Imagine Person A is a superhero and Person B finds out about it. After finding out, Person B always follows Person A on their crime-fighting adventures just in case Person A gets badly hurt. One day, Person A gets seriously injured and Person B manages to rescue them and takes care of them in the days after.
Tikki was no fool. She had worked with Marinette Dupain-Cheng,
or Ladybug, since they had graduated from the academy, and had known her even
longer than that. She knew by now when the girl was hiding something from her,
and Tikki was determined to find out what it was. It shouldn’t be too hard, anyway.
Marinette, save for the Ladybug secret, was a terrible liar.
She had first noticed things getting strange a couple months
ago. Marinette was grumpier on the job, with visible bags under her eyes and a
snappy word for anyone that wasn’t Tikki. Coffee seemed to help, but she still
wasn’t herself. It was odd, seeing the usually perky girl grumble and growl as
she worked. Tikki would have shrugged it off to hormones, but Marinette was
more of a crier than anything else in those situations. So it had to be something
Eventually, her attitude changed, the bags under her eyes
slowly diminishing, and Tikki had been ready to chalk it up to nothing but
insomnia. Marinette would smile as much as she had been, she apologized for her
attitude during the past few weeks, and she even brought in cupcakes to make up
for her words. Everything was back to normal.
Then they got the Chat Noir case, and everything changed.
The minute the file was handed to them, the criminal’s name
plastered in thick letters across the manila folder, Marinette’s expression
shifted from peaceful happiness to first shock, then wide-eyed fear. Her skin
had gone pale and her hand shook as it held the folder.
Tikki couldn’t understand it. What was it about Chat Noir that
had Marinette on such an edge? Surely she didn’t fear the thief. She and Tikki
had been up against the murderers and psychopaths and worse; Chat Noir was a
boy who wanted to make a name for himself in all the wrong ways. He just stole.
There was nothing to fear from him.
So if not fear for her life, what was it about the Chat Noir
case that had scared Tikki’s partner so much that she had stayed in the
bathroom for the rest of the day, claiming to feel sick all of a sudden? Tikki
wasn’t one for confrontations, but if it came down to it, she might be forced
to demand answers from Marinette. She hadn’t thought it was getting to such a
drastic point, but something was definitely up.
That night was proof enough that things might be worse than
she could have ever imagined.
It had started out normal enough. Ladybug and Tikki had been
patrolling the streets of Paris, chatting amiably and just about to call it a
night, when the window from a building across the street shattered and two men
in black hopped out, holding burlap sacks and dashing straight for the cops.
Marinette’s heart just about stopped when she saw the cat ears on top of one
man’s hood, and Tikki’s eyes narrowed on the bright green bowtie around the
other man’s neck. Acting on instinct, Tikki pulled her gun out of her holster
and cocked it, aimed straight at Chat Noir’s partner. Marinette reluctantly
followed suit, shakily aiming her gun at Chat Noir’s heart. She had never felt
Tikki waited until the men were in range, then called out.
“Hands up! Drop your weapons!”
Marinette watched as two pairs of green eyes looked up, wide
as they saw the girls standing on the street with guns pointed at their chests.
Immediately they skidded to a stop, passing a glance between each other. Chat
Noir had a pistol at his hip, she knew, and she could see the flash of a knife
in Chat’s partner’s hand, no sign of a gun. She didn’t think Chat would put up
much of a fight, even in this situation – “I’m a lover, not a fighter, princess”
– and while she wasn’t sure about the man beside him, she figured he wouldn’t
be too much of a struggle once the knife was out of his hand.
A lump formed in her throat as she realized that this was it. This
marked the end of Chat’s visits. This marked the end of Chat’s thievery. This
marked the end of the case. Normally she would be ecstatic, eager to finish up
and go home, letting justice win once more. Normally, though, she wouldn’t be
face to face with fearful green eyes that could look at her like she was the
world. For weeks Marinette told herself it wasn’t true, that he didn’t mean a
word he said, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it was. If he found out it
was her all along, that his princess was the one who would arrest him… what
would he say?
Her stomach twisted painfully, and she chanced a glance at
Tikki, who didn’t return the look. Her bright blue eyes had locked, in a
pointed glare, at Chat’s partner, as if she knew the man and couldn’t stand him
(which Marinette could believe; even Tikki had a past she didn’t share).
Chat’s voice broke the silence. “My Lady, to what do I owe the
pleasure?” He plastered a crooked grin onto his face and started to move his
hands to his hips until Marinette cocked her gun, making them shoot back up and
show his palms to the cops as if he were innocent. He was talking to Ladybug of
course, having often playfully called her his Lady while discussing her with
Marinette – “Not that that means anything, my princess. You’re the only girl
for me, after all” – and for a moment, she was worried he had known all along
who she was. But no, he wouldn’t know. He wouldn’t have come back if he did.
“You were told to drop your weapons,” she snapped, hoping he
didn’t hear the tremble in her voice. “Now. Tell your partner.”
Chat’s grin dropped, and with a glance to the guns, he nodded
at his partner. “Plagg, you heard the lady.”
Plagg sneered and stooped to set down the knife. Marinette
tucked her gun back into her holster, reaching for her handcuffs. “Chat Noir
and… Plagg, was it? You two are under arrest-”
Everything happened at once. Plagg jerked up, the knife still
in his hand, and charged, hissing under his breath, “I’m not going down without
a fight.” Marinette saw the flash of metal barreling towards her, a cruel grin
and bright emerald eyes that were too dark and too old, and the panic that
flashed through her partner’s and Chat’s eyes. She could have sworn she heard
Plagg mutter “Good riddance, princess,” under his breath, but the scream
ripping from Tikki’s throat drowned out any certainty. She heard a gun fire
with a loud bang, the sound ringing in her ears and making her head swim; she
smelled gunpowder, but the scent was soon overpowered by cigarette smoke
hanging off of Plagg’s jacket. Warm, sticky blood trickled over her hands as
her sight suddenly went dark, cigarette smoke suddenly giving way to fresh pine
and a cologne she knew too well, a cologne that clung to her couch cushions and
pillow and helped her sleep on the nights he didn’t visit. She clung to Chat,
waiting for the pain to hit her, willing herself to stay conscious when it did,
but it never came.
With a jerk, Marinette pulled back to see Plagg staring at his
knife, covered in not her blood, but Chat’s. Her hand held the thief’s side, crimson
liquid trickling between her fingers. Plagg dropped his knife, jaw working as
he tried to say something to his partner. His face was pale and the sneer on
his lips had disappeared as his expression shifted to shock and guilt. Without
a word he bolted, disappearing into the night.
Tikki covered her mouth, her gaze, wide and filled with tears,
flickering between her partner and Chat Noir.
“I… I missed…”
Marinette stared at Chat, who merely gave her his signature
grin and backed off, arms dropping from where he had them protectively wrapped
around her and moving to grasp at his side. “Well, my Lady, i-it’s been fun,
but I really must be going…”
“You… you’re hurt…” she choked, unable to believe it even when
the words hung in the air. Chat, for as long as she had known him, had seemed
incapable of feeling pain, and now he was there, bleeding and hunched over, yet
still grinning as if to soothe her worries. Guilt churned in her chest and
twisted her stomach painfully; without thinking she reached out to stop him, to
look him over, just to make sure he would be okay.
He waved her off and started to hobble off after his partner,
clutching his side. “It’s just a scratch.” With a wink and a grin that was more
of a grimace than anything else, he added, “I’ll see you around, my Lady. Take
care of yourself.”
Marinette began to stumble after him, still shaky from shock,
but Tikki held her back, shaking her head. Biting her lip, Marinette settled
for focusing on breathing steadily as her mind finally caught up to her.
“He saved me…” she whispered, staring at Plagg’s knife.
Marinette couldn’t fall asleep that night, too busy pacing in
her living room and worrying over the thief with gash in his side. Where would
he go? Would he be alright? What if it was serious? What if he died? She would
never know, she didn’t even know his name, and he could be dying and it was her
fault. She should have been more careful, never should have put her gun away,
should have… should have…
A rap at her window tore her attention away from her pacing.
Heart racing in her chest, Marinette scrambled over to the window and shoved it
open, relief seeping through her veins when she saw Chat Noir standing there,
grinning just as brightly as ever.
“Well hello, princess, were you waiting-“
“Get in.” Marinette grabbed his hand and tugged him inside,
shutting the window behind him. Chat could only stare, surprise replacing his
smugness for a moment. Frowning, he cupped her cheek, observing her red cheeks
and tear filled eyes.
“What’s happened, Marinette?” he murmured, his thumb brushing
a stray tear off her cheek. “Are you hurt?”
She choked on a sob, leading him over to the sofa and gently
pressing him down. “I-I… heard on the news… you got stabbed…”
It was a lie, but it was the best she could do to explain her
worry and tears and fear when she shouldn’t know a thing. She could only hope
he didn’t have easy access to a TV. Realization flashed in his eyes, and she
could tell he was holding back his teasing – “Worried about me, princess? I
didn’t know you cared” – since she was so upset. Instead, Chat wordlessly
tugged off his hoodie and lifted his shirt so she could see the gash. The
bleeding had stopped, luckily, and Marinette quickly grabbed her first aid kit
to help him. It was the least she could do.
“T-This’ll sting..” she murmured as she cleaned out the wound.
Chat was a surprisingly good patient, sitting still save for the occasional
flinch or twitch, keeping quiet as he watched her work. He did hiss and look
away when she sewed the skin back together, but other than that he was silent. Marinette
was thankful that she at least knew what she was doing (adventures with Nino;
him and his bright ideas); it wasn’t long before she was finished. Chat didn’t
speak until the bandage was wrapped around his torso and she was putting away
the first aid kit, his hand resting on Marinette’s shoulder.
“It’s only a scratch, Marinette. Don’t worry about me.” He
cracked a smile. “I’m the bad guy, remember?”
She frowned, placing her hand over his as her eyes locked with
his. “…Tonight you were a hero.”
Marinette could have sworn he blushed at that, pulling his
hand away to rub the back of his neck. When the first aid kit was put away, she
sat at the other end of the couch, hiding a smile as he poked her playfully
with his feet. Without warning, he sat up and twisted around carefully, then
laid his head on her lap. Unfamiliar heat climbed up her neck as Marinette ran
her fingers through his hair, murmuring softly until his breathing evened out.
Rory said, pointing to the little piece of parchment she was reading about Blast Lung Injuries. The part she was stuck on said,
If ventilatory failure is imminent or occurs, patients should be intubated; however, caution should be used
in the decision to intubate patients, as mechanical ventilation and positive end pressure may increase the
risk of alveolar rupture and air embolism. “What is… in..tubat…ed?”
“Ouch!” Pain. Marinette held onto her hand as blood came out of her finger. She did it all the time: it was an accidental cut caused by scissors. In her head, she just facepalmed, but on the outside, she actually was freaking out. The cut was a lot deeper than the others she had had in the past; there was a lot more blood and a lot more pain.
She sucked on the finger to clear away some of the redness, tasting the metallic iron spread across her tongue. She hated the taste, but she didn’t exactly have a tissue at hand.
Meanwhile, Chat was asleep in her bed, laying his head on a pillow that she sewed for him last Christmas as a present. He got up with a yawn when he heard her shriek, stretching as if he were actually a cat. “What happened, Princess? Cut yourself again?” He meant to tease, but he also had a slight look of concern.
Rory’s ears were ringing, and her head was pounding. She sat up, slightly, but then had to go back down again. She could feel the drop rolling down her cheek, and she reached her fingers up to brush it away. They came away red.
Imagine your OTP hugging. Person A has a bag with a lot of heavy/hard objects in it and Person B accidentally punches it when they hug Person A. Person B sends updates about how their minor injury is doing to Person A.
concept - michael holding your hand as you have to get blood drawn because it makes everything a bit easier, calum pushing your wheelchair around disneyland, luke picking up prescriptions on the way home for you because your bedridden, ashton staying up all night with you in the emergency room even though he has a show tommorow
Alexis grimaced at the pain radiating through her leg, starting near her foot and traveling up to her hip. An attempt to stand left her groaning loudly, falling back onto her backside immediately. She couldn’t put any pressure on her right ankle, and that thought alone was enough to tighten her chest as she looked around at the madness happening, scrambling for her want in her robes in instinct.