#i wish i had made the mask more fox detailed than shaped

[whalechief]

foxy grandpa, now with rabies n shit

[clonecyare]

I Can Handle Myself

Summary: You were perfectly capable of handling yourself when it came to matters of your safety. But that would never stop Fox from doing his part.

Pairing: Commander Fox x senator!reader

Tags: assination attempts, protective fox, senator!reader, republic gala, canon typical violence/shenanigans, banter, secret relationship, kissing, suggestive ending,

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: The 2nd instalment of my outfit series. This one is based on this outfit submitted by @murdertoothpick for Fox. Each fic in the series can be read as stand-alone fics.

1st instalment: Playing a Dangerous Game - Captain Rex x medic/!reader

|| Masterlist || Tag list ||

----

“I am going to say this one more time, Commander. I do not need a babysitter for this Gala, I am more than capable of handling myself.” You said matter-of-factly as you walked through the halls of the senate, datapad in hand, tapping perhaps a little passive-aggressively on the screen.

Commander Fox chuckled under his bucket, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“With all due respect, Senator, you were the target of an assassination attempt 4 days ago.”

“And I survived. Nobody would be stupid enough to try a second attempt at Republic Gala, not with the Senate present.”

Fox chuckled and fell in step with you, bumping shoulders with you as you walked. “Maybe so, but it’s the wishes of the Chancellor that you have a member of the Guard escort you, while the rest patrol the Gala.”

You stopped outside the entryway to your office and put one hand on your hip, datapad and a stack of flimsi files clutched under one arm and pointing accusingly at Fox with the other from behind the death grip you had on your caf. “You’re enjoying this.”

You nodded politely to Hound who had been standing guard at your office, and he saluted with a polite, “Ma’am.” He took his leave as Fox took his place, leaning against the doorway with his head tilted as you punched in the keycode. The doors slid open, and he followed you inside, removing his bucket with a gentle hiss and holding it under his arm against his hip.

You couldn’t help but stare a little, just briefly. He was sporting a few soft grey hairs at the sides of his neatly trimmed hair. It made him appear just a slight bit older and more sophisticated, the neat locks of loose hair framing his handsome face.

“Perhaps a little. I do get quite the kick of you not getting your own way.”

His smug comment brought your attention back to the present and you muttered something in response with narrowed eyes. Dropping the stack of files and the datapad on your desk, you hopped up to sit on the edge and crossed one knee over the other. The lightweight fabric of your skirt sported a high slit, exposing the skin of your legs and upper thigh.

You sighed, resigned to your fate and leaned back on one palm, swirling the steaming caf in your paper takeaway cup.

“Who will be my knight in shining red armour, then?”

You asked as you blew on the hot caf and took a sip.

Fox, whose eyes has been previously occupied following the slit of your skirt up to your thigh, snapped out of his daydream and plastered a handsome smirk on his face.

“Oh, that would be me. I’ll pick you up at 7 sharp, mesh’la.”

“Wha-” You did a rather ungracious spit take withyour coffee, as the Commander slid his helmet back on and moved through your office doors with one final look back at you.

“Oh, and don’t be late.”

----

Leaning into the mirror you carefully applied the deep crimson red lipstick, treating the task with the utmost delicacy, lest you waste your look entirely. You stepped back once you were through and took a moment to admire your handiwork.

Dressed head to toe in deep, rich red tones and soft fabrics, you felt you had outdone yourself this time. If you were to be on your Commander’s arm all evening, the least you could do was make an effort, right?

You smirked softly, tilting your head in the mirror. Yeah, this would show him.

You had decided to go for an elegant gown for this evening, floor-length and a deep wine red in colour. The upper portion was a bodice lined with velvet and fitted to your body, with sleek black linear detailing down the front. Around the upper edge and over the shape of your chest was lined with intricate gold detailing.

In the centre of your chest, just under the hollow of your throat, sat a delicate golden brooch, which held from each side 2 long strips of the same wine-red material from your dress, draped prettily back over your shoulders, accentuating your chest and neck.

You had chosen several simple gold jewellery items, and tied your hair up into an intricate bun, completing your look and signature red lip. You were just touching up the corners of your lipstick when there was a firm knock at your door.

You headed for the door, opening it with a smile.

“Good evening, Commander.”

You smiled, voice sweet like honey. Your Commander, to your delight, was stood frozen in the doorway looking at you. In one hand he held the cap of his dress greys and in the other, a bouquet of Queen’s Heart flowers.

“Fox?”

You smiled softly and reach a hand out to touch his forearm. The gentle touch broke him from his stare and he quickly cleared his throat, offering you the bouquet with a bow. “For you.”

You smiled and took them with a courtesy, “they’re beautiful, come in, let me find a spot for them.” You stepped aside to let him in, finding the perfect spot for the flowers on your table.

When you turned back, Fox was watching you again, though this time he was smiling handsomely. You smiled back, “well, how do I look?”

“Mesh’la. Truly mesh’la.” He smiled as he offered his arm. Your cheeks flamed a pretty pink, bringing a satisfied smirk to the Commander’s face as you slid your arm through his own.

You locked up the apartment and made your way strangely quiet Senate District. The air was crisp against your skin, cooling the warmth you felt where you were brushing arms with the soldier lightly.

“You know, you clean up pretty well outside of all that plastoid.”

You smiled playfully, looking up at him. He smiled back, chuckling and shaking his head lightly, hair bouncing lightly in the gentle breeze. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm. I would go so far as to say a 10/10.”

Fox groaned deeply in his chest, head hanging sightly. You swore it was to hide his smile.

“I hate you.”

You smiled fondly and pressed into his side, free hand resting on his arm that was holding yours.

“No, you don’t.”

----

Perhaps you may have been wrong about the Gala. Fox had his reputation for being a little… prickly, at the best of times. But, as the over the top affairs go, the Commander had proven himself quite the charmer.

He has stayed dutifully by your side most of the evening, So, having a bodyguard was, as it turned out, a blessing in disguise - though you would never admit as much to anyone else. Far fewer senatorial aides tried to approach you upon spotting the head of the Coruscant Guard on your arm. Even several of the more conservative senators passed you by upon receiving his death glare.

At one point, towards the end of the evening, you had even managed to convince the stoic Commander to join you on the ballroom floor to dance. Well, sway, would be more accurate. The two of you moved around the room in a gentle sway, you humming softly along to the tune while Fox rested his cheek atop your head.

You raised your glass of Algarine wine to your lips in an almost mini toast, “Well Commander, it seems we had noth-”

Your words died in your throat as the glass suddenly shattered in your hand. The blaster bolt that has cause it clipped your right cheek, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. A roar of commotion suddenly filled the room, with several masked individuals pushing through the crowd. Most of the shots were trained on you, but you now noticed a group of them firing off into the guests as a distraction.

“Get down. Now!”

Fox barked, crowding you to the floor. Thire and Thorn were already pushing through the crowds, firing at 2 of the intruders and calling in backup.

“Commander!”

Hound threw Fox’s blasters towards him and took off after one of the assailants, Stone calling for backup. The leader of the group was faster, though, taking another shot that you managed to dodge as Fox tackled him, throwing himself between you and the hitman, and knocking his blaster from his hands. The pair wrestled for the single DC-17 that had fallen between them, each landing several punches.

In the end, the hitman got the upper hand. Blood rushed to your ears, cancelling out the commotion behind you. As soon as he pulled the pistol on the Commander, you were behind him, panting heavily, pistol to the back of his head.

“Drop it. Now. I promise I’m faster.”

Fox looked at you with wide eyes, before the dropped to your exposed thigh and the small holster secured around your upper thigh, soft brown irises slowly darkening. Discreet, made for a small pistol like an ELG-3A.

The man dropped the blaster and Fox grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, binding his wrists and looking over his shoulder at you with a chuckle as he pushed the man towards one of the Corries that had arrived.

The room was emptying now, only a few shaken aides left milling around, and few vod who were cleaning up and securing the room. Fox lifted a hand to brush a few hairs back behind your ear, and you smiled.

“I told you I could handle myself.”

Fox laughed, holding your cheek as his calloused thumb swiped over your cheek, wiping away the trail of blood. “Yes, you most certainly did, cyar’ika.”

You turned your cheek into his palm and pressed a light kiss, looking up at him.

Fox took one precursory look around the ballroom and bent down, kissing you hard. It wasn’t soft or sweet like you knew they could be. It wasn’t careful and quick, like so many of your kisses had to be in order to remain a secret.

It was rushed, and desperate. You could practically feel the adrenalin rolling off him in waves. It was an oddly comforting feeling, one you had grown to know only too well. The kind Fox radiated after gruelling sessions guarding the Senate. Or after the occasional run-in with the cesspool of Coruscant’s underworld.

But it was most notable in these moments. When you had found a way to put yourself in the firing line again. When he couldn’t let his mask slip, when he couldn’t treat you as more than a senator under his protection. When all he could do was his job.

It was these moments afterwards that he needed you the most, that you needed him. It was in these moments, you knew exactly what you both needed.

You broke away, eyes never leaving his own as you took his arm.

“Take me home, Fox.”

----

Tag list:

@captainrexsfuturewife

[shattersstar]

evergreen

and if the devil was to ever see you, he’d kiss your eyes and repent (part four)

pairing: adrian tepes x reader

excerpt: You were grinning, running through all the most beautiful, fullest, dreamiest of adjectives to capture the face of your love. You tilted your head to the left, and he followed, the two of you grinning at each other with soft, soundless laughs. You closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling and blinking at him with a new found clarity, the words flowing effortlessly.

warning(s): brief injury mention, fluff, this is so,,hopelessly romantic, heart shape lockets making a reappearance

a/n: sorry ive only been writing for adrian my brain has been in alucard lockdown and it wont end (although this might be my favourite thing ive ever written so i’m..less sorry)

—

It was quiet, the distant din of the forest brushed over the two of you. It was a reminder of the life surrounding the desolate place you called home. Your eyes were closed as you focused on the sound, the breathing of trees and humming of streams. You supposed Adrian heard it all so clearly, the animals and plants alike all alive in the surrounding forest. You strained to hear the crunch of fallen leaves by foxes or snap of fallen branches by deers.

It was autumn and the world was alive with harvest. Animals prepared for winter, plants returned to the soil and tree lines morphed into flame. It was one of the last warm days, the sun high in the cloudy sky, shining onto the picnic you two had set up. You were laying down, letting the sun soak over your while Adrian sat cross legged behind you. Your head was in his lap, the book you were reading was resting on his thigh above your head, opened onto the page you were on. Adrian had brought a book as well, but discarded it after a few minutes of reading. It was out of date, he explained, the science was false and he decided to draw over the useless words instead.

You assumed there was some value in its history, but didn’t question it as he silently sketched. Adrian was always such an artist, often drawing you, or other’s he cared for. He could sketch Sypha and Trevor from memory, yet often butchered some detail of the latter for his own amusement you supposed. He drew his parents often too, but was quick to erase such images, as if even seeing their face was still too painful.

He had begun painting more recently. You liked sitting and working on something while he painted, catching occasionally glimpses at his work. Adrian was never shy about what he created, often showing you without prompting, and never dismissing your request to see his art. He had agreed he was good at it, the technical precision was there, but the heart was not. You were quick to disagree with such sentiment, and yes you could see it within the landscapes and dull memories he created on paper or canvas, but the love was there in the faces of those he cared for.

Each line he added to you, each bit of shading and highlight showcased you in a way that held more adoration than any words could supply. You liked seeing yourself from Adrian’s eyes, seeing your beauty as he perceived it. It was more flattering than anything anyone before him had said to you, not like Adrian would want to hear such things.

You weren’t sure how you knew he was watching, sketching you as you laid in his lap, but you knew he did. You even remained still, forgoing reading to be his muse for the last moments of fall. You didn’t mind getting to lay in the lap of the one you loved, a soft blanket underneath while the sun started to arch towards the west. You could’ve fallen asleep there, nature washing over you and Adrian watching over you. It was a place of peace, a moment you’d engrain into your mind and have a memento—a piece of art to show for it.

You only opened your eyes when Adrian let out an uncharacteristically loud sigh, he didn’t need to breathe, he only did so on his own volition. You peered up at him, sun dancing in his dark lashes. “What is plaguing you so beloved?” You hummed, tilting your head back more as you spoke.

"My chest, it aches.” He admitted with a soft voice. You sat up as his words registered in your ears, worry lacing your features as you moved to sit on your knees, beckoning him closer.

“Still? Why?” He turned his head to the side as your hand smoothed down his slender neck, brushing his collar aside and revealing the tip of the scar that cut diagonal through his torso. You kept your fingers off the injury, but untied the front of his shirt to reveal more of it.

“I am unsure, it just does some days.”

“This has happened before?”

“A few times, yes.” He sighed again, you felt it under your palm that rested next to the pink, raised skin.

“I wished you told me.”

“I did not wish to worry you.”

“And yet I am worried.” Adrian turned towards your other hand, resting on his shoulder and dipped his head down to kiss your wrist. It was a gesture of apology and you accepted it was you let your hand cup his face, lips pressing a kiss to your palm. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t think so.” You frowned, shifting your knees against the blanket. “And somehow I’m not surprised you aren’t pleased with that answer.”

“How can I be pleased when you, my dear, are living in pain?”

“Don’t be pleased then, be appeased.” Adrian shrugged, still speaking into your palm. You let your fingertips graze the edge of his scar before dropping both hands from him.

“If I must.” He chuckled at that, low and warm as your hands found his knees. You gave them a squeeze, almost to check if he still existed before turning, and placing yourself into his lap. You were careful not to lean into his chest, but Adrian eased you against it, his forearm wrapping around your stomach while his other hand brushed your book from his leg. “Now show me what you were drawing.”

“Of course beloved.” He hummed from behind you, picking up his green covered book and letting you flip through the drawings now masking the words. And you were right, many—most were of you.

A few trees, a tired outline of the castle, faces you didn’t know, but still somehow, every few pages was you, lounging in his lap, or from some other memory he stored away. They made you smile, less worried as warmth overtook you.

“Do you ever draw yourself?” You asked once you reached the last sketch, lingering on it.

“No, the image of myself in my mind changes far too often.”

“Oh?” You were surprised by Adrian’s answer, you expected something darker you supposed.

“I see myself one way, and then...I do not. I cannot draw what constantly changes.”

“Why does it change?”

“You.”

One syllable was more breathtaking than a single drawing he had ever done of you.

“Oh.” You found yourself on repeat, closing the book and letting out a slow breath.

“And I supposed other’s I’ve met, but mostly you.” It’s always you, he does not say despite how well it sits in his mouth.

You knew you had impacted Adrian, only a fool would say they didn’t, but to know that the way he constructed himself in his brain, how he felt when he thought of it, how he saw himself in his dreams, how he saw himself with you were all changed by you and how you loved him felt like a deeper proclamation than i love you.

“I still wish you would though, what am I supposed to put in this locket?” Your voice held an air of teasing, but a current of seriousness laced it as well.

“I could try, if you could like.”

You were silent for a moment, you didn’t want him to settle on a version of himself to etch into existence. Not when he was ever changing in his mind's eyes. “What if—“ You twisted carefully to look at him, noses brushing as you did. “What if you drew yourself from how I saw you?” You asked, wanting his art to convey his beauty as it did yours.

Adrian pondered it for a moment, before tilting his head and surprising your lips with his. “Yes.” He whispered against your mouth before finding his book yet again.

You slipped from his lap to give him space and studied him for a long moment. He didn’t shift under your gaze, or look away, but instead studied your back. You were grinning, running through all the most beautiful, fullest, dreamiest of adjectives to capture the face of your love. You tilted your head to the left, and he followed, the two of you grinning at each other with soft, soundless laughs. You closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling and blinking at him with a new found clarity, the words flowing effortlessly.

Serious mouth, something that hides smiles and fangs. Lips that slope into something heartbreaking—a smile like no other.

He grinned at that, eyes dropping to the page as he began drawing.

Soft eyes, set deep, but still shining. Sharp like daggers and holding handfuls of sunrays in them. Not cold with sadness, but heavy with it.

“Heavy with love too.” He hummed, earning a kiss on his forehead before you settled back to describing him.

Nose…

You paused your words, letting Adrian catch up to your lovely description, while you pondered on it too. You knew this was much for him, so much love filling his ears, outward and heedy. Yet it didn’t feel like enough, like it captured how much his appearances enraptured you, but as his heart did too. You wanted him to see your love through your eyes.

It was a daunting task, and yet you carried on. You reached out, brushing over his nose with your index finger, as if the words lived in your fingertips and could only be released by touch. You furrowed your brows, lips parting before you took Adrian’s hand, the one holding the book. He kept his gaze on you as you brought his slender fingers to his nose, tracing it as you did. You loved all Adrian’s features, but his nose especially, and no words could describe the beautiful feature that pulled his whole face together.

My favourite thing.

He let his attention fall back to the drawing, a bloodless blush could’ve warmed his face with the kind descriptions you imparted onto him. He knew you loved him, you proclaimed it enough, but the sweet words that overtook this dimming autumn day were even more dizzying than he expected. And you weren’t done yet, unrelenting in your words and adoration for him.

Sharp contours—jaw, cheekbones—with an underlying kindness, youthful softness to the angular curves.

Beautiful forehead, my favourite place to kiss. And press myself to.

Brows low, very precise—too serious most of the time.

Hairline like the ocean, framing the sand and sometimes sweeping over it.

You twirled the forever loose curl that hung forward, always draping against his smooth skin. He wanted to lean into your touch, but his attention was on the page.

Hair long, softer than any silk. Golden—not like honey, but wheat fields blowing in the breeze. And thick, with lazy waves throughout it.

You stayed quiet after that, hoping it was enough. You were all warm throughout now, despite how the evening had fallen over you two. You wanted to climb back into Adrian’s lap, but instead you moved to sit cross legged, toying with a loose thread on his pants, twisting the string from the seam by his knee around your finger until his shoulders dropped and the pen stopped moving.

You let your hands rest in your lap, and you watched him study it for a long moment. You wanted to ask if it was okay—some version of him he could agree with, yet he brought the pen back, scrawling something in his tight, professional handwriting and tearing the page from the book with precision.

The drawing took up one corner, the words printed in the background barely noticeable to the bust drawn over them. He folded the piece of paper, once, then twice. A tiny square sitting in his palm, before Adrian finally met your gaze. He reached out, cool fingertips grazing over your neck as he brought your heart shaped locket to sit in his other palm. He used his thumb to open it, placing the piece of paper inside and closing it again.

He kissed the smooth metal before letting it fall back against your sternum, smiling with a haziness that made you feel drunk of love as well. You took his hand in yours, Adrian quick to intertwine fingers before you could settle your palm to his. He urged you closer, uncrossing his legs and letting you take up space between them. “Do you feel better?” You hummed, the pain that had overcome him before not leaving your mind.

It wasn’t like you to forget so easily.

“Hm, better? Yes.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to the side of your nose.

“Are you just saying that?”

“No, of course not.”

“I find that hard to believe, you often dwell in pain my dear. Especially alone.”

“I know,” He sighed yet again, bringing his free hand to your chin and drawing your attention to him. “If you’d like, I believe I have found a way that you can help, make me feel better.”

“Yes, what is it?”

He smiled—heartbreakingly. “Marry me?”

For a quiet beat, you paused, the words reaching your ears, settling in your short term memory before they processed into something that rang forever in your head. You and Adrian had talked about marriage, he had settled on the notion it was a frivolous display and he had everything he needed with you. And you agreed. He was everything you needed.

And now, he needed to be your husband.

You tucked some of his hair behind his ear, leaning in with a low voice, “My love, don’t you know?” You asked, blinking up with a slanted grin, “I’ve been married to you from the moment we met.” He breathed out a chuckle, reedy and low.

“Then,” His palms cupped your cheeks, forehead pressing into yours. “Let me marry you.”

“Yes,” You breathed into him, “Yes you can marry me.”

-

It was the first day of winter when you finally opened your locket. You unfolded his drawing carefully, the likeness you wanted to convey hung in every inked line. Your fiancé existed in both your hearts now.

Your fingers brushed over the words, creased from the folding, but still clear.

It’s always you, my betrothed.

[chaolie]

Fundywastaken week, Day 6 - Coronation

Another thing I managed to write for @fundyfiles' fwt week! Do I know anything about actual coronations? Nope. Does this make sense in the context of the actual dsmp timeline? Probably not. But does it make up for it by bringing up the "Eret adopts Fundy" storyline and the vibes it has? Hopefully! This is also on my Ao3!

Characters: Fundy, Dream, Eret

Words: ~1.6k

After a day or two short of two weeks, Dream finally returned from one of his journeys, and the first place he headed to was Fundy’s house. Exploring was always a hobby of his, and his boyfriend was used to him being away for days at the time, but it usually took him about a week to get back. That’s why he couldn’t help but feel a bit worried while stepping into the New L’Manburg’s land. He hoped Fundy wasn’t upset, or scared for him, the last thing he wanted was for his boyfriend to lose sleep over his absence.

“Dream!” came a gasp from his side as he walked. He was still far from Fundy’s house, but it was the middle of the day, so it wasn’t too surprising that the fox hybrid was walking around the wooden paths of the small country rather than hiding inside.

“Fundy!” he smiled, turning to see his boyfriend running in his direction at a concerning speed.

“You’re back!” was all Fundy said before reaching Dream and trapping him in a tight hug. Well, that was a relief.

“It’s good to see you too,” the man laughed, hugging Fundy back. They stayed like that for a moment before the fox hybrid’s grip finally loosened.

“Oh, I missed you so much!” he exclaimed, stepping back to see Dream better but keeping a hand on the man’s arm. “Did something happen to you?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I’m okay, don’t worry!” he assured once he fully acknowledged the question. “I was going to return faster, but just as I was turning back, a huge storm started. I didn’t lose supplies or anything, but I had to wait it out,” he explained, and Fundy nodded slowly.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he smiled. And just then Dream noticed that the smile, while sweet, was also a tired one. Oh no.

“Are you okay, though? You look tired,” he pointed out, and Fundy groaned in annoyance.

“I bet you’re tired under that mask, too,” he accused, and Dream couldn’t argue with that. “I just have this thing on my hands, and it’s… complicated,” he sighed. Immediately, Dream grew more concerned.

“What’s wrong? Maybe I can help?” he offered, and Fundy snickered quietly.

“Some support would be nice,” he shrugged. “I’ve been trying to sign those stupid adoption papers for like, what, a week? But everyone keeps making up new rules that don’t even make sense! And I know, I get it, it’s to make it safer for future cases, but… I don’t see any other adoptions happening around!” he complained, and Dream could do nothing but stare.

“...Uh, Fundy?” he finally urged himself to say. “I, uh, this is weird to ask, but… Who are you adopting, again?” he asked. Fundy looked at him, and a confused frown appeared on his face.

“I’m… the one getting adopted?” he answered slowly. After that, an even longer pause came,

“...Okay,” Dream nodded finally, doing his best to wrap his mind around the situation. “That’s new. So, uh… by who?” he asked finally.

“Eret,” Fundy answered quickly.

“Oh, that’s nice. They’re a good person,” Dream hummed, and Fundy nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. And I basically grew up with him anyway, so… it’s really nice,” he pointed out. The slight tension the ‘big reveal’ caused was basically gone already. “Now if only everyone could gather around to sign the adoption papers so it’s official,” Fundy groaned.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy. And I’m sure you can organize a meeting soon. Maybe tomorrow? Or even today?” Dream suggested, and a smile reappeared on his boyfriend’s face.

“I wish,” he nodded. Just then, Dream realized something.

“Hey… Being Eret’s son… won’t that make you a prince?” he pointed out after a moment of thought. Fundy chuckled at that.

“I mean, technically? But she’s not sure if that’ll be official, we have to ask the guy behind all the rules about that and… Wait,” he paused, turning to look at Dream. “...Aren’t you the one making them?”

“...I suppose I am?” Dream answered, just remembering that yes, that is a thing he’s responsible for. “Hm. Do you want to go visit Eret and settle that now?” he offered. Fundy nodded briefly.

“Sure. And, uh, what’s the decision?” he asked, slowly starting to walk. Dream shrugged.

“Do you want to be the prince?” he asked. Fundy didn’t take long to answer.

“I mean, that’d be cool,” he muttered, and Dream hummed in understanding.

“Then you will be the prince,” he announced.

A few minutes later, they were already at the entrance to the castle. Fundy was the one to knock on the giant door and, when no answer came, carefully step inside. Dream followed close behind, but still left some space between himself and his boyfriend. After finding the throne room empty, Fundy headed straight for the door to the castle’s garden and pushed the door gently. There, he saw Eret.

“Oh, hello Fundy!” they greeted him with a smile, getting up from the little bench they were sitting on and approaching.

“Hi!” he smiled back. Before she could say anything else, Dream came into view.

“Dream. It’s good to see you,” Eret said, his expression dropping to a more serious one. “I wanted to speak to you about something,” he added, and Dream nodded.

“I think I know,” he answered, glancing in Fundy’s direction. Despite knowing how the conversation would end, the fox hybrid still looked a bit nervous.

“Good. So, if I were to have a child… how would my status as a king affect them?” Eret asked. While Dream could’ve made his answer sound more official, or come up with some rules to make sure his decision couldn’t be exploited… he figured this situation was stressful enough. For Fundy, and for everyone else.

“He will be considered a prince,” he answered, motioning to Fundy. “And I suppose we should start planning a coronation ceremony?” he added. Just as he assumed, giving that answer removed some tension from the situation.

“...Of course,” Eret nodded. The relief on his face was clearly visible. “Do you want to discuss the details now, or later?” he asked.

“Hmm…” Dream wondered for a moment. “I won’t lie, I think I should rest before we start that,” he decided finally. He was doing his best to push back the tiredness from his journey so he could see Fundy first, but now it was truly catching up to him.

“Alright then. See you later, I assume?” they said, and Dream nodded.

“Uh- I’ll be back later too, I’ll walk him home first,” Fundy decided, stepping closer to the masked man again.

“Sure. Have a good day,” Eret waved her hand before returning to the bench they found her on.

“Bye!” Fundy waved back before turning to leave, Dream following close behind again.

Just a few days later, everything was fully settled. All the smallest details for the coronation were planned, even the crown was prepared for the day it would finally be put on Fundy’s head. More importantly, though, the adoption papers were finally signed, and the fox hybrid was halfway into moving into the castle permanently. Dream and Eret were also starting to somewhat get along, mostly for Fundy’s sake, but it was surely an improvement nonetheless.

Just a day later, it was finally time. A few decorations appeared around the castle and the throne room, Fundy finally got some royal-like clothes, and the crown was shined for the last time before the ceremony. It wasn’t a big event in itself, there wasn’t an entire crowd of people that got to come to watch and no loud announcements. Still, there was no doubt that the coronation would be memorable.

Fundy slowly walked into the room where Eret and Dream both waited and carefully approached them. He was still getting used to the texture and shape of the new clothes, and the last thing he wanted was to fall, but he still couldn’t help but admire the room. The decorations were all colorful and pretty, the clothes the two other people wore were very fancy, and the second, smaller throne at Eret’s side was, while still a work in progress, quite admirable. Fundy walked up the wooden, carpeted stairs and finally stood in front of the other two. They both smiled at him.

“Step a bit closer,” Dream instructed, and Fundy did so with a nod. The masked man cleared his throat. “Fundy, I hereby crown you the prince of this kingdom and the successor to the crown. I trust that you will carry that title responsibly and with honor.”

“I will,” Fundy promised, and Dream nodded before turning to Eret.

“Will you do the honors?” he asked, and she nodded.

“With pleasure,” they answered, carefully picking up the crown and taking a step closer to place it on top of Fundy’s head. The moment he felt the weight of it, Fundy couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s fully official, then,” Dream hummed and held out his hand for Fundy to shake. “It’s an honor… hm. Your Highness,” he added, and the fox hybrid could hear the grin on his face.

“...I swear, if you start calling me that in normal situations-” he muttered quietly, and his little threat earned a couple of chuckles.

Did the coronation feel very formal and serious? Did it feel well planned? Of course not, it happened just four or so days after it was first mentioned! But it would go down as a big event in the history books. And at the moment, it felt… nice. Comfortable. And that’s all that should matter, isn’t it?

[rena-rain]

The Shortcut Home ch. 8

Chapter 7

Alya almost missed the dark wooden box on her bedside table when she got home. Her breath hitched when she recognized it. She picked it up and sat on the bed, fingers tracing the edges reverently. Why do they need Rena Rouge again after four years? Why isn’t Ladybug here to deliver the miraculous herself? Why leave it waiting for me? Do I get to keep it permanently this time?

She opened the lid. Instead of the orange glow she was once accustomed to, a pink ball of light flashed in front of her and flew around her head. A rose-colored kwami emerged as the light faded and opened a pair of eyes like blue marbles.

“What’s going on? Where’s Trixx? Who are you?”

Instead of the fox kwami’s throaty, sandpaper voice, this one spoke at a pitch only jingle bells had any right to achieve. “Hello, Alya. I’m Tikki. Ladybug needs you again but this time not as Rena Rouge.”

“Not Rena Rouge? Then what…” Alya trailed off as she looked into the box that had a pair of red and black spotted studs inside. “Are those...no…”

“Yes. Ladybug needs you to stand in as Ladybug.”

“But why? What happened to her?”

“She’s fine, trust me. She just needs to take a leave of absence from being a superhero. Ladybug is trusting you to take her place until she can return.”

“Whoa…” Alya gazed at the earrings. She could hardly believe it. “This is a dream, right?”

Tikki sighed sadly. “No, it’s not.”

“Hey,” Alya cupped her hands underneath the kwami, and she sank down to perch in her hold. “I promise I won’t let her down. I know you miss the real Ladybug, but I’ll do my best, okay?”

“I’m confident in you, Alya. Trixx has only the best things to say about you! And so does M - Ladybug!”

Alya twitched an eyebrow. “Why, Tikki, did you almost spill Ladybug’s identity?”

She puffed up with pride. “I am physically incapable of doing such a thing.”

“Really?”

“Watch.” Tikki started talking and bubbles immediately poured from her tiny mouth. “Same thing would happen if Trixx or I tried to say your name to someone.”

“That’s one hell of a magical insurance policy. Tikki, can you at least tell me why Ladybug needs me to fill in?”

“She trusts you, Alya. You have to trust her, too.”

Alya gingerly took the earrings out of their box. In her hand, the pattern morphed into a pair of beautiful gold discs. She put them into her ears. “I love gold jewelry.”

Tikki giggled. “It suits you.”

--

The weird jelly the ultrasound tech spread across Marinette’s abdomen was cold. She hissed and Adrien squeezed her hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah it’s just chilly.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the first appointment.”

“You’ve apologized a thousand times already, it’s fine. You had to work.”

“I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t worry about her, darling,” the tech told him. “I’ve done this countless times. Aaaaand… here’s your baby.”

A steady thumping sound filled the room; the baby’s heartbeat. On the grainy screen Marientte could make out the shape of a tiny infant. It looked more human than her last appointment. She heard Adrien’s breath hitch beside her.

“So you can see the head here,” the technician pointed at the large circle that was about the same size as the rest of the body. “If you look closely there’s the nose right here. And here,” she traced a white arc on the screen, “the spine is developing.”

“Wow,” Marinette breathed. Her eyes prickled, vision swimming, and she wiped at the tears so she could still see her baby. The image spastically showed them wiggling around.

“I’ll print out some images. I can also give you the full recording, if you’d like.”

“Yes, yes, absolutely yes!” Marinette told her.

“All right, everything looks good.” The tech removed the wand from Marinette’s skin and gave her some paper towels to wipe off the gel. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Marinette turned to Adrien once they were alone. He looked dumbstruck, still staring at the black screen. “Adrien?” She cupped his cheek.

He opened his mouth but no words came out. He just looked at her with sparkling, happy eyes and she grinned at him. “I know. Me too.”

As he clasped her hand with both of his and kissed her fingers, she pictured him kissing their baby’s forehead like that. Cradling them in his arms with that speechless joy on his face. Walking into the living room to see him asleep on the couch with their baby asleep on his chest. Adrien flying a spoonful of goopy baby food into their mouth while making silly airplane noises. Getting jostled awake because he’d shot out of bed in the middle of the night to comfort his crying child.

Marinette could picture it all; warm fantasies of a life she hadn’t dared imagine since she was fourteen years old.

How could a heart so full hurt so much?

She’d come close to telling him her greatest secret so many times in the past couple days. She wanted him to know. But when she finally admitted it, she’d be taking a huge leap of faith, and she couldn’t seem to push herself past balancing on the precipice. She would lean forward, about to jump, and seize up with terror, throat closed and breath punched from her lungs. Marinette felt paralyzed from the fear that Adrien would never trust her again.

--

Alya’s costume looked different from Ladybug’s. There was still a yoyo slung around her waist. The bodice sported the same pattern of red with black spots. The biggest difference she could see in front of her mirror was her mask was solid red and her suit was completely black at her hands, feet, shins, and forearms, imitating skin-tight boots and gloves. It reminded her oddly of her Rena Rouge outfit, minus the coattails. Her hair had darkened to a deep blackish auburn and was done in a low ponytail.

She hoped Chat Noir knew she was coming to patrol tonight and not the regular ladybug. Otherwise this was going to be an awkward conversation.

Rena Rouge was used to jumping from building to building. Swinging from a yoyo was an entirely different experience, wilder and just as exhilarating. She found Chat Noir waiting at the top of the Eiffel Tower. He was perched on one of the railings.

He gave her a smirk that dripped with bravado. “‘Evening, Rena Rouge. Red looks good on you.”

Alya slung the yoyo back around her hips, relieved. “So you know why I’m here?”

“Because Ladybug needs a little medical leave and she trusts you to take up the mantle for a while.”

“Medical?” Tikki hadn’t said anything about that. “Is something wrong?”

Chat Noir bit his lip then swung off the rail. “She’s okay. But if your kwami didn’t go into more detail then I must also respect my lady’s wishes.”

She chuckled. “Loyalty. I like it. What does that make me?”

“Hmmm. I suppose you do need your own name in the meantime. How about Ladybird?”

“I’m down with that. Shall we, Chat Noir?”

“We shall.”

--

After his photoshoot, someone knocked on the door of Adrien’s trailer. He threw on his jacket. “Come in.”

Marinette came in and closed the door behind her. She looked beautiful in a dark green dress with rose accents. She was starting to really show, at least if you knew to look for it. His heart leapt in his throat; it’d been doing that a lot lately, when he saw her, like his best-kept secret was trying to escape and reach her. Adrien kept waiting for the right moment to let the words loose - I’m Chat Noir - but they’ve yet to leave his lips.

Instead, he smiled at her. “Hey, Marinette. The shoot just ended, do you want to go get dinner?”

“No. Well, yes, I’m a bit hungry, but that’s not why I’m here. I need to talk to you first. Privately.” She was fidgeting a lot. Shifting her weight, playing with her hair, chewing her lip. Something was making her nervous.

“What is it?”

Marinette walked closer to him. “Well, I’ve been thinking about this a lot and there’s something I should tell you.”

“You’re not going to tell me you’re pregnant, are you?” Adrien asked dryly.

The joke had the desired effect. She laughed her cute, surprised laugh that he loved hearing. She put a hand against her belly. “No, but it’s something just as big, just as important. I...I’m…”

Marinette trailed off, staring at him. She was one of the few people Adrien could make eye contact with easily. Instead of intimidating, her dark blue irises were oddly comforting.

And familiar.

He may not have the best track record reading people’s faces, but Marinette was very expressive, and he’d known her for over a decade. He could swear he saw the exact same apprehension in her eyes that he felt lodged in his throat. Like they were gearing up to do the same thing.

Adrien took in her cerulean eyes and her midnight hair. He looked down at her growing baby bump then at her missing round earrings - the ones she seemed to never take off until a couple days ago.

“Yeah?” he prompted her.

“I...think we should seriously consider what your dad said about getting married.” Her words flooded out of her in a rush. 

He breathed out a sigh. He was just being paranoid. Women in their twenties got pregnant and changed earrings all the time; this was hardly a damning coincidence. And Miraculous holders’ hair changed when they transformed, so any similarities on a civilian meant little. Of course that’s not what she wanted to tell him, what were the odds they were both…

Marinette’s words finally sunk in. “Wait, what? You agree with him?”

“Not exactly. I probably shouldn’t have led with that.”

“A wedding is his way of controlling me, and by extension, you.”

“I know. But also...um, come on.” She sat down in one of the puffy blue chairs in his trailer and gestured for him to take the other one. Yeah, sitting’s probably a good idea right now.

“I won’t say your dad wasn’t inconsiderate on the phone. But you said before said he was being protective. It got kind of overshadowed by the job offer thing, but when he called he was, for lack of a better word, imploring me. I think he’s really worried. And I’ve started to think, for once, it’s for good reason..”

Adrien was not prepared for this conversation. “What did he say to you?”

“He made some valid points. Like it or not, you’re famous, Adrien. I want our family to be as drama-free as possible and the press will have a field day with an unplanned pregnancy.”

“The press is archaic.”

“Exactly. They’ll call us horrible names and judge us both and threaten to take our baby away. I don’t think I could handle seeing words like – like slut or deadbeat or illegitimate in the tabloids.”

“Or bastard,” he murmured.

“Hm?”

“When I told Chloe about the baby she called them a ‘bastard.’ A mistake. Those were the exact words she used and god, I’ve never been so furious in my life. I just couldn’t believe she would go there. But marriage is a big, personal decision, Marinette. Is fear a good enough reason to get married?”

Marinette’s breath hitched. Would that girl ever not haunt her? “Uh - um. M-more like safety is a good reason?”

“You don’t sound certain. Also remember it’s still giving into my father. He’s trying to take charge of our lives.”

“I won’t let him.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow at her.

“Really. I met with him yesterday and turned down the job.”

“Marinette - ”

“Wait, just listen. I negotiated with him.”

He chuckled. “Of course you did.”

“Your dad thought I was foolish for turning down a secure position in my field of interest. So I told him there was another way to ensure my job security for the sake of his grandkid.” Marinette sat up straight and flushed with pride. “He’s agreed to help finance and promote my own boutique.”

Adrien gasped. “Oh my god, that’s incredible, Marinette!” On impulse he swooped in, picked her up by the waist, and spun her around. Her musical laugh flooded him with warmth.

When he put her down, he was well-aware he was grinning like an idiot. This girl negotiated with Gabriel “my word is law” Agreste. How was he so lucky to have someone so clever in his life? He never wanted her to leave.

“I know we’re not together,” Marinette said softly. “But we’re close friends. We’re having a baby. Would…we could…it’s not like we couldn’t handle living together.”

“Do you really want that? If we got married, you’d be stuck with me.”

“You’re already stuck with me,” Marinette said while pointedly running a palm over her belly.

“What if you fall in love with another man?”

On his part, Adrien had trouble picturing herself with anyone at all. His future revolved around his baby now, so naturally it revolved around Marinette, too. She was family.

“Think of it this way. The pros of getting married: we live together, which makes taking care of the baby more convenient, as well as…” God, she’s cute when she blushes. “The public tones down the judgement and we get to have a big party in our honor. Which I’ll bet anything your dad will offer to pay for. We already get along very well so I think we’ll handle day-to-day logistics just fine. Cons: potential boyfriends and girlfriends down the road get problematic. That’s a big if. I don’t know about you but I’m not looking for a new relationship. If it comes up, we cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Adrien didn’t expect the pang in his stomach when she said she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Also, the idea of marrying this smart, vibrant woman – getting to be in her everyday life – quickly became something he didn’t think he could say no to if he wanted.

Apparently she wasn’t done talking. “I get that it feels like your dad’s controlling us. If we were strangers or something then I’d say absolutely not. But with us...it’s not how I pictured getting married, but I couldn’t ask for anyone better.”

It hit Adrien in the stomach how badly he wanted that. A family with Marinette, a future with Marinette. Waking up next to her every morning, cooking breakfast for her, watching her sketch and sew her designs, going on walks with their baby, holding her at night.

“Then let’s do this,” he agreed. “Let’s get married.”

He felt like the most selfish person in Paris.

Chapter 9

Ko-fi

[dapokemonmadster]

Bittersweet

Hello everybody!! So I saw @sketchhungry‘s art for their Crosshares family au and just... well, I got inspired and HAD to write a little something for it. I wish I could say I wrote fluff, but, well, I ended up writing how Velvet and Coco found little Honey. Actually, my version of the story got a little debunked, since I started writing this before Hungry came out with more details on how the event happened, but I went for it anyway!! Hope you enjoy!!

Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11535435

FFN: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12577208/1/Bittersweet

A geist in and of itself is a terrifying concept. A possession type grimm, that, if given the chance, can create a unfeeling, invincible body for itself out of its surroundings. Hunters able to take out a geist were always in high demand, for while a geist-hunt might be a routine mission for a trained warrior, one would always pose a massive threat to a defenseless civilian. The worst trait that a geist held was its ability to discern the weak from the strong, separate the lambs from the shepherds. As such, a small village in the wilds of Anima was the perfect target.

The call came in late. The details were scarce, and all Team CFVY knew for certain was that at least one geist was involved. By the time they arrived at the village, it was little more than smoldering ruins, laid to waste by the grimm. The geists had been clever, going right for the solitary, local huntsman before he’d even known they were there. The rest of the villagers had been easy prey.

“Alright, everyone. You know the drill. Fan out, search for survivors. Stay within eyesight of each other at all times.” Coco barked, and the four of them started forward, hands on their weapons, senses on overdrive. Geists were tricky. They made their kills and then retreated, hiding and waiting for the right time to strike at those that came to observe the aftermath. Hunting one required the utmost caution.

Velvet inched forward, eyes scanning the smoking skeletons of houses, and blinking at the sunlight that streaked through the haze of smoky air. Her feet crunched in the ash, and her ears twitched, swaying this way and that in an effort to catch even the tiniest of sounds. Anything that might indicate a survivor. It was doubtful, she thought, stomach plummeting as she averted her eyes from what must have been a charred corpse. As a huntress, she should have been used to death. But it always shocked her to the core, leaving her with a feeling of being drenched in ice water, shivering uncontrollably. And really, would she consider it a good thing if she began feeling nothing for those that had perished? Towards lives she could have saved? Hard as it was, Velvet would always view empathy as a virtue. She felt something hot behind her eyes. If only the call had come earlier... if we’d been faster then maybe... No, no. She couldn’t think like that. It wouldn’t help the situation. For now she just had to focus on finding and helping anyone that might have lived through the attack. A sharp whistle had her looking over at Coco, who was signaling to a suspicious pile of rocks lying in the dead center of town. A likely suspect for a geist possession. Yatsu, Fox and Coco fanned out, carefully encircling it. Velvet made a move to join them, but stopped dead in her tracks, ears twitching violently.

“What is it, Velv?” Coco whispered, as loud as she dared. All the color had drained from Velvet’s face. She had heard something. A heartbeat. Small and beating fast with fear or pain, she couldn’t tell which. A child. Without a second thought, completely against protocol and her years of training, Velvet turned on her heel and ran towards the sound. An action based on instinct alone.

“Velvet! Wait!” Coco cried out, but her voice was drowned by the yells of concern from Yatsu and Fox, as the pile of rocks from before started shifting and rumbling. It had been a geist after all. In a split second decision, Coco dashed after her. She knew it was stupid to leave Fox and Yatsu to deal with the geist alone, especially since it had already assumed the shape of a giant rock golem. But it was even more stupid to leave one of her teammates by herself. At the very least, they should all have somebody to back them up.

She found Velvet frantically clearing rubble and burnt wood beams away from a small mound of debris. Her eyes were wider than Coco had ever seen them, and her ears were rigid, trained on a sound that only she could hear.

“Vel-”

“Just help me, Coco!” Velvet nearly shouted. Coco’s mouth clapped shut. She’d never seen nor heard Velvet be so commanding. Immediately, she dove in to help. Under their combined efforts, the rubble was cleared within minutes, revealing a small well. At one point it had been filled in, leaving only a small, dry pit in the ground. It had miraculously kept its structure as fractured rafters and stone had come showering down around it, but what demanded more attention was what was curled inside.

Tiny, golden ears, so much like Velvet’s, twitched feebly. A thin cry rattled the air, as the small child rolled onto her side, blinking at the sudden burst of light.

“Oh my..” Coco gasped. Velvet didn’t say a word. Instead, she slowly reached down, wrapping her arms around the little faunus and pulling her out of the well.

“Is she injured?” Coco asked. Velvet shook her head mutely. The girl let out another cry, clutching at Velvet tightly. Coco slowly reached out, stopping just short of her, not quite daring to touch her.

The sole survivor.

Coco suddenly became acutely aware of how stupidly dangerous her situation had become. She’d just left half her team to face a geist alone. Not only that, but a geist that had already formed a body. Trained as they were, it was still difficult to muster up the brute strength to destroy a geist’s body with just two people, and to make matters worse, they now had a child to keep safe. The only confirmed threat was the geist, but there was no telling if more grimm were on their way, or if.. there was only... the one....

A prickling sensation on the back of her neck was all the warning Coco got before something slammed into her side, and Velvet screamed as she was sent flying. Coco smacked into the ground, hard, her aura catching the brunt of the attack and bouncing her off the ground. She felt her aura strain, stretched to its limits with just one blow. Picking herself up off the ground, she turned to see a…

House?

The remains of one, at least. It took her a second to register what she was seeing. One of the skeleton houses that had been blown apart in the attack was moving. It was uprooting itself from its cement foundation, rafters like fractured ribs pointing accusingly at the smoke-stained sky, door creaking brokenly from its hinges like some lopsided mouth… it had hit her. And now it was going after Velvet. Creaking and shivering, the floorboards near the door wrenched themselves free, spilling out of the door to drag the giant, splintered mass of wood along the ground like some kind of freakish slug.

An entire house.

That’s when Coco realized there was more than one geist.

Velvet’s brows knit together. She placed the tiny faunus down behind her, reaching for the box strapped around her back. She scanned the broken mess inching towards her for any sign of the geist’s mask, its only weakness.

“Velvet, get the kid out of here! We gotta get her to safety at all costs!” Coco yelled hoarsely. Velvet didn’t respond, but the determined set of her jaw and her defensive, almost motherly position in front of the little girl told Coco exactly what she was thinking. There was no time to run, nowhere to go, and Velvet wasn’t moving an inch. As the geist pitched its enormous,  ungainly body at Velvet, shards of dishware and the shattered remains of furniture came spilling from the doorway and window frames like innards. Coco yelled, terrified that the glass would harm Velvet or the kid, but Velvet couched over the faunus girl, letting her aura take the blow for both of them. Then she turned back towards the geist, eyes flashing dangerously, suddenly illuminated by the glowing blue outline of a giant gatling gun that had seemingly apparated in her hands. Coco recognized the gun as a copy of her own weapon. With a fierce battle cry, Velvet opened fire at the geist. The flurry of bullets tore into its wooden body, sending it reeling backwards against the onslaught, splinters of wood littering the air.

Realizing the effectiveness of the attack, Coco hit the release on her briefcase, feeling the mechanisms whirr into place until she was holding her own gun. Under their combined fire, the geist’s house body shuddered, making furrows in the scorched earth as it was forced backwards. A horrible, angry squeal bubbled up from within the house. Then the time on Velvet’s copy ran out. Too late, Coco realized she wouldn’t be able to stop the geist with just the fire from her gun.

She felt more than saw the geist rear back. Then it bucked forward, launching a jagged plank of wood straight for Velvet.

Coco didn’t even stop to think.

She threw herself in front of the attack, hearing Velvet’s scream echo in her ears. Time seemed to stop for a minute.

And then the beam struck.

For a moment, Coco felt nothing. But then with a painful wrenching in her gut, her aura shattered and searing pain blossomed across her face. She hit the ground and skidded across it, rolling over and over like a rag doll. Velvet hadn’t stopped screaming. And now the cries from the little faunus girl joined in.

“Coco!! Coco!!!” Velvet’s shouts had changed. Before they had been simply terrified, and now they were full of some all-consuming rage. Coco blinked. She could barely see, blood swamping her vision and a painful weariness tugging at her consciousness. She tried to stagger to her feet, to no avail. She collapsed as soon as she tried to put weight on one, shaking arm. Through her hazy vision, she barely made out Velvet glowing with the blue light of a second summoned weapon. Except, it wasn’t a weapon, not quite. Coco had only seen the likes of this once before, and that was on a night she tried hard to forget. Still, she recognized it as the giant, armor-clad arm that Weiss Schnee had summoned to protect Velvet all those years ago.

Coco’s vision went black.

…

Velvet was still trembling when Coco woke up. She was pressed up against her leader in their shared hospital bed, the little faunus girl happily sleeping while snuggled up in her arms. The doctors had tried to take her away from Velvet the minute they’d reached the hospital, but the little girl hadn’t allowed it. She had screamed as loud as she could, all the while her little hands curled into the front of Velvet’s shirt. It had been clear that she had no intention of letting go. Velvet sighed deeply, then jumped as a hand began rubbing her back soothingly.

“Hey.” A raspy voice came from behind her.

“C-Coco! You’re awake!” She gasped, back going rigid.

“Yeah. Guess I got hit pretty bad, huh?” She laughed ruefully, and Velvet felt tears prick the corners of her eyes, “Wait, are you okay? Why are you in bed with me? And what happened to that kid?!”

Slowly, Velvet rolled over, turning to face Coco and revealing the little girl tucked snugly in her arms.

“She’s fine, Coco. And I’m alright, too. Just a few bumps and bruises, really.” The gashes in her skin were a little more serious than just ‘bumps and bruises,’ but they were nothing compared to the injury Coco had sustained. That seemed to be dawning on Coco as well.

Velvet watched sadly as Coco gently reached up to touch the bandage that covered half her face. The leader grimaced, her left eye finding Velvet’s.

“How bad is it?” She asked in a low voice.

“They say… they say you won’t be able to see out of.. out of your right eye anymore. And there will be a scar…” Velvet said quietly. Coco nodded grimly, running her hand once more over the bandage.

“What else happened? Where are Fox and Yatsu?” Coco asked.

“They’re probably in the waiting room. Wanted to give us a little space for when you woke up… they’re just fine. They managed to take out the first geist and got to us just in time… I was holding my own, but after you went down it was just a matter of time before the second one got me and this little one.’ Velvet softly ran her thumb over the little faunus girl’s cheek, still pudgy with baby fat.

“Coco, why would you do something so stupid?!” Velvet suddenly burst out, angry and sad and guilty all at the same time. “You nearly got yourself killed! And now it’s my fault, you’re gonna have a scar and be blind in one eye and it’s all because I was too dumb not to listen to you and run away an-”

“Hey, hey now,” Coco stopped her, placing a calming hand on Velvet’s shoulder, “There wasn’t much to be done. It was a dangerous situation. We didn’t have all the details, nobody could’ve known there was a second geist. There was nowhere to run, anyway. Taking that blow was my choice, because in the heat of the moment I couldn’t see any better way of protecting you two. And when it comes down to it, as the leader of team CFVY,  it’s my duty to protect my teammates at all costs. And as a huntress, it’s my duty to protect the innocent with my life. I was just doing my job, really.” Coco shrugged. Velvet burst into tears, before leaning in to catch Coco off guard with a fierce kiss.

“Don’t ever do that again! I don’t care if you are leader - in fact, as leader you have to do a better job at keeping yourself safe, since you’re so vital to the team! Promise me, tell me you won’t do something like that ever again!” Velvet said when she pulled away. Coco simply gave her a cheeky smile.

“With our line of work, I don’t know if I can keep that ‘un. How about this; I’ll promise to be a better leader, and work to keep all of us as safe as possible so that, with any luck, none of us will have to make that choice again?” Coco said, and Velvet simply huffed at the answer.

“That feels like a cop out.”

“Take it as you will. But don’t worry, despite appearances I really don’t want to do something like that again. I gotta stick around, otherwise who else is gonna help you raise this kiddo?” Coco said, leaning in for a second kiss. Velvet sighed. She basked in the feeling of all of them being alive, and safe.

“Wait a sec, raise this kid? Us?” Velvet said, realizing the implications of Coco’s statement.

“Well, yeah. She seems pretty fond of you. And I don’t want to send her off to an orphanage or whatever. How old did they say she was?”

“The doctors estimate about eight months…” Velvet whispered, looking down at the sleepy bundle curled in her arms, “And… alright, I can’t deny that I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to… be her mom.” Coco grinned at Velvet’s answer.

“So… what should we name her!? Maybe Vanilla or Cotton? Man, there are so many names.” Coco immediately burst out, leaning over to better look at the baby. Velvet smiled sleepily, her eyelids beginning to feel heavy with weariness. The day had been long and terrifying, and had taken its toll on her emotionally as well as physically.

“Coco, go to sleep. We can discuss names tomorrow.” Velvet yawned. She felt Coco make a tiny sound of agreement, before snuggling back into the pillows. Then she closed her eyes, and let sleep overtake her.