers brought me here because I’m safe, and I can sense that you all have pure souls. You two even have souls saturated in Destruction energy… The Black Cat’s energy. It balances my own soul out well… How did you come across a Lazurus pit?”

Jason and Damian jolt and look at each other. Bruce was at Damian’s side in the next moment. “How do you know about the Lazurus pits?” He asked in a cautious tone, though Marinette didn’t seem to notice. She was still picking at her nail polish and Damian had a moment of irritation at the flaky mess until he realized she was probably doing it to keep her focus off of them.

“I am Guardian, and Tikki’s chosen. I know everything there is to know about the Miraculous, though I only recall the information when I needs to be used. When the Ladybug and Cat’s miraculous are combined, the holder may make a wish. One of those wishes was to be immortal. The Lazurus pits were created out of that wish, but the price was heavy. To manipulate a soul into bearing life after one should die… it leaves a mark—mentally, physically, emotionally… Most of the Lazurus pits were destroyed to restore balance, but some still remain in this world to keep the balance of what was already taken as its price. If they were all to be destroyed, something else in the world would have to be as well to keep balance.”

The resounding silence in the room felt suffocating, but Marinette just smiled reassuringly and brushed her dress down. Damian suddenly noticed that he felt… calmer in her presence than he usually would with someone he met barely twenty minutes ago.

Marinette’s voice brought him out of his thoughts once more. “Tikki is coming back.”

The kwami suddenly appeared a moment later with another one right behind her. Marinette smile and held out her hand.

“Hello, Khalki.”

“My Lady,” Khalki purred, floating around her hand.

“The fight is still going, Marinette. Chat Noir and Queen Bee are playing decoy and distraction. I informed them that you had been transported away for your safety and that we would be present for the fight soon. Hawkmoth and Mayura can’t end the fight and get what they want without Ladybug present, and Chat Noir and Queen Bee are smart enough not to let them leave or capture them while you’re gone. Both sides are playing it safe and waiting for your return.” During Tikki’s rundown, Marinette slowly but surely began to stand on her own, leaning against the Batmobile.

“Well, let’s give them an entrance they won’t forget. Are they all still at the Tower?”

“Yes. Chat Noir has followed your direction to keep them centered there well.”

“Good. Tikki, spots on. Khalki, Tikki, merge.” The family all stood and watched in amazement and shock as Marinette glowed that same pink hue before the red and black spotted heroine stood before them.

“Your injuries are still there.” Damian broke the silence to his family’s surprise. “You should be careful and finish your battle quickly to minimize your injuries until you can heal.”

Marinette seemed surprised, focusing on his shirt, the closest she’s gotten to looking his in the eyes the entire time she had been there. He almost… wanted her to. He wanted to look directly into her bright blue eyes and let her see him as he saw her… He shook himself out of that embarrassing train of thought just as Ladybug said something that caused a portal to appear.

“Thank you for your help…” Marinette nodded to them and looked one last time at Alfred. “I hope we meet again, young Peafowl.”

“As do I, my lady Guardian,” he bowed.

Ladybug turned and was suddenly gone. The only evidence of her being there was the broken remains of Tim’s broken mug and the huge dent in the Batmobile.

“Well, I’m going to sleep,” Tim announced to the room. “Someone else can take night shift tonight and someone can also tell me this wasn’t all some fever dream in the morning.”

Half an hour later, Damian, who had volunteered to stay up and finish the nightly watch in order to gather more information of the Miraculous and Marinette, noticed Tim’s mug appear sitting perfectly on the floor half full of the sludge he must’ve been drinking before it had broken and the dent in the Batmobile disappear in a wave of ladybugs.

Damian smirked at the knowledge that she and her team had won their battle, and that, if these items were fixed, then so were Marinette’s injuries. He ignored the part of him that felt… proud at the knowledge of her win, and happy knowing she was healed.

Damian grabbed the mug off the floor and took it with him to drop off in the kitchen while he searched for a snack. All his searching through all the bakeries in Paris was starting to make him hungry, especially the one he left on the Batcomputer. He would have to see if the Dupain-Cheng Bakery catered internationally, or if the woman posing with her husband in the owner’s bio passed down her black-blue hair to any daughters his age.

~

UPDATE: Here’s the link to the next part and the AO3 link for anyone who wants to continue!

Next - AO3 Link

[stellarstarwarsimagines]

Don’t Take It Away From Me

Pairing - Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Summary - Anakin Skywalker was a great boyfriend and partner most of the time. Except when he was being overprotective. This time it might have been too much for him. 

Word Count - 1,473 (this was so close to being a drabble, but once again I failed)

Warnings - Language, some violence

Being in a relationship with Anakin Skywalker was one of the most frustrating parts of your life, and considering that you were a Jedi, that was saying something. Not that you didn’t love him, and not that he didn’t love you too, no, there was no way he’d let you believe that for a second. 

He was just so overprotective. 

Like right now, the two of you were on a mission together with his Padawan Ahsoka fighting off some droids. The two of you were back to back covering each other and Ahsoka as she set charges to stop the droids coming from the other side. You had been happy to go on this mission. The two of you worked well together. From even back when you were padawans it was always pointed out how in sync you both were, but now that you were in a relationship, Anakin couldn’t seem to stand the thought of you getting hurt. 

Not only was he busy fighting off multiple droids on his end, but he kept trying to take on some for you as well. “Anakin!” You snapped as he blocked another blast at the same time as you, your lightsabers clashing together. 

He knew what he was doing too. That much was obvious by the guilty smile that he gave you. 

It would also help if he wasn’t so damn cute about it. You sighed and focused once more on the droids, letting the force guide your movements and trying not to worry about the man behind you which was proving difficult. Even more so when he grabbed you around the waist and tugged you into his previous space while he stabbed a droid that had been in front of you. “Anakin, I swear if these droids don’t kill you, I will! Ahsoka, how’s it going?” You called over to her as Anakin and you fought off the last of the droids. 

“Almost got it!” She called back, and then the Togruta’s head popped up and started running just as Anakin stabbed the last droid. “Let’s go!” 

The three of you took off, knowing you had seconds before the charges exploded. Right before the blast went off, Anakin pulled you behind a large rock, shielding your body with his just in time. 

You decided not to complain, since his arms were your favorite place to be, and you lingered there a little longer than was necessary once the dust settled. “So . . . Are you still mad at me?” He asked as he cupped your cheek, his thumb caressing you skin. 

Never wanting him to doubt your feelings, you placed your hand on top of his and turned your head to kiss his palm. “We’ll talk about it later.” You stood up, holding onto his hand which you noticed was trembling somewhat. “Ani? Are you okay?” You asked, your brow furrowing together as you took a more detailed look at his features. 

Anakin looked strange. His skin was abnormally pale, as if his face had been drained of all color, and there was a rigidness to his jaw that you recognized as a sign of pain. Of course he didn’t acknowledge it though. Instead, he waved your worries away. “I’m fine.” He insisted as he started to use your hand to help himself up, but before he could, you watched as Anakin’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he fell backwards. 

“Anakin!” You cried out, panicked, managing to catch his head with the palm of your hand right before it hit the rock. You scrambled to the ground beside him, your heart pumping hard against your chest. 

“Masters!” You heard Ahsoka’s worried voice and pounding footsteps as she ran over to the two of you. “What happened?” 

While she had been running, you ran your hands over Anakin’s body, searching for wounds until you felt something wet. You brushed his robes aside, groaning at the sight. “Blaster wound. He must have thought he could ignore it. Ahsoka, go get Rex and a med kit.” 

She nodded and hurried away. 

As soon as she was out of sight you turned back to Anakin, who was still out of it. The blaster wound didn’t look too bad, but still the sight of him made your heart speed up uncomfortably. What had he been thinking?! If you had been the one with the blaster wound, you would have been lectured until you thought your ears were in danger of falling off. But no, Anakin could do whatever he wanted, even if it meant hurting himself. You ripped off a part of your robes, the cleanest part you could find, and closed your eyes, pressing it hard against his wound. 

A strangled gasp fell on your ears as a familiar gloved hand gripped your wrist tight. 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding, but didn’t look at him. “You know, this is why most of us wear light colored robes. So if we’re bleeding and pass out, our partners can find it.” You told him, but there was no bite in your words. 

“I thought you liked me in black.” Anakin replied, his thumb stroking your wrist. 

“I like you in anything.” You replied back before applying more pressure to his wound, and looking up when he hissed. “Except blood.” 

He shrugged a shoulder on the side that wasn’t injured. “I can handle some blood if it means protecting you.” 

“But you don’t have to!” You exclaimed, tightening your jaw. “I can take care of myself, Anakin! Do you not realize how selfish you’re being?” 

Now he was getting mad, but you couldn’t find it in you to regret your words. “Selfish? How is taking care of you being selfish?!” 

“You could have died!” You answered, your voice breaking on the last word, and you had to take a deep breath so you could continue. “In your ridiculous and unnecessary acts of bravery have you ever thought about what would happen to me if you did die saving me?” 

Anakin didn’t say anything which was probably the smartest thing he had done all day. 

“Because I couldn’t take it. Anakin Skywalker, I’m telling you right now if you die for me, I could not take it. I love you so much you idiot. I don’t want to live in a world without you, and I don’t want to ever be as scared as I just was again. So this is what we’re going to do.” You hadn’t even noticed you had started crying until Anakin brushed your tears away. “You’re going to try to stop being so overprotective, and I’m going to try not to put myself in situations where you feel like you need to be.” 

The little smile on Anakin’s face along with the love in his eyes made you feel as if you were melting. “Sounds like a plan.” 

“And then we’re winning this war, going on a long vacation, ignoring the council and getting married.” You added, a smile now on your own face at the thought of that future. 

“You forgot about the kids.” Anakin said, biting his bottom lip. 

A laugh left your lips at his reminder. “How silly of me.” 

His hand that had been resting on your cheek slid to the back of your neck. “Come here, Angel.” He said, tugging you closer until your lips met, soft, sweet, and filled with affection. 

“I see you managed to bring him to consciousness with mouth to mouth resuscitation.” A disappointed voice interrupted the two of you. 

You pulled away from Anakin, your eyes wide and cheeks red as you turned to see Obi-Wan standing there with Ahsoka and Rex, clutching a med kit. You had no idea what to say, embarrassment flowing through your whole body. 

“Yes, it’s a good thing she was also trained in the medical field. It was very effective.” Anakin said, and the little asshole he was, flashed you a brief smirk. “I didn’t know you had landed already, Master.” 

“Just did, right in time for your Padawan to inform me you ignored a blaster wound. It’s not like you to get distracted, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, the tone and expression on his face stating that he didn’t buy Anakin’s words one bit. 

“Happens to the best of us I guess.” He said and then made a show of groaning as he tried to move, clutching his side. “Snips, bring that med kit over here.” 

Backing out of the way so Ahsoka could get next to Anakin with the supplies, you avoided Obi-Wan’s gaze, sure of what you would find there if you did. 

He definitely knew about the two of you. In fact it might be safe to say everyone here did. 

But what were they going to do about it?

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤

Rowaelin modern AU ▶ Masterlist

note: sorry for the late, but this chapter is longer than usual so hope that makes up for it!

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Aelin loved playing with stray dogs when she was little. Two days before her seventh birthday, Aelin had tried to pet a particularly wild dog. It was huge, and it chased her around the mostly empty park until she locked herself in the ladies bathroom. The hours passed in a blur, but the relief she'd felt when she'd heard her cousin's footsteps, his voice as he tried to shoo away the growling creature nearly overwhelmed her. It morphed into pure terror when she heard Aedion's pained shriek as the rabid animal bit him.

It was that odd combination of relief and terror she remembered when she heard her cousin scream that night—the sound that compelled her to unlock the door. She stared at the sight before her in horror.

Arobynn lay on the ground, breathing in short gulps. Blood—there was so much blood, splattered on the floor, on the walls, on the carpet. And standing above him, panting through his teeth was her cousin, covered in blood himself, his baseball bat clutched in his hand. Thr tip of the bat was coloured crimson like the formerly white tiles—now yellowish because of disrepair. Aedion was shaking all over.

"I didn't mean to," he said, though she didn't think he was talking to her. "I didn't mean to hurt him—is he—"

Is he dead? she read the unspoken fear in his eyes as clearly as if he'd said it out loud. But there—Arobynn's chest rose and fell ever so slow. Not dead, just unconscious.

Aelin said, "We need to leave." Aedion nodded, but he made no movement. "I'm sorry, so sorry. I shouldn't have called, I'm sorry."

She enveloped him in a hug, clutching onto him as if she could fix all the shit with her tight hold over him. She mumbled muffled apologies into his shirt, blinking back tears.

She called a cab, unsure where they could go. Aedion's mother had died in an accident five years ago, and Gavriel had no knowledge of his son until he attended his ex-wife's funeral—so while their professor was her cousin's guardian on papers, Aedion lived alone in the house he'd been raised in. She couldn't leave him there alone now. It was how she found herself knocking on her uncle's apartment door, aware of Aedion's resentment towards Gavriel in the middle of the night.

She rang the doorbell twice, then slumped against the wall in exhaustion.

Aedion stood silently, staring behind her with a blank expression. She'd expected him to rage at her—her cousin detested asking favours from his father. He wanted nothing to do with the man who'd left his mother to raise him alone for years, and he'd made it clear. He didn't make so much as a sound of protest now.

The door opened. "Aelin, what are—is that blood? Aedion?" he gaped, eyes flicking between the two of them.

"Could we, ah, stay here, maybe?" Aelin asked, then amended: "Just Aedion, I mean. I can go crash on Dorian's couch, I just—I can't leave him alone—"

Gavriel held up a hand, shaking his head a little. "Don't be stupid, you can both stay here as long as you'd like." The shock was replaced with concern and he opened the door wider, ushering them inside. He offered them water, then fetched the first aid kit, movements fast and panicked.

"You're hurt," Gavriel observed, looking at her. Then he turned towards his son, "and you too."

Aedion said, "The blood isn't mine. Aelin—she needs help." His voice was thick, hoarse from lack of use. He shifted on the couch, looking more aware of his surroundings than before, without the usual displeasure in his voice.

"I'm fine," she snapped.

Gavriel cleaned her cut, and bandaged it, making her flinch on occassion. Once she was treated, he turned to his son.

Aelin was grateful he hadn't asked questions yet, letting the events settle in. Aedion returned to himself with each passing minute and with no more need to clamp down on nerves, she let tears flood down her cheeks. There was a dull ache in her head, and she was so exhausted, she didn't know when sleep claimed her.

...........

Aelin woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom, the lights dim and curtains pulled shut. Someone knocked softly at the door. "You awake yet, Ace?" a familiar, not unwelcome voice asked. Dorian.

She groaned, sitting up in the bed. Her heart skipped a beat when the events from last night came rushing in. "Aedion—where is he?"

"Here, ma'am," her cousin answered, leaning against the doorframe. Though he tried to smile, his eyes—eerily similar to her own—had a haunting look in them. She supressed a shiver. Red-rimmed, swollen eyes were lined with dark circles, cheeks sunken in, hair sticking up strangely, as if he'd been running a hand through them. But alive; he was alive and unhurt—

"You're fine," she breathed out.

His face softened. "I'm the one who should be asking that. How are you?" She made a face at the concern in his voice, making the cuts on her face throb worse than before.

"Hurts like a bitch," she said, then scrunched her nose up in distaste. "You look like shit." Her cut hurt more from talking, but as the dark mood lifted a little, she couldn't regret the expression. "Did you—Uncle Gavriel, he uh...?" She didn't miss the twitch of displeasure in her cousin's eyes, though if he felt she shouldn't have brought them here, he gave no indication of it.

"He's in school, we all skipped when Aedion told us—everyone's in the room." Dorian explained, then winked at her. "We thought it best to have you wake up to a pretty face."

Aelin rolled her eyes; despite herself, she couldn't help but grin back. "And where is this pretty face then? I don't see anyone except you and Aedion." Dorian pouted in a fashion that had her grinning harder. Even Aedion's lips twitched upwards a little, though he tried his best to resist. It was hard not to smile; she was safe, Aedion was safe—it was more than she could've hoped for. Before either cousin could retort though, animated voices travelled to the room.

"Everyone's waiting outside," Aedion gestured to the neatly folded clothes on her bedside. "Dorian's clothes. He's the closest to your size so it's all we could get for now."

"Everyone...?" she tried not to sound anxious but failed.

Aedion nodded. "Lorcan, Lysandra, the twins. I wasn't sure if you wanted Sam to know." Aelin shook her head vehemently, feeling guilty Sam wasn't who she wanted to see now. Disappointment surged inside her chest at the thought that Rowan hadn't come.

She wasn't even sure he knew, or if she wanted him to know.

Aedion nodded in understanding, then went to take his leave. "Be quick, you don't want to scare others."

Aelin's answering curse was everything that shouldn't be repeated in polite company. Chuckling, Aedion left the room to presumably give her some privacy and greet his girlfriend.

She raised an eyebrow at her best friend, who was still in his seat, looking very much amused. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"I need to change, so leave," she raised an eyebrow. "Unless you want a show, of course."

Dorian's eyes shown with mirth, the laughter barely contained. "Meh. Won't be anything I haven't seen before." The answering pillow hit him square in the face and Aelin congratulated herself on the perfect aim.

When Dorian still made no move to leave, she warned, "It'll be the slipper for you if you don't leave now."

It was only when he'd left, his cackling a faint sound from the living room that she changed into the loose, comfy sweatshirt and joggers, and thanked the gods for elastic waistbands as she left the room. All eyes turned on her when she reached the living room, conversation came to a halt and the atmosphere buzzed with awkward tension, everyone falling silent.

Before Aelin could decide she'd rather retreat to her room rather than enduring this, Fenrys observed, "You look ridiculous in that. Who even wears clothes like those?"

Dorian narrowed his eyes in displeasure. "Clearly, moon-moon, you need a lesson in fashion. Nothing is wrong with those clothes." He huffed, knowing Fenrys was aware those were his clothes he was talking about.

Fenrys was saved from finding a retort when Lorcan barked, "If either of you talk fashion more, I'll throw you lot out of the window myself."

Aelin instantly moved to his side, thankful that someone in this apartment wasn't being a complete clown until he turned his attention on her, brows furrowing immediately when his dark eyes flicked towards the cut on her cheek.

She huffed, prepared for the fuss that was about to be made on her account. She wasn't disappointed when Lorcan made her sit on the sofa, handing her a cup of coffee. The smell delighted her senses but she scowled at being treated like an invalid. Surely, a few cuts on her cheek hadn't made her incapable of standing on her own two feet? There was little use in arguing though, and she bore her friends' concern with as much grace as she could muster.

Lorcan surveyed her once more, jaw set and fists clenched. "Is it hurting? It must be hurting—we should probably get that checked out today. Conall is in the kitchen with your uncle, he's making soup and Lysandra brought chocolates—though I don't think that helps—"

"It does," Aelin said in a firm voice, fighting to hide the amusement from her tone. "Where are they then? My chocolates, I mean."

Lysandra dropped a box on the sofa beside her, then swooped in for a hug. The dark-haired girl held her in a tight embrace, unwilling to let go of her friend for a good while before she pulled back. "I'm so glad you're fine. I'd hate to be left with these morons."

Aelin grinned. "I would never," she promised, ignoring the whines of protest from behind her. She leaned over to grab the box but Lorcan was already there, handing it to her. "I'm still capable of picking up a box of chocolates! I'm not an invalid."

He conveniently ignored her statement, flopping down by her side. He looked as sullen as ever. "You should've called all of us. One of you should have. Why didn't you call?"

"I was capable of calling a cab," Aelin answered, trying to forget how scared she'd felt, like the cab driver would somehow drop them right back at Arobynn's and Aedion would get hurt and she won't be able to do anything about it—"And it was like, middle of the night! You were probably asleep! I didn't know who to call."

Lorcan scowled. "I don't care if I was in the middle of my own fucking wedding! If you'd called, I would've come."

"But now it's fine," she said with a bright grin, launching an assault on her chocolates. She steered the topic of conversation away from herself, and soon they were all cackling. "Aedion called you here?" She hadn't yet decided whether she wanted to hit her cousin or thank him for it.

"He did," Dorian confirmed, reaching a hand for the chocolates. She swatted his hand away. In the background of her head, a voice asked: Did Rowan know too? She clamped down on it hard.

Lorcan made a face but he didn't speak further, shifting closer to her. Aelin leaned into him with a satisfied smile until her best friend spoke, "What are you planning to do now?"

"Uhhhh, sleep some more?" Aelin asked.

Lorcan gave her a blank look. "I meant your living conditions. You're not an adult yet," his voice grew quieter still, "and you're not going back there." He held up a hand when I began to speak. "You've always said you can handle him, and I trusted you, but it's never been this bad before."

"We can't go to the police, he's got them in his pocket—" she started.

Dorian cut in. "We're not out of resources either, Ace. If you'd let me, I'll tell my parents, or you can crash with one of us until you're eighteen and legally inherit your parents' house and business," his voice was firm, unrelenting and serious—so unlike him, it shut her up. "But either way, you're not living with him anymore."

"We've gotten extra room in my house, you can live with me," Aedion declared. "I talked with Gavriel too—as your nearest living relative, he can claim your guardianship if you choose to file a report against Arobynn."

Lorcan squeezed his shoulder for comfort, and she was grateful for his quiet strength. "I'll need to think about it," she admitted, sighing.

And she did think about it for the next hour, while the overprotective bastards hovered over her. She was grateful when Lysandra drew Aedion away to the bedroom, trying not to think about what they were going to do in his father's bed. The rest of the group chatted merrily, ordered takeout, played video games and made stupid bets and stupider plans. It was Aelin's ideal day—spending time with people she loved so much. Then why did her thoughts revert to one person?

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tags:

@thesirenwashere // @courtofjurdan //@fangirltrash74 // @the-dark-swan // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @rowaelinforeverworld // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass // @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @morganofthewildfire // @aelinchocolatelover // @cool-ish-nerd // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @hizqueen4life // @booknerdproblems // @annejulianneh111 // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @curlyredqueen06 // @moondancer-204 // @thesurielships // @witchling-leonor // @ladywitchling // @amren-courtofdreams // @ifinallygavein // @jlinez // @faequeenaelin // @df3ndyr // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @superspiritfestival // @xx-fiona-xx // @stardelia // @maastrash // @sanakapoor // @louisleblancdiggory // @abookishfreak // @maddymelv // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @flowersinvegas

note: does anyone know if there's a limit to the amount of people that can be mentioned in a post? cause I couldn't, until I removed a few tags that weren't working, and then it worked.

this chapter is like, far from my usual standard for a good chapter but it's satisfactory enough, tho i think there are some inconsistencies in the plot, which if you see, please don't hesitate in pointing out. 💖💖💖

[ill-skillsgard]

This isn’t dark or spooky, but the thought made me giggle. ‘Member how we used to talk about twins Axel & Mickey & lil bro Faust? Can you imagine the chaos of pumpkin carving with them? Mickey comes home with 2 carving kits and a box full of pumpkins. Faust is suspiciously too good at it. There’s bloodshed-maybe accidental, maybe not. Mickey attempts to use the filling for baked goods. Axel tries to carve dicks and tits. They accidentally set 1 (or more) on fire when they put the candles in.

Aawww, I miss when Axel and Mickey were twins! And the evil little bro Faust. I love them!!

+

“Faust? FAUST! Help! Help meee!”

Faust, enraptured by a mobile ad for a used drum kit he’d had his eye on for weeks, swung his eyes to the front door where Mickey’s brown boot propped open the screen. He sneered at the man carrying two large pumpkins in his arms. Faust made no movement but observed his lanky brother trying to navigate his way inside with zero hands. Mickey nearly dropped one, saving it just in time for the other one to slide out from under his elbow and split on the pavement. Mickey gasped, but then a goofy smile came over him.

“It’s okay! I bought way more!”

“Great,” Faust said, going back to his previous activity.

“Faust! Fausty-boy... Can you open the door?” Mickey asked.

“I don’t know, I kinda wanna see how many more pumpkins you destroy trying to get inside.”

Mickey huffed, set down the squash, whipped open the door and moved them in one by one. Faust didn’t look up again until Mickey planted an elongated, horned pumpkin on the table next to his crossed feet.

“I bought this one for you. It sorta reminded me of you. All strange looking and unusual,” Mickey tittered.

Faust kicked the pumpkin off the table with a thud and it rolled over the hardwood floor, still intact.

“Hey! Don’t do that! I had to get these special from that farm outside the city. All the other pumpkins are gone!”

Axel walked into the living room as Mickey dumped a few pumpkin carving kits out of a drugstore bag onto the floor.

“I thought we said no pumpkins this year? The neighbourhood kids always smash them to shit. Last year they smeared guts all over my whip!”

Mickey shook his head. “No, that’s Faust. But he’s going to be a good boy this year, right Fausty?”

Faust glared at Mickey, clicking his phone screen off. Axel soon joined his twin on the floor, grabbing a knife and sticking it through the top to carve out the stem. He plunged his tattooed arm into the plant and came up with his fingers tangled in slimy orange guts and seeds. He slopped it all on the floor, much to Mickey’s horror.

“No! Save the seeds in this bowl. We can bake them and eat them.”

“Mick, there’s like twenty pumpkins. Relax,” Axel said. 

Faust watched his older brothers stencil ridiculous faces onto the giant fruits, oblivious to anything else around them. Axel’s phone went off and he ignored it in favour of gutting and slicing. Finally, Mickey handed Faust a knife and the long-haired brother accepted it with a slight smirk. He turned the instrument over in his hand, inspecting the dull teeth of the pumpkin carver.

“This is a bullshit knife,” Faust announced, tossing it onto the floor. He stood up and went to the kitchen to find a proper weapon—a filleting knife far too sharp for Mickey’s comfort.

“‘Kay but you’re gonna kill someone with that,” Mickey pointed out as Faust selected a squat, round pumpkin and hauled it to where his brothers sat on the floor.

For a while, the three of them did nothing but hollow out squash. Mickey collected a large bowl of seeds while Axel focused on his design, letting no one see as he worked away, tongue sticking out in concentration. Faust finished his first, having brandished the filleting knife with curious expertise to create a demonic face with shading and an impressive amount of detail. When he turned the pumpkin around to show his brothers, Mickey grinned from ear to ear.

“See! I knew you’d have fun with this. Remember when we used to do this every year? And ma would make a pie and we’d all fight over it?”

Axel snickered. “Yeah. Then she started making three instead of one.”

“Every good boy deserves pie,” Faust quoted in a shrill impression of their mother.

“Aw, I miss her,” Mickey said.

“Hey. Let’s not go there today. Let’s just have fun the way she’d want us to,” said Axel. “Besides... Check this out.”

Axel turned his pumpkin around to reveal he’d carved a pair of large breasts into the flesh. His brothers chuckled—Faust a little more than Mickey. 

By the time they finished, it was already dark out—the perfect time to drop candles into the lanterns and display them around the perimeter of the house. Fausts masterpieces stayed close to the door, and Axel’s anatomy studies littered the lawn. Mickey carved his pumpkins with the classic jagged smiles and triangular eyes, placing the jesters altogether in a line.

Faust lit a smoke in the dark as they stood on the sidewalk, admiring their handiwork. “You’re supposed to spread them out, Mick.”

“I can’t. They’re brothers. They have to stay together. Look, those two are me ‘n Axel, and that one’s you, Faust.”

Axel framed his jaw in contemplation. “Your Faust pumpkin looks more like a chick than my boob-o-lantern.”

“It’s the long, luscious hair.”

“Fuck off,” Faust snorted, walking away from the twins to go back inside.

Axel stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled as Mickey made panting noises. Faust gave them the middle finger.

“You kinda do look like a girl from behind with all that hair, Fausty! A big, huge, tall, scary chick.”

Mickey continued snickering, clutching his belly until he remembered something that snapped him out of his amusement. 

“The knives! Don’t let him get a knife. He’ll kill us.”

Axel waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, he’s fine. He got out of that phase a while ago. Come on, let’s go back inside. Shit, it’s getting cold as fuck.”

The twins made their way to the front door only to find it locked. Axel struggled with the handle until Faust appeared at the door, face half-hidden, feet shoulder-width apart, glaring through the glass at his brothers outside.

“Hey, come on. Open up! It’s cold out here!”

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you two clowns huddle for warmth then?” Faust said.

“We’re sorry for saying you look like a girl from behind, Faust. Just open the door. My nipples can key a car!”

“Nah, I don’t think I will,” Faust said, turning on his heel and disappearing back into the house.

The twins hollered and pulled on the handle, knocking and whining in the cold Autumn night air. Faust clopped up the stairs, put on his headset, and turned his wailing heavy metal up until he no longer heard Mickey and Axel yelling from outside.

[anika-ann]

Let’s Do Something Different Tonight (Or Not)

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert               Word count: 1840

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Characters: Matt Murdock, Reader, few others mentioned

Summary: It’s been two years since the day you married Matt and tonight, you’re going out to celebrate, like normal couples do. --Yeah, about that...

Warnings: blood and injury, mention of alcohol, attempt at humour (bordering on crack-ish)

A/N: A post Valentine’s day fic for everyone who has deals with loveable idiots. It’s hard to with them sometimes. Often, it’s even harder without them. Enjoy!

Matt was almost on time. You had your reservation for eight and it was five after eight when he finally showed up at his – and for a while now, also yours – apartment, so you would be able to make it to the restaurant only a little late.

Key word? ‘Would’. That would be if he hadn’t used the rooftop access instead of the front door and hadn’t been clutching his side when he stumbled in with his hair being a perfect mess with a smear of blood in it.

You stood in the middle of the living room, staring at him as he walked down the stairs with an apologizing expression.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he said out, hissing as he stepped down the last stair with not so much grace. You just kept staring, this time incredulously. “I got mugged,” he explained, his lips turning into a reversed U. Also, blood was now soaking though his suit under his fingers.

You shook your head to snap yourself from your trance, reaching for the hem of your dress only to pull it over your head. When you tossed them over one of the armchairs and turned to Matt to give him the attention he deserved and needed, he looked utterly taken aback.

“What are you doing?” he asked, perfectly baffled.

“I’m not playing doctor with you in this dress. It’s new. I don’t want blood on it.”

It was expensive. You had chosen it carefully – just like the rest of your new clothes ever since you had gotten together with Matt –, paying extra attention to the material, anxious about the fabric feeling good under Matt’s fingers. Shopping had kinda become a nightmare since you had to pick clothes which not only looked good, but mainly felt good; however, with the way Matt appreciated it, it was totally worth it.

“The material sounded really soft. You looked beautiful in it.”

You scratched your forehead, abashed, as you walked to the bathroom to get the first aid kit, returning to Matt who seated himself on the couch, stripping his jacket to reveal a huge bloodstain on his shirt.

“Jesus, Matt.”

The man in question honest to god pouted. “You’ll wear that dress again, right?”

“Of course I will,” you reassured him tiredly as he took off the shirt as well. “That was the whole point of stripping it – keep it clean of bloodstains so I can wear it again…. for our like, thirtieth anniversary when you won’t be coming home bleeding anymore.”

“I had to let them cut me. I didn’t even call the police to make it home faster. I was trying-“

“I’m sorry, you what?” you asked incredulously, unable to believe what you were hearing.

“I was trying?” he repeated hesitantly, well-aware that it wasn’t the part that caught your… ear, so to speak.

“No, no, did you just say you let them cut you, didn’t call the police, so you could be home faster? Are you insane?”

“I didn’t want you to wait. We rarely get out for a dinner or something else. I didn’t want to disappoint you. Though I did come after the guys to chase down my wallet because that would mean a whole new set of time-demanding problems. But don’t worry, I crashed the lights before I went down on them,” he added hastily as if it would made the whole situation better.

You wordlessly let the gloves smack against your skin louder than necessary. Matt winced.

“Matt Murdock, I love you, I love what you’re willing to do for me and the world, but I swear to God, sometimes you’re just being utterly, utterly stupid. Priorities, Matt. Now show me.”

It turned out that Matt hadn’t let them cut him once, but twice. And by ‘cut’ he meant what could almost be called a stab wound. You silently worked your way through it, reminding yourself to buy Claire another fruit basket. A year supply of chocolate. Spa weekend, maybe. She had not only taught you the basics of the first aid to reckless loveable idiots, but also had shared her tips and tricks that she had discovered during the years of working on ER, making your life easier.

Matt was wisely silent while you were stitched him up – whether it was because he was controlling himself not to let out a single sound of distress or because he didn’t want to piss you off by saying something to make you snap, you didn’t know.

“Do you really think I prefer you getting home earlier so we wouldn’t miss our reservation coming with the price of you being injured to actually showing up healthy?” you asked as you finished your work of art.

His pout grew bigger, providing you the answer.

“Christ, Matt.”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly fight them off, at least not completely. Identity and stuff,” Matt defended his actions. You couldn’t shake off the feeling of something being a little strange about him. Like… stranger than usual. The way he talked…

“Well, you still didn’t need to get cut or— or at least you could have deflect it partly, this is awfully deep. Was. All done now.” Truth to your words, you stripped the gloves, rolling them up and placing them on the coffee table. You looked at his face, running your hand through his sweaty hair. He leaned into it slightly, like always. “Oh Matt… what do I do with a man like you?”

“Kiss the pain better?” he offered shyly, the corners of his lips twitching. You rolled your eyes at this ridiculous man.

“Ha! You’re hilarious!” His expression changed, transferring into- “Oh crap, not the puppy eyes. Come on, Matt, don’t-”

You sighed, leaning in, kissing him lightly on the lips. You were never able to resist the huge imploring eyes of his.

“I hate you,” you murmured as you withdrew – or wanted to, his lips following yours instead, sinking into them, caressing gently, testing your will when nibbling on your lower lip.

Oh, he always knew what to do to keep your fingers tingling, to have your heart fluttering – the feeling might have faded a little with the years, but it was still here. You opened your mouth for him, a clear invitation for his tongue. He didn’t hesitate.

“And I love you,” he breathed into your mouth, his hand rising.

“Don’t touch the bra-“ you warned him, curling your fingers around his wrist to stop him. You withdrew so it didn’t temp him. The bra wasn’t nearly as expensive as the dress, but it wasn’t cheap either.

“But it’s laced and they always feel so, so nice-“ he whimpered and you blinked. Okay, that was new. Seriously, where had his brain (possibly lower brain)-mouth filter left to?

“Maybe, but it’s also skin-toned. Not blood-toned. You smear it with blood and I’m not wearing it again.”

“But you said we were playing doctor,” he noted, looking honestly confused. You had really said that? And what the hell was it with him…?

You gaped at him when the realization finally hit you.

“Oh my god. Are you drunk?”

Matt was silent for a short moment; the kind of an answer that spoke volumes. Matt Murdock was drunk.

“…the client insisted on two glasses of scotch…,” Matt admitted with hesitation and you sensed some sort of a ‘but’ coming. “And then said the third time was a charm.”

Three glasses of scotch?!

“So you’re not only late for our anniversary dinner, you’ve not only gotten yourself half-stabbed, but you’re also drunk. Wow. I want a divorce,” you stated resolutely, only joking of course. Still, you couldn’t believe him. It should have been your night out. Together as a couple. To celebrate the two years you had been together as husband and wife. And he… wow. You probably should be mad, anyone else would be, but… you were kinda used to dealing with Matt’s bullshit (to be fair, Matt also had to deal with yours) and it was usually more scary and life-threatening. This was actually kinda funny. The drunk part anyway. “You think Foggy will charge me a fortune if I hire him?”

Matt frowned. “You don’t mean that. And if you did, do you honestly think he would represent you?”

You raised your eyebrow, waiting for him to realize what he had just said. Of course Foggy would represent you. You were plotting against Matt together oh so often… he would take your side. Matt probably came to same conclusion, because he grimaced.

“Yeah, he probably would. Well, would want to and then Marci would bully him so she could take your side instead of him.”

“I barely know Marci,” you noted, confused.

“Yeah, but she’s up to a challenge and she always claimed me and Foggy will get married one day and  was actually jealous of me. She would take any opportunity to take our duo down in one strike.”

“I thought Foggy was friends with her.”

“They are somewhere between friends and frenemies. I guess that happens when you end the whole friends with benefits thing.”

Huh. Marci was still bitter about that? Who would think Mrs. No Strings Attached had feelings? To be fair, Foggy was insanely likeable, so you could really blame her-

…why were you thinking about Marci?

“After all this time… you still manage to distract me perfectly,” you complained, actually ashamed. Damn you, Murdock. And Murdock.

Matt tilted his head slightly, challenging. “I know a whole lot more ways of distracting you. If I wash my hands, can I touch the bra? I mean, we’re already too late for the dinner, aren’t we?”

You watched him incredulously for a minute; his messy hair which was the result of him rushing home, his absolutely not kissable lips inconspicuously pursed, his hopeful eyes with a spark of mischievousness somehow seeing you even after losing sight. Your gaze flickered to the fine suit he had prepared for the dinner. It was too late to go to the restaurant, wasn’t it?

When you looked back at him, you could tell he knew he had won, because a tiny smile appeared on his face, a careful elevation of the corners of his lips.

You sighed. You were so weak. “Go wash your bloody hands, you overgrown child. We’re going to bed.”

“Love you,” he chipped happily and kissed your cheek, rushing to the bathroom. You rolled your eyes at him fondly.

“I’m on top, you’re injured!” you shouted after him, closing the box with medical supplies and walking to the fridge to get Matt a glass of juice. He needed liquids and sugar dammit.

“Whatever you say, honey!”

You blinked, taken aback. ‘Honey?’ Matt had never called you that – mostly he stuck to your name or a nickname, occasionally calling you ‘love’ if he was being particularly tender. Endearments weren’t his thing.

Oh boy, he really was so royally drunk, wasn’t he?

You smiled for yourself at the idea. This should be fun.

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Thank you for reading! 

If you enjoy Matt fics, I’ll be posting a few more RI, but mostly I’ve written for Matt x OFC. 

If interested, check out my M.M. masterlist ;)

[hsavinien]

Nile Freeman week, day one: Love

Rating: M, warnings for (quickly ended)  harassment

Contains food, sex, and Nile/OFC

Proper post to come at a more civilized hour.

Nile + Love (September 6) Nile falls hard, lands on her side and rolls when she hits, but there's broken glass on the concrete and she leaves a smear of blood. She's back on her feet again, glad she wore her less-cute jacket tonight, because it's ripped and she's not great at mending, but Joe will cheerfully insist that it's a wonderful time to learn. The asshole who hit her (while she was removing his buddy's hand from the short, round, butch girl he'd cornered) gears up for another swing. But she's seen him now and would probably have been able to take him down before MCMAP. After several years of getting her ass thoroughly and systematically handed to her by Andy, Nile puts him on the ground in under a minute. She turns to see the butch girl alternating ducking and kicking at the guy who'd started it. She's not doing much damage, but she's distracting the guy plenty. Nile gets him in an armlock that will only damage him permanently if he struggles too hard and escorts him out the door. He stumbles away, white with pain, abandoning the unconscious friend Nile drags out after. "You all right? I'm Nile," she says. The butch girl, more impressed than scared, apparently, offers her hand. "Ah, I'm fine," she says. She definitely is and probably did not mean it like that. Her hair's in an afro undercut that's dyed almost navy blue underneath, her mouth is a generous curve of a smile, and her jeans are fitting her really well. "Jackie. Where the hell'd you learn to fight like that? My ma's been after me to take up martial arts since I moved to the city, but this is the first I've taken the idea seriously." Her handshake is warm and dry, calloused in entirely different ways than anybody else whose hands Nile has touched recently. "Kung fu is really great, if you can find a dojo around," Nile says, which sounds like an answer, but isn't. "Are you sure you're okay? The flat my friends and I are renting is just around the corner." She pauses for a second and adds, "Sorry, that sounded weird. If you wanted to sit down and have a glass of water or something, I mean." Jackie looks her over and tips her head, smile widening. "Wouldn't mind, if your friends don't." Nile feels the blush rising in her face. "Of course they won't." She leads the way. It really is just around the corner and she calls, "Nicky, Joe, company!" as they enter. It takes a few minutes to take off their shoes and hang their coats, and by the time they make it to the kitchen, Nicky and Joe are waiting eagerly with an extra plate set out. 

"Oh, I didn't realize you were in the middle of supper," Jackie demurs. 

"No, no, a new friend of Nile's is always welcome," Nicky says, and gently works them through the required rounds of polite refusal, including how grateful she already is that Nile helped her with the creeps and how nice it is to have visitors and how she can't impose and how they accidentally made far too much, surely she can do them a favor by helping them eat it, it would be a shame if it went off before they could finish all of it. Eventually Jackie sits at the table with a plate of mullah and a couple pieces of kisra to dip in it, looking slightly shell-shocked. 

She tastes it tentatively, then starts eating as enthusiastically as everyone else. "This is brilliant." 

Nile groans in sympathy. "Right? These guys are amazing cooks." 

Nicky pats her shoulder in passing, heading for the fridge for more water. "It is only practice, Nile. And the joy of cooking for people we love." 

She grins at Joe, who looks smug. 

The food is good, even though she's still not used to the spices, and they chat lightly. Jackie's working at a grocery and doing a postgrad in mathematics. Nile and the rest of the household are doing some holidaying after finishing a big project for the company they all work for. "Ugh, security consulting, it's incredibly boring," Nile says. 

"Oh," Joe says, as if he's just remembered. "Andy is out for the night; she wanted to go backpacking and get away from people for a little. We're going to a club a few streets over and I have Nicky's promise we will spend at least three hours. I want to do some dancing." He shimmies a little in his seat to make her laugh. 

"And there will maybe be karaoke and he will need at least an hour to try to convince me to sing," Nicky added, sitting back down. 

"Oh, yeah, that's no problem," Nile says, feeling a blush heating her cheeks again. "I'm sure I'll be fine here." 

Jackie's eyes have gone heavy lidded. "I can hang around if you'd like some company," she suggests. 

"Sounds great," Nile says, and Joe is definitely flashing a thumbs up in her peripheral vision. 

They head out as soon as the supper dishes are put away, and she's pretty sure she hears the word 'wager' in Italian as they go, but Jackie is leaning against the doorframe looking like a snack and she doesn't really care what kind of bets they're making about her right this moment. 

"Hey," Jackie says. "It's been a weird night, but you're cute and a bit badass and I'm down for a fling. What do you say?" 

Nile hasn't been smooth, ever, in her life, but that's a softball question if there ever was one. "Absolutely," she agrees, and steps forward, fingers slipping carefully around the curve of Jackie's hip. 

Jackie stretches up to kiss her and it has been way too long. Nile moans into her, pressing her against the doorframe. Jackie pulls back after a minute, her hands wrapped around Nile's biceps and mouth wet. 

"Girl, you lift weights? Oh my God." Jackie looks her up and down, more slowly this time. "I'm getting you naked, right? That's on the table? Show me those muscles already." 

Nile bursts out laughing. "Sure, if you want. My room's this way." 

Jackie is soft and lush under her button down and sports bra and very vocally pleased with every new bit of Nile she uncovers. They shove each other around in their eagerness, eventually making it to her bed and naked, where Jackie pushes Nile down on her back, and demonstrates with mouth and hands just exactly how much she likes Nile's body. Nile yells loud enough that Jackie claps a hand over her mouth, muttering around her mirth about scaring the neighbors. 

Nile lays there for a second, blinking stars out of her eyes, then rolls them over to return the favor. Jackie comes with Nile's mouth on her chest, and two fingers deep inside her, clutching Nile's shoulders like she's drowning. 

Jackie drifts off for a bit afterward, leaving Nile free to admire her some more. Her hair is flattened a little, from Nile's thighs around her ears, and Nile isn't sure she has a pick handy, she'll have to check. 

When Jackie blinks awake, she smacks a kiss on Nile's cheek. "Gotta clean up. I'm not going to stay; work in the morning." 

"Oh, sure," Nile agrees, still a little floaty from endorphins. "My toiletry kit might have a comb that will work and there's extra toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet, if you want. First door on the left." 

"You are a gem, as well as a knight in shining armor," Jackie informs her. "It's been lovely meeting you, Nile." 

"Same," Nile tells her sincerely. 

After a brief tidy-up, Jackie kisses her one more time, hot and deep, pats her on the cheek, and says goodbye. "If you visit again, look me up," she says, offering Nile a scrap of paper. 

"Thanks," Nile says and waves her down the street. 

She has a pot of water on the stove and herbal tea steeping when Joe and Nicky amble back in, Nicky humming and Joe swaying in time. 

"How was your evening?" Joe asks, pouring himself a mug and sitting beside her to bump her elbow gently. 

"Good," she says, still feeling a little unmoored. "She was nice." 

Nicky sits across from them and steals Joe's mug for a sip. "Good. I'm glad. You deserve people who treat you sweetly sometimes." 

"I've got you guys, and Andy," she says. 

"And we love you, but there's other kinds of sweetness than family," Nicky says fondly. 

"That's for sure." Nile leans into the warmth of Joe's arm. "You have a good time?" 

"We did." Joe's jaw cracks on a yawn. "Bedtime for old men." 

"He is ancient and creaky and needs his rest," Nicky informs her. 

"You're only three years younger than me," Joe says, shaking his head. "Come on, ridiculous man. Good night, Nile. Sleep well." 

She goes. She feels alive and wrung out and pleasantly warm, but in many ways, mostly she feels loved.

[ladygoshawk]

Day One - Carnation: Fascination, Distinction, Love

The raven-haired woman threw her head back to laugh, a pure, joyous sound. On either side of her, a kitsune kit and a human girl-child giggled with her. The sounds tapered off after a moment, but the smiles remained as the woman leaned over the kit and pointed to the bound paper in his lap.

“I don’t think that’s the character you want to use, here, Shippō.” She giggled again. “With the others, it says something completely different. Try again. What else could you use?”

High in a tree to one side of the clearing they sat in, unseen, unheard, entirely undetected, a silent watcher brooded.

She made no sense. A priestess with respectable power but no training to speak of, she had what appeared an extensive education that she continued to pursue in spite of the trials of her quest for the Jewel shards and Inuyasha’s sometimes aggressive opposition to the “waste” of her time. The boy was clearly a fool, yet she persisted in calling him “friend” while also desiring a closer, romantic relationship with him. She seemed to alternate between the roles of elder sister and mother to the kitsune kit, a yōkai that even most other yōkai would not take in, apparently as the situation dictated. She and the yōkai slayer behaved as siblings who actually held affection for each other. She even treated the monk as a wayward elder brother, scolding him affectionately for his wandering hand.

“Lady Kagome? Rin doesn’t understand this one.” The little girl at her side pointed to the book in her lap.

The woman leaned over to see. “Ah. Remember how we figure things out?”

“From the con…text, right? Rin thinks she knows what it should be, but these don’t quite match.”

She treated the little human girl exactly the same as she treated the kitsune kit, as if there were no difference between them at all. Evidence gleaned from long hours of observation suggested that she truly did not see any difference. As if only their disparate personalities mattered at all.

Even after the end of the Jewel quest and Naraku’s defeat, though the end of their quest should logically have led to the odd little group’s dissolution, she spent a great deal of time with her companions. While they clearly lived in the little village of Edo and she could most often be found among them, the home she mentioned so frequently did not seem to lie within the village confines. She had worn a path between the village and the clearing she currently sat in with the pups. It contained at its center a dry, magic-saturated well that gave no clues to what sort of home she could have that required such a portal to access.

“I think that’s enough for now.” The priestess clapped her hands together sharply and then reached for the cloth-wrapped bundle at her side. “You guys are doing great. Let’s have some lunch!”

All of these things, contradictions and anomalies at every turn, had served to foster a fascination in him for the strange human woman. It seemed he found a new question about her every time he came into contact with her group. Over time, she gained the distinction of a puzzle he wished to solve. When they defeated Naraku and new details came to his attention, he devised a plan to observe her. Occasional opposition had not served to satisfy his curiosity, nor had the occasional alliance.

His ward required education and exposure to humans who were not abusive as those of her old village had been. Fostering her to Edo’s elder miko answered that need and provided him reason to “visit” the village on a regular basis. Two proverbial birds, one metaphorical stone.

Months later, however, he still had not made any real progress at understanding the infuriating female. His questions and confusions not only remained unanswered, they continued to increase as he watched her. Items she brought from her home, mostly to entertain or educate the pups, often appeared entirely outside his centuries of knowledge and experience.

Far below, the pups cheered as the priestess revealed the contents of her cloth-wrapped box with a flourish. “Okay, okay, sit down, you two!” The woman giggled. “No jumping around the food, you’ll spill it. If you were that hungry, you could have said so!”

“Did you make it?” the kit asked with excitement.

“Well, my mother made the dumplings.” She handed chopsticks out. “I made the rest, though. Hey, now, there’s plenty for all of us! One thing at a time, Shippō.”

Not to mention the woman’s very strange, inexplicably well-made clothing. While no longer the ridiculously short, ineffective outfits he had first seen her wear, her clothing provided a whole host of additional questions nearly every time he saw her. Especially since Naraku’s defeat, what she wore looked very like the clothing he expected of the daughter of a wealthy shrine, but upon closer inspection had clearly not been created using the techniques – and often the cloth – that he considered familiar.

He had taken the opportunity, on one of his regular visits to Rin, to examine her strange items up close and still could neither explain nor imagine where the priestess could have obtained them. At least, nothing more specific than “from home”, which is all she said – nervously – when he actually inquired. If any of the group ever spoke more specifically of this vague “home”, they never did so within his hearing. Not even when they had no idea he stood within hearing distance.

Briefly, he considered merely coming out and asking his questions plainly and directly. In theory, he would have his answers immediately and be freed of this perplexing fascination. He could then turn his attention to other things.

He quickly found that he had no real desire to do so. Her tense discomfort when he spoke of the things he found strange, even if he did not ask any questions, made him suspect she would not necessarily provide entirely forthcoming answers. Yet he could think of no subject he particularly wished to turn his attention to other than the priestess known as Kagome. She occupied his mind, engaged his intellect in many more ways than one, and there truly seemed no reason to rush his answers. Given sufficient time and investigation, he felt confident he would have them within his grasp. With Naraku dead, he felt no urgency to move on to anything else.

Sesshōmaru, Lord of the Western Lands, was content to spend his time on his intriguing little human puzzle.

“Lady Kagome?” Rin sounded perplexed as she clutched a rice ball in her hand.

“Shippō, you’ve got rice on your face.” The priestess chuckled. She handed the kit a cloth before turning her attention to the girl. “Yes, Rin?”

“Rin…heard the ladies say something to each other that Rin wants to ask you about, but Rin is afraid it will make you angry at Rin.”

The woman let her hands, occupied with another rice ball, rest in her lap. “I would never get angry at you for something someone else said, honey. You can’t control what other people say.”

“But Rin does not want to make you sad, either.”

She reached out with one hand to gently tap the little girl on the nose. “Well, I don’t know what you heard them say, but I can’t think of anything they’d say that could really make me sad. So go ahead and ask your question, sweetie. What they said is not your fault, no matter what.”

The little girl hesitated. “Um… Are you…going to marry Master Inuyasha?”

“Oh dear, are they still talking about that?” The woman’s laugh sounded easy, open, with none of the tense upset their hidden watcher had expected. “No, sweetie, I’m not. He’s my good friend, but we’ve never worked very well as anything more than that.”

“Does that mean you won’t be coming to spend time with us anymore?”

“What? No, of course not!” She sounded truly startled, even concerned. “Rin, honey, what did you hear the ladies saying?”

“They… They said that they are glad that you still come to the village, because Lady Kaede does not move very fast anymore, but they are afraid that you will stop coming if Master Inuyasha does not hurry up and marry you soon.” The little girl sounded devastated and on the verge of tears.

“Oh, for—Rin, honey, come here.” Kagome set her food down and shifted around, pulling the little girl into her lap when she approached. The kit must have looked worried as well, because she beckoned to him. “You too, Shippō.”

She took several moments to settle the pups in her lap. “Now listen up, because I’m going to say something very important, and I want you both to remember it.” Her words sounded stern, but her tone seemed warm, even comforting. When both pups nodded, she continued.

“Inuyasha and I decided a long time ago that we’re better as good friends than anything else. At least two winters ago, even before we got rid of Naraku. I kept coming back to help fight Naraku after that, right?”

Both pups nodded again. She nodded with them. “Yes, I did. And I’ve kept coming back for visits every chance I get ever since we got rid of him, too, haven’t I?”

Another round of nods. “Yes, I have. Do either of you know why I kept coming back to fight Naraku? I’ll give you a hint. It’s the same reason I keep coming back to visit even now. Do you know?”

After a pause, the pups shook their heads. She chuckled and appeared to squeeze them, one with each arm. “This is the important part I want you to remember. I came back to fight Naraku, I come back to visit, and I will always come back for as long as I can…because I love.”

Sesshōmaru quirked one eyebrow upward in surprise.

Unaware of his reaction, she continued. “I love both of you. I love Inuyasha as a very good friend. I love Sango like my sister. I love Miroku like my brother. And I love Kaede like my grandmother.”

She squeezed the pups again. “I love the people in the village, and I love this land. I love helping when I can, and I love learning what this place has to teach me.”

Love? Surely the woman merely told the pups a comforting tale to reassure them. He could, perhaps and just barely, see so ridiculous an emotion as motivation for her continued visits after the spider hanyō’s defeat. It certainly matched much of the rest of her behavior, in his opinion. But during her quest to collect the Jewel shards, opposing a being that had wrought destruction the length and breadth of the lands?

Evidently, the kit shared his confusion. “But Kagome,” he ventured slowly, “I thought fighting’s supposed to be for honor and glory, or vengeance, or duty. And Naraku was really scary!”

She sighed. “I suppose some people do fight for those reasons. Vengeance, honor, and glory are probably the worst reasons to fight, at least in my opinion. Especially vengeance. To me, they just seem like excuses to be a bully, to hurt others as much as you’ve been hurt, and where’s the point in that? Duty seems slightly better, but I think even that depends on the situation and whether there’s any other way to do what needs doing.”

Pausing thoughtfully, she tilted her face toward the sky. “I think that’s true of any situation, really. If there’s another way to solve it, it’s better to try that, first. Anybody can pick a fight, and we can pick fights any time, but the very best fight is the one you never have to fight at all.”

Nonsense. She filled the pups’ heads with absolute nonsense.

“If you really, truly cannot avoid a fight through talking things out and looking for other ways to solve the problem, then I think the best reason to have for going into a fight is love.” She looked back down at the pups with a smile. “I was able to fight Naraku every day, to keep looking for all those Jewel shards, because I didn’t want them to do anything to hurt the people I love. I knew that if I left the shards free in the world, they would be used to do things that might hurt my friends, or this village, or these lands. And I knew that if we didn’t get rid of Naraku, he would go on hurting innocent people and collecting shards to do things that would hurt my friends and maybe even my family. It’s the love I feel for my friends and family, and for this place, that gave me the strength to keep fighting even when things got scary.”

Ridiculous! Strength from emotion? From so weak an emotion as love? Preposterous!

Irritated, Sesshōmaru turned on his branch and dropped to the ground away from the clearing. He moved easily into the long, ground-eating stride he used when not being immediately followed by a small human girl or an even shorter-legged gami retainer. The foolish words of a silly slip of a woman should not have any power to affect a daiyōkai, much less a Lord such as himself, yet as he walked he found that they…did. Irritation, restlessness, even frustration plagued him, but none of the disgust or dismissive disregard he thought he should feel.

He slowed to an unhurried amble as it occurred to him to wonder why her tale to the pups had affected him so, and whether what she’d said was truly ‘merely’ a tale. Based on the small pieces of her story he’d gleaned over time, he’d always believed that she sought the Jewel shards and fought Naraku out of a sense of duty. Casting his thoughts back over the course of his knowledge and direct observations of the woman, he began comparing what he’d believed with what she’d just revealed, attempting to decide which fit her behavior best.

Much of his observation of her performance in battle had come from battles in which he had been her opponent, but he had participated in a few as her ally. By necessity, much of his attention had been directed elsewhere, but he had noted a great deal more in retrospect than he had consciously recognized each time. Considering what he could recall…

Disturbed, he went completely still as his memories realigned into a new configuration the moment he applied her interpretation of ‘love’ to them.

He had never understood her propensity to throw herself between a disabled friend and whatever foe they faced. He’d seen her do so several times, and she’d faced a battle-maddened, yōki-overcome Inuyasha at least twice in much the same way. Even when the group had opposed him, she’d faced him fearlessly. Or…no. She had scented of fear, but her actions had contradicted it. Another contradiction, and what he’d never understood. Before now.

If he read her fear-scent not as fear of a foe but as fear for an imperiled companion…

She threw herself into danger over and over without concern for herself, he thought, stunned. She did so to protect others. For ‘love’.

Outwardly, he must have appeared very much like a stone carving, immobile and expressionless, unseeing. Inside, however, his mind whirled at first through shock and outraged confusion. After a long moment, he set these aside as unproductive wastes of time and focused instead on applying this new insight to everything he knew of the little priestess.

It made sense.

The evidence of her behavior bore it out.

Things he’d puzzled over after hearing her say them suddenly became clear.

But how could this be? Love was a foolish emotion that created a weakness exploitable by enemies! As witness his mother, who had allowed her affection for his father to leave her open to devastation she would nurse for centuries when he forsook her for the arms of a mere, powerless human woman. Or his father, whose professed love for that human woman caused him to make the foolish decision to go into battle already gravely injured. He’d killed his opponent at the cost of following him into death immediately after. Immeasurable power, centuries of life, wasted to stretch out the meager human span afforded a single weak human!

Yet somehow, an impertinent slip of a human priestess had discovered a way to turn that weakness to strength, something the Great and Terrible Dog General had not found even with all his power, cunning, and centuries of life! It made no sense!

Suddenly enraged, he resumed moving among the trees, going at a much faster rate than before. He wished to move, to find something to kill, rend, tear asunder. Away from the village, where his rampage would not upset his ward or the priestess.

As the thought flitted through his mind, he broke into a clearing he had never noticed before and came to an abrupt halt once more. The sight before him arrested his attention, killing his anger as if it had never existed.

The early afternoon sun refracted through the mist thrown from the base of a long, narrow waterfall. Rainbows scattered across the small pool at its foot and over the grassy banks to either side. A colorful array of wildflowers nearly carpeted both sides of the pool and the grassy meadow beyond, complementing the rainbows until the whole area lay awash in color.

I will bring Rin here on my next ‘visit’, he thought as a sense of peace washed through him. She will enjoy the flowers. And she should see the waterfall just like this. It will please her greatly.

For a moment it seemed foolish, a daiyōkai of his stature wishing to please a tiny human girl-child. He shook the feeling away, though. He was Lord of the West, and if he chose to do something to please his ward, then he would do so and let no one question him over it. There was very little, he realized, that he would not do for the little girl who had first chosen him. He did not care who knew it, either.

That thought even stopped his breath for a moment as it settled gently into place beside his afternoon’s preoccupation.

It…fit. He would step between Rin and any danger she might face. Had, many times. He had, in fact, taken notice of Naraku at all merely on Rin’s behalf. Before he’d kidnapped Rin, the spider hanyō had been a mere nuisance, beneath Sesshōmaru’s notice once he had failed as an ally to wrest Tessaiga from Inuyasha.

In truth, very little existed that could offer true threat to Sesshōmaru. Particularly after he produced Bakusaiga from his own yōki and surpassed his great father, he had nothing left to prove to any living being. Yet he realized as he stood there, awash in peace and color, that he would easily risk himself to protect Rin. To see her safe and happy, no matter what.

Just as the priestess Kagome, admittedly much more fragile than he, had done for her companions during their quest for the Jewel shards.

She had called it ‘love’.

Apparently, he also possessed within himself the capacity for this strange, weak emotion. The emotion that had led to his parents’ downfall and his father’s death. The emotion the priestess had somehow turned into enough strength to repeatedly defy not only the spider hanyō Naraku but the most powerful living daiyōkai. Successfully.

He settled at the base of a tree at the edge of the new meadow. The only being he knew of to turn this weakness he had discovered within himself into acceptable strength also happened to be the object of his continued fascination. His imperfect understanding must be remedied immediately. He must revise his plans.

The priestess Kagome had what he needed, and he would have it from her as soon as possible.

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

Drake's Diary ch.32 -The Safe House

They Royal Romance canon from Drake's POV

Drake x MC (Emma Rose)

Words: 5872

Warnings: NSFW

Master List (Catch up here)

 Well, friends, we have reached the end of the Drake's Diary series. Someday I may come back to it, but for now I need to let it go and work on other projects. Plus, we'll all be seeing Drake and crew again soon in The Royal Heir! Thank you to everyone who read, commented, and reblogged, your support is what kept me going, and seriously means the world to me. Love you all!!!

Drake and Emma crash to the ballroom floor, the force of his body knocking the wind out of her. He feels himself crushing her, and groans as he rolls to his side, clutching his shoulder. When he pulls his hand away, it’s shiny and wet with blood. The color drains from his face.

  Oh my god, I…I’ve been shot! Oh my god, Emma! Where’s Emma??

Emma crawls immediately to his side, and he breathes in relief until he sees the front of her dress smeared with blood.

He gaped at her, his eyes watering. “Emma! You’ve been shot! Are you okay??”

“No! Drake, you’ve been shot. You saved my life!” She threw her arms around him and he grimaced with the pressure of her body on his arm.

I what? What is she…she almost died! He was aiming right for her!

“Drake!” Bastien runs up to them, sidearm drawn. He helps Emma to her feet first, then Drake. Drake wobbles on his feet, so Emma steps forward to steady him.

Bastien turns to her. “Emma! There’s a servant’s entrance to the left. Help Drake and stay low. I’ll cover you!”

She nodded. “Come on, Drake. Let’s get you out of here.”

Drake vehemently shook his head. We need to get Liam. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Emma, get him out of here! Now!” Bastien yelled.

But Savannah and Bartie….

She holds onto Drake, carefully keeping pressure on his injured arm, and starts to run. Bastien points to an SUV waiting at the end of the drive. “Hurry!” Bastien ducks into the car and punches an address into the console. “This’ll take you to a safe house. There are first aid supplies there. Patch Drake up as soon as you arrive. He should be fine, as long as you get the bleeding under control.”

Drake didn’t miss the momentary look of panic cross her features. “Me? You aren’t coming with us?”

“My king needs me. I wish I could do more for you. Don’t trust anyone right now. The safe house is the only place you’ll be secure.”

Bastien turns and runs back into the palace, while Emma turns to help Drake into the car. His eyelids droop, and his grip on her is weak.

Just…so tired. So, so tired. I feel like I ran a marathon…except…waaaay worse.

“Drake…” She murmured. He barely registered her hand on his cheek.

She almost died. My Rose almost died…If I hadn’t been standing next to her…if it was someone else…what would have happened to her…?

A short drive later, Emma helps a bleeding, but conscious, Drake out of the getaway car and into a secluded cabin. The cabin’s lit only by what appear to be emergency lights. He grunts as she lowers him onto the couch, and he sags into it with a heavy sigh. He closes his eyes while Emma attempts to turn on the lights, but nothing happens.

“huh.”

Figures. “Maybe the generator’s busted. They must have an emergency backup, since it’s a safe house.”

“Lights are the least of our problems right now. We’ve got to stop the bleeding. Where’s that first-aid kit?”

As she begins fumbling around in the dark, Drake releases a pained gasp. He can hear her scurrying around the room, then the bathroom, then moving to the kitchen, until at last. “Found it!”

Fuck this hurts. But not as much as if she…

His face is contorted into a pained grimace, as she reappears next to him.

“Man, am I happy to see that thing.” He told her, forcing a weak smile.

She frowned. “Drake, you took a bullet for me.”

Oh boy

“Aw, come on, Rose. Don’t sound so impressed. You’re scaring me.”

Does it really look as bad as it feels?

“Drake…I just want you to know how much it means to me that you’d do something like that.”

Well that answers that. “Okay, now I know it must be looking grim.”

Emma scoffed. “Hey, can’t a girl be grateful and sincere once in a while? You could just say you’re welcome.”

“You’re…welcome.” He grumbled, a light blush reaching his pale face.

She nodded in satisfaction. “Now, I’m going to do whatever I can for you until help arrives.” She kneels beside him and helps peel off his bloodied jacket and shirt. His muscles flex under the pressure of her hand.

I love her touch…but…maybe a bit lighter…just for now…

“Okay, first I better clean it up…I just need to…do that…” She mumbles to herself, then grabs an alcohol swab and tears it open. “This’ll probably sting a bit.”

She applies the swab to Drake’s skin, gently dabbing at the edges of the wound. He grimaces, muscles tensing and breaths coming quicker.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…

“Drake!”

“Sorry. I…I’m fine.” Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…

She takes hold of his good hand, squeezing for reassurance. He squeezes back, realizing his own grip is weak in return. She twines her fingers through his, running the swab over his skin as carefully as possible.

Okay, that’s…progress…definitely. It still amazes me how gentle she can be.

After a moment, he begins to relax. His breath comes easier. She pulls out a clean swab and resumes cleaning. Drake draws in a sharp breath. Okay, fresh alcohol, ouch

“You alright?”

Ah screw it.  “It’s no picnic, that’s for sure. I could use a distraction.”

She looked at him teasingly. “A distraction, huh? If you wanted me to take your shirt off, you should’ve just asked.”

She caresses the muscles of his chest, his lips curling in a mischievous smile as she continues. “Not that I mind seeing you without your shirt, but getting shot creates a few problems for us, don’t you think?”

“Heh. Well, now I just feel ridiculous that I went through all this blood loss and all.”

“You’d better.”

He tries to laugh, but it doesn’t work out. Instead, Drake’s face contorts into a pained scowl again, and his eyes drift toward the first-aid kit. “Is there any whiskey in there? If I’ve ever needed a glass, it’s now.”

An entire bottle would be useful.

“Sorry, I don’t think they made this first-aid kit with you in mind. There’s only rubbing alcohol.” She waves the swab in front of him.

Drake’s lips curl in a weak smile. “Damn. I should talk to Liam about that. If I ever get the chance…” He trailed off, swallowing hard. Liam. I hope Liam made it out. I hope Bastien got to him in time. Thank god I was next to Emma.

Once the wound is clean, she gently runs a hand over Drake’s exposed skin. “How does it feel?”

He shivers lightly. “Rose, when you touch me like that, it makes me forget I even got shot.”

She brushes the skin around the wound with her lips, leaving a light trail of kisses in her wake. She draws back and grabs a roll of gauze from the first-aid kit. Starting at his shoulder, she begins to wrap a bandage around his torso. “You remember the last time I patched you up after a fight?”

He glowered. “How could I forget? I’ve got a couple regrets in life, but punching Tariq after what I saw that night…not one of ‘em.”

“We thought our problems were big back then.” She joked.

“Rose…taking a hit for you was as worth it then as it was tonight.” He suddenly reaches out, cupping her face tenderly with one hand. “I keep thinking back to that moment…if you’d been hurt…”

She pauses a moment and meets Drake’s serious gaze. “But I wasn’t. Thanks to you.”

“I need you to know that I’ll always be there to protect you.” He said firmly.

“You’ve more than proven that.” She finishes wrapping the gauze, tucking the end in and securing it with tape. “How’s that?”

Not too bad. I’m actually starting to feel human again.

“Good as new. You did great.”

She nodded, satisfied. “Looks like the bleeding’s stopped. We’ll have to keep an eye on it to make sure.”

Drake reaches for her hand. When he grasps it, his strength is already returning. “Hey, there’s something I need to say.”

“What is it?” She asks curiously.

He takes a deep breath. “Tonight, for a split second, I was terrified.”

Her eyes widened. “You were shot! Anyone would be scared…”

“No, not then.” He cut her off. “When I saw the gun aimed at you, and I thought…I thought I might lose you.”

It was the single worst moment of my life.

“Drake, I love you.”

“I love you too, Rose. I was a fool to try to fight it.”

“Yeah, but you’re my fool.” She kisses him lightly on the cheek.

It’s now. The perfect time is now. I’ve wasted way too much time when it comes to her. To us.

Drake reaches into his pocket and pulls out the small satin-covered box. He meets her eyes with a vulnerability he’s never felt before. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, but I kept talking myself out of it. Now…After what happened tonight…knowing you could’ve been shot or…Well, it all made me realize that life’s too short to waste any more time. We should make the most of the time we have while we’ve got the chance.”

Her hands flew to cover her mouth. “Drake…”

He opens the box to reveal the beautiful vintage ring.

“Rose…Emma…will you marry me?” His heart pounded, even though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

Still terrifying.

She gasped. “Drake…Yes!!! Oh my god, Yes!!!!  She leans in, smiling widely, and plants a long, tender kiss on Drake’s lips. His good arm comes up around her, solid and warm. Eventually they part.

She said yes!

He licked his lips. “Mmm…that was good, but I think I can do better.” He gently lifts her chin and, eyes locked with hers, and brings her lips back to his. Time seems to slow when their lips come together, gently at first, then more fervent. She responds, her hands exploring his exposed chest. Finally, they part.

She said yes!

“I almost don’t believe this is happening.” He breathed.

She smiles and plants a peck on his forehead. “Believe it, Drake Walker. It’s real.”

“Here…” He pulls the ring out of the box and carefully slides it onto her finger, enjoying the sparkle of the stone even in the dim light. “I hope it’s okay. It’s an heirloom.”

She said yes!!!!!!!!!

“It’s gorgeous. Whose was it?”

“My grandmother’s.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping she loves it as much as his grandmother did.

“Wow, Drake…I’ll cherish it.” She squeezes Drake’s hand and rests her head against his good shoulder. “It’s getting pretty late though, and you’re probably exhausted. I should go sleep in the other room so that you can get some rest. We’ll both need our strength for whatever tomorrow brings.”

No, no, you can’t leave…I need you.

“Stay out here with me awhile. Like I said, we should make the most of the time we have while we’ve got the chance.”

“Well, when you put it that way…I definitely can’t resist you.” She grins and they both settle back against the cushions. “You do realize what this means, right? Us getting married?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get a new suit for the wedding.”

She laughed. “No! I mean, yes, you’d better. But besides that. Now that I’m a duchess, when we get married…you’ll be a duke.”

He froze. “I’ll…what?”

“Duke Drake Walker of Valtoria…Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Horror slowly dawns on him. Oh my god. A duke. I’ll be a noble. Me. The most common of all commoners. How the hell did I get here??

Emma quickly backtracked, seeing the panic on his face. “You don’t have to call yourself a duke if you don’t want to.”

He barely registered her voice. A fucking Duke!

“Easy there, I can’t bandage a heart attack. It’s just a title.” She said nervously.

He waved a hand dismissively. “The title I can ignore. It’s the rest of it I’m worried about. I’m going to have to start acting all lordly now, aren’t I?”

Uugghh if I turn into Neville, I swear to god…

She smirked. “Well…I know you better than that.”

“That’s supposed to be my line.” He grinned.

“Well, it was a good one. And it’s true. If there’s anyone who can end up a duke and stay the same loyal, snarky, down to earth man that I want to marry���it’s you.”

“That was a decent compliment until you got to snarky.”

“It’s an important part of the Drake Walker M.O. Right up there with avoiding formal events at any cost.”

He smiles softly. “…Guess I can’t argue with that.”

“Look on the bright side. Now you’ll always have someone to ditch parties with. Because I’ll always be right there with you.”

His hand brushes against hers, and she laces her fingers through his.

“There’s no one I’d rather sneak out of ballrooms with.”

If there are any ballrooms to go back to.

His smile fades in the candlelight. “But we’ve gotta make it back to court before any of that matters.”

“Do you think everyone’s alright?” She asked worriedly.

“I…I hope so, Rose. I would’ve gone back for them, but…”  Someone made me leave.

“Hey, how many times do you want to get shot in one night? We were lucky we made it out of there.” She reminds him.

Drake’s expression is still worried, but he gives a small, reluctant nod. “Liam had his guards with him, and he can handle himself in a fight.”

“Yeah…you know, Hana probably knows some self-defense too.”

He laughs. “At this point, she could tell us she’s a wushu champion and I’d believe her.”

Emma bit her lip. “But what about Maxwell?”

His eyebrows shot up. “That man has more lives than an alley of cats. You’ve seen him move on the dancefloor. Hell, you’ve seen him walk. I don’t think anyone could hit him if they tried. They’ll be alright, Rose. I have to believe that.”

“Drake, I’d feel better if you held me.”

“I can manage that.” He said softly, looking into her worried face. She’s so incredible. How did I get this lucky? But I almost lost her…for good.

She scoots closer to him on the couch, and he puts his good arm around her shoulders. Drake stares at her, his eyes lingering on hers.

“What is it?” She asks softly.

“You could’ve died today, Rose. I could’ve lost you.”

“But I’m here…thanks to you.”

“I was able to protect you…this time. Next time…we might not be so lucky. But whatever happens, whatever comes next…At least we have tonight.” There’s a hint of heat in his voice, and as he smiles at her, his gaze strays to her lips. He reaches up to brush his thumb across her lips, and then they come together in a kiss that leaves them both breathless. He slides his hand up to cup the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer.

“I have a better idea…” She turns and slides onto his lap, straddling him.

“Oh! I think I can work with that…” He kisses her again as she holds him close. She runs her hands down his chest, being careful not to jostle the bandages. Drake slides his hands up her sides, bunching up the fabric that covers her skin.

“I want to keep going.” She whispers

“And I want you, Rose.” All my life.

She shifts slightly in his lap, drawing a groan from his mouth as she leans in for another kiss. He goes to lower her onto the couch…then winces as he jostles his wounded arm.

“Will you…be okay?”

He looks at his bandaged shoulder, then back up at Emma. The heat in her gaze sends a jolt of warmth through his body. “I’ve already wasted too much time, Rose.” He gently touches her cheek. “I want to make the most out of every second we’ve got. A scratch isn’t gonna get in the way of that.”

“Drake…”

He silences any further protests with a kiss, tugging at her lower lip. He reaches for the fastening of her clothes. He helps her out of her them, nearly tearing one of the seams in his haste, his bare chest is warm against her skin as she leans into the embrace. He lets his hand slip down past her waist, sliding under the waistband of her underwear…

“Not yet…” She unbuckles his belt and helps him out of his jeans.

He gives her a crooked smile. “Better?”

“Oh yes.”

He looks at her, his eyes dark with desire. “Then come here.”

He pulls her back onto the couch and she braces herself against the cushions as she straddles him again, slowly sinking down the hard length of his cock. He kisses her, and a moan escapes her as she begins to move her hips in time with his. Drake couldn’t stop touching her, running his hands all along her body, from her hair, to her neck, to her collarbone, taking one nipple into his mouth and pulling gently with his teeth.

She cried out and the sound was music to his ears. I can’t believe I waited so long to feel her like this. Fuck, she feels so good…

“Rose!” He gripped her hips, speeding up their pace as he pounded inside of her silkiness, completely consumed by her body.

“Drake…” She gasped, keeping up with every thrust, her head thrown back, her breasts bouncing just for him in ecstasy. He felt a tightening in his balls and knew he was close. He reached between them and began stroking her clit with his thumb, circling and rubbing her hard nub. A moment later her walls were squeezing him as she screamed his name while Cumming. His name upon her lips while she came was enough to send him over the edge and he made a guttural growl as he exploded inside her, emptying every last drop of his seed deep inside her belly, the rest of the world fading away in the aftermath of their intimate bliss.

After a thousand kisses and their breathing slowed, they lie curled up side by side.

“That was worth staying up for.” She teased.

“Glad I could make it worth your time.”

She nudged him playfully. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Drake leans over and takes her left hand. Her ring catches the candlelight as he places a gentle kiss on her wrist. “Part of me still can’t believe you said yes.”

“Part of me still can’t believe you asked.” She laughed. “I guess some dreams really do come true.”

“You’re living proof, Rose.” My dreams certainly did.

They fall asleep in each other’s arms, safe and warm in the sanctuary they’ve found. The next morning, they wake to the sound of knocking on the main door to the safe house. When Emma opens the door, there’s Liam, Hana, Maxwell, and Bertrand standing on the other side. Maxwell holds Chance in his arms.

“Oh my god, you’re okay! You’re all okay!” Emma shrieks, rushing forward and pulling everyone into a hug. After a long moment, she pulls away.

“I am…so pleased to see you in good health.” Bertrand said, smiling between them.

She stands aside, allowing the others to file into the safe house. “Seeing you all safe…I…feel like I can finally breathe again! I was so worried.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Hana agreed.

“Not knowing was…awful.” Maxwell said sadly.

Okay, none of this sadness. “You know, doctor usually prescribe peace and quiet to shooting victims. Hard to rest when everyone’s making such a racket.”

Liam rushes to Drake’s side and kneels beside the couch. “Hey, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to be a hero?”

“Heh. Not sure anyone thought they needed to.”

“Wait, so how did you all make it out of the palace?” Emma asked.

Hana spoke. “After Maxwell and I were separated from you in the crowd, we tried to get back to you, but the palace security wouldn’t let us go back in.”

“They said their orders were to clear the room…not many people were crazy enough to be trying to get back in.”

Emma nodded in understanding. “I’m just glad you’re both safe. And you, Liam?”

“My security detail held off the attackers until Bastien was able to get me out of the ballroom. Once the assassins saw that I was out of their reach, they fled. Clearly, you and I were the targets.” Liam’s fists curled into balls at his sides.

“And you, Bertrand?”

“It was utter chaos, but luckily, I managed to usher a few others to safety as I escaped.”

“Well…I made a pit stop on the way out to get this little guy, I couldn’t leave him in the palace all alone.” Maxwell said sheepishly.

Emma just shook her head. “Maxwell, I’m not sure if I should hug you or slap you. That was so dangerous, but I’m so happy to see this furry face.”

Guess now I have a therapy dog. Awesome.

Maxwell sets Chance down and he rushes over to Emma, his entire body wriggling with glee. She bends down to hug him and give him a scratch behind the ears. “You’re my good boy.” She pats Chance on the head and stands. “So what happened then, once everyone was clear?”

“We regrouped and went to another safehouse. My security forces escorted us here once we were sure that our presence wouldn’t put you in further danger.”

Emma nodded, glancing over at Drake, who was still on edge. “Liam, did…anyone get hurt? What about Savannah and the baby?”

Drake drew in a sharp breath. She’s asking for me. She knew to ask. She cares as much as I do. I don’t want to wait to get married. Hell, I’d marry her this second.

“There were injuries, but no one was killed.” Liam now looks at Drake, whose expression is one of restrained hope. “Savannah and Bartie were among the first to escape. They’re safe and staying in the city.”

Drake blew out his breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding so deeply.

“For what it’s worth, I saw to their well-being personally.” Bertrand chimed in. “Savannah wanted to come, but she decided it was best to keep Bartie close to support services, just in case.”

Drake ran a trembling hand through his hair. “I was…god, I couldn’t even let myself think about…”

“Drake, it’s okay. They’re okay.” Emma soothed.

“If there’s anything good to be said about last night, it’s that no lives were lost.” Liam informed. “Unfortunately, some people were caught in the crossfire and sustained serious injuries. Lady Kiara was caught by a knife, though I’m assured there will be no permanent damage…And Emma, your former press secretary was also shot.”

Emma’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “Justin?”

“He and Kiara are both in the hospital now, receiving the best care Cordonia has to offer. Bastien was also wounded helping me escape. His leg may never be the same, but he should still be able to walk.”

“Bastien…” Drake said sadly to himself. If only he’d come with us last night…but I know he has duties. Still…I can’t believe he was injured. He’s always been so…invincible.

“I still can’t wrap my mind around how something so horrible could happen…” Hana gloomed.

“Yeah…who do you think could be behind it?” Maxwell asked.

Liam thought a moment. “Cordonia has its fair share of enemies, but it’s pointless to speculate and worry about it now. Bastien will have more information when we return to the palace.”

“And when’s that going to be?” I can’t wait to get out of here, maybe have some normalcy in my life…in all our lives. See Sav and Bartie with my own eyes.

Liam gave a half smile. “My guards and the police are still securing the palace. It’ll be an active crime scene until they’re done. They’ll call when they are certain the palace is safe, and that all evidence has been collected.”

Bertrand agreed. “At which point, we’ll return to face a press and a country that both want answers. Rightfully so, I’d say. Emma, as the new Duchess of Valtoria, there will be many who will be looking to you for answers.”

“Me? I’ll personally make sure every single citizen feels safe. Whatever it takes.” She said firmly.

That’s my girl. Handles everything thrown her way with grace.

Bertrand smiled at her. “Your enthusiasm is admirable. It’s exactly what the people need to see. Just know that this is the sort of event that shakes a populace to its core.”

“People are really afraid right now.”

“Yes, they fear for the monarchy. As you know, this isn’t the first royal assassination attempt.”

Drake glared at Bertrand. “They should have faith in Liam. I know I do.”

Liam held up his hand to stop them. “No, Bertrand is right. I need to earn their trust.”

“In the meantime, it would do us all good to recuperate while we wait for the all-clear to return to the palace.”

Alright. I won’t argue there. “I’m not moving from this couch until I have to.”

“Why is it so dark in here?” Hana asked, truly looking around the space for the first time.

“I think the generator’s busted. Only the emergency lights came on when we got here.” Drake informed.

Maxwell ran back to the door. “I’ll go see if can find it. I don’t know if I can sit still right now, anyway.”

“You want some company? None of us should be alone right now.” Emma suggested.

Drake rose an eyebrow.

“That’d be nice. Plus, I’m not sure I know how to fix generator.” Maxwell admitted.

And there it is. I bet Emma actually fixes it. I’d even bet money on it. Drake couldn’t stop the laugh that came out of his mouth before everyone looked at him.

Oops.

“What? I’m just picturing Maxwell fixing the generator. It’s a good thought.” And also hilarious.

Hana rolled her eyes. “Before you go, I brought you a change of clothes. Something a bit more discreet.”

Emma smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Hana. If anyone knows my size and style by now, it’s you”

Emma headed to a room to change, coming back in a simple black dress.

“You look lovely.” Hana told her.

She does but…a dress? What is with these people? We’re in the woods…in a safehouse…I’ll never understand nobles. Even when I become one, I think they’ll still be a mystery.

As Maxwell and Emma went outside, Hana muttered something about brownies and went for the kitchen. Liam saunters over to Drake.

“Hey Liam.”

“I can’t believe you were shot, Drake. I feel awful for this.”

“Liam…really, it’s not big deal.”

“It’s a huge deal! And the reason…I saw you jump in front of Emma. You saved her life, Drake. And I…” Liam’s eyes welled with tears. “I couldn’t imagine losing either one of you. Without you…Emma wouldn’t be here. You did that. And honestly….” He hung his head in what looked like shame.

“If I’m being honest Drake…I wouldn’t have done that. I wouldn’t have jumped in front of her like that.”

“You’re a King, Liam. Of course, you wouldn’t. Your country needs you. We all need you. If you were next to Emma instead of me…hell, both of you would have been shot, regardless of you trying to play hero or not. They weren’t expecting me.”

Liam’s phone vibrated. “Sorry, Drake, I need to take this. I’ll be right back.”

Drake nodded as Liam walked off. Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.

“Let there be light!” Maxwell walks in and flips the light switch next to the door, the room bathed in light.

Emma looks around, confused. “Where is everyone?”

“Liam and Bertrand both had calls to make, and Hana went to find the kitchen and see about making some food. She said something about having brought brownie mix…”

“Ooh, I’m so in.” Maxwell saunters to the other side of the room and disappears through an open door. Emma moves closer to Drake.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?”

He smiled. “A lot better than last night. Thanks to you.”

She blushed. “It was nothing.”

She is so adorable.  “It really wasn’t. But…honestly, the bullet wound isn’t what’s bothering me today.”

“Then what is?”

“Honestly? Someone is coming after you and Liam. Someone dangerous and powerful. And last night they got too damn close to hurting either of you. I won’t let something like that happen again. There has to be something I can do to help.”

He could see her pondering his words. “We need Cordonia to be strong right now. The people need something big to rally behind…and even to show that the country’s still strong and united.” She glances down at the glittering ring on her finger.

Oh no. Please no. “I’m not sure I like where this is going…”

Ignoring him, she continued. “What if that event…was our wedding?”

Uuuugggghhhh she just had to go there. “Our wedding, a big courtly affair with nobles everywhere? Hard pass.”

Doesn’t she know me at all?? Two minutes ago I thought we were soul mates!

But she didn’t let it go. “Think about it for another minute. We could make a real difference. Do it for the regular people of Cordonia. It’s not for the court or the nobles, it’s for all the people who look to the crown for strength and guidance. Those people need a dose of hope right now.”

Hope. They need hope. Drake looks into her twinkling eyes and then realizes…she’s right. He never had hope that someone as amazing as her would ever want him, and he was a miserable mess. He never had real hope until the day she chose him, and since then he’s felt like the luckiest bastard on the planet.

He runs his uninjured hand over his hair and laughs. “When it comes down to it, I don’t really care if I marry you in a cathedral or a barn. As long as you’re there saying, ‘I do’.”

Her eyes lit up. “Drake…That’s sweet, but even if we do this, we can still find a way to make sure the wedding still feels like ours.”

He gave her a curious look. “Oh, yeah? What’d you have in mind?”

She shrugged. “We’ll sneak off halfway through. I’m sure the other nobles would hardly notice our absence. And whiskey. Lots of whiskey.”

Alright, she definitely knows me. “I’m game. Especially if it means a sneak peek of our wedding night…”

“Hmm…if you play your cards right…” She teased.

He chuckled. “Alright, I’m in.”

“I knew you’d come around.” She announced triumphantly.

“Hard not to, when you’re the one I’m arguing against.”

She leans in, kissing his gently on the lips. “I am pretty persuasive, aren’t I?”

He felt his dick twitch, “More than you know…” He draws her in for another quick yet heated kiss. His whole body tingles pleasantly. “God, I’ll never get tired of that.”

“You better not.” She joked.

Laughter echoes from the kitchen, preceding the return of Liam, Hana, Maxwell, and Bertrand. Maxwell munches on a brownie.

“Now, let’s tell the others about the wedding. I’m sure everyone could use some good news right about now.” Emma takes Drake’s hand and faces the group. “Drake and I have something we’d like to tell you all.”

“We’re getting married!” Drake jumped in.  Holy hell, have I ever sounded this excited for something before? What has she done to me??

Bertrand gaped at them. “What? You’re marrying…Drake??”

Okay, I’ll try to ignore how his voice is dripping with disdain.

“Oh…” Liam swallows hard, then fixes his face into a careful smile. “Congratulations, you two.”

He’s lying. He’s hurt. I didn’t even tell him I was carrying around the ring everywhere. But I will never change my mind about this. Everyone knows I’d do anything for my best friend…but giving her up is the one thing I can’t do. The one thing I won’t do.

Emma continued, “And we were talking about what the country needs to see from the nobility right now. The Cordonian people need something to rally behind, so…our wedding will be a unifying event for the whole country. A show of strength and stability to everyone in Cordonia…our friends and any enemies.”

“A unifying event…” Bertrand ruminates for a moment, and shock slowly gives way to realization. “Nuptials for Cordonia’s newest Duchess would be quite exciting for the Cordonian people…it would be a celebrity wedding. That could be just the ticket to restore their faith.”

Liam slowly nodded, rubbing his chin in thought. “A show of hope and renewal.” He glanced back at Drake, who was still holding Emma’s hand. Liam gave them a small smile. “And love.”

Emma meets Drake’s eyes for a moment and warmth rises in his chest.

She grins. “Exactly. There’s nothing more unifying than a wedding.”

The wheels in Bertrand’s head were clearly spinning. “I suppose we’ll all have to add wedding preparations to our to-do lists for our return to the palace…”

Liam’s phone buzzes from his pocket. He answers it, his expression drawn. After a moment, he hangs up and turns to the group. “That was palace security calling to give us clearance to return to the palace. A motorcade is on its way to bring us home.”

As everyone began preparing for their departure, Drake pulled Emma into a corner for a word alone. “Why do I have a feeling you’re going to make me jump through all kinds of noble traditions for this thing?”

She smiled innocently. “Why, Drake Walker, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ah come on, Rose. You’re going to insist we do all kinds of things like…shopping for wedding party gifts, attend cake tastings…”

“Okay, hold up. You will LOVE cake tasting Mister.”

“Fancy cake, Rose. Fancy. There’s cake and there’s twelve tiered cakes with sparkles and tiaras and flowers and…” He trailed off, shuddering. “Just…stuff.”

Emma bit her lip, attempting to smother a laugh. “And what other horrors do you think I’ll subject you to?”

“I can only imagine! Watch, you’ll probably make me ride off into the sunset in some fancy carriage or something equally cliché.” He told her.

This time she burst out laughing. “That would definitely happen in my romance novel. The stable hand lands the princess and they live happily ever after, as they ride off into the sunset.”

He froze. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes!” She squealed in delight.

He groaned, pulling her in and hugging her tightly. “Can we just jump to the ‘Happily Ever After’ part?”

“Drake, Drake, Drake, come on, look at all we’ve been through. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Yeah…I guess you’re right.” He agreed. He pulled back and cupped her face in his hands. “I love you, Rose.

“I love you too, Drake.” She whispers back before they kissed passionately once more, never wanting to let go again.

    @annekebbphotography @gardeningourmet @zigortega4life @eileendannie @thequeenofcronuts @drakewalkerfantasy @friedherringclodthing @coffeebeandragon @drakewalker04 @alesana45 @mfackenthal

@hrhdes @drakewalkerisreal @akrenich @feartheendlesssummer @moonlightgem7 @i-miss-trr @noey718-blog @snyggflicka @rhymesmenagerie @gibbles82 @drakesensworld​ @iplaydrake @mind-reader1 @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @crookedslimecreatorpasta @be-still-my-aching-heart @lovedrakewalker @notoriouscs @flowerpowell @choicesaddictedd​ @katedrakeohd @agent-bossypants

[edierone]

2 a.m., la mer à l'intérieur

a response -- surely one of several -- to this. TW: baths, nighttime, Jackson/William erasure

Scully comes awake slowly, in the pitch dark, dreaming/feeling an unusually sustained rumble of thunder. She takes her time, savoring for the moment the fact that not every waking anymore has to be the old fight-or-flight, ride-or-die, mortal-peril gasping and clutching and reaching for the nearest firearm. 

And she’s right, again — it’s somewhere past midnight but well before dawn, on a night like all their nights now: no set schedule, no place to be in the morning, no commute, no real urgency of any kind beyond the utterly commonplace needs of their second (third? Fourth, hundredth?) miracle. She’s not even 100% sure what day of the week it is, and god, what bliss to know this kind of peace. 

That sound, though … the bath, she places it. The huge old clawfoot downstairs, it must weigh half an actual ton; the boys from the salvage yard had taken one look at their rickety, narrow, steep stairs and suggested this be the downstairs bathroom’s finest feature instead of the master bath’s indulgence. And that’s before the tonnage required to fill it — they’ve stayed in motels whose alleged pools held less fluid volume. 

But why? 

And as she lies still, listening, she starts to figure it out: Kit must have woken, and Mulder responded without waking her. And whatever it was that woke both baby and father, it must’ve required a bath. She can’t help the grin on her face: As with any four-month-old, every once in awhile, the situation is well beyond a dirty diaper — it’s a fucking Superfund site in there. Ain’t enough wipes in the world to finish the job. 

He could’ve just used the plastic baby bath in their bathroom, but if the whole idea was to avoid waking her, he’d clearly tried another way — he just didn’t consider the old pipes, the way they’d announce his actions and whereabouts all over the house. God, how she loves him. 

She checks in on the boob front — they’re full, but not painfully so. There’s time. But Kit will probably want at least a snack before she settles back in, post-bath, and since it’s either that or tether herself to the goddamned Medela to fill some bags with liquid gold, Scully decides to go join the midnight party. 

Three steps down, she hears it: Mulder singing. His gravelly, borderline-tuneless rendition of an ancient Traveling Wilburys song is so bad, she almost cries for loving it so much: 

I've been fobbed off, and I've been fooled

I've been robbed and ridiculed

In daycare centers and night schools

Handle me with care… 

He hums the chorus, possibly with something stuck in his mouth? Then, in a great splashing among Kit’s unmistakable baby giggles, finishes strong with 

I've been uptight and made a mess

But I'll clean it up myself, I guess

Oh, the sweet smell of success

Handle me with caAAAAAGH 

There’s a graceless yawp, and he exclaims, softly but chidingly, “Hey, baby! That’s my nose! Leggo my Eggo!” 

More giggles from the tiny terror, more splashing — enough, Scully has to see what’s going on in there. 

She tiptoes to the open door, where he’s kept the light low to avoid letting Kit think it’s Morning FunTime, and the sight nearly stops her heart: He’s actually in the bath, not kneeling beside it like she expected; his gaudy red-and-yellow swim trunks billowing, his salt-and-pepper chest and back hair clinging wetly to his skin, his focus so completely, devotedly on their precious, precious, wonderful daughter. 

He’s sitting braced against the far end, knees bent with Kit’s back resting against his thighs so they’re facing each other. She’s safely cradled, underwater to her armpits — it must’ve taken twenty minutes to fill the damn thing, no wonder it woke Scully — and her huge, bright eyes are round and full of the purest delight as she clumsily grabs again for his big dorky face. 

Scully watches as he intercepts one infant pincer fist and speaks into it like a microphone: “And now, one for the youngsters:

Baaaaay beeee … SHARK! Doo doo doo doo doo doo! 

Baby shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo!

Bay-beee shark! Do -“

Scully tries to muffle her laugh, but he hears it and turns, positively radiant with joy. He’s not even the tiniest bit embarrassed at being caught in the Baby Shark act. Kit’s burst of wordless babble sounds very like an invitation to join them in the Big Water. 

“Hey,” Mulder says, a very small word that — right here, right now — contains pretty much all the good parts of the universe. 

“Hey,” she answers, feeling rooted to the spot, unfathomably blessed to witness something this ordinary, this lovely. He extends a dripping arm in welcome, and Kit — hilariously — follows suit. It’s enough to get her moving, moving toward them, joining their little circle. She perches on the edge of the tub, one hand caressing Kit’s head and one cradling Mulder’s. The devotion radiating off of both of them makes her want to weep; instead she laughs, amazed and humbled and completely unused to such raw and powerful things. 

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” Mulder says, half in jest, and for once in her life, Scully just … goes with it. She stands up, disrobes, steps in — all in less time than it had taken her to get from the door to the bath in the first place. 

Mulder lifts the baby high; Scully settles her back against his chest and takes Kit in her own arms, this little mer-person somehow made of the two of them, ordinary mortals. Kit goes straight for her breast, suckles comically loudly at first, then more quietly as the urgency passes. 

In the near-silence, Mulder takes a breath, then sings low, rumbly, for her ears alone: 

Somewhere in the ancient mystic trinity

You get three as a magic number

The past and the present and the future

The faith and hope and charity

The heart and the brain and the body

Give you three as a magic number

It takes three legs to make a tripod or to make a table stand

And it takes three wheels to make a vehicle called a tricycle

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides

No more, no less, you don't have to guess

When it's three, you can see

It's a magic number

A man and a woman had a little baby

Yes, they did

And they had three in the family

That's a magic number

[quicksilversquared]

A Twist in Fate

A day of hiking and a loose stone results in an injury on Marinette's part, and Adrien spends the rest of the day fussing over his injured friend. By some strange twist of fate, Ladybug has twisted her ankle as well.

Two girls, two identical injuries, and one mother-henning Adrien Agreste.

(AO3) (FF.net)

"Adrien, Nino, slow down already," Alya called as the boys vanished around a bend in the trail in front of them. "The trees and lake aren't going to vanish if we arrive a few minutes later."

Adrien came to a halt immediately, expression sheepish as the girls caught up. Nino was beside him instantly, breathing heavy as he tried to catch his breath. He sent Adrien a playful glare. "Hey, mister always-in-shape, not all of us play three sports and go running up mountains in our free time. Alya's right."

"That's exaggerating just a bit." Adrien grinned, though, knowing that Nino really wasn't that far off, considering how much exercise he got as Chat Noir running around Paris. "It's two sports and I don't go running up mountains, like, ever."

Alya was completely out of breath when she and Marinette joined the boys. Much to Adrien's surprise, Marinette was not. She looked like she had only been out on a short walk instead of a fast hike.

"Water break time," Alya panted, stopping Adrien from taking off again. She slung her backpack off and pulled out a water bottle. "Even if you don't sweat, the rest of us do." She glanced over at Marinette, who looked about as fresh as Adrien. "Well, most of us do. Dang girl, do you go running in your spare time?"

"Only if you count running whenever I'm running late to something!" Marinette laughed, smiling as she pulled out her own water bottle. "And I certainly do that often enough!"

"Are you done drinking your water?" Adrien asked, grinning when Alya made a big show out of drinking in slow motion. "Oh come on, we won't get back until tomorrow at that rate!"

"I'm starting to think we should make you and Marinette race ahead, just so you're worn out as Alya and I are," Nino joked. Marinette shook her head, pulling out a guidebook and pointing to the marked page.

"The next section of trail is supposed to be rocky. Going too fast would be dangerous."

"Good. Then we won't have to run to keep up with Adrien." Alya shot him a playful glare. "Not all of us have ridiculously long legs, you know."

"I can't help it if you're short, Alya," Adrien shot back, grinning.

They set off hiking again, Adrien going marginally slower than before. They were almost through the most treacherous part of the trail when it all went downhill very quickly.

A clattering of rocks broke Adrien and Nino from their conversation and they turned in time to see Marinette go down with a yelp and a thump as the rocks she had stepped on rolled down the trail. Within seconds, Marinette was clutching her left ankle and grimacing. Alya looked worried.

"Are you all right, Marinette?" Adrien asked in concern, carefully picking his way back down the trail to crouch down by the girl's side as Nino followed right behind him. He pried her fingers off her ankle gently, sliding his own fingers in to replace hers. Her skin was unusually warm, but not alarmingly so. A twisted ankle, maybe, but not a full-out sprain. Still, they were several kilometers up the trail.

"My ankle hurts," Marinette groaned, leaning back on her hands and watching Adrien prod her ankle gently. "I mean, I could probably walk a little on it, but not too much."

"It sounds like a minor sprain," Adrien decided. "It didn't pop when you went down, did it?"

Marinette shook her head. "No, definitely not." She offered a weak smile. "The rocks clattered a bit, though."

Adrien grinned back. She still had her sense of humor. That was a good sign.

"We're so close to the top," Nino groaned. "It's too bad this couldn't have happened on the way down instead."

Adrien could almost hear the frown in Alya's voice as she responded. "Priorities, Nino. Marinette is hurt."

"You guys can keep going. I'll wait here and you can pick me up on the way back. I might even be able to walk back down the trail a bit if I'm careful." Marinette smiled up at them, trying to hide the disappointment in her eyes. "I heal quickly, you know. I'm sure I'll be back up in no time."

"We're not leaving you here by yourself," Alya said immediately, and Adrien nodded his agreement. Nino looked torn. Marinette looked stubborn.

"Let's get your ankle wrapped up first, then we'll discuss what we'll do," Adrien decided, taking charge. He turned to Alya. "You have the first aid kit, right? Let's see what it has in it."

Alya nodded and set her bag down, pulling out the first aid kit that Nino's parents had insisted they pack. She opened it and Adrien immediately pounced on the stretchy bandages. He unlaced her shoe and tugged it off, followed by her sock. Unnoticed by him, Marinette's cheeks flamed pink.

"Have you wrapped sprains before, Adrien?" Alya asked curiously as he started twisting the bandage around Marinette's foot and ankle quickly. "You seem to know what you're doing."

Adrien nodded, preoccupied with getting the wrap right. He tugged on the bandage, adjusting it by a few millimeters so it was in the perfect spot. "Yeah, I've had sprains before and my instructors in basketball and fencing always insisted on us knowing how to do this right. Thankfully I haven't gotten injured in a year or two, but I've done the wrapping for some of my teammates." He wriggled Marinette's foot. "How does that feel?"

"Better already," Marinette admitted. "I probably still shouldn't walk much on it, though."

"Right," Adrien confirmed. He dug through the first aid kit some more and grinned as he came up with a chemical cold pack. Perfect. He activated it and found another bandage so he could secure it to Marinette's ankle. "Tell me if this gets too cold. The bandages should give it some insulation, but I don't want to risk giving you frostbite."

Marinette nodded in understanding, silently hoping that her feet didn't smell bad. Adrien had had his hands all over them..

"So what now, Nurse Adrien?" Alya asked teasingly. "Head back down, or...?"

Adrien glanced down at Marinette. The black-haired girl was tiny and appeared even smaller as she sat on the ground. She couldn't possibly be that heavy. "I can carry Marinette on my back. We're not even a kilometer from the lake we planned on hiking to for lunch. It's not far, and then I can rest up there before carrying her back."

Marinette blanched. Alya looked strangely thrilled, considering that she hadn't been too enthusiastic about the hike in the first place.

"You sure you can do that, bro?" Nino asked, looking skeptical. One of his eyebrows looked like it was in danger of vanishing beneath his cap. "We are hiking on a mountain and going uphill."

"It's not that much farther uphill. Besides, it will slow me down once we get out of this stretch of trail. Isn't that something you wanted?" Adrien grinned at them.

"You don't need to do that, Adrien, I can wait here while all of you go to the lake," Marinette insisted. "You might hurt your back."

"It'll be fine, Marinette. I'm pretty strong." He smiled at her. She didn't look convinced. He sighed. "I promise I'll say something if I need to take a break or if me carrying you isn't working."

"It sounds like a good idea. Marinette, do you need help getting up?" Alya was grinning at her friend. Adrien couldn't quite figure out her expression. Marinette rolled her eyes at Alya and shook her head, attempting to get up on her own as Adrien packed the first aid kit back up and tucked it in Alya's backpack. She wobbled and Adrien's hand shot out to steady her.

"I can take your backpack, Adrien," Nino offered. "I'm guessing you'll be carrying Marinette on your back?"

Adrien nodded, still concentrating on getting Marinette upright. She was wobbling a bit, clutching his hand as she tried to steady herself on one foot on the uneven surface. Alya helped to steady her friend as Adrien turned and crouched down so Marinette could clamber on. He waited until she was settled before straightening back up, his hands under Marinette's knees to keep her steady. She definitely wasn't that heavy.

"I'll carry Marinette's backpack," Alya offered, coming up next to them. She stooped down and picked up Marinette's bag, slinging it on over her own. "I'm guessing the packs will be even lighter coming down, since we'll have eaten everything." She grinned up at Marinette. "Of course, that means that your load will be heavier, Adrien."

"Not by much," Adrien said cheerfully, hoping that Alya's words wouldn't spark another round of protests from Marinette. While they had gotten more and more comfortable around each other following the video game tournament and her uncle's visit, Adrien didn't want to do anything that might scare Marinette away from him again. He was already worried that carrying his friend on his back might already be toeing that line a little too closely. "And Mari is light as a feather, honestly." Not waiting for a response, Adrien set up the trail again, stepping carefully so he wouldn't fall. If he tripped and went down, he'd run a very high risk of getting injured with the added weight on his back.

He wouldn't trip. Although he often found himself on the ground when fighting as Chat Noir, his balance was pretty good. Besides, he had gotten hiking boots for the trip. They came up over his ankles, giving them extra support.

Ten minutes later, the first glimpses of the lake started appearing through the trees. Nino let out a cheer and sped up, followed closely by Alya. In stark contrast to earlier, Adrien lagged behind. Marinette peered over his shoulder as he hiked, watching the scenery go by.

"Geez, Adrien, hurry up!" Nino called jokingly over his shoulder. He turned around to grin at Adrien, walking backwards for a few steps. "You're such a slowpoke."

"Ha ha, very funny." Adrien didn't speed up at all. "You know, the trees and lake aren't going to vanish, right?"

  Adrien spent a full five minutes fussing over getting Marinette's foot properly elevated once they sat down for lunch. He took off the cold pack, giving her ankle a bit of a rest, then shuffled backpacks back and forth until he was satisfied with how high her ankle rested. Marinette's cheeks flushed pink again at the attention, especially as his fingers probed at her bare ankle, running back and forth over the skin as he gauged how warm her ankle was.

"Adrien, stop fussing over Marinette like a mother hen and come eat," Nino finally spoke up in exasperation. He rolled his eyes. "Marinette is tough, she'll be fine. At this rate, we'll all be done eating before you've even started."

"I'm mostly concerned because technically, we should have had her ankle propped up right away and keep it up for a while. We can't do that while we're hiking." Adrien frowned at Marinette's ankle. She gently pushed him away with her other foot.

"Go eat lunch. My ankle isn't going to fall off." Marinette grinned as Adrien finally sat down next to her, pulling his sandwiches out of his backpack. It was truly impressive how much the model ate without ever gaining weight, but it made sense considering all of his activities.

Alya swallowed a bite of sandwich and turned to Nino, suddenly struck with an idea. "Nino, do you think your phone has any service up here? If we could text your parents and let them know that Marinette got hurt..."

"No coverage this far up," Nino said, shutting down Alya's idea quickly. "We can check once we get closer to the end of the trail, though. We can let them know that we'll probably be late and they can bring the car up closer to the trailhead."

They all ate in silence for a while, enjoying the view. They all took a couple pictures of the jaw-droppingly gorgeous scenery with their phones, Marinette straining to get photos from different angles without disturbing her foot.

"We should probably head back down now," Nino finally spoke up, checking the time on his phone. "I'm guessing we'll be going slower than the flat-out sprint Adrien had us doing on the way up, so we need time."

"It was not a sprint," Adrien grumbled good-naturedly, not really upset. He jogged back to Marinette, who was still sitting on the ground. "Just let me get the cold pack back on her foot, then we'll be ready to go."

Marinette had to keep from squirming as Adrien fussed over her foot again, long fingers brushing against her skin as he worked. Once he was satisfied, she found herself on his back once again, her arms looped loosely around his neck and his hands holding her thighs to keep them around his waist.

If someone had told her a year ago that she would be riding on Adrien Agreste's back while he carried her down a trail, she probably would have fainted. Not only was her body pressed up against his back, her cheek was against the side of his head, his soft blond hair tickling the side of her face. But she was older and wiser and more mature now, thank you very much, and she only occasionally got flustered around Adrien now.

"You doing okay there, bro?" Nino asked ten minutes down the trail. They were almost back to the most dangerous section again and Adrien was slowing down, choosing his path carefully. "I'm sure I could carry Marinette for a couple minutes if you need a break."

Adrien shook his head, his hair brushing against Marinette's face. She repressed an internal squeal of joy. "I'm fine. I'm just being careful not to step on any loose rocks."

"Yeah, we can't have you falling as well. I'm not carrying you if you do." Nino grinned at his friend before surging ahead on the trail, eyes flashing between the trail and the scenery around them. They continued down the trail in relative silence, both Nino and Alya occasionally stopping to take pictures. Marinette wrestled her phone out of her pocket and took pictures from her spot on Adrien's shoulders, trying her best to not accidentally choke him as she held her phone.

"I can stop for you to take pictures if you want," Adrien suggested as Marinette took a fairly lopsided picture of the trail in front of them.

"It's fine, really. It gives the pictures personality." Marinette nearly dropped her phone as she twisted slightly for another picture. "Besides, I'm sure Alya and Nino have good pictures they can share."

"Yeah, I'm planning on asking them to send me their photos. Their phone cameras are eons better than mine." Adrien rolled his shoulders for a second, stopping when Marinette let out a surprised eep at the unexpected movement and tightened her hold on him. "Sorry about that."

"Do you need a break?" Marinette asked, concerned. "There's a rock there you could set me down on right up there."

Adrien shook his head. "I'm fine. Really, I'll be good for a while still."

Marinette let out a quiet huff of "Boys" before settling back down on Adrien's back. The boy under her let out an amused snort as he continued on his way down the trail.

"How's your ankle feeling?" Adrien asked as they passed a trail sign. They still had a ways to go to get back to the trailhead. "Any better?"

"If I don't move it," Marinette said, giving her ankle an experimental roll. "Ouch!"

"Then don't move it!"

They stopped for a break by a field of flowers. Adrien took the opportunity to stretch and roll his shoulders while Marinette sat on a rock, weaving a flower crown. Once she finished one, she started on another.

"For Alya?" Adrien asked, watching as Marinette's fingers flew, weaving together stems and leaving stems and flowers free and facing outward. "I think I saw her making one earlier."

Marinette shook her head. "For you. We can match. Come here for a minute and let me see how big your head is."

Adrien snorted as he knelt at Marinette's side. "It's not that big."

"It's mostly your hair, I think. It's so fluffy." Marinette held the chain of flowers and leaves up against Adrien's head, poking and tugging until she was certain that the crown would fit properly.

"Fluffy?"

Marinette spluttered as she realized what she had said. "I- I mean, it's just, uh-"

"It's fluffy," Nino repeated for Marinette as he and Alya joined them. "Don't fight the fluff, Agreste."

"That makes me sound like a kitten," Adrien said, amused.

"Or a hamster," Marinette chimed in again, finishing the crown and plopping it on Adrien's head.

"We got in contact with Nino's parents," Alya said, waving her phone at them. "Or, rather, I did. Nino's phone company has zero coverage out here. They're going to come at our agreed time and his father is going to hike up to meet us and take over carrying Marinette."

"I'm doing fine," Adrien protested. "Really, he doesn't have to do that."

"You'll be singing a different tune by the time we get to the bottom of the trail," Nino said, laughing. "Or at the very least, by this time tomorrow. You're gonna be sore, sore, sore!"

"I doubt it. I'm the one who plays three sports and runs up mountains in my free time, after all." Adrien grinned at Nino. "You ready to go?"

  An akuma popped up exactly two days after Adrien got back from the hiking trip. He groaned, peeling himself off his bed and removing Plagg from his spot in the trash can. It was hot, hot, hot in Paris, and his muscles had only just stopped aching from the hiking (and from squatting Marinette once their group had gotten to the end of the hike, just to prove that he could). At least no akumas had popped up the previous day, or right after the group got back to Paris. He had been beat.

Chat Noir bounced across the rooftops minutes later, heading over to the Louvre. The akuma was turning people into robots of all shapes and sizes. He dove right in, herding civilians away, flipping robots so they would be stuck harmlessly on their backs, and pushing the akuma to an open, empty area where it could do the least damage. He stalled for time, dodging blows and glancing up at the surrounding rooftops periodically to try to catch a glimpse of polka-dotted red.

She didn't show up.

Surely Ladybug wasn't on vacation? What would he do if she was? It wasn't like he could purify the akuma. He could hold it off, sure, but only for an hour or two at most. Not for a day, or a week, or however long Ladybug might be gone.

"Would you let me past!" Robotix snapped, stomping his foot. "Either fight properly or let me go turn all those worthless spectators into my robots! I just want to make them pay for laughing at my robot ideas!"

Chat Noir gritted his teeth and deflected another attack, biting down the urge to snap back. He didn't know where Ladybug was, he didn't know if she'd be coming, and he definitely didn't want Hawkmoth to know that his partner might not be joining him.

I've been delayed before, Chat Noir reminded himself as he backflipped out of the way of another blow. She's been delayed before, too. She took forever to show up with Princess Fragrance, according to the reports. She took a while with Dark Blade, too.

And then finally, miraculously, Ladybug appeared over the rooftops. She was moving slower than usual, Chat noticed absently with the part of his mind that wasn't focused on not getting killed- or, rather, not getting turned into a robot. Normally she didn't have any sort of hesitation about diving off buildings and racing over rooftops. She could be ridiculously fast at time.

Now? Not so much. There were arthritic grandpas that could probably move faster than Ladybug was moving now.

Ladybug's appearance distracted Chat Noir just enough for the akuma to slip past. Apparently oblivious to Ladybug's appearance, he raced away instead of trying to stay and fight. Getting his revenge seemed to be more important than getting the Miraculous for Hawkmoth.

Chat Noir swore, then lunged for the akuma. It slipped under his guard and out of his grasp faster than a greased banana before vanishing around the corner. He debated going after the akuma for a moment before deciding to debrief with Ladybug first. She still hadn't jumped down to join him on the ground, which was... strange.

"Hi, Chat Noir," Ladybug called as he landed on top of the roofs. She grinned over at him. "Sorry I'm a bit slow today."

"I noticed." As Chat Noir got closer, he noticed that she wasn't putting any weight on one of her feet. He frowned. "Are you injured?"

Ladybug winced. "I hurt my ankle over the weekend and it's still not quite back to normal yet." A guilty look. "It probably didn't help when I stepped on it wrong yesterday."

Okay, this was bad. Their speed was essential while fighting akuma. They needed to be able to dodge attacks and run, especially when an akuma's powers could affect them. When Ladybug had been injured during Pixilator's attack, they had very nearly been beaten because she couldn't move well and he had been taken out of commission. On top of it all, Ladybug's speed and grace made up her whole fighting style. She'd be a sitting duck with her ankle in its current condition.

...unless she wasn't moving under her own power. Chat Noir glanced at her in consideration, eyes trailing up and down his partner. She was smaller than him, especially with his recent growth spurt, and she had a positively tiny frame. She couldn't possibly be that heavy, and with the extra strength that the Miraculous gave him...

"Get on," Chat Noir said suddenly, crouching down in front of Ladybug. "I'll carry you."

Ladybug froze, blue eyes going impossibly, adorably wide. "B-but I'll just slow you down!"

Chat Noir glanced back at her. "I need you so we can defeat the akuma. If I'm worrying about you not being able to dodge the akuma's attacks, that would slow me down even more."

Still Ladybug hesitated.

"Come on, bugaboo," Chat Noir urged. "I'll even promise to lay off on the puns for the entire fight!"

That got a snort from his partner. "Fine. Fine. I'll ride on your back. Happy?"

"Very." Chat Noir waited patiently as Ladybug hopped on. She didn't waste any time in getting settled. "So this guy is turning people into robots," he explained as he started to run in the direction the akuma had vanished. "I think there's some science and technology symposium nearby, and his ideas must have been mocked or something."

"You would think that people would learn to be kinder to each other," Ladybug sighed dispassionately. "Maybe we should make some sort of summer campaign or something. An announcement, to remind people to be kind?"

"Maybe!" It wasn't a bad idea. Still, then Hawkmoth would just target people that were perhaps being treated kindly and fairly, but who perhaps had lost a contest, or gotten fair criticism that they didn't like. And then there were the people who were maybe rejected when they invited someone on a date, or they didn't get a promotion they wanted...

Even if the people of Paris could remember to be kind, Chat Noir was sure that Hawkmoth could still find a victim.

It didn't take long to find Robotix. All they had to do was to follow the frankly ridiculous robots that littered the street, whirring around aimlessly. Once the akuma spotted the superheroes, he scowled, the expression twisting his metallic features, and took off up the road. Chat Noir adjusted his grip on Ladybug's legs and took off, speeding up to a flat-out sprint to catch up and get the drop on Robotix.

Even though Chat Noir had never carried Ladybug on his back before, he couldn't help but think that the feel of Ladybug on his back was strangely familiar. Her body curved around his to let him run and twist as he tore over the rooftops like she had done it before, adjusting automatically so he wouldn't lose his balance even as he sent them vaulting over a street and landing on the opposite side. Maybe it was just due to how comfortable they were in their partnership- some of the things they did meant that they had to be able to instinctively know what the other was doing- but normally there was at least a little bit of a learning curve.

As Chat Noir dropped down from the rooftops towards Robotix, Ladybug adjusted her hold so she could fling her yo-yo out without getting in his way or throwing him off-balance. Robotix stumbled as he was struck, but pulled his controller out of the yo-yo's way, dodging to the side.

The fight that followed was probably one of the stranger ones that Chat Noir had been in. With her ankle out of commission, Ladybug had to cling to his back for the entire time. Robotix had started out trying to hit them, but stopped after Hawkmoth's purple mask flickered up on his face. He had let out a growl of frustration, then started flinging his robots at them in an attempt to trip them up. It was easy enough for Chat Noir to hit the robots aside, smirking a little as he did.

"It's not nice to throw people!" he called, pressing in closer. It was clear that Hawkmoth had instructed Robotix not to turn the two superheroes into robots, because their Miraculous would vanish if they were turned. That hampered Robotix, and meant that they could really press forward.

Robotix scowled. "It wasn't nice of them to make fun of me! Robots are the future, and I will make them realize!" He made a break for it again, and Chat Noir moved to block him. "Cut that out!"

Ladybug muffled a laugh in Chat Noir's ear and shifted slightly, grabbing her yo-yo. As soon as Robotix tried to make another break for it, he heard her fling up her hand and hiss, "Lucky Charm!"

Chat Noir craned his neck, trying to see what she had gotten. "What is it?"

"A robot controller of some sort, but.." Ladybug's arms appeared around his shoulders again, clutching the controls. She wriggled the joystick, and a short robot nearby lit up and lurched forward.

Chat Noir could feel Ladybug's devious grin against the back of his head.

"I'll trip him up," she said. "Be ready to grab him as soon as he stumbles!"

Robotix had not been expecting his robot to turn on him. The akuma tripped over the short, brush-wielding robot and his controller fell out of his hands, letting out a nasty crack as it hit the ground. The akuma peeled loose and Ladybug snagged it with a cheerful whoop.

"Nice going, Bug," Chat Noir said as her Miraculous Cure swirled around the street. He let her down carefully. He eyed her wince with a wince of his own. "Do you need a ride somewhere so you don't have so far to go to get home?"

"I'll take the bus or something," Ladybug assured him. "But thanks for the offer, kitty. You're sweet."

Chat Noir caught her elbow to steady her. "If you're sure. And remember to wrap your ankle, and elevate it when you get home, and if you can get crutches in case you need to move around-"

"I'll take care of it, I promise. I want to get up and about again soon, too." Ladybug pressed a light kiss to his cheek. "I promise I'll take care of it. Tikki said she might be able to Lucky Charm me an ankle brace for me to wear around the house, so I might try that."

"All right. Hopefully Hawkmoth won't attack again before you heal." Chat Noir patted her shoulder, hoping he wasn't too pink from the kiss. "See you, Bug."

"See you, Kitty-Cat."

  "Oh, there she is!"

Adrien grinned, turning around at the picnic table that he, Nino, and Alya had staked out at the park and waving when he spotted Marinette coming. A moment later, he paused and frowned. Marinette wasn't walking quite normally- in fact, she was favoring her injured foot quite noticeably. It was strange, because with as minor of an injury as it had been, she should have been back to normal by now.

Hopping up, Adrien rushed over to Marinette so that she could wrap an arm around his shoulders and he could take on some of her weight. "Your foot is still bothering you?"

"Hello to you too, Adrien," Marinette teased before glancing down at her feet. "Yeah, it was doing better and then I stepped on it funny. It's better today."

"You should be staying off of it!" Adrien deposited Marinette on the picnic bench and fluttered around her, unsure if she would be okay with him touching her ankle again. "And oh god, your house has so many steps- isn't it dangerous for you to be going up and down them yourself? You could fall, Marinette-"

"Dude, stop mother-henning her," Nino finally cut in, grabbing Adrien's arm and pulling him down to sit. "She's not going to break. Like, if you want to help her get around if we decide to go somewhere else, fine, but, like, she's fine right now."

Adrien paused, slightly embarrassed, and then somewhat sheepishly sunk back onto the bench next to Marinette. Almost automatically, he glanced down at Marinette's foot, craning his neck to make sure that she had wrapped it properly. The bandage criss-crossed in all of the right places, which was good, but he would have wrapped it a little tighter, and actually, now that he thought about it, the wrap over the top of her foot wasn't in quite the right place to give her the most support. His fingers twitched once, twice...

...and then he slid off the bench, pulling Marinette's shoe off and starting to adjust the bandage before he could fully stop himself. Marinette's foot twitched, like she had nearly yanked it back in surprise but had managed to stop herself. She managed to stay quite still, though, as Adrien adjusted and tightened and then re-fastened the end and carefully slid her shoe back on, making sure not to dislodge the bandages he had just fixed.

When he popped back up, Nino and Alya were staring at him as though he had sprouted a second head. Adrien just shrugged sheepishly.

"It wasn't giving her ankle enough support!"

"Dude."

"And technically it should be propped up," Adrien mused, shifting towards the edge of his seat. "...hey, Nino, if you move over a bit, could Marinette get her foot up on that bench?"

"Dude."

"What? It's what you're supposed to do until a strain is better!"

"Nino, just scoot over," Alya said with a sigh, tugging her boyfriend to the side. "Marinette, put your foot up so Mother Hen over there can stop fussing so much. And Adrien, she's not made of glass."

Adrien did his best not to pout. He just wanted Marinette to not injure herself again, was that such a bad thing? But he supposed that he was maybe projecting his need to help Ladybug onto Marinette, since they both had ankle injuries. And then there was his natural desire to help his friend, and combined, that meant a lot of hovering and fretting over Marinette. He probably could back off a bit and Marinette would still be fine.

And speaking of Ladybug's and Marinette's injuries being similar- it was an odd coincidence that both of Adrien's favorite girls had sprained their ankles and reinjured them at around the same time. He wasn't certain which ankle it was that Ladybug had injured, but it might have been the left foot, just like Marinette.

Except now that he thought about it...really, it wasn't that strange. Considering how slim and athletic Ladybug was, it was hardly a reach to believe that she probably partook in some sort of sport or went out hiking, like he had. With an already-injured ankle, it was easy enough to reinjure it. Ladybug had probably gotten impatient and pushed herself more than she should have and stumbled, and Marinette...

Well, Marinette probably just tripped. She did that fairly frequently, it seemed. Adrien was going to have his driver bring her home after their get-together was over, just so she could stay off of the injury and not trip again.

Besides, ankle injuries actually weren't that uncommon this time of the year, were they? People were out and about more now that the weather was nice, doing activities that were a bit more active than normal and on surfaces that weren't quite as even and safe as an indoor court-

"Earth to Adrien, are you there?"

Adrien blinked as he was pulled out of his musings. "Huh?"

"We're talking about what movie we're going to go see," Nino explained. "So if you could pull your thoughts away from Marinette's ankle and actually contribute your opinion..."

"Right, of course!" Shaking off the last lingering comparisons between Ladybug's and Marinette's injuries, Adrien leaned forward to look at the phone Alya was offering him, scrolling through the different movies that were playing. In no time at all, Adrien was thoroughly distracted, concern for his partner momentarily forgotten.

After all, summer was meant for enjoying time together with friends, not worrying needlessly over things he couldn't change.