#wait am i a paranoia holder

[cosmosynthesis]

does anyone else have that kind of anxiety or paranoia mixed with intrusive thoughts where you think that the people youre supposed to like and trust are going to hurt me like even if ive known someone for a really long time even my best friend or this bodys mum im scared that EVERYONE is going to hurt me like idek what to do anymore like whenever someonee walking behind me or me and another person cross paths im scared that they will hurt me that theyll catch up to me and beat me up right there like even my classmates i have these thoughts that theyre going to break into the house i live jn and hurt me so i try to make myself as small as possible everywhere so that i wont be noticed as easily andthwy wont think abt hurting me

[takeyourcyanide]

Child Psychology

AO3

Fandom: Soul Eater

Characters: Franken Stein, Minor Original Characters (implied parent, psychologist )

Word Count: 1 525

Tags: Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Short One Shot, Defragmentation, Minor Original Character(s), Tags Are Hard, something of a therapist’s/psychiatrist’s office, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Psychiatric Examination, Minor Character(s)

Summary: A young Stein is pacing around throughout the waiting room and corridor of a psychologist’s office, preparing himself for what is to come. He is taken back for examination. His thoughts ensue.

Notes: The lyric “I get mean when I’m nervous like a bad dog” is from the song Cop Car by the artist Mitski.

I am hoping to be able to write more than what could somewhat be considered defragmentation soon. Is that what it is?

Oh, and while this title was not inspired by the song ‘Child Pscyhology’ by Blackbox Recorded, you should go listen to that if you’d like.

I’m only tagging this as “mental instability” because I know what it is considered to be, and need some tags to utilize.

The off-white walls were decorated with kiddy paintings of cartoon animals; bears, cats, and dogs alike. There was a little shelf in the corner of the room, stacked with children’s books, accompanied by a box of building blocks and a small train set. A white board hung on the wall beside it, a magnetic eraser shoved into its upper left edge, markers stuffed into a holder of sorts, which sat atop the aforementioned shelf.

There was a mother and her daughter sitting in the two seats closest to the check-in counter, a little boy fiddling with his tablet across from them. Stein made sure to steer as far away from those strangers as possible, instead pacing in a continuous circle beginning close to the entrance of the room and into the long corridor outside of it, only stopping cautiously in his tracks when a person would walk by.

He failed to suppress the twitching of his hands, the sharp ticking of his head, the spasms in his facial muscles. The quiet voices acting as grating background noise seemed to either disappear or worsen the gnawing of his bones, or perhaps even both simultaneously. He ignored the glances he’d receive. You’d think they’d be used to it, even unbothered by his supposed “quirks,” given where they all currently were.

How much more time would she take to ramble in her office? He was supposed to partake in testing soon. Though maybe it was a good thing that it was taking so irritatingly long- but what even were they discussing? What aspects of him were being dissected and put on display? What aspects of him were they planning on “treating”- or, truly, attempting to eviscerate, dilute, and poison?

The mere thought seemed to leave him a little more lightheaded than before, a gentle churning in his stomach, a persistent throbbing in between his brows, a ringing, hissing sound in his ears.

His head jerked somewhere to the side, his neck producing a cracking noise.

He’d gladly rip them both apart if it meant keeping himself safe from their deceptive, gaslighting poison.

‘I get mean when I’m nervous like a bad dog,’ the lyrics played in his head repetitiously.

When he got too agitated, he got too impulsive. Not even *he* knew what he’d do in such a state. He was almost entirely unable to control himself.

Let them make one remark. Let them plan right in front of him. Let them say one thing indicative of their true and overt intentions.

Perhaps the willingness to put them to death was a true testament to what they perceived as his ‘schizopathy.’ In their scrutinizing eyes, anyway. It was simply the logical conclusion. Well, until he’d have to go on trial.

He had never once been a sweet, normal child. He’d only be met with scrutiny, for only sweet, normal children were afforded such liberties as patience and understanding, as sweet treatment, as-

“What are you doing over there?” A familiar, conspicuous voice spoke.

“Come on back,” the dreaded one spoke.

He did not speak back.

‘Help.’ What a meaningless term. They did not wish to help, only to hurt. Only to ruin.

The dreaded one seemed to ask him something, though he did not hear it over the volume of his own buzzing, clashing trains.

“Do you remember when you asked me why I didn’t call for help?” Stein blurted out in a low, somewhat shaky voice. It sounded weighted, troubled. It sounded as though speaking came difficult to Stein. His tone was different- they’d ruthlessly point it out to him. It was another one of his involuntary responses towards his own agitation, towards the noise, the gnawing. Almost higher-pitched, lifting, yet low and mumbled. Breathy, even. Strained and filled with struggle.

“Uh, yes. Why?”

“I don’t have that instinct.”

“The instinct to call for help?”

“Yes. I do not possess that same instinct that everyone else seems to.”

And what will she respond with but nothing at all; subtleties so blatant and poorly disguised with useless, pompous academic speech, falsified sympathy, and pseudo-curious jargon. Should he flush the pills they’d give him down the toilet? Would that be rude, given that they cost money? Perhaps he’d fake taking them. No. He’d be much too agitated to be overly calculated. He could do that later on, but at first, he was more likely to put on a show of open rebellion. Truly, would he only be baring his fear for them to witness and utilize to their advantage? Was it even fear?

‘I get mean when I’m nervous like a bad dog.’

They could smell the devouring of his flesh and insides, couldn’t they? They could sense the necrosis. A block and cloud the size of two malignant tumors were wedged somewhere in between his corpus callosum- in between the two hemispheres of the brain he was in possession of.

And while that brain he possessed could be influenced by both genetic and environmental factors, the truest and largest reason as to why he was the way he was happened to be the fact that he simply was not human in any way, shape, or form. He was not connected much to his brain, though his brain and body were clearly interlinked. He was something entirely separate. Not even the consciousness. He was the apparition, mythological-like something. A non-human soul. Or did he not have one? He was not the supposed soul, but only something. He’d grown so close to figuring out what that something was.

“Fran…n?”

Or maybe he was Charlie Brown.

“Franken Stein?”

“Hm?” He hummed distractedly. He was gone. The pot was soon to tip over. At any moment it would. The final straw would surely be the “treatment.”

“Did you hear me?”

He shook his head softly, his chest feeling restricted and stuffed full of nothing at all.

“We’re going to be doing some testing today-“

“I know.”

A slight chuckle came from the other end.

“And you are aware of what all you’re being tested for, correct?”

“Extremely.”

“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

She flipped through various documents, presumably papers upon papers filled with nothing but prodding, invasive questioning.

“We’re going to have you go ahead and take these in the room down the hall on the left.”

“I remember.” Somehow, and for once.

His head ticked off to the side, his lips involuntarily twitching into a faltering, unsteady grin.

The gnawing was getting to him. He was unable to conceal the effects it had on him. Hopefully, no laughter would be had. But it definitely *will be* had if they so much as bring “treatment” up.

She lead him down the hall, laying the various papers and packets down carefully onto the table at which he sat, handing him two pencils and an eraser, and a sharpener just in case.

“All right, you already know the drill, so, do you need anything before I leave?”

‘To be sedated. Peace and quiet. To be high. To receive acknowledgment for my efforts, whether it’s deserved or not. To be rocked and swayed. To never have “treatment” forced on me. Multiple human subjects to experiment on and dissect. Perhaps even non-human subjects. Dinosaurs are fun. I want to dissect a dinosaur. Imagine dissecting a dreadnoughtus. That would be so fucking fascinating. Imagine how pleasantly long it would take-‘

“Franken? Are you with me?”

“Uhm…”

“Do you need anything before you begin?”

“No.”

“All right, then. Just hand those to the lady at the front desk before you leave.”

‘I know.’

“Okay.”

She politely exited, shutting the door behind her.

Stein was left in a delightful, but likely to be short-lived silence. They never liked it when he was provided with any quiet time, after all.

His head jerked once more, as he scanned the room suspiciously.

He lifted one of the pencils in his hand. His eyes met the words on the first packet he’d grabbed and set directly in front of himself.

He massaged the bridge of his nose rather briefly, suppressing a yawn, rubbing childishly at his watering eyes, and struggling for a moment to understand what he was reading- or, really, failing to focus on.

His thoughts were playing too loudly, and so were their thoughts. They’d serenade him, which didn’t ruin his focus, but the unnerving cadence their whispers possessed more than certainly did.

As he managed eventually to maintain a steady grip on the pencil, managing to scribble in the true or false bubbles, the noisy, gnawing sensation that caused his body to tweak and jerk remained as strong as ever, his chest still floaty and heavy, his breathing patterns a little off, though he was so used to it at this point, it might as well have been his average pattern. Was it difficult to breathe? He couldn’t tell.

Multiple doses of sharp pains in his thoracic and abdominal cavities left him internally groaning to himself.

The pot was to soon spill over. A pot full of boiling water, which would certainly burn anyone in its spreading path, as soon as it fell off of the stovetop.

[many-but-one]

one of the oddest system experiences is trying to be medicated for a separate mental disorder because then after the initial wait period of the medication effectively "kicking in" it's still ineffective completely depending on fronting patterns- no matter if you take the medication at the same time daily (at least in our experience) like taking the medication when the caretakers are active= whole room gets reorganized and cleaned vs taking the medication when memory/trauma holders are active= absolutely nothing helpful getting done/maybe paranoia increases we don't really see people talk about it though, probably out of worry for how it sounds, but there is research on at least unintentional (but sometimes intentional) sabotage with missed/incorrect doses depending on alter activity

We have definitely had parts sabotage taking medications. Especially when we realized all of our mood stabilizers were screwing with our communication. Additionally our med provider was trying to treat our depression, but the thing is, we were only depressed/suicidal when triggered trauma holders came to front. Our hosts in the past were definitely not depressed to the point of needing medication. Typically inner communication and working with parts in therapy was much more effective.

Now the only medicine we are on is one anti-anxiety we take on nights we know that we will probably have a rough one. Going to bed triggered or on edge usually means nightmares to come. This one is pretty effective in keeping nightmares to a minimum. It can also be taken during the day and doesn’t cause drowsiness. It’s not extremely powerful, but it helps just take the edge off so we can actually stay focused enough to DO parts work. Because as I’m sure you know, when highly triggered or anxious it can be hard to even remember to DO parts work because you feel like you are losing your mind.

We also use THC products pretty regularly and it is extremely effective. Weed is not legal where we are, so we stick to D8 vape pens and it helps more than any medication we have ever been on in our entire lives.

I am not sure what you were wanting me to say to this message anon, but yes, definitely understand where you are coming from.

-Aridam🪢

[bluerthanblue-excerpts]

falling down the rabbit hole

i. alice in wonderland

a long bridge where two people met. a blind man and a runaway princess. a drowning girl who accepts her fate, being a part of the ocean. a girl who has a purpose to destroy the islands. maybe, i know, how to be vincent van gogh, to be stuck in that surreal state of twirling and depressing blues – falling down the rabbithole. or it was not. i was in the middle of just letting the dreams of my insanity took over my hollow nights and gap years. i kept it hidden for too long and it may manifest with my writings but the vivid details of it, it’s in the pandora’s box – waiting to be freed. to bask in a totally different world, falling down the rabbit role and witnessed the absurdity, the magic and the surreal experiences of my dreams – as if i’m experiencing all of it. a false image and a false world, disguise as an inner rich world collided with the effects of the relentless depressive episodes. the emptiness gets heavier each passing day, as if i was just waiting for the end when the world halts but it was just one of those figments that i vividly remembered. remembering these, i detached myself and seeing myself as another person who treasures these surreal dreams – of dreamy scenes to stormy scenes. a false sense of self, created to cover up the trashes filled with toxic remnants from the past. i was an another alice, unearthing a different world filled with stories, mystic, surreal and nonsensical things from a dreamer currently in between fantasy and reality. this alice met a guardian with no name and jurisdiction, just a lost one with trolley, traveling to different places. she also met two pairs of star-crossed lovers, a runaway princess of a small kingdom, a blind man secretly loving the most beautiful girl in the island, a humble man who was meant to be with someone high as a sky. she met different people carrying different stories, that later on, written by this dreamer currently on retracing the vivid dreams that were a part of her.

ii. starry, starry night

the blues of the painting somehow resonates the serenity deep within the painter despite the deep turmoil and paranoia – his china blue eyes beaten by circumstances yet eyes that behold a thousand colors – of the nature, of how he had seen the burst of seasons and the way of life despite the unrelenting dreams that only manifest when his candle died. the yellow sunflowers may hold a warmth atmosphere yet somehow send a message of overstimulation. the starry, starry night, dreamlike filled with blue colors, when used, can be both depressing and calming. i have had my shares of starry, starry night yet with defeaning silence outside and more ‘falling down the rabbithole’ inside.

iii. the goldfish memory

i am a goldish, swimming in an aquarium, carrying with me vivid memories, dreams, and remnants from a distant and repressed past. the only goldfish that remembers them well for years. transformed into backlogs and stayed in the backburner for too long. as a sloth disguised as a person, it may take months to take care of them, little by little. but to make it a reality, like what van gogh did through his paintings, to keep my sanity at bay, using them might be accepting that somehow, i have had a takeaway from these manic-surreal worlds and streams of madness. these memories and dreams knocked sometimes, begging to be freed but i let them stayed rent-free in my mind. undeniably, remembering them at my lowest points, which is not really good for my sanity. to just let them overpower my nights.

iv. the holder of memories

bad or good, we are meant to carry around our memories. we are not living in a greek tragedy that the three fates would cheekily laughed because we were meant to experience this and that despite our pleas to the universe. we may lead a life with a positive outlook or a mellow life with calm energy. ‘i’ in the past shaped my ‘present’ a soul who’s trying her best to live despite the taunting of three fates, that i was meant to experience insanity and disillusionment over and over again. but i have to fight them. the inner demons while creating memories with my favorite people and loved ones with nature or earth as my backdrop. i know that at the back of my mind, we are not just living to survive but to live life to our heart’s content – as a part of the grand orchestra of the universe.

[lurking96]

Chapter 319 or why Bakugou might not be healthy for Izuku

This here might be a bit on the anti Bakugou side. I tagged it as such so you can filter those out and put it under a read more if you dont want to read it.

So. In the last day I did read a few opinions on the chapter leaks. What some think will happen and so on. Some from Pros some from Antis. This again is an opinion. It is not absolute. I do not claim it to be the absolute truth. This is just my personal interpretation. What I think that will happen is that Class 1A lead by Bakugou will fight Midoriya to try to bring him back. I don’t think talking to him will happen with Bakugou there. As one of Bakugous coping mechanisms is fighting. However with that come problems. I can understand the reasoning behind fighting him. A little talk will most likely not make him come back. However it might ease things. Might make him a tiny bit calmer. Might not make things worse. Fighting however will make things worse. Izuku is already on edge. He is already filled with paranoia. He hasn’t slept or eaten well. He might do rash decisions. He is not in a healthy mental state. And here we have it. His friends, his supposed allies are fighting him. The people he wants to protect went out and attack him. Out in their costumes. Ready for battle. A kinda scary scene overall. You dont see their faces. You feel anger coming from them.

It might bring some memories back to Izuku if you compare it with another picture.

Just like the picture before Bakugou is kinda in the foreground.He is leading just like back then he was leading his so called “extras” This might bring back memories to Izuku. Again he is sleep deprived. His mind might not work the sharpest. For all he knows it´s like back in his other schools where Bakugou lead his group of “extras” to attack Izuku. He might fight back stronger than intended. He might just try to flee even more. Overall it is not very helpful to him. Because a part of the reason for Izukus mental health is Bakugou. Not in a kind of friendship way but more as a cause. Bakugou to put it simply had been Izukus main bully. They were never apart. From preschool to UA. They were in the same class. With team exercises they were together. Izuku never had a break from him. He was never allowed to have time without him. From early on Bakugou has called him useless, worthless, what does one think the name Deku means. Has been using his quirk on him without the teachers caring. Before people say that is long ago. It is not. Right now they are in their second year. How did their first year start. Bakugou trying to attack Midoriya. Trying to kill him. Insulting him where he goes. It is not long ago. And even if it was like 300 or so chapters ago. That still happened. That is still the characters backstory. Honestly you are fine to like a character. But one should recognize that a character has flaws. No character is perfect. Saying that you like a character and saying that they are an asshole that needs to change can coexist. I like Overhauls aesthetic and quirk. Am I okay with what he did. Nope. Would I want him set on fire. Yes. Simple as that. Now back to it. In chapter 319 we hear Bakugou say that Izukus self sacrificial nature is caused by All Might. This. I do not agree with. Again. Who has called him worthless, a pebble on the road, useless, a deku for years. It was not All Might. Izuku has incredible low self worth. If it means saving a cat from a tree he would break his legs. He doesnt care for himself. He sees himself as worthless and only as somewhat useful when he is saving people. It got drilled into him from a young age. This is not something simple that is left behind after a few days. It can take years. And so far he has nothing contrary to those ideas. There are three people that know of his former quirklessness. His mom. Who is kinda supposed to love him. All Might who never really went back on the quirkless hero thing and Bakugou who still insults him for it. Everyone else only knows him with his quirk. Only knows him with being useful. Just because he has a quirk now doesnt mean that quirkless Izuku has ever left his mind. Yes All Might is not perfect. He has flaws. Those flaws are shown and others call him out. Could he have done more. Yes. Could he have helped him mentally. To a degree. But again. All Might is flawed. He is not perfect. All Might is shown to lack social skills. Seeing Bakugou just as rival or Endeavor who has open hate for him as friends. He never had a normal relationship. And again he was not the cause for Izukus psyche. He didnt lay the groundwork. With Bakugou blaming it on All Might. The guy that is not there and can’t protect himself he is doing something one could call damage control. He is not telling the entire truth. For the truth would hinder his dream of becoming number one and reduce his social standing. Him telling others that he is even partly responsible would surely open more questions later he would want to avoid. He also calls Midoriya crazy which is a tactic used to discredit a victim. Same for him making things up and overexaggerating and so on. He did do damage control before. A bit ago he told All Might that he was bullying Izuku in the past. You would think It´s something positive. But here is the thing. He lacked details. He didnt tell him much. For all we know All Might assumed some rough housing and name calling. Nothing that bad. It is to soften the blow. So if Izuku tells him later All Might is already in the mindset that it wasn’t so bad. Bakugou seems not that he would lie and my successor must be overexaggerating a bit. Bakugou is not that dumb. He knows his way around words. He knows when to not openly attack and wait for a better chance. A fool would have kept attacking Izuku after Aizawa held him back. He was just waiting for the training with All Might. He knows what buttons to push to get information out of Izuku. He basically forced the OFA secret out of him. One could call this a good use of crocodile tears if they so want. If they dislike him that much. Again an opinion of many. As of Chapter 319. He might have good intentions. He might want something good for Izuku. But the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Good intentions are not an excuse. Just because Bakugou thinks it is the best doesn’t mean it will be automatically the best. Just because the dog wants the chocolate bar doesnt mean it will be healthy for anyone involved. Bakugou being there might be quite detrimental to Izukus health. He might just open up wounds again. Izuku fighting class 1A would probably not increase his trust. And what are they going to do if they win. Tie him up, drug him, force him back. He will just try to escape. His trust in them will be broken. He might allow some sleep but it will never be the same. He already had trust issues before this will just expand them further. Isolate him further. This is what AFO wants. To have the heroes fighting with eachother. To have the OFA holder isolated and even branded as Villain for fighting as hero class. 1A winning is also a big IF. Shigaraki fought Gigantomachia and the MLA sleep deprived and incredible tired and won. Shigaraki and Izuku are foils. Two sides of the same coin. Izuku had a year to analyse their quirks. He has a bunch of quirks for himself and OFA mastered far more than anytime before he trained with them. He has become a natural disaster in human form. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he defeats them and leaves. To me the good option would be trying to talk to him. Not let Bakugou do the talking. He lacks the fine control. Get him in the direction of rest. Sadly none of them are trained professionals to deal with mental health. They are children that just fought in a war and also got traumatised. So I dont have great hope on them taking the talking route. Overall I think this will be a breaking point. They will fight. Izuku will most likely win and his trust will be broken even more. He will be even more isolated. His personality might take a darker turn seeing as there is no one he can trust. It might just get even darker than before.

[soulmate-game]

Can you do a prompt of Marinette being the daughter of the Joker and Harley but Harley left him before Marinette was born and when Joker found out about his daughter He decided to kidnap Marinette so she can become like him (Ace chemicals) (Daminette)

Woot, my first ask in a while! Let’s see how I can do this oddly specific ask that reminds me of a fic that might actually exist but tbh I’ve read so many fanfics idk if my brain is remembering right

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette knew Sabine and Tom weren’t her biological parents. She had known ever since she was eight, when her mother by blood visited her for the first time, sat her down, and explained everything. Including, but not limited to, her disastrously toxic past relationship, her new girlfriend, and her recent success with long term rehab (unofficial rehab that mostly consisted of illegal anti-hero actions, but hey if it worked it worked).

Marinette understood. Well no, she really didn’t since she was only eight, but she understood that her mom— that Harley— was genuine. She had always had a knack for emotions and telling when people were sincere or not. And Harley really was regretful about not being in her life beforehand, and was serious about wanting to be part of her life now that her own was mostly sorted out.

So Marinette was not surprised when Harley really did stick it out. When Harley cooed over Marinette copying her hairstyle to show her support of her biological mom, when Harley never failed to call at least once a week even if she was in jail for punching some asshole or another. Harley never stayed arrested long anymore, she was usually found to be on the right side of the moral scale more and more often so the police didn’t bother keeping her locked up anymore. Through the years, Marinette always looked forward to her mom’s calls. Looked forward to being lulled to sleep by one crazy story or another from her mother’s past. Everything was nice. Perfect, even, for a while.

A thump sounded from her balcony, one late night when Marinette was thirteen. Blinking, the dark haired girl furrowed her brows. Who would be on her balcony? Cautiously walking towards the trap door leading to it, grasping her metal pencil holder as a weapon (she remembered all of her Mom’s stories about break-ins and random attacks back in Gotham), the teen strained her ears. Akuma attacks were only a few months old now, but she had already become in high alert for any sign of Hawkmoth or his victims. As per usual, Marinette’s paranoia began to kick in. Did Hawkmoth already figure her out? Was he here for her earrings? Would she be able to fight him?

She gently pushed up the trap door, catching a glimpse of black leather. Huh? Marinette narrowed her eyes, confused. Was it Chat? He should have been on patrol, on the other side of the city. What was he doing visiting her?

Suddenly the trap door yanked the rest of the way open, making Marinette yelp as the handle for it rugged away from her fingers. And there, backlit by the pure blue-white moonlight, was Not Chat Noir. It was Catwoman, in all her skintight black leather glory, grinning at her before pushing her cat-eye goggles up to the top of her head and crouching down by the trap door’s entrance, balancing only on the pads of her feet.

“Well hello there~” the woman purred. “So you’re the cute little kitten Harley is so secretive about. Nice to finally meet you,” the woman held out a hand, sending Marinette a sweet, if mysterious, smile. For a while, the pigtailed girl only stared before a squeal of excitement left her throat, leaving very little room for any doubt as to her bloodline. A large smile curled over Marinette’s lips, leaving her beaming widely at the catlike woman on her balcony.

“Auntie Selina! Mom’s told me so much about you! Come in, come in, come in! I’ll sneak some macaroons up for you. Or do you prefer croissants? What’s your favorite flavor? Are you really dating Batman? Oh my goodness, that necklace is so lovely! Did you steal it?”

Selina could only chuckle fondly at the word vomit, letting the smaller girl drag her down the trap door and into her very… pink room. Looking around, Selina was once again slapped with just how similar this kid was to her outgoing friend. Marinette clearly had no shame in indulging in the things she liked, such as the color pink and anything regarding fashion. But there were other things amongst the girliness of the room, like the posters of Jagged Stone and the training dummy half-sticking out of her closet door. There were a few ornamental knives hung up behind her computer, seemingly just for decoration although Selina could see that they were definitely battle ready and sharpened. A small mallet, clearly a miniature replica of her mother’s own signature weapon, leaned up against the side of the girl’s laundry basket. But then there was Marinette’s mannequin, which was surrounded by meticulously cut pieces of cloth and had other pieces pinned to it strategically. Marinette clearly had the same professionalism and love for her chosen career that had so completely defined Harley in the Time Before Joker. The same genius intellect hiding in those deceptively cheerful bluebell eyes. And for the first time, though not for the last to be sure, Selina found herself thoroughly relieved that it seemed Marinette had inherited very little from her father.

Except, as she would learn from stories Harley told her later, an apparent affinity for chaos.

“I’m not that picky, kitten. But I’m not that hungry, so don’t go too out of your way,” Selina decided to just react the same way she did with Harley’s rambles, and answer one question at a time. “Also, I am actually dating Bruce Wayne. But, if you promise not to tell anyone—“ she waited for Marinette’s eager nod before continuing casually, “— the two are maybe not as mutually exclusive as many think,” Selina finished with a conspiratorial wink. “No, I actually did not steal this necklace. Bruce has been adamant in trying to curb me of my thieving habit by buying me almost everything I so much as glance at sideways. It’s sweet. Naive, because I like stealing for the fun of it, but sweet.”

Marinette giggled, bouncing in place happily. She loved a bit of innocent gossip like this. “Is Momma Ivy ever gonna visit? I don’t think Mom told her much about me yet, and I still gotta give her the shovel talk!” the fierce look that overcame Marinette’s face made Selina laugh again. Oh yes, definitely her mother’s daughter.

“Pam has been trying to sneak over, but the laws regarding Metahumans in Paris suddenly got much stricter a few months back and have caused some problems. You wouldn’t happen to know what happened, would you?” Selina did not miss when her seemingly innocent question caused her niece to close off almost instantly. Bluebell eyes took on a familiar guardedness, and scanned her with the same soul-searching intensity that Harley had when she was channeling her Psychiatrist side. Selina found herself in a slightly concerning spot though—

Because she couldn’t predict Marinette at all. She was left to simply stand there as Marinette searched for some unidentifiable thing in her eyes, completely unable to read the younger girl’s face and with no idea of what to expect. The side effect of having chaos so thoroughly entwined in both of her biological parents, she supposed.

“Nope, no idea.”

Selina knew that was a lie, but knew equally as well that she would not be getting a better answer anytime soon. So, she let it go and the two of them once again dipped into innocent chatter.

Later that night, when Selina left and the sun threatened to rise at any minute, Tikki flew up from her hiding spot under Marinette’s pillow to land on her holder’s shoulder. Marinette giggled and looked over at her little friend.

“Tikki?”

“Yes, Mari?”

“Why was I chosen to be your holder?” She asked suddenly, flopping back into her bed and staring at her ceiling. The little goddess hummed, smiling knowingly before flying down to cuddle in the crook of Marinette’s neck.

“Because you are born from luck itself. Even when bad things happen, you have the luck and determination to get out just fine, and stronger than before. And despite the destruction and anarchy in your blood, you have the willpower to reign it in and keep control of yourself. That’s all order really is, Marinette. The decision to take all the chaos and madness around us, and make it make sense. Make it do something good. And that’s a large part of who you are, I could feel it in your soul the moment we first met.”

Marinette closed her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek. “What if I lose control?”

“... You’ll just have to get it back. It’ll be hard, but as long as you have people to support you, you will be able to do it. You aren’t evil, Marinette,” the small God seemed to sense the true question her holder was asking, and did her best to soothe the doubt the girl felt. “Just remember the reasons you fight against chaos. Remember everyone you love, and you’ll be okay. And you have me, I’ll always help you.”

“... thank you, Tikki.”

—*—*—*—*—*

“He’s going to find out, Mom.”

“No he won’t, don’t be silly! I’ve been very careful about hiding you from him, Nettie-pie.”

“Mom… I just have a bad feeling. I don’t think we can hide who I am from him. If he sees me, I think he’ll know.”

The phone went silent.

“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. If I was crazy about him, Sugar, then I’m head over heels for you. Not even he can stop me from caving his skull in if he tries his usual tricks with you.”

“... My plane leaves soon, I’ll talk to you when I land. And mom?”

“Yeah, honeycake?”

“I love you.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was uncanny just how often Marinette’s hunches were right. Her intuition was something to behold, truly, because it only took three days in Gotham before Joker snatched her right out of her room at Harley and Ivy’s apartment. At least Marinette had sixteen by then, so she had had enough experience as a hero in Paris and with generally unpredictable situations and people who were absolutely nuts for her to not immediately panic. Too much, anyway.

Because there was definitely a little panic there.

See, Marinette knew herself inside out by then. After her own battle with her toxic feelings towards Adrien and doing her best to heal from those before she turned out like her mom, she knew she was by no means mentally indestructible. Mental illness ran the high risk of being inherited, and Marinette was well aware that her own personality was scarily similar to her mother’s at times. She got attached quickly, felt affection and love for others very strongly and, as she found with Adrien, could easily become obsessive if she didn’t watch herself. At least Harley was the perfect person to help with that, and Marinette was serious about helping herself too. She did everything she could to keep an eye on her mental health and keep her behavior in check so she didn’t do anything too unhealthy with her relationships again.

But she knew, she knew she had a soft spot for family. She got attached too easily. And being in the same room as her biological father, despite being tied up by her hands and feet and knowing just how many unforgivable things he had done in his life, Marinette felt vulnerable. She didn’t want to hurt him, despite everything. She still loved him, despite every reason not to, despite her first meeting with him being with him shoving chloroform over her face and hogtying her to a metal chain dangling over a vat of acid.

Geez, she’d need more than just her mom as a therapist after this for sure. Even if her mom had a PH.D, Marinette felt like she’d need several psychiatrists to sort through her emotional turmoil right then and make sense of any of it.

Marinette licked her lips, aware that the only kindness that Joker gave his daughter was sparing her from the discomfort of being gagged.

“Don’t,” Marinette said, surprising herself with the amount of steel she was able to put into her voice. Somehow, she managed to make the single word sound more like an order than a plead. “Joker, put me—“

“Ah-Ah-Ah!” The clown walked over, tutting and waving his finger in the air in almost playful admonishment. He gave her a dramatically fake pout. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to refer to your father by his first name?” Neither of them mentioned that Joker was definitely not his real name. They both knew the point was moot. “Say it with me now— ‘Daddy dearest, I am more than willing to be dunked in acid for you,’ go ahead, say it.”

Marinette’s jaw clenched. Familial love or not, she would not tolerate being ridiculed like that. She dealt with enough ridicule when she was fourteen and fifteen during school, before she put Liar Rossi in her place. She had spent the past three years as a hero in charge of the war against Hawkmoth, in charge of protecting all of Paris from an emotional terrorist.

And gee, wasn’t that what Joker was, too? Sure, he was a terrorist in the classic meaning of the word as well, but he was nothing if not a skilled manipulator. He knew the human mind just as well as Harley or any other psychiatrist did, he just used his knowledge for different means. He had emotionally abused Harley for years, he emotionally abused and manipulated people all across gotham on a daily basis. He was just another Hawkmoth, but with more physical violence in place of magic.

With these thoughts strengthening her resolve, Marinette narrowed her eyes at the man who donated half of her DNA. She let her anger boil into her irises, hitting him with one of the few traits she knew she inherited from him.

Her ability to intimidate others on the tip of a hat.

“No,” she growled back at him. She took a deep breath. It had taken her a while, but she refused to be ashamed of who she was regardless of her blood relation. She would have no problem using the very things she inherited from Joker against him. She might have gotten most of Harley’s personality, she might have inherited her mother’s habit of falling in love hard, fast, and obsessively, but she also had Joker’s defiance. His bone-deep inability to be stopped from doing exactly whatever the fuck he wanted.

And then, there were Marinette’s own traits. The ones that were completely her own, developed over her life organically. Like her refusal to bow down to bullies, her creativity, her ability to take even the most chaotic situation and see some sort of balance and sanity in it that she could use to her advantage.

That she WOULD use to her advantage. The shadows she saw move out of the corner of her eye gave her the chance to do exactly that, she just needed to buy a few more seconds. Just a few more seconds.

“Excuse me?” Joker growled right back, his own intimidation, honed over more years than Marinette had been alive and thus much more potent than her own, reading its ugly head as he stalked towards her. His face was pulled down into an ugly snarl, his shoulders tensed and back straight as he glared right at her. From his spot on the metal walkway, he was easily able to reach over the railing and grab her chin in one pale, viciously strong hand. “I think you’re misunderstanding something here, little Marionette. I’m your father. Half of your life came directly from ME. That makes you my puppet. You exist to follow my orders,” his right grip suddenly let go, leaving behind the beginnings of a bruise as his entire demeanor changed from angry to cheerful. He spread his arms as if gesturing to the whole chemical plant victoriously, and an unnaturally large smile curved over his lips and bared yellowing teeth at her. “But that’s okay. I’ll forgive you this time, you haven’t learned any better yet. That’s why we’re here. We need to cleanse you of all those icky bad habits you’ve learned up until now, all you need is a little,” he bounced in place with a wicked smirk to illustrate his next words— “jumpstart. A little acid goes a long way to enlightenment you know, you’ll see my side of things in no time. And with my blood in you, you’ll make a better sidekick than that idiot Harley ever did. I can sense it, you’ve got a real talent for Chaos in you, it’s exciting, Heheeeheheee! Now then, we should probably speed things along before our family reunion is cut short. Hang in there, my little Marionette,” the man actually had the gall to spin in place while humming a tune cheerfully before all but dancing over to the lever that held Marinette’s length of chain in the air over the vat of chemicals below her. “Everything will clear up in that little head of yours in just a second!”

There! Right as Joker pulled the switch to lower her into the bubbling vat underneath her, Marinette was able to finish untying her hands. She couldn’t contain a small yelp as gravity flung her body forward, leaving her upside down on the chain for a brief moment. That was when the chain started lowering rapidly, and Marinette was barely able to rip the rope off of her ankles in time to swing off of it and onto the metal walkway that came up right next to the giant metal container of liquid death and insanity. Joker had barely enough time to shout in rage before the windows near the ceiling shattered, admitting the city’s vigilantes themselves. Batman, Nightwing, Red Robin, Red Hood, Robin, and evening Black Bat all landed on the same metal platform above Marinette’s head that Joker was still on, buying the teen time to start running. But she didn’t go towards the exit right away, instead heading right up the stairs into the thick of the fight. Robin briefly separated from where Joker was managing to hold his own, goons flooding from side doors to inhibit the heroes in their attempt to bring their boss down.

The katana-using vigilante kept one eye on Marinette the whole time, suspicious of why the girl would come back up if not to help her father. But that wasn’t what she did, instead she flipped and kicked and punched her way through the quickly growing sea of Joker thugs until she reached a small pink purse that had been abandoned near the lever that had nearly sent her into liquid insanity. Three thugs surrounded her right as she snatched the purse up and slung it over her shoulder, but Robin barely had the chance to head over before she was heaving the men, who were all easily three times her size, over her shoulder and was slamming elbows into soft spots and the side of her hand into pressure points. By the time Robin got to her side, all three men were unconscious and bound to wake up in utter agony.

Marinette glanced up, getting ready to haul Robin over her shoulder as well before she realized who he was. She let her shoulders relax just a tick, sighing in relief before returning her eyes to scanning their surroundings. She shot him a brief grin.

“Good thing my adoptive mother, Mom, Momma Ivy, and Auntie Selina all made sure I knew how to take down a small army on my own, huh?” She asked rhetorically before they were both unceremoniously dragged back into the giant brawl.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Nettie-pie!”

“Marigold!”

Harley and Pamela Quinzel-Isley shoved down anyone and everyone who dared block their direct path to their daughter. The girl of the hour stood next to the bat clan, a shock blanket held tightly around her shoulders as she did her best to finish her statement to both the vigilantes and Commissioner Gordon.

“You untied yourself… from a ship-grade knot in high quality rope… with a phone charm?” They heard Gordon ask incredulously, to which Marinette could only give a lopsided smile. That was when her mom and stepmom crashed into her, enveloping her in a nearly suffocating hug.

“Gah— mom— momma Ivy—“ Marinette flailed in their arms for a bit before finally getting her head free and continuing her statement as if she didn’t have two of the most dangerous women in the city still giving her a bone crushing hug. “That’s better. Yes, Commissioner. You see, I realized when I was in the car with Joker, while I was pretending to still be unconscious, that one of the charms on my phone had pretty sharp corners that I could use like a serrated edge if I had enough time. So I carefully detached it from my phone, and held it in my palm. It took almost an hour, but once Joker noticed I was awake I kept him talking so that he didn’t notice what I was doing even as he tied me up to that chain. Really, it’s just lucky that I was able to get it worn down in time,” Marinette rubbed the back of her neck with a nervous chuckle. “But regardless, I think Batman and his partners,” she nodded to the listening vigilantes just to the side of her. “Were close enough that I would have been caught anyway, I just wanted to make sure they had less work to do. The sooner I freed myself, the sooner ‘Daddy Dearest,’” she grimaced as she mockingly used the same term Joker had tried to get her to say earlier that night. “Could go back behind bars where he belongs.”

“Oh my little Nettie-cake,” Harley cried, finally pulling back from the hug long enough to wipe her cheeks. It was clear that she had been crying for a while, and her colorful pigtails were mussed and tangled from where she must have been tugging on them in worry. “You were right. I’m so sorry, I never should have let you come to Gotham when I knew he was out of Arkham.”

Marinette was quick to shake her head frantically, pulling her arms out of Ivy’s hold so she could grasp Harley’s shoulders firmly. “No. No, Mom, I’m fine! And besides, we knew I couldn’t stay secret forever. I really like staying with you and Momma Ivy! Everything turned out fine though, and he’s headed back to Arkham. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, Nettle,” Pam argued, distracting herself by running her hands through Marinette’s bangs. She had only known the girl for two years, but that was more than long enough for her to consider the teenager as her own. “He took you right out from under our noses. You were supposed to be safe in our home, and he still got to you. That’s not okay. We weren’t able to protect you like we should have been. Maybe you should go back to Paris early.”

“What?! No way!” Marinette argued, eyes wide. “This is the first time I’ve been able to ever visit you guys in Gotham, I’m not letting some psycho sperm donor keep me from enjoying time with my family! I came here knowing full well that it was dangerous. I’m not gonna just run away after one bad experience.”

Harley snorted, and then devolved into uncontrollable giggles. “Heh— psycho sperm donor. Good one, sugar!”

Marinette smiled and rolled her eyes good naturedly at her mom’s usual immature antics. Seeing as Gordon had walked away muttering to himself a short while ago, Marinette pulled herself the rest of the way away from her moms and turned to the vigilantes. Without a second’s pause, she bowed to them just like her Maman Sabine taught her.

“Thank you for helping save me. I know it’s probably a shock that I’ve been kept secret from you guys all this time, but I hope you don’t lump me in with the likes of the green-haired half of my DNA. I’m staying with my Moms in their apartment, if you guys decide to patrol by our place like I suspect, I’ll leave some baked goods and coffee out for you on our patio. It’s the least I can do for you all after tonight. And don’t be too hard on Auntie Selina. Me and Mom swore her to secrecy, even from you guys.”

Batman jerked a little at the mention of Catwoman’s real name, jaw twitching for a second. Behind his cowl, his eyes narrowed. Marinette laughed, easily reading his body language and expression.

“She never told me who you are, but she didn’t exactly hide it either. It was easy to put the last pieces together on my own. But don’t worry, SHE swore me to secrecy too. I won’t tell anyone.

“How the hell are you related to the Laughing Asswipe from Hell?” Red Hood blurted out, his confusion clear even from behind his hideous helmet. Marinette burst into giggles, and both Pamela and Harley smiled knowingly.

“Mom gave me up for adoption when I was born, so I spent my whole life in Paris up until now,” she admitted. “Mom didn’t visit me for the first time until I was eight, and she and my adoptive parents are so awesome that it must’ve suffocated the worst traits from his DNA before they had a chance to develop,” she guessed out loud with a good natured smile.

Batman grunted. Marinette knew that one run-in wasn’t enough for them to trust her. After all, she was still the biological daughter of their arch enemy. But she didn’t mind, she understood the caution even if she didn’t fully agree with it. They weren’t outright hostile, despite the fact that Robin had never stopped glaring at her since they fought back-to-back against the mob of thugs earlier. She could live with their suspicion, as long as they continued to not be outright rude or mean to her.

At least she could empathize with Adrien now, whenever she figured out how to break it to him that Hawkmoth was definitely Gabriel and couldn’t be anyone else. Hopefully she could help soften the blow for him a little.

Harley and Ivy were starting to herd Marinette towards their car and take her back home, where they could continue to smother her in care and make sure she didn’t have even a scratch on her, when Robin’s voice stopped them all in their tracks.

“You are a surprisingly capable combatant.”

Marinette froze, blinking in surprise for a second before turning to stare at Robin in shock. The rest of the Bat Clam was doing the same, nobody expecting Robin of all people to be the first to directly complement Marinette. He tutted, crossing his arms, but never moved his gaze away from Marinette’s eyes.

“But your form could use some work. Most of your style is incredibly improvised, which I can appreciate since you do it well, but you would benefit from more structure in your fighting. I will set up a time and place for us to spar. We start in two days, if you think you can handle it.”

It took a while for what Robin said to sink in, and another few seconds for Marinette to decipher what his semi-aggressive, order-phrased proposal really meant. And she smiled.

“It’s a date.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Woo! This started off a little rough, but I really like how it ended up! Thank you, Anon!

[cloverque]

departure (haiba lev)

出发 (灰羽 リエーフ)

a departure doesn’t always guarantee a return

4128 words

post time skip! model lev, fiances, angst, concept of waiting, alt ending (w/ closure)

a (reuploaded) req for a certain lev lover <3

Haiba Lev wasn’t the most level headed person. He was blunt, foolish, assertive, and sometimes, a simpleton. And yet, despite his innumerable flaws, you loved him.

You adored the discordant, entwined, looping threads that made up for who he was, his strengths and weaknesses, every fibre of his being. Furthermore, your love was unyielding; a delicate yet persistent wild flower, sprung from the cracks in concrete.

Your love for the male stemmed from your starting days in high school. It was a random encounter, in which he bumped into you in a hallway, and then somehow, you began fawning over the half Russian.

Inconspicuously, you would watch him from afar: walking by the gym to sneak glances, matching up your schedule with the volleyball club’s, just to catch glimpses of him during their laps around the school.

You were fascinated with the long limbed teen’s energy and presence on the court. He was handsome too, his facial and body structure flawlessly sculpted by God himself to be the epitome of masculinity.

Your puppy love and admiration for him motivated you to travel far and wide to watch his volleyball matches, with hopes that maybe one day, Lev would notice you.

Lev wasn’t the brightest with a few things, with consciousness of his surroundings topping his list. Your encounter with him had slipped his mind, since it meant only so little, and he never realised you were in the same cohort, for pete’s sake.

If it weren’t for Kenma, who had pointed you out among the spectators, he wouldn’t have realised you always watched their matches. So he decided to approach you after one, and asked if you were from Nekoma High. You were momentarily stunned, then gave him a radiant smile, one so bright he would never forget.

After that, the two of you hit it off effortlessly. Within a few months, your freshly sprouted friendship with Lev blossomed into something more. Years passed, both of you graduated, and the two of you were still going strong, happily dating. The now esteemed model and you even began contemplating on a larger milestone, one which would change both of your lives forever.

That is, until Lev received an ominous phone call that presaged the end of your current chapter.

It happened too quickly to say for sure what was going on. He had told you the night before, as he held you in his arms, that he would be gone for a while. That he needed to attend to some personal matters back at home.

Lev’s tone was a little too quiet when he broke the news. “I… gotta leave for a while, (y/n).“ He was holding you close, arms draped around your waist and legs tangled with yours.

You stopped circling your finger around his bicep to glance up at him. Studying the distant look in his green orbs, you raised your brows. “Okay, where to?”

“Russia. My grandma wants me to return immediately.” Lev’s attention shifted from the ceiling to your curious gaze. His warm, minty breath fanned your face as he exhaled. “I think I’ll take a while.”

“Oh…” You rest your cheek on his chest, lashes fluttering close as you murmured. “I’ll miss you, but I can wait. Just don’t keep me waiting for long, alright?”

“Mhmm, okay.” Smiling tenderly, Lev peppered your skin with kisses, making you giggle. You slowly opened your eyes to take in the way the moonlight from the balcony glossed over his flawless, pale skin.

Lev’s fingers hovered over the silver band on your ring finger, lingering there before taking your hand in his. His own matching ring clinked against yours softly when you laced your fingers with his, your warm palms heating up his cold ones as you dozed off, flushed against his chest.

When morning came, he was gone. You had failed to bid him goodbye as Lev‘s egression was committed silently. The days passed like any other, and you would text him once in a while to check up on him. However, you never received a response. Not on SMS. Not on social media. Nowhere.

Days trickled to weeks, months, and by the third one, you were too overwhelmed with paranoia. After deep recollection, you realised he never told you when he would return. Surely, his departure meant a return, right?

You had asked the Nekoma volleyball club alumni and his friends of his whereabouts, and they all told you the same thing: they didn’t know. Desperate, you attempted to contact his sister Alisa, but to no avail. Both Haiba siblings were uncontactable, and the calls always went to voicemail.

Over the days, your fear and anxiety manifested into dark rings, rimming your puffy eyelids. Life went on whilst your heart and mind ran rampant, and eventually, you stopped appearing at work.

Not a day went by without you thinking of him. Your fiancé plagued your mind and heart 24/7, and it was impossible to stop thinking about him.

Where is he? When will he return? What’s taking him so long? Why is he not home yet? Has he forgotten about me?

Did Lev forget that I’m still waiting for him?

…

The front door to your shared apartment creaked slowly, and a raven haired man in a dark suit shuffled in. He closed the door slowly, his pupils dilating to compensate for the lack of light entering the apartment. The once bright green plants lining the balcony were drooping in their eternal shade, signifying that the curtain had not been drawn in days.

The man slipped off his shoes and socks, taking notice of the unworn, white slippers by the front door, then shuffled in. You glanced up from the blankets when you heard the soft padding of feet.

Your heart threatened to leap out of your chest as your eyes grew wide with anticipation. “Lev?” You croaked, hauling yourself to a sitting position. “Is that you?”

The door slowly creaked open to reveal your colleague and good friend, Kuroo Tetsurō. Your smile faded away, and your lips pressed into a thin line.

“Sorry I’m not who you think I am.” The male stood by the now open doorway, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

Ever since you stopped showing up at work, Kuroo would check up on you every weekend, and sometimes the posse would tag along too. The ex-captain had your apartment’s spare key, thanks to Lev, who randomly picked the holder during your home warming party.

You glanced down at the crumpled bed sheets as he walked into the dusty bedroom. Kuroo drew open the curtains leisurely, filling the room with a dim, blue light whilst multi coloured lights from the skyscrapers across the balcony twinkled with animosity. Specks of dust scattered in the air, latching onto the nearby furniture while some drifted aimlessly. The end of the bed dipped as he sat down, and you looked up to find him scrutinising you with a furrowed frown.

“Have you been eating well?” His eyes trailed over your sunken cheeks and jaundiced skin. Your face was devoid of your usual, radiant glow.

You glanced away from his piercing amber eyes. The eyes in the photos atop the nightstand bore holes into your soul as you rasped, “Why are you here? If it’s about work, I already told you that I asked my section manager to let me work from home–“

“(y/n), that’s not why I’m here.” Kuroo interrupted with a huff. Cloth rustled as he fished his phone out of his jacket’s inner pocket. With a few soft taps, he turned to you, and showed you his screen. You squinted your eyes and unconsciously leaned closer to read the blurry, digital print.

“SUPERMODELS HAIBA LEV AND RUSSIAN ACTRESS KHRISTINA SNOW POTTED LEAVING LUXURIOUS HOTEL TOGETHER“

Your eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets as you absorbed the image below the title. It was indeed your fiancé, you could recognise his broad shoulders and otherworldly jawline a mile away.

Dressed in a crisp suit, Lev’s arm was linked with a dainty woman, whose diamond necklace scintillated under the harsh glare of camera lights. The pencil skirt clinging to her wide hips had a scandalously long slit that stopped at her upper thigh, exposing her red lacey panties by a hair length.

Both of them had sunglasses on, but only the woman had a gleeful expression, while Lev’s lips were pressed together tightly. Just like the title had stated, they seemed to be walking away from an edifice constructed of solely glass panels, and you instantly recognised it. It was a renowned, five star hotel. In Japan.

You were too stunned to say anything. Even your mind, which had been incessantly filled with nothing but your lover, was now blank. The information overload was overwhelming.

This is all too much.

Suddenly, Kuroo withdrew his phone, pulling you back to reality with it. “So, I’m guessing you didn’t know?” He raised a dark brow as he pocketed his electronic device. “The article’s from some lowly paparazzi, so I doubt anything’s true… But it’s blowing up on Twitter.”

Your eyes flickered from your trembling hands to the bed sheets as you began quietly. “I… I thought he left for Russia…” Gripping the covers on your lap, your eyes silently brimmed with tears as you continued shakily, “I don’t know what’s going on anymore. I’m so confused…”

Kuroo‘s gaze never left you as you began shaking uncontrollably. He knew that you were desperately fighting back your tears. It was something you did often back in high school: you would try not to cry in front of the team when they won a match, despite your voice breaks and your glassy eyes. It was something the boys found endearing, especially Lev.

The raventte cursed inwardly at his junior’s stupidity. How could he make such a lovely girl like you cry? Wordlessly, the male shifted closer and pulled you into his chest, surprising you but you didn’t retreat.

Kuroo’s gesture was nothing but friendly, after all. He patted your back reassuringly, and your bottom lip trembled as you clung onto his shirt.

Pitter patter.

Your tears fell like torrents, gushing endlessly as you buried your face into his chest. Gripping tightly onto his dress shirt, you cried into the fabric, wailing the pent up emotions you had kept at bay the past few months. You wept like tomorrow would never come.

…

A few days had passed and you finally decided to confront Lev. Seeing how he wouldn’t respond to your messengers, you decided to hunt him down and talk to him face to face. It was easy to track him down, thanks to the ‘lowly paparazzi’ website, which constantly updated his whereabouts. For once, you were grateful for his overbearing fans.

To be fair, you felt a little bad about his own privacy, but you were also too engulfed in a mixture of confusion, jealousy and infuriation to sympathise with him.

You had everything planned out, what to say and retort, and you had to remind yourself that as much as he deserved to be heard out, you also had a right to be upset with him. Especially after the emotional and mental torment he intentionally (or unintentionally) subjected you to.

But it was impossible to deny that you had hoped that he had a good explanation for everything. You prayed fervently that he would return to your arms, like he always did. Memories of past, better days solely stabilised you during this emotional period.

When the weekend arrived, you threw on a your coat and hopped into your car and drove off. Apparently, Lev and Khristina, were dining at a high class café, located in the fancier suburbs of Tokyo. When you reached there, you parked your car by the sidewalk and sauntered in, ignoring the valet who glanced at you then at your vehicle.

Honestly, you never thought you would see the day when you would resort to stalking your fiancé, just to have a talk with him. But this was no ordinary talk, and the half blood knew when he saw you walk into the café.

You were fuming, brows scrunched up with the angriest expression he had ever seen in his life. Lev jumped up in his seat, like he had seen the ghost of Christmas past, and quickly excused himself.

As he shuffled towards the entrance, he met you halfway and tugged you outside by the wrist. His strides were quick, and he hissed when you dug your fingernails into his hand in defiance.

“Let me go!” You snapped fiercely, like a tigress baring its jaws at its adversary. He released you from his hold when he reached his destination: the back alleys of the shops.

The silver haired man didn’t back away. He was looking at you with shock, hurt and something else. Was it fear, nervousness? You couldn’t tell. You were too frustrated with him.

“(y/n)… I can explain–“ He began, a hand outstretched but you cut him off.

“I told you I‘d wait, didn’t I?” You glared up at him with narrowed eyes. His aghast expression wedged the knife deeper in your heart as you inhaled. “You… You said you had to leave. And I believed you! But four months passed and you didn’t bother to contact me. Not even once…”

Lev ran a hand through his now disheveled hair, which was pushed back until now. “Please, let me explain. I had my reasons, I swear.”

You realised the engagement ring on his finger was nowhere to be seen. Your lover opened his mouth to explain when you deadpanned.

“Where’s your ring?”

Lev’s eyes widened, from fright or concern, you weren’t sure. His usually bright, green orbs would he glowing with love whenever he gazed at you, but not today.

“(y/n), I–“

“Love, who’s that?” Came a sweet, enchanting voice at the start of the alley. It was Khathrina, a long legged lady with platinum blonde hair that cascaded down her back in voluminous waves.

She blinked her thick, wispy lashes at you curiously, and you clenched your jaw in retaliation. Glancing at Lev, you hoped that he would put her in her place. Anything along the lines of ‘she’s my girlfriend’ or ‘fiancé’ would have suffice, but no. It was a far fetched dream.

“No one, my dear.” Came Lev’s response, and he walked past you, bumping shoulders into you in the process. You gasped quietly when he cast you a cold, once over behind his broad shoulders.

He had looked at you as if the two of you had never met before. It burned a hole in your stomach, and you were too stunned to react. Frozen in your spot, your facade crumbled with every step he took, further away from you and to someone else.

When he reached the woman’s side, the duo linked arms and departed without another word.

…

You fumbled with your keys for the hundredth time. It took you a whole five minutes to enter your apartment, and when you did, you slammed the door shut behind you and slumped to the floor.

What on earth was that? How could he do that to me? How is that the same boy I fell in love with?

You had driven over to confront Lev, but in the end all you got was a deeper scar. Everything made no sense, and your mind throbbed with confusion and fatigue.

Everything became blurry as tears overwhelmed your vision, and you tugged at your shirt, at the thorn embedded in your heart. It was so close yet so far and out of reach. Drawing your knees to your chest, you cried your heart out once again.

Moments passed with you laying at the entrance, gazing at the unworn white slippers speckled with dust.

…

Like before, days spun into weeks, months, and even a year. Eventually, you deserted your shared apartment and rented a place, one far away from your previous home. You had only taken your clothes and necessities, leaving behind the photo frames and everything else as everything reminded you of him.

It would be a lie to claim that you didn’t miss him, but you had partially given up when the news stated that supermodels Lev and Khathrina were now married.

It made no sense, really. Perhaps this was all a bad dream, you reasoned, fiddling with the silver band around your ring. Maybe you were in a coma, and this was all a lengthy nightmare that you would soon wake up from.

Yes, when you wake up, your fiancé would be next to you, lying in bed, chest rising in steady rhythms whilst the morning sun shines on his handsome face. Haiba would turn around to greet you good morning through half lidded eyes, and he would tuck your hair behind your ears with a cheeky, yet gentle smile.

There’s no way any of this is real…! We’ve come so far, and he loves me more than anyone can imagine.

But as time passed, you began to realise that, perhaps Haiba Lev had departed long ago.

(ALT. END)　　　　　　　　

You fumbled with your keys for the hundredth time. It took you a whole five minutes to enter your apartment, and when you did, you slammed the door shut behind you and slumped to the floor.

What on earth was that? How could he do that to me? How is that the same boy I fell in love with back then?

You had driven over to confront Lev, but in the end all you got was a deeper scar. Everything made no sense, and your mind throbbed with confusion and fatigue.

Everything became blurry as tears overwhelmed your vision, and you tugged at your shirt, at the thorn embedded in your heart. It was so close yet so far and out of reach. Drawing your knees to your chest, you cried your heart out once again.

Out of nowhere, your phone began vibrating.

Sniffling, you fished it out of your coat and accepted the call blindly. “H-Hello?” You stuttered, rubbing away your tears with the back of your hand.

“It’s me, (y/n).” The familiar warm, low voice of Lev’s filled the silent room. Your eyes grew wide in shock, and you glanced at the caller ID to realise it wasn’t his usual phone number. “I don’t have much time, I’ll be gone by tomorrow, love.”

“Tomorrow? What?” You parroted, albeit dumbly as you raked your foggy mind for clarity.

You could almost imagine the frown on your boyfriend’s face when he blabbered. “Are you crying? I mean, were you…?” His voice trailed off, and you quickly blurted out that you weren’t.

A soft chuckle graced your ears and you felt the frustration and sadness from before ebb away. Leaning against the door, you listened attentively as he directed you to a location where he had agreed to rendezvoused. No sooner had he ended the call did you fly out of the apartment.

When you reached the park, you realised it was already midnight. You waited by a willow tree he had mentioned to you, and within a few minutes, he showed up.

You had lost all your fight and gave in to temptation. Throwing your arms around Lev, you held him in a tight embrace as you buried your face into his neck. Grinning widely, the ‘skyscrapper’ wrapped his arms around your back and rest his head atop yours, humming softly.

“I missed you, (y/n).” He had whispered softly, as if he was afraid that you would disappear any moment. “I’m always thinking of you, your smile, your smell…”

Shamelessly, he pressed his face against your head and inhaled it greedily. You giggled at the warm air tickling your scalp then looked up at him with glossy, doe eyes. “I missed you too. More than you can imagine.”

“Hey, I’m here now,” and Lev’s smile began to fade as he set you down onto your feet. Taking your hand, he guided you to sit under the beautiful willow tree. “I promised I’d tell you everything, and I will.”

As the moon waned in the night sky, you listened intently as the silver haired man explained to you what had happened the past few months. He went into detail that he had received a call from his tragically ill grandmother, that she had requested for him and his sister to return to Russia to see them one last time.

And being the filial grandson he was, he accompanied Alisa back to Russia. But upon their arrival, he realised that she was perfectly fine! Her real motive was to introduce him to a fair maiden, whom she had taken a liking to, and so she did. The girl just so happened to be another model, and one of pure Russian descent.

Lev explained animatedly how upset the old lady was when he told her that he was already engaged.

Your lover raised his ring finger to show you his gleaming band, and you almost teared up at the sight. He continued with a sigh, shaking his head as he relayed that she wanted Lev to give the girl a chance.

And in the end, he was forced to be engaged to her temporarily, until the octogenarian passed on.

So for now, they were spending some time in Japan, as the girl was determined to sightsee with her short-term fiancé. But eventually they would return to Russia, so that they could spend time together with his grandma.

It was, without a doubt, a peculiar situation. But a huge burden had been lifted off your shoulders, now that you knew why they were involved for a while.

“At first I didn’t contact you because I was unsure of myself. What to say, and to think…” He took your hand in his, and raised his head, green orbs gleaming with guilt.

He was threading carefully, something he hardly did, and your heart swelled. “But then it slowly turned into something bigger than that, and I feared that you would leave me because of this mess.

“I know what I did was awful and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I hope you know how much I love you and that I think about you every single day.” Closing his eyes, he brought your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles tenderly. When he reopened them, he gave you a dejected, lopsided smile. “I always have.”

“Then why did you act like you didn’t know me earlier?” You dipped your head, sideways. “You know, in front of her?”

“I had to put on an act, just to please my granny… I didn’t mean to hurt you,” He squeezed your hand, “This is only temporary. Once it’s over, I’ll return to Japan as soon as possible.”

You swallowed the forming lump in your throat. He was about to depart again, the man you had loved for a decade.

“Promise me you’ll come back. Back to me.” Placing a hand atop his, you locked eyes with him, “Please.”

He brushed back the stray strands of hair to glimpse at your sparkling irises. Lev’s heart clenched at the eyebags under your beautiful orbs, and he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours.

“I promise.”

The willow branches hid two of you from the world as the two of you conversed for hours, catching up on everything that had happened. You spent the rest of the night holding each other in the secluded park, fingers entwined silently.

…

Lev departed for Russia once again when the sun rose. You had bidded him goodbye tearfully, knowing you wouldn’t be able to speak to him in, possibly, a very long time. Nevertheless, you believed in the promise the two of you had made, and that kept you going.

It was still a little sad to wake up every morning without him next to you. Sometimes, you would even mistake a morning zephyr for his breath against your skin. Watching your favourite drama series alone without his ignorant comments and boisterous laughter pained you with a smile. But despite the lonely moments, you pushed forward.

Haiba Lev wasn’t the most level headed person. He was blunt, foolish, assertive, and sometimes, a simpleton. And yet, despite his innumerable flaws, you loved him.

You adored the discordant, entwined, looping threads that made up for who he was, his strengths and weaknesses, every fibre of his being. Furthermore, your love was unyielding; a delicate yet persistent wild flower, sprung from the cracks in concrete.

And you knew that one day, he would return. After all, his departure was not permanent.　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　fin.

[soldrawss]

I’m literally begging. I need more of your human aus. They’re so wholesome!!!!

I am always up for more BBM AU so! Here’s a mini-story I wrote when Zach asked if Raph has any underlying ptsd or fears about being alone!

Raph was fine till he was about 7. He doesn't remember his mom, and he barely remembers dad, and Mikey would sooner have a heart attack than leave Raph ALONE alone, so Raph didn't really grow up with the fear of being alone cause he's never really experienced it. He’s always had Mikey. He’s always had Leo and Donnie. It’s never occurred to him that that could ever change. That he could ever not have his big brothers there by his side.  But it's during one, late-night when everything kinda just lets loose to the idea that Raph COULD be separated from the rest of them, and really it all goes downhill from there. It's the night Leo came home with a black eye and bruised jaw. Leo said he just got into an accident, to not ‘worry about it, bud. I’m gucci’, and since Donnie didn't say anything about it and Mikey got to stay home for the night to be with them, Raph didn’t worry about it. Cause if his brothers said it was all OK, then it was, because it always had been before, and Raph figured it always would be like that, cause big brothers just had that power to make everything better. They’d never lied to Raph before. This was no different. But then he wakes up that night because he has to go to the bathroom, and he slides himself out from under Mikey's arm. (they had fallen asleep on the couch to a Lou Jitsu marathon, which was rare, cause they never watched dad’s old movies cause it made Mikey sad sometimes to remember dad. But he was in a reminiscent mood, so they threw a couple on and wow, Raph was kinda star-eyed and soft gasps, cause dad was kinda AWESOME) And Mikeys snoring gently, so tired his body is like a dead weight on top of Raph, and Raph's arm is a little numb from where Mikey was drooling on it. And as he's walking through the dark hallway, knowing the layout by heart so he didn’t bother risking turning on the lights in case he woke up Mikey, he tiptoes on sock-clad feet, until he notices a light coming from Dee and Leo’s room. And there are soft voices coming from the barely cracked door, and Raph is super never one to snoop, but theirs a curiosity bubbling in him and he can't help but detour from the bathroom ever so slightly, because he DOES have to go to the bathroom, but a few seconds of listening in won't kill him, and his big brothers NEVER let him in on their secret conversations. So Raph leans in, his ear pressed as close to the crack as he dared- "It was stupid, that's what! Do you know how much trouble you could have been in? You could have been expelled, Leo! It could have gone on your permanent record!" And oh... that was Donnie's voice... and he sounded... well, he sounded mad... but more than that... he sounded... scared. "Well, it didn't. And you worry too much. Nothing was gonna happen. It wasn't like I got into a fight with the principal’s kid! They didn't do more than a slap on the wrist and a few weeks detention." And Leo.... Leo got into a fight? Raph didn't know that. Why didn't they tell Raph that? Why did they... lie to Raph?

Raph pressed himself closer to the door. The bathroom long-forgotten behind him.

"And that's the thing! YOU don't worry at all! God, you're so self-absorbed! Do you really not get how bad this could have been?" "Look, I said I was sorry about getting involved, but I'm not sorry for slugging Tatsu in the nose. They BROKE your glasses Dee, you can't expect me to NOT to get mad about that." "This isn't about that stupid fight with some bullies, Leo-" "Then what is it about Donnie?! Because you've been riding my backside about it all night, but haven't said a word why! Why are you still so mad at me about this?" "I'm not MAD at you, I'm-" "You’re what then? Is this about what they said? About Mikey and me? You’re mad because I stepped in and threw a punch before you could? You’re mad because I made you the victum here? Look, I know that you hate it when I meddle in your business and try to fight your fights for you but I’m-” "I’M SCARED YOU COULD HAVE BEEN TAKEN AWAY, YOU ASS HOLE!" And Leo seemed to be just as surprised as Raph felt. They had been talking in pretty quiet voices up until Donnie practically screamed that last part, and it sent an electric shock through Raph's whole system. And Raph couldn't see their facial expressions, he didn't dare move an inch closer to the door to peek inside, but he could tell from the hitch in Donnie's voice. Donnie was crying now. "You could have been.... You could STILL be.." Donnie sniffed, and Raph felt his own eyes sting in proxy. "Tatsu's dad didn't this time, but he could have very well made an issue out of this. He could have brought this to the attention of the school board. And then the school board would have had to call Draxum, or worse, Bishop, and you KNOW child services don't need a reason to separate us! Bishop will take one look at your black eye and blame everything on Mikey and then they'll take us AWAY Leo! Don't you get that?" And that... what did that mean? What was Donnie talking about? Take us away? Take us away where? Who was Bishop? What was child services? Raph's mind was spinning, like car wheels on ice with no traction to go anywhere. His feet felt planted to the floor, sunk right there into the carpet. "Wait.. wait what?... Bishop? He's still a thing? I thought he got switched out for that other agent?” "Just because he doesn’t do house visits anymore doesn’t mean he still isn’t our case holder. He can still ruin our lives just as easily from his cubicle," And Donnie didn't sound like he was crying anymore, but there was still a raw roughness to his voice that Raph was whole years not accustomed too. "Raph's a baby. Heck, WE'RE still considered babies in the eyes of the law. It won't take a whole lot for them to take even the slightest infraction to deem Mikey unqualified. And then what would happen? We could probably manage to stay together cause people are kinder on not separating twins, but what about Raph? They'll take Raph for sure and ship him off to the other side of the country and there'd be nothing we could do to stop it and-" And Raph stopped listening after that. because... Because... What? Raph could be sent away? There are people out there that could take Raph away from Leo and Donnie? Away from Mikey? And that easily? And why? Because Mikey wasn't good enough? That... That didn't make any sense? Mikey was the best! There was no one better than Mikey in the whole world! How could there be people who didn't see that? And didn't they know that Raph couldn't go anywhere without Mikey? It didn't make any sense. None of it. But there was a pounding boom in Raph's chest that made it hard to breathe. His head spun, like he was just gone 4 rounds on the merry-go-around on the pier, and Raph couldn't THINK straight. He ran back towards the living room, he didn't care if he made any noise. He didn't care about anything really, at that moment. All he cared about was... Mikey. Still asleep and drooling on the couch from where Raph left him, and Raph practically jumped on top of his chest and clung onto his big brother for dear life, pressing his tear stained face into the front of Mikey's shirt. "Ouuufff! Hey- Hey Raph. You ok?" Mikey says in a startled slur, eyes blinking rapidly to tear away from sleep. His arms wrapped around Raph instinctually, like his body new what to do before his mind could catch up, and it felt like the most natural security blanket in the world to Raph. He cried harder into Mikey's chest. "Hey shhhhhh-shhhhhhhhh, buddy, it's ok. Breathe." Mikey was sitting up now, sleep all but forgotten as he stared down at the 7-year-old attached to his front, rubbing slow and gentle circles into Raph's back. "Raphie it's ok. You're ok sweetheart. You're safe and sound right here. Was it a nightmare? Did you have a bad dream?" And it sure felt like it. The world was spinning rapidly in a downward spiral of breathtaking hurt, just like a lot of Raph's nightmares. Except the monsters were real. They were real and practically right outside Raph's door and they could take Raph away any SECOND and Raph couldn't respond to Mikey. He wouldn't respond days, even weeks, later, when Mikey askes about it. All he can do is cry. Cry like his heart is breaking in half, and cling onto the safest and only lifeline in the world that he knows.

Thus spiraling Raph into a "clingy" stage, where he's terrified to be left alone for too long. Terrified to be separated in the grocery store, INSISTING Mikey hold his hand the entire time. Terrified to go to school and be away from his brothers for too long. Terrified to even SLEEP alone in his bed. And it's so wild to Mikey, because at first, it was kinda cute how a little bad dream made his baby brother all clingy to his side, and Mikey kinda enjoyed the endless attention. 

But then it started getting a bit too close to real, actual hysteria and paranoia that Raph was dealing with, and it took a mental breakdown on Raph's part, after Mikey had been a little late picking him up from school one day, because Leo and Donnie both had extracurriculars, and usually Raph just hangs out in the playground and waits for Mikey to come. But this time, he's crying his eyes out, pale and breathless and endlessly fussy with his teachers by the time Mikey arrives, and he clings unto Mikey, like he'd never see Mikey again, and Mikey HAS to have a talk with him, because what on earth could scare his brother as bad as THIS? And when Raph finally tells him, Mikey doesn't know what to do but hold him to his chest as tight as he can and whisper pretty half-truths to Raph to make him feel better. Because Mikey couldn't blindly let himself believe the "Of course! Nothing will ever take you away from me Raph, it's all ok! You have nothing to worry about! Your big brother will make sure all of you are all safe and ok! I promise kiddo. No one is taking anyone away. I won't let that happen." How could he? This was a very real fear. It was Mikey's Biggest fear on the daily. But he couldn't let Raph feel like this. To carry this fear and burden. That was too much for a 7-year-old. Mikey didn't even realize Leo and Donnie were aware of their situation to that degree. 

And it puts seeded pits of fear in his chest, taking root in his heart and feeding into something dark and cold and fearful. But Mikey does his best to push it down. Push it away. Out of sight of Raph and Leo and Donnie. And he smiles and laughs and presses kisses to Raph's temple and carries his baby brother piggyback all the way home, because he'll carry whatever weight his brothers are dealing with. Take on any fears. as long as they don't have to face them alone. As long as Mikey can still protect them, for as long and as hard as he can, then when the day comes that Bishop DOES show up at their door, he'll be ready for him.

[itsmeevie01]

A Moment in Time- Ch 13

MASTERPOST

has it been...a week? wow.

BUT I have planned a bit of the next few chapters. YAY!

I'm also failing bio but whatever. it's fine. everything is fine. (it's really not but I won't acknowledge it.)

anyways, no warnings for this ch, just Mari and Tim time!

Tim’s hotel room was nice. He really couldn’t complain, but there was something that made the back of his neck prickle. It hadn’t been only at the hotel either, but it was where he had felt it most acutely. There was someone at the hotel watching him.

When he had arrived in Paris the night before, Tim had been shocked at the tense atmosphere. The last time he had visited six months earlier, there hadn’t been this feeling of everyone holding their breath. Now, Tim was tense simply because everyone around him was. He wasn’t sure if it was the feeling of being watched or if it was the way everyone was holding their breath, but Tim’s nerves were frying very quickly.

He was supposed to meet Marinette for coffee in the next hour, and Tim was more than ready to see a face that he wasn’t paying to like him. As he slumped into a chair, the teen debated texting Marinette to ask for somewhere slightly more private to stave off his paranoia. As the clock ticked down, Tim gritted his teeth, caught up in his head. A ding from his phone brought him back to the present. With a glance down Tim jolted.

Tim+Marinette

Marinette- Hey! Just a reminder that we are meeting at that café I gave you the address to. I’ll be there in about 15 minutes, so I’ll see you soon!

Tim- Thanks, Marinette! I’m looking forward to seeing you!

Marinette- Me too 😊

Tim studied his phone before he yelped. It was a five-minute walk to the café, and he still hadn’t changed from his suit from earlier. The teen groaned and shook his head at his forgetfulness.

Marinette was surprisingly nervous when she sat down at the café she had told Tim about. Her hand was shaking, and she had no idea why. In front of her was a plate with a muffin and a coffee cup that had been made the way the staff knew she liked. The truth was this is where she camped out when her room was closing in on her. That meant that the people who worked there knew Marinette well enough to respect her privacy, while also holding a conversation when she had the time.

With a shaking hand, Marinette set her sketchbook on the tables and opened it to the last sketch she had been working on. As she cleaned up the lines and made notes about what specifications she wanted Marinette started to fall into the mental spiral that could trap her for days.

Had she picked the right clothes?

Why was she worried about what she wore?

Would Plagg behave? He was known for causing trouble for her.

Would Tim be nice in person, or would he be like most of the corporate douches that she worked with at Agreste?

Would Hawkmoth attack while they were together?

What if the media caught sight of them? Oh, she should have picked a more private place to meet!

A sharp prick on her thigh had Marinette yipping quietly, but the look Plagg gave her told the teen that he knew what was going through her head.

The Kwamii snuck up to her shoulder and his in her hair. “careful, Red. There are people here but not too many, this kid seems like he has a good head on his shoulders. We can trust him on that. You won’t get a better read on him until you spend time with him in person, so don’t start the spiral just yet. Plus, you know that some of the stress from this week is getting to you. Training three Miracle holders is stressful in the best of times. You are doing it in combat times without the full team the guardians used to use.” the duo could feel the tension leave Marinette’s shoulders at the small god’s words.

The teen whispered “thanks Plagg” as she focused back on the design in front of her.

Tim walked into the café and glanced around as he ordered.

There were only a few patrons there. in one corner was a red-headed boy who was obviously absorbed in his schoolwork. Near the middle was a girl who was typing on her computer with the manic speed of someone who had a paper due in the next day. In the far corner was a dark-haired girl who was working in some kind of notebook. And a few tables away from the register was a duo. A blonde girl whose hair was held in the kind of ponytail that made Tim cringe in sympathy, and a boy with dark hair that looked completely uncomfortable. Hopefully, Tim wasn’t witnessing a date gone wrong.

as he accepted his food, the teen headed for the girl in the back corner. He knew that Marinette had dark hair and that if she was anything like Jason, she would choose the place that would give her the best view of the space. Tim cleared his throat as he approached, breaking her out of focus on what Tim now realized was a sketchbook. “Marinette?”

“Tim! Hi! Come sit with me.” The girl’s enthusiasm made Tim smile, and he easily settled into the chair across from her.

The first few moments were awkward, but soon, Tim and Marinette were laughing and talking together happily. At one point, Tim got Marinette to really laugh. As she was pulling herself together, Tim tilted his head back. A smile danced over his features while he stretched his neck. as he leaned back, Tim noticed the blond girl narrowing her eyes at him, before glaring when she realized that she had been caught. She flipped her hair and whirled back around to face the boy that was laughing at her. Marinette snorted at the flush on the girl's face and rolled her eyes.

“that’s my friend, Chloé, she doesn’t think that I know that she is here with our friend. She’s just a big snoop.” Tim huffed a laugh and shrugged.

“Well, as long as it's just your friend spying on us, we should be fine. Are you interested in perhaps taking a walk?” Marinette giggled before standing. Tim joined her and offered her his hand. She sent him a smile and wiggled her fingers at him, before collecting her stuff and skipping off.

As she turned to smile at him, Tim called out a “hey! Wait up!” before hurrying after her.

After he had caught up with her, Marinette shot Tim a smile and led him off down the streets. He laughed and followed. The ease the girl used to navigate the streets had Tim marveling. The sound of her giggles had him smiling as he followed. Soon, they arrived at a small townhouse on the outskirts of the city. She glanced over her shoulder and inclined her head. Once they were both in the foyer, she guided him through to the sitting room.

“sorry about the…adventure. I know that you had more questions, and there were a few people in the café that I don’t trust.” Tim blinked, before nodding.

“I…ok? How did you know that I had questions? And as much as I liked exploring the city, where are we?” Marinette blushed slightly.

“we-ah. Well, we are at my Nona’s house. She lets me use it when she isn’t here to get some space. And…well…I know that your emails were full of questions, and I realized that anyone who wasn’t Parisian would have questions. And. Well. I saw a girl I don’t get along with in there and I wanted an excuse to get away from her?” Tim studied her for a moment, before bursting out laughing.

“Marinette, that would have been a perfectly fine reason, even without any reasonable justification. But” here, Tim worked to reign in his laughter, “the trip through the labyrinth of Paris, and the who thing…thank you.” A look of confusion crossed the girl’s face. “ever since I’ve landed, I’ve had the feeling that there was something watching me. Not only that, but everyone I’ve met has been holding their breath. I know that there is something going on, but I haven’t asked because I’m afraid of setting someone off. Do you know what’s going on in Paris? And why…why do I feel better here in your Nona’s home than in my hotel or the café?”

Marinette tensed as Tim talked. When he finished, she hesitated before voicing her concern. “Tim…did you say that you don’t feel like you’re being watched anymore?”

“yes?”

“oh my god. Tim! That’s…oh no. No. no. no! Tim…that means that Hawkmoth had decided that you would make a good Akuma. This house is out of the city proper, so he can’t get us here. Oh, this is so bad!”

“Marinette, hey. Stop. Look at me.” The girl, who had started to pace, paused. She glanced over at the older teen, her blue eyes wide in panic. Tim reached out and took her hands in his and gripped them tightly. Once her eyes were focused on him, and not the wall behind him, Tim spoke quietly. “Marinette are you with me?” she nodded. “is the reason that you reacted like that because of panic?” another nod. “talk me through why.” Her eyes went wide, and she looked at him in shock before taking a shaking breath and turning away.

“you could have been akumatized. You could have been akumatized and would have been with me and I would be to blame. Then you would-or still can- turn Jason and Nona against me. Then I could be exiled from Paris, or-“ Tim had squeezed her hands that he still somehow held during her spiral. Marinette spun around to face the older boy in shock.

“Marinette, how would me being akumatized become your fault? If we are going to lay blame on anyone, it would be Hawkmoth. He is the one who is going around possessing people with evil purple butterflies.” She studied him, shocked, before breathing out a sigh of relief.

“I am so sorry, Tim. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that. That was so rude.” Tim shook his head in response as she collapsed onto one of the couches.

“you have nothing to apologize for. I have a feeling that after the time you spent in Gotham, living under a supervillain for four years has been stressful. Maybe during your time in Gotham, if you don’t have the sight of my face by then,” here the younger girl giggled, relief evident in her face at the proposal for other plans, “maybe I can take you around Gotham and give you the time to explore without a psychopath with mind-reading abilities hanging over your head.”

A small smile danced over Marinette’s lips. “I would love that Tim, thank you.”

Later that evening, Marinette sighed in frustration.

Her homework was just one more thing she had to worry about. Beyond that, she really wanted to spend time with Tim. With Hawkmoth watching him, she wasn’t sure how long her friend would last in the city of love.

Another sigh broke its way free from Marinette’s throat, and the girl pushed aside the pile of schoolwork in favor of looking over her sketchbook. There, on the open page, was Tim’s face staring back up at her. She wasn’t sure what prompted her to draw him, but in this case, she was chalking up to her hand having a mind of its own. Looking down at the picture, she felt anger overtake her. Marinette had already given up so much, and yet here she was.

If this ridiculousness from Hawkmoth didn’t stop, the teen knew she would have to sacrifice her friendship with Tim as well, If only to protect him. the seed of anger seemed to burn brighter, and the girl clenched her jaw, trying to remind herself that no, this was not worth an Akumatization.

She looked up, trying to drain her eyes of the tears that had gathered without her permission, and caught sight of a purple butterfly. With trembling hands, the teen pulled out a glass jar that she had been experimenting with. One muttered spell later, the Akuma was sitting inside of the jar, and the glass had clouded over. With an angry shake of the Jar, the girl pulled out her phone and sent one text. They were ending this, tonight.

As Marinette prepared to meet her team, an assuredness settled over her. She knew that they had the ability to take down Adrien’s father. Apate just had to give the signal. And Marinette Dupain Cheng would be damned if she let an emotional terrorist ruin one more day of her life.

It was time to take Gabriel Agreste down.

sooooooo........... who liked Alya, Chloé, and Adrien date crashing. one was unintentional, but the other two totally knew something was happening bc Mari did tell ANYBODY about Tim or meeting him.

side note, yes, I consider this the first date. they don't...yet.

ahhhhhhhhh Hawkmoth is going down. Angry Mari because her friend is being threatened? you bet! no, Chloé is NOT going to be happy.

if anyone has a good suggestion for a Gotham villain who is not the Joker or Riddler PLEASE let me know. I am PLOTTING. yes, my next stop is Google. no, no one is going to be happy.

TAGLIST

@moonlitceleste @redscarlet95 @ultimatetornshipper @mochegato @liquid-luck-00 @maskedpainter @trippingovermyfeet @nathleigh @m0chick0furan @susiej1118 @t1dwarrior-of-earth @sassakitty @remy-289 @solangelo252 @corporeal-terrestrial @woe-is-me0 @toodaloo-kangaroo @sizzling-fairy-oil

[princess-of-the-corner]

Lila trying convince people Mari works for Hawkmoth "Ladybug told me she refuses to give Mari a miraculous, I think we need to question why she thinks Mari would be a bad holder" and immediately after that Mari is outed as Multimouse

I uh. I got carried away answering this one. 

           “Hey,” Alya said, leaning over the desk. “Since you’re friends with Ladybug, you have influence on who she chooses to be new Heroes, right?”

           “She does take my choices into account,” Lila grinned. “I can’t tell you who anyone is though! Of course, we must uphold secret identities!”

           The implication was lost on Alya. But not Adrien. Perhaps he should encourage this line of discussion. Maybe Lila would ‘confess’ to being the Fox Hero. That’d really be some ‘proof’.

           “I know,” Alya said. “But… I know you haven’t gotten along, but maybe you could suggest Marinette?”

           “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Lila frowned.

           “Again, I know you two don’t get along well,” she said. “But I think that offering an olive branch like that might help you two, you know. Bury the hatchet and all that.”

           “I-it’s not that I don’t want to,” she sighed. “I’ve actually tried, with that exact idea in mind! But… Ladybug doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”

           “How is it not a good idea?” she wondered. “Mari’s… Mari. The only non-heroic quality she has is her clumsiness! And Ladybug let Chloé be a Hero!”

           “I heard that, jackass!” Chloé said from her seat, lazily flipping them off. “It’s true but you shouldn’t say it.”

           Adrien laughed at that. Especially because Alya just gave an exasperated smile and eyeroll instead of derailing this into an argument. Progress on friendship!

           “I don’t know the details,” Lila said. “But when I suggested that Ladybug choose Marinette, she refused. All Ladybug said was that she ‘had suspicions’. But… you’re right. If Ladybug gave Chloé a Miraculous but thinks giving one to Marinette is a bad idea…. Maybe we should examine why.”

           Oh. So that was her game. Well, as much as Adrien wanted to say something about that, there was already a plan in place to keep it from going too far. Perhaps it would be better if Marinette didn’t know about this one.

           Though he would later tell her that Alya still defended her from Lila’s implied accusation. Manipulation was a powerful tool, but try too big a lie too soon and it’d fall apart. Lila had too much faith in her abilities, and not enough in how wonderful Marinette was.

           So instead, he rolled his eyes and focused on the girl in question, who had just scrambled into the classroom seconds before the bell rang. And by ‘scrambled’, he of course means she ran in and tripped, landing on the floor in front of his desk.

           “Morning, Bugaboo,” Adrien grinned. “Glad to see you’re still falling for me!”

           “Just for that, you don’t get breakfast,” Marinette teased, holding up a somehow-not-crushed bag of pastries.

           “Wait, no, I’m sorry!”

-

           Alya was filming again. Of course she was. She had to get footage for the Ladyblog! And be nearby in case Rena Rouge is needed. Though she had learned her lesson about getting too close to the battles, and was safely with the rest of the crowd of reporters and curious passerby, all recording as well.

           However, the Akuma of the Day was not her intrest right now. It was the new Hero! A girl in a gray and pink costume, her hair in two buns. She was adorable!

           While Ladybug stood back, observing the battle, Chat Noir and the new Hero, Multimouse, fought the Akuma.

           Alya winced when Multimouse got grabbed and thrown, landing near the crowd. She tumbled, rolling on the road. The force must’ve been enough to slip her Miraculous off, as there was a flash of pink.

           Even if Alya had the reflexes to cut off her own video, and wasn’t frozen in shock, all the other people recording would have footage of this reveal.

           As the pink flash ended, Alya watched as Marinette got up, shaking her head. The girl looked panicked, realizing her Miraculous was gone. Even more panicked when she saw she was on live tv.

           Chat had followed to make sure she was okay, and was just as panicked. He landed, helping her up just as she found the necklace.

           “It’s fine,” Marinette swallowed. “I- I’m fine. Let me finish the fight and you guys can have this back, okay?”

           “If you’re sure,” Chat said. “Too bad about the identity thing. I mean, Ladybug and I have been so excited to get you on the team for a while, after all the times you helped us without powers. Kinda sucks I won’t get to enjoy you being a Teammate more often!”

           “Chat, Multimouse!” Ladybug shouted from the rooftop. “Fall back and regroup!”

           Nodding, Marinette gave a sheepish wave to the cameras before calling her Transformation again. The Cat chased the Mouse back to the rooftops and away from the fight.

           This… didn’t make sense. Hadn’t Lila said that Ladybug was refusing to give Marinette a Miraculous? And while Alya assured her that Ladybug’s suspicions of Marinette possibly being connected to how many times the Class was Akumatized was just paranoia, Alya had thought that Ladybug had already made up her mind.

           Had Lila only said that to cover that Ladybug was choosing Marinette? Then why say all that about how Marinette was ‘suspicious’? It doesn’t make sense. Maybe Lila talked to her again and changed her mind?

           No. That doesn’t make sense either. Chat said that he and Ladybug were looking forward to ‘Multimouse’ for a while.

           Did Ladybug just tell Lila that to keep the info secret? No that still doesn’t make sense. It brings her back to ‘why say she’s ‘suspicious’’?

           She’d have to look more into it.

-

           Multimouse landed on top of a rooftop, with ‘Ladybug’ and ‘Chat Noir following her.

           ‘Reality!’.

           ‘Ladybug’ turned into orange mist. ‘Chat’ seemed to as well at first, before solidifying into Silver Fox. God she hated that name. But it was technically the term for an actual black-furred fox. Somehow.

           “Ugh,” Silver groaned, nearly collapsing against her. “How in the hell did you do this the first time? Making ‘Ladybug’ act like you is hard enough without having to constantly wrap an Illusion around myself.”

           “I am the creative one out of both of us,” Multimouse said. “How’re you doing though? Using both of those must be tiring.”

           “A little,” he replied. “I might take a nap after this.”

           As half of Silver Fox’s transformation dropped, leaving just Chat Noir, Multimouse dropped her own transformation. Letting the Kwamis rest, Marinette pulled some snacks out of her purse.

           “This is fun!” Trixx said, his mouth full of blueberry scone.

           “It is,” Mullo agreed, munching on a cracker. “We’ve been helpful though, right?”

           “Very, Marinette nodded, petting the Kwami’s head. “Now there’s footage of Ladybug and I in the same place. No one will be able to connect us.”

           “We still need to finish the fight,” Chat said. “That means we still need Trixx.”

           “Aw man,” Trixx sighed.

           “You really need to work on your work ethic,” Tikki mused, appearing from wherever she had been hiding.

           “Do you need me again?” Mullo asked.

           “Nope,” Marinette answered. “Silver Fox will make an Illusion of Multimouse this time, while Ladybug fights for real. I do need to purify the Butterfly, once the fight’s over. Stay nearby and at the ready in case something happens though.”

           “You ready to go again?” Chat asked.

           “I guess,” Trixx sighed, popping the rest of the scone in his mouth.

           “Still less lazy than Plagg,” Tikki muttered.

           “Trixx, Let’s Pounce!”

           “Tikki, Spots On!”

           Ladybug stretched, while Silver Fox yawned. With a soft smile, she kissed his cheek. That seemed to perk him up a little bit.

           “Make sure to keep ‘Multimouse’ back a bit,” Ladybug said. “Don’t need her getting hit and ruining the whole thing. And when we get to the fight, the Butterfly’s in the Akuma’s hairpin. We need to get it quick before your Mirage runs out.”

           “Don’t worry,” Silver said. “I believe in you. So do most people.”

           “Most people?” she wondered.

           “A certain liar might’ve said something this morning,” he shrugged. “Don’t worry. With the appearance of Multimouse, her claim is being quickly forgotten. Or someone might catch on.”

           She frowned, wondering exactly what was said. Oh well. She’d deal with it later.

-

           Turns out ‘later’ meant walking into a goddamn riot when she got back to class.

[tenebraevesper]

Up Ladybug, Entry 13: Reflection

Chapter Preview/Link To Full Chapter Below

''Bridgette, how do you feel? Are you okay?'' Tikki asked, flying out of her hiding spot once she was sure that Chat Noir was gone. She was worried that the black cat superhero might try something, perhaps attempt to manipulate Bridgette while she was emotionally at her lowest, but it appeared that Bridgette had everything under control.

''Yeah, I am. As a matter of fact, I feel great!'' Bridgette gave the kwami a smile of satisfaction. She then fist-pumped with both of her hands. ''Anyways, it's time for me to go on a patrol, isn't it?''

''Whether you go on a patrol or not is your decision,'' Tikki reminded her. Bridgette merely gave her a pointed look, her answer clear. Tikki shrugged. ''Speaking of which, what are you planning to do with Chat Noir?''

''You'll see,'' Bridgette replied casually, looking around to make sure she was completely alone. Once done, she brushed over the earrings with her hand. ''Tikki, transform me!''

She tilted her head slightly to the side, with Tikki getting absorbed into the Ladybug Earrings. Sparkly orbs of red light were emitted from the earrings, completely enveloping Bridgette. The red suit materialized across her body and she stepped out of the bright red light as Ladybug.

''Duty calls,'' she said, jumping over her balcony and onto the nearest building, curious about how this night is going to turn out.

xXx

Chat Noir was sitting on one of the metallic beams on the Eiffel Tower, waiting patiently for Ladybug's arrival. He was a little surprised that Ladybug wasn't waiting for him, as she was the one more committed to her work as a superhero and would usually arrive at their meeting spot earlier. He was left wondering whether he was too late and she had already left or whether she had been distracted by something or someone.

Maybe something happened and I'm missing out on the action.

Despite that possibility, Chat Noir shook his head, deciding to remain until Ladybug had arrived. He wanted to show that he was taking their agreement seriously. Still, he also thought about them finding a way to communicate over long distances. He couldn't exactly give her his phone number, but having a chat app that allows them to remain anonymous while communicating might work.

Deciding to leave these kinds of thoughts for later, he focused on his conversation with Bridgette instead. Admittedly, all he wanted was to learn why Bridgette liked him so much, but to his surprise, he found himself learning more about her and about himself. While he didn't have all the answers he needed, it was still more that he had hoped for.

The conversation helped him understand that Bridgette certainly wasn't the crazy fangirl he had imagined her to be, one who'd have shallow reasons to be attracted to him. Instead, all she desired was his friendship, even correctly guessing that there was indeed more to him than he had shown. He noted that she appeared to be quite perceptive, her suggestions and assumptions intriguing him. He even had to admit that he found himself wishing he could talk to her like that as a civilian, without the constant anxiety, worry and paranoia that she might suddenly turn into a full-blown stalker.

''I think I've read too many mystery novels,'' Chat Noir muttered to himself, shaking his head.

''Still, it doesn't mean that your own life will end up like a mystery novel,'' Plagg's voice came from the Ring of the Black Cat. He knew well what was troubling his holder and he was going to support him no matter what. In a way, he felt obligated to protect Félix in return for him having to deal with the bad luck curse.

''I hope it won't,'' Chat Noir said, pausing for a moment, then snorted. ''Well, in a way, it is.'' A look of determination formed on his expression. ''Nevertheless, I'm not going to let it haunt me.'' Then, he sighed, his eye-lids lowering. ''Although, I guess I still have more to learn, don't I? I thought I was close to the end of my quest, but I'm not even at the half-way point.''

''You mean, your relationship with Ladybug, right?'' Plagg asked.

''It's not just Ladybug,'' Chat Noir replied, his tail swishing. ''There's also Bridgette,'' he frowned, ''…and Uncle Gabriel.''

Up Ladybug, Entry 13: Reflection (Complete Chapter)

[inavagrant-a]

Now that I am free of the clutches of capitalism...... ..

Inazuma.

Inazuma, essentially, just has one (1) governing body which is the Inazuma Bakufu, who’s leader is Baal, but there’s also another body who’s a branch of the Inazuma Bakufu. They’re the ones in charge of protecting the border of Inazuma, who goes in and who goes out, the ones who enforce who’s an “okay” to come in and who’s an “okay” to go out. Those in command of that border-line are called the Kanjobugyo. One might make the educated guess that given Baal’s current order on visions and to hunt down every single one then obviously those with visions are more than likely absolutely not allowed to leave, that’s essentially a hard no. But! Not just them, there’s an Inazuma escapee in Liyue who mentions this border and she has no vision in her possession and the only w ay she ever managed to get out in the first place was cause she built a raft for herself and hightailed it out of there. This implies that even those without visions aren’t in the clear. The Kanjobugyo decide with an obvious bias towards Baal because they do work in union to the Inazuma Bakufu. 

I’m assuming they probably ask questions outside of you as an individual. Like do you have a family member who has a vision? And I’m absolutely sure they probably keep a close eye on where your bias towards Baal’s ruling is. Do you like what she’s doing? Do you think she’s being fair? Do you not like it? So as far as questions go they probably wouldn’t let you out if you’re just gonna make Inazuma’s current state sound like shit to the other nations. So there’s that, but there’s also the paranoia aspect because it is also equally taxing to go back in. This NPC says that it’s really tense and dangerous over there and she really wouldn’t recommend anybody to go in no matter what their reasons are.

There’s also three bottled messages in Dragonspine that you find washed in the shores, the final bottled message implies Baal so with that in mind I also figured that the first two I found were from Inazuma as well. They read as follow:

If you are reading this message, I hope that you are the one I am expecting. I’ve lost count of which letter this is. How far will it drift, and on what shore will it wash up? If we ever should meet again, do tell me once more of the mountain city of stone and the snowstorms of the north. Or perhaps, tell me about dandelions and wine instead. What say you? I will wait for your reply as I always have.

An old friend of ours came over yesterday bearing ill tidings… I have not received a reply from you in a long while. Perhaps he right, and i should accept reality. But nonetheless, if you are still wandering the land, should you receive the missive, I hope that you can send me a reply. Attach your insignia to your letter, that I may recognize you by its presence when the time comes. Do you remember Uyuu Restaurant? We shall meet there. You will find the money for wine attached herein. But if you are not the one I was expecting to receive this letter… Then please, take this keepsake all the same. Perhaps you might be able to find its original owner for me – do also take the Mora in here as thanks.

If you are reading this message, I hope you are the one I am expecting. We once believed that war was something that only happened in fairy tales and legends. But now, each and every one of us tremble under Her Excellency’s thundering wrath. The beach that we used to go to has been sealed, but I found a way to get this letter out nonetheless. Do not worry, or blame yourself for this. This deed is but trivial for one who once ventured alongside you such as I. I will wait for your reply, even if you write but a single word.

The people of Inazuma, not just vision holders, are suffering in their homeland and what Baal’s made of it.

Though it’s only been a year, these sad letters washed up to shore make it clear that Baal is not about to change her mind any time soon and she’s not hinted to reopening their home or bringing back what Inazuma used to be before all of this started. Zhongli, at the end of his quest, implies that once word gets out to Baal that he was “murdered” then she’s just bound to get worse and make it even more strict.

The Fatui, as per canon, have diplomatic immunity so they can go in and out as they so please. HOWEVER with that said, the Fatui are VERY closely guarded, always eyes on them somewhere but given their military strength none engage unless the FATUI stir it first.

Non-vision holders live in fear of one day waking up or finding out that they now have a vision since they’re essentially impossible to get rid of and aren’t things you can simply leave behind (ex: keqin g when she tried to get rid of hers). Vision hunts are executed by the Inazuma Bakufu and are still going on at this very present day. People going through it getting their visions or waking up with them, some feel bittersweet about it because they see it as recognition but now have a target on their backs whilst others loathe it and detest it because it’s a life changing occurrence and not the good kind. Vision holders within Inazuma have resorted to /hiding/ their visions, to conceal it from the human eye to hide themselves from Baal’s all seeing eye and her regime. The only exceptions to the vision hunt rule is people who have PROVEN themselves to be LOYAL to Baal, those are the only people she’ll allow to wield visions for the SOLE REASON of HUNTING those who have them, that’s it. So those in charge of the borders and the Inazuma Bakufu do have vision holders in their midst. The majority of the population of Inazuma are against this, but there are those few who do wholeheartedly worship Baal, who have been corrupted to her tastes. Given the fact that the majority of the Inazuma population are AGAINST what she’s doing (most too afraid to challenge her and her followers) there are secret groups who’re trying to pull strings in the shadows, who’re trying to make things change. With or without force, there’s even some WITHIN the Inazuma Bakufu who’re only acting like they’re faithful little followers but really they’re not and are serving for the opposite cause, to have this isolation come to an end and bring more prosperity to their homeland.

As we’re all aware Inazuma is an island, this island is no small island as it does have its different regions and its different tastes. Mountainsides, forests, plains, marshes, little villages, said villages having estates of families of high standing/society/wealth, springs, and so on and so forth. Inazuma really thrives off of its seafood, seafood dishes are one of this region’s delicacies among others. Inazuma is a humble island, though the whole problem with non-vision holders and vision holders was still a thing, Inazuma prospered.

As mentioned though it is difficult to go in and out, it is not entirely impossible because festivals are still held, events are still things that happen, and people from the outside can come an attend said events assuming they’re lucky enough to get through the tight security of the borders there.

It has yet to be explained how or why characters get a certain elemental vision and until Mihoy o says I’m wrong I’m going to go with the idea that it’s blessed by said elemental archon, either subconsciously or done so on purpose will be a rant I’ll go about later. Given Baal’s current state electro visions have become rare in Inazuma and those who do have electro visions are plagued with night terrors of Baal coming after them because of the respective element. Baal can sense these electro vision holders easier than those who don’t have electro visions. I also believe that the Inazuma Bakufu are given like.... ..devices or gadgets of some sorts that would help them identity vision holders based on their energy/elemental presence even if they aren’t exactly accurate, most of the time they do the job they’re supposed to.

In conclusion, please le t me in Baal. 

[snowdice]

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 11)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 My Master Post

Virgil smiled awkwardly at the cashier when he entered the gas station and went straight to the coffee machine. He went ahead and grabbed the largest size cup for Patton because they were going to be on the road for a while.

He… didn’t quite understand why the man was still going to be driving for Virgil when there was no knife involved, but hopefully it wasn’t a trick.

It was probably a trick.

He should probably tell the cashier he’d been kidnapped.

But then the cashier would definitely call the cops and, knowing his mother, Virgil would definitely be screwed. So, instead, Virgil put the lid on Patton’s now filled coffee cup and found that there was one plain donut with chocolate frosting still in the case. He grabbed that and then searched around the candy aisle for a bit. He finally settled on a pack of Red Vines and grabbed a blue raspberry slushie. If he was going to get axe murdered by some guy that kept a stuffed bear named Barnaby in his car, he was going to do so with a blue tongue.

He handed over the 20-dollar bill to the cashier and then gathered up the snacks and drinks to take them to the car.

He caught Patton with his phone in his hands while he was pumping gas. “Hey, what are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“Just sending a text to my brother so he doesn’t worry too much,” Patton replied quickly. Virgil gave him a suspicious look. When it became clear that Virgil wasn’t going to willingly take a step closer to the car after that, Patton sighed and held out his phone. “You can see,” he said.

Virgil set the drinks and snacks down on the hood of the car and took the phone. The phone indeed was open to just a string of emojis sent to someone called “Lo-Lo” in Patton’s phone. The string of emojis read “🛒🧀🧀🧀💵🚙👶🏻🔪🥺🚙🍔🍟🍦📞🤐📻😭😴😱👣🤳🧸⛽️🗺☕️😎👍 ❤️”

“There is… no way he’d understand that,” Virgil said. “I barely understand it and I lived it.” He paused. “I am not a baby.”

Patton snatched the phone back. “I didn’t say you were.”

“You typed ‘knife baby’ in emoji!” Virgil said.

“Baby with a knife actually,” Patton said unrepentant. He grabbed his coffee and donut off the hood of the car and opened the driver’s door to put the drink in the cup holder and the donut on the seat. Then, he went to finish up pumping the gas.

Virgil frowned, but he did pick up his snack and drink and got into the passenger seat. He’d already thrown his lots in with the possible serial killer anyway.

Patton finished pumping the gas and got back into the car.

“Don’t sit on your…” he sat on his donut.

“Oops!” he said. He sat up and grabbed the donut to take a bite. “Still good,” he declared with a grin.

Virgil rolled his eyes and took a long drag of the slushie.

“Don’t get brain freeze!”

“Whatever da-” He froze, chocking on the word.

Patton looked over at him, his face turning serious suddenly. “Hey kiddo,” the man said softly. He reached over to put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him with warm earnest eyes that made Virgil want to believe his words. “I’m going to make sure you’re okay, okay?”

Virgil looked away from his far too knowing eyes. “You don’t even know me, why would you?”

“I like helping people when I can. A couple hours of driving aren’t much to make sure someone else is safe. I spend a lot of my life driving anyway.”

“What do you even do?” Virgil asked.

“I mostly do odd jobs for my brother.”

“That doesn’t sound like a real job,” Virgil said.

He started the car and began to back up as he answered. “Do you know much about real jobs, then?” he asked.

“Well…” Virgil said. “I mean, no, but… still.”

Patton smiled over at him. “Okay, I answered a question about me-” Did he though? Virgil narrowed his eyes at him. “Now you answer a question about you.”

“Why?” Virgil asked suspiciously.

“Well, we have an hour and a half of driving left and neither of us are kidnapped anymore, we might as well get to know each other.”

“…What’s the question?”

“What’s your favorite subject in school?” Patton asked cheerily.

“Really?” Virgil asked. “Is this what we’re doing?” Patton just smiled over at him and Virgil went about tearing open his package of Red Vines. “English,” he said taking a bite of his candy.

“I always liked History myself, but English was fun.”

Virgil hummed. “You have any family other than your brother?” he asked.

“Lo has two sons. They’re twins.”

“Cool,” Virgil replied.

“Favorite color?”

“Purple. So, you don’t have kids then?”

“Not of my own,” Patton replied. “But I helped with the twins when they were younger, and I like to think of all of my coworkers as my kiddos.”

Virgil’s face twisted up. He didn’t know much about adult workplaces, but… “I’m sure they appreciate that,” Virgil scoffed

“I like to think so,” Patton said, seeming to not even register the skepticism in Virgil’s tone. Was the man ever anything but chipper? “Favorite movie?”

“Ratatouille,” he said on instinct and then felt his stomach drop. His favorite movie was Ratatouille because Uncle Emile always insisted on playing it during movie nights. Dad would complain loudly because he knew that Emile and Virgil would spend the rest of the night making jokes about dad having the same name as the rat.

“I don’t want to play this game anymore,” Virgil said, choked.

Patton glanced over at him in surprise. “Okay,” he said softly. Virgil was thankful he didn’t try to push.

They drove for another 10 minutes. Virgil did his best not to think about… everything, but it got increasingly harder. He tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie, his slushie and Red Vines forgotten. Finally, Patton looked back over at him, his eyes concerned. Virgil curled into himself expecting him to try to needle Virgil into talking.

Instead he just smiled sadly at him. “Why don’t we play a different game?”

“I… sure,” Virgil agreed. Might as well. Maybe it would help. “What game?”

“Ooo!” Patton said. “How about ‘I Kill Your Cows’? Lo always threatens to kill me by the end of that game.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Virgil asked.

“Yeah!” Patton said, “Because that means I’m winning.”

Virgil puffed out an amused breath. “Okay. How do you play?” he asked.

“Well,” Patton said. “Basically, when you see a group of cows you can claim them and say ‘I have 10 cows’ or however many there are. Whoever says it first gets the cows. If you see a church or other place people get married, you can say ‘I marry my cows’ and then your cows double. If you see a graveyard, you can say ‘I kill your cows’ and reset the other player back to zero cows. If you see a barn you can say ‘I put however many cows in that barn’ and the cows go in the barn. When they’re in the barn, they can’t be killed, but they can’t be married either. You have to wait to see another barn before you can take them out again.”

“Alright,” Virgil agreed. “Sure. Why not?”

“Great!” Patton said. “There’s a field of them up there. Since you’re new to the game, I’ll let you grab the first few.”

Virgil squinted at the cows in the field. “I have 6 cows,” he said.

“Nice job!” Patton said.

Virgil rolled his eyes. He didn’t know what was impressive about counting a few cows, but he smiled a bit anyway.

They continued to play the cow game for a while. Patton was obviously really good at this game and obviously trying to not be as good at the game as he actually was so Virgil wouldn’t lose by a million cows.

They turned on the radio after a while. Unfortunately, the conspiracy channel had fizzled out by now, so they turned to a local station that played a mix of music.

“Can I take horses?” Virgil asked after about 20 minutes of play.

“Sure,” Patton replied. “Go ahead.”

“Okay, I have 4 horses.”

“Ooo!” Patton said. “That horsey is a palomino! I’ll trade you two cows for that horse.”

Virgil was pretty sure that’s not how it was supposed to work. But… Patton was 18 animals ahead… “20,” Virgil countered.

Patton glanced over at him. “5.”

“15.”

“10.”

“11, so I’m winning for once.”

He thought about it for a long moment. “Deal,” he finally said.

“Yes!” Virgil said excitedly. “I’m winning!”

Patton smiled over at him. “I have five cows,” he said.

Virgil’s head shot up to look out the windshield. There were, in fact, five cows in the pasture right in front of them. “Dammit!”

Patton coughed meaningfully.

“You can’t murder me like that and then get mad when I cuss,” Virgil grumbled.

“Aw, cheer up kiddo. At least we haven’t found a graveyard yet.”

“But when we do, you will guiltlessly murder all of my cows,” Virgil said. “Because you are truly evil.”

Patton just laughed at him. Virgil grumpily reached forward to turn up the radio so he could ignore him easier.

The song that was playing faded out as he did so, and the radio jockey came on the air. “Quick traffic update, there’s been an accident on I-26. A semi-truck full of cattle rolled over near exit 52 and eastbound traffic has been stopped. If you’re on I-26, we’d suggest you find an alternative route as it will take a while to get all of the cows rounded up.”

“Well I’m glad we got off the interstate when we did,” said Patton.

“Yeah,” agreed Virgil. “It would suck to be stuck in the middle of that.” He paused and listened to the radio jockey continue to explain that the semi had been carrying at least 150 cows. “Hey, Patton, can I claim cows remotely?”

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 12

[lunarnirvana]

Lavender Moon

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Please not read if these subjects upset or trigger you in any way. Heavy themes are present in my writing.

Descriptions of abduction, hospital setting, language, Vomiting, mentions of s*icide, non-consensual drug use, seizure, some descriptions involving gore, blood, injury, reader drugged, mentions of LSD and tripping, anxiety symptoms.

Prompt: Nicole’s Alphabet Angst for 8K - Occult

Summery: Reid and Reader are dating when a case involving the occult dredges up turmoil between the happy couple. The case being difficult enough, the resemblance between the Reader and the victims leaves Reid uneasy… (Full summary at bottom of writing so as not to spoil but if you’re worried about the content I’ll always add the full summary at the bottom! Stay safe)

Category: Angst with some fluff sprinkled here and there (Happy ending)

Word count: 7k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU Female Reader

A/N: I hope saying this doesn’t discourage anyone from reading but this is my first imagine! I guess not that I’ve written, just posted. I’m kind of really nervous about putting this out there but why not? Also for future reference I write very intense and real things and I want this to be a safe place for everyone which is why I will try to be as thorough with my trigger warnings as humanly possible but if there is ever anything written that I did not warn you about before the writing I apologize and PLEASE let me know so I can make it a priority to include that warning in the future. Ty and tpwk <3 enjoy 

“No evil ever came from a woman’s womb that wasn’t placed there first by a man.”

― Charles A. Cornell

Her intuition never betrayed her.

It was lodged deep inside her throat, the swell of hesitation like a globule that obstructed any resourceful observations about the crime scene photos. The innate feeling that the case was destined for calamity. Y/N didn’t let the gravity of her work weigh on her mental state until she was in the comfort of her confides where she could lick her psychological scars in peace.

The entire BAU regarded their unspoken directive was to bottle any reaction to the happenstances of the case with little exception. As they congregated at the round table they’d bind their biases against their eyes with the blindfolds they used to avoid looking at the bodies for too long. If you stared for too long into those gaping gashes, the blackness of the cavernous body would consume you completely. This is what they all knew to be true and so they pursued beasts with scar tissue forming over their minds and volatile hands with stoic accuracy.

This accuracy was entirely derivative of their abilities to detach from the emotional aspects of the case.

Garcia was the exception to this jurisdiction, her back turned against the horrific gore on the screen yet she described the carnage as if she were looking at it. She threw in some embellishments and innuendos for certain aspects that were too nauseating to repeat.

“We’ve got a local case today. Linda Jefferson and Kayla Burnen were the first two victims of what local PD wrote off as a suicide pact at first,” Garcia explained, “After further inspection, though, they discovered an incredibly high, nearly lethal dosage of LSD in their blood.”

Reid spoke up beside her when he noticed something in the tox-analysis results, startling Y/N slightly, “It's not synthesized in the same manner, though. There are certain proteins missing that would make this particular substance would ensure an emergence phenomenon would happen regardless of the environment.”

He let his hand fall into his lap so his girlfriend could trace figure eights in his palm with the tip of her finger in some apologetic gesture for the trivial fright as he chided. They’d been together for a year now so he understood what comforted her and what didn’t.

“So you’re saying they took bad acid? Growing up in my generation I can vouch that I never felt compelled to shoot someone under the influence,” Rossi chuckled at his own shortcomings and garnered amusement from the team.

“Actually, I believe this particular form of LSD was tampered with to cause a bad trip. You’d either have to be an idiot to make LSD this way or…” Reid drifted off, letting someone else conclude what was already obvious to him.

“You’d have to do it on purpose. You can’t mess up that bad and it not be intentional,” Emily agreed, bobbing her head back and forth while the raven locks framing her elongated facade veiled around her expression.

“A few days after those two were found,” She flipped the slide, “Beth Myers and Lola Sanchez were found in the same area with the same exact M.O. No correlations to the first two victims or to each other.”

Reid felt the way Y/N’s finger swirled against his palm and traced the creases in his skin before flipping his hand over so she could run her soft touch across his veins and phalanges. She found his hands fascinating suddenly, more fascinating than the case. When Garcia flipped to the picture of the victims he felt a sudden pressure as Y/N locked her grip around his hand. She squeezed it for reassurance as the smiling women stared at them through the screen.

“The victims had blood-let themselves, were covered in melted wax from candles, were placed in white nightgowns, and were forced to finish one another off by stabbing each other in the chests,” Garcia winced as she recited the details.

Y/H/C, the texture of their hair, and resemblance with her was the aligning factor between the four and it made Y/N’s chest wrench at the thought of being drugged with such petrifying euphoric paranoia. She could tell her boyfriend noticed her reaction but didn’t bother to meet his concerned gaze. He just stared down at her avoidance in yearning for some communication although he rarely gave her that courtesy himself. He could tell she held reservations about the case, especially when they realized the unsub was following ritualistic patterns and protocols, the occultism sprinkled through the murders like decoration.

Reid never took holding her hand for granted but in this instance he swore he heard bones cracking. Y/N was comforted by the gesture but realized she was hurting him when she felt him begin to crumble under the pain beside her. She turned to him quickly and released her vice-grip.

“Sorry, sorry,” She whispered toward him, not wanting to disturb the briefing.

“Its fine, hun, but what’s wrong?” He pressed.

She shrugged and slouched back into her chair, sinking into the seat as if it would express her silence. She told herself it was just anxiety and eventually convinced herself it was her own self doubt causing her to have such a guttural feeling. She watched the clock for the rest of her shift before gathering her personal effects from the surface of her desk, sweeping the items into her bag. Reid watched her maneuver rather quickly to get her things together. Expecting her to wait for him like always, he bent down to grab his satchel but when he arose she was halfway to the elevators, shuffling through interns and her coworkers to leave.

He followed her down to the lobby before bringing it up.

“I can tell when something’s wrong with you, love. What is it?” His hand had fallen to the small of her back as they walked out of the east entrance together.

“It just freaks me out sometimes, you know? The whole occultism thing,” Her voice was suddenly softer than he remembered.

Typically, this disquieted nature was portrayed by him but she remained unnerved the entire walk down. Something churned in her stomach and converted her into a placid arrangement of unease. Y/N despised the corruption of any establishment but this particular subject hit her square in the chest.

He smiled down to her while they approached the rugged vehicle parked on the far end of the lot. “Occult-related homicides are a statistical anomaly. They’re highly uncommon, Y/N/N, you have nothing to be afraid of.”

She nodded as she pulled the keys to her car out and passed them to him, “Can you drive?”

“Of course but only if I can pick the playlist,” He smirked, snatching the jangling keyring from where it swang on her index finger.

“No way in hell,” She giggled, “I am not listening to Bach the whole way home.”

She slipped into her seat and immediately her leg began to bounce with disarm. She tried to steady it herself as she watched Reid bend down to face her before getting in.

“I was gonna put on Brahms for your information,” His slender body folded into the front seat and he turned the key over in the ignition. Noticing her shaking leg, he reached his arm across the center console to rest on her knee as he began pulling out. It soothed under his touch and he smirked knowing exactly how to ease her even with the slightest gestures.

The base of the lamp was a wicker configuration and it flooded the room with brilliant fiery luminescence, the walls suddenly painted a pastel yellow from the warm lighting emitted from their bedside table. Along with that, illuminating the neglected contours of the room were a few white candles that burned on Y/N’s wooden bureau. Wax congregated at the foot of the tall towers of flame and spilled over the sides of the candle holder onto the wood.

The encapsulating smell of Nag Champa incense shrouded the room blending with the wafting smoke streaming from the ember-littered sage Reid’s eclectic bedmate’s hands. Y/N watched the silver scarf dance above the end of the dried bundle as it swirled around the room. Her eyes followed the smoke, eyelashes veiling her sight giving her a dark allure that Reid couldn’t keep his eyes off of.

He didn’t mind that she liked to indulge in the holistic benefits of burning herbs or the countless books she had on witchcraft and the occult. He found it charming. Although he knew when she was upset she’d do these “cleansing rituals” which really did nothing more than make their room smell like a Grateful Dead concert. She never was discomforted by the fact the unsub was utilizing occultist beliefs, she was upset at the perversion of her practice.

Of course, he was sworn to secrecy against telling the team about her hobby. She knew she’d be teased into oblivion for such an unorthodox collection of semi-precious stone, herbs, and essential oils that she claimed assisted trivial offenses. That was the aspect of her avocation Reid disagreed with.

They’d debated about it before but both were keen on their bias and so they agreed to leave the subject as an unspoken rift and move forward. Reid still found the smell of the incense suffocating especially when his migraines trickled in. She’d slip rosemary and peppermint into his tea to help his chronic condition but whenever he would catch the taste he’d beg her not to use her ‘pseudoscience’s instruction’ on him. Each time they’d get into an argument about it but eventually it’d fizzle out in sniffing apologies and fond interactions generally ensued.

“You’re really going to town on the bad juju tonight, huh?” He spoke up from behind his book. It was always strange to hear his shift in nomenclature when he left work, his vocabulary becoming relaxed and casual. He practically bathed in her relaxing aura. He would describe her the same way she describes the effects of lavender when she tried to spray some on his pillow to help him sleep.

He told her he didn’t need it as long as she was sleeping next to him and that was the first night they shared a bed. He hadn’t left her apartment since.

“I have a bad feeling about this case, Spence. I’d like to clear the negative energy from the room,” She said, waving the burning bundle of dried sage around the bed.

“The creepy ass painting you bought from the farmer’s market is still on the wall so I don’t think it’s working,” Reid laughed. She shot him a small warning glare that resulted in the two of them collapsing into hysterics.

She plopped on the bed, clutching her stomach from laughing with him as the tightening delight in her stomach began to burn. Reid was cackling, trying to make out the words, “You looked like a disgruntled care bear.” She felt relief from the laughter when his hand coiled around her waist and tucked her against his chest for safe keeping. She felt his soft lips quiet his dissipating chuckles as they pressed against her forehead.

The sage was smouldering against an abalone shell beside the bed and Reid let Y/N burn the candles throughout the night despite his heedings that it was a fire hazard. It seemed to bring serenity to her and that’s all he was concerned with.

They remained entangled like chains in a jewelry box, Reid soon enveloping her in his grasp completely. He worried that the victims looked too similar to her as he struggled to fall asleep beside her but eventually, the rhythmic movement of her breathing against him brought him enough poise to sleep.

The case dragged out across a couple of weeks stretching resources and mindsets across the vast expanse of interrogation and interviews. They sharpened the victimology down to a finite point to dig into the unsub’s plans and wrench him away from his potential choices. They were delivering the profile to the police department when Y/N noticed Reid’s hand was now tightly gripping hers instead of their usual routine.

He held their hands behind them so the crowd wouldn’t see the unprofessionalism. As each new victim was discovered resembling the woman he woke up to every morning he began feeling that same tension she’d expressed. Now, as he heard the profile, it brought an agitation to his stomach. His grip was tight and unwavering and unlike hers it didn’t shake at all. It was like he was afraid if he let her go, the unsub would be lying in wait behind them to snatch her away.

“We believe he’s a male caucasian driving a blue Ford Crown Victoria which he uses to abduct the women,” Rossi began.

“His victims are aged twenty three to twenty eight and we think he’s in the same age bracket,” Hotch continued as the soft sound of scribbling followed.

“Combining that with the fact he can synthesize LSD into a more aggressive formula suggests we’re dealing with a highly intelligent unsub with an extensive knowledge in chemistry,” Reid said monotonously despite his conflict.

“This isn’t surprising. Psychopaths often have above average intelligence. Coupled that with trauma relating to a religious mother figure who was abusive in some respect. Either his biological mother or a foster parent,” JJ nodded through her portion, her dark ocean eyes striking every gaze in motherly vivacity.

Y/N sat up, “For some reason this unsub will not engage in the killing himself. He watches the two victims kill one another under the influence of drugs and instructs them on how to mutilate one another,” she suddenly felt Reid’s hand leave hers but remained focused on the expectant faces of the precinct, “His M.O. is consistent with occult sacrifices. It's a form of homicidal voyeurism that could represent his own impotency or may be a forensic countermeasure.”

Reid lurched forward, pushing himself off of the edge of the desk and excused himself politely as he walked back toward the bathrooms. Y/N turned over her shoulder to look, her eyebrows wrought with concern but Emily’s modulated voice leashed her back into delivering the profile.

“He’s been consistently choosing his victims to coincide with the seven deadly sins. First greed where the first two victims were taken from a casino then lust. The third and fourth victims were in an online BDSM chatting room when they were lured into a threesome with the unsub where he killed them. Because of this consistency in his signature, we’ve predicted his next choice is going to be Envy,” Emily explained.

“His target location is going to be an underground swingers club. Our team and some members of the force will be undercover as security for the club. You’re looking for anyone who might complain that they’ve been roofied or look for women who seem overly intoxicated,” Morgan informed.

Y/N leaned back into the table behind her while she quickly spoke, trying desperately to rush through the profile to check on her boyfriend, “So far he’s been following the major astrological events happening in the past month. Tomorrow night is a Harvest Moon and a partial solar eclipse which fits his preference. Excuse me.”

As soon as the sentence ended she was following Reid to the bathroom. She turned behind her to see the crowd still mesmerized by the team as they briefed them and took the opportunity to slip inside unnoticed. She knew Hotch and Morgan would pester the two of them about it later but she couldn’t help it. She saw the way his face shifted to a paled green hue and how he gripped his stomach as he pushed the swinging door open.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw his oxfords poking out of the stall and the sound of retching echoed in the bathroom. Y/N ran beside him and rubbed circles into his back, feeling tears well at her waterline and threaten to spill over. She blinked them away quickly to not upset him any more. Guilt wracked her chest.

“Shh, shh, it’s ok,” She soothed and crouched beside him in the stall so that she could rest her head on his shoulder blade. She watched her hand slide across the woven knit of his cardigan, smoothing the fibers down and continued to try and calm him. She could feel him sobbing dryly, his back arching with each heave. Eventually he felt it was safe to lean back against the far wall of the stall and face her.

The skin around his eyes puckered with irritation, shining with the tears that slipped from the corners. He closed them tightly, wrinkling his face in an agonized expression while Y/N leaned forward. She rested her hands on his knees that were awkwardly sprawled in different directions in the small confides of the stall. She sat between them, tucked into herself so as to not take up too much room.

“Talk to me, Spencer,” she pleaded.

He actually decided to, exhausted by the weight of the bodies that piled in the morgue and his quivering stomach. “I’m worried about you being on this case. I don’t want you to get,” he gagged on the rest of the sentence and vomited into the porcelain bowl again.

“Baby, please stop worrying about it so much,” she was begging now as tears began to haphazardly fall onto his back. He sat up at the sensation and resumed his previous position.

His horse voice came forward now as he tried to swallow the mucus that lined his throat now. “Promise me you won’t leave my side until this case is over, okay? Until the unsub is in custody,” He asked her through his darkly adorned eyes.

“I promise,” She assured and it brought a relief to his nausea, “I have mouthwash and ginger gum in my bag. I’m gonna text Morgan to come bring me it—“

“I can walk, honey. If you tell Morgan he’ll call me something like barf boy for a week,” he chuckled and began to sit up. His legs wobbled beneath him slightly but he caught himself on her shoulders. She gripped his elbows tightly.

“You’re dehydrated, come here,” She lead him to the sink where he could wash up and rinse the taste of bile from his tongue.

Pulsating basslines berated Reid’s chest making him feel like he was choking on the loud music. He despised clubs like these dipped in technicolor animosity and relishing in the electronic stimulation the club reverberated. Each member was stationed at certain points of the room such as beside exits, the landings of stairwells, and an agent at each corner. Y/N was beside the bar vehemently watching each drink poured and handed out, ensuring no hands slipped tabs into the liquor.

Hotch’s instruction was patched in through their earpieces.

“Blonde hair, black button up in the west corner of the bar by you, Y/L/N,” Reid heard and immediately his gaze shot toward her.

She was alerted and her sight honed in on the suspect. He was analyzing the body language of the woman before him who held similar semblance to Y/N. He waited patiently for her to let her guard down and look away from her drink and he was charming her into doing it.

The girl threw her head back in laughter and he saw his opportunity presented before him. Y/N watched his meticulous hands slip a small white tablet into the amber liquid of the girl’s glass. It dissolved into a discreet poison, lacing her glass with LSD.

Then he looked at Y/N and she felt his taunting stare desecrate her sanctity. She didn’t express it, though, her stoicism making him come to the conclusion she was a cop. His eyes widened and he grabbed the startled hands of the two women beside him, one seemingly more intoxicated than the other.

“Suspect is on the move with two friendlies, agent in pursuit.” Y/N’s voice was patched through and Reid watched her bolt after the unsub as she unholstered her gun.

“Wait,” he said through the earpiece, “Y/N, wait!”

She proceeded despite his protest and chased the unsub out of the building where he began loading the girls into his car. They obeyed, the trip settling in for at least one of them. He held a gun to the sober one’s back but Y/N in a flurry of indecision charged at the unsub.

“FBI! Stop or I’ll shoot!” She warned.

He drew his gun toward her but she shot his shoulder clean making his gun fly out of his hand. The man cried out, one hand falling on the gushing wound but he closed the door before the sober woman could get in, trapping her counterpart inside. He staggered toward the driver side and ducked into the car as she began to aim her gun at him again, threatening another offense.

Y/N reached out and pulled the girl from the skidding tires as he sped off before she could even process that the other girl was trapped inside. Once she did she began trying to shoot his tires out but to no avail. The girl was sobbing in her arms now, her tears bleeding through Y/N’s shirt that peaked out from above her Kevlar.

“You’re safe now, it’s okay,” she assured, “You’ve been drugged you need to be taken to a hospital,” Y/N said and almost as if on cue, Morgan could be heard behind her calling for a bus.

JJ came and took the sniffling victim from Y/N’s care allowing Reid to grab her shoulders and spin her around to face him. He inspected her facade for any damage but she brushed him off.

“I’m fine, Spence, but the other girl. We have to find her,” She grabbed his arm as he grabbed hers and they interlocked their forearms to reinforce some affection.

“You need to stop chasing after suspects with no backup. You’re being reckless and I’m taking you home, Y/N/N.” His voice was stern and she didn’t bother protesting from the way he looked at her.

Reid was fuming on the car ride home, the whites of his knuckles highlighted even in the darkness as he gripped the steering wheel. Y/N was curled against the passenger side door, wrapped in his sweater that she pulled taught around her frame.

“Can we please not fight when we get home?” He asked suddenly, voice breaking through the silence of the car, “I don’t want you to argue with me to go back into the field. This entire case has been so draining I just need you to understand seeing you do stuff like that— it kills me.”

“I know, Spence. Are you getting a headache?” She noticed him wince as someone passed with their high beams blazing. He groaned at the exposure, pinching the bridge of his nose and nodded.

She decided to make him some tea when they got home. Preparing the mug in the kitchen, she seeped the jasmine leaves and reached inside the cupboard for the mason jars she had filled with various dried herbs. Making the tea kept her mind occupied from the disrupting guilt she reserved for not saving the other girl. It was a guilt that clamped her arteries and made even the simplest tasks seem harrowing.

She put a pinch of dried rosemary and a drop or two of peppermint extract, stirring it in with some sugar. The sound of the metal spoon scraping the bottom of the glass brought her attention back to her task.

Her fingers coiled around the warm ceramic mug and she walked it carefully into the living room where Reid laid on the couch with a pillow pulled over his eyes. She took the hint and dimmed the lights but as she set down his tea he could already smell the additives.

Coupled with the headache, he’d never become genuinely upset over her affinity for the occult until now. He sat up with exasperation and picked it up, sniffing the steam to confirm his suspicions.

“Y/N, seriously?” He asked and looked up to her but his own voice made a piercing impact on his head.

“Seriously what?” She repeated defensively.

“You know what. I honestly can’t believe you. Especially after the case we just had,” he shook his head, laying back down.

“So you’re not even gonna drink it?” She asked, her face falling to an annoyed deadpan although he couldn’t see it.

“Jesus. No. I’m not. Can you just leave me alone for right now?” He asked finally.

A twinge of hurt stabbed her chest at the request and she took the mug as he pulled the pillow back over his face. In the darkness, he could see her pained expression etched into his vision. The shuffling in their bedroom intrigued him as well and he began to realize what he’d said. It blurred the agonizing migraine and caused him to sit up only moments later to apologize.

As he stared at the empty room he was startled by the sudden creek of their door from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he only caught the tail end of her jacket as she walked out. A raucous slam followed making him wince at the sound.

I really screwed up.

Reid pushed through the shroud of pain emanating from the fluorescence of the room, reaching forward for his own coat. A ripping agony followed and he doubled over, burying his face in his palms so he wasn’t staring at the light. A groan tore through the empty apartment as he tried to rub the headache away so he could chase after her.

Following Y/N proved to be farcical in his condition and he leaned against the couch in defeat, praying she’d just step outside for some fresh air.

Y/N stomped down the street with a quivering chin like a small child, sobs tearing through any muscle or fiber holding the sound in. People on the street avoided her state awkwardly, their gazes falling to the concrete when she’d pass. Humiliation was wrought in her mannerisms but she didn’t care. He told her to leave him alone over tea. She knew his migraines were the culprit but she couldn’t stay cooped up inside. There was a girl being tortured somewhere and she was sitting at home making tea with her boyfriend? There was something unfair to her about the situation.

She heard her phone trill a few times but ignored the noise, fleeing toward a local park down the street. She decidedly plopped down in the jagged blades of grass, kicking the shoes she threw on to the side so that she could feel the ground beneath her. She wanted to be as close to the ground as humanly possible to calm herself.

Every time she’d begin to soothe her cries her phone would ring bringing another wave of distraught. Through her tears, the world was a blur of velvet indigos distrusted suddenly by a dark shadow looming over her. She gasped in reaction but that’s all he gave her time to do before she felt his hand grab her head and pull her up by her jaw, his large gloved hands covering her entire face.

His fingers were sprawled apart so she could see herself being dragged away. Something bitter slipped onto her tongue and she tried to spit it out but the unsub locked her jaw shut to force the drug to work through her system. She tried to scream but with each muffled shrill he’d tighten his grip. Her teeth involuntarily grit against each other from the force and she screamed against her lips for help.

Y/N thrashed around as much as she could before she felt a pinprick in her right arm. Then the world shifted to a darker blue until her vision was gone completely.

Waking up in a wooded field sanctioned off from society’s wandering earshot, she felt the zip tie’s digging into her ankles and wrists. The skin had swelled around the bindings, causing excruciating pain whenever she’d move. She could feel her lip bleeding from being split by someone’s fists. Suddenly, a face fell before hers and began to cut the zip ties. Why was he cutting her loose?

“Good morning, sleepy head. You… you really messed my night up, you know that?” The man asked, his hand falling to her cheek.

Instead of skin she felt the smooth sensation of latex against her. The medicinal smell filled her nostrils and she closed her eyes, pretending she was in the hospital with Spencer there instead of him.

“How…” she found it harder to speak than normal, “How did I do that?”

“Clara. I had Clara picked out. She was the perfect one but you were jealous of her. You wanted me all to yourself. Envy is a sin,” his words were venomous.

He couldn’t have been much older than her, sand colored locks that fell in soft tufts around his face. He looked like a renaissance painting with a wicked possession, his blue eyes complimented by the crimson of his bloodshot waterline. When he smirked at her his face shifted from an archangel to that of a demon, waiting to consume her whole.

Then, she noticed the shifting movement beside her. The other victim was tied up beside her and groaned as she awoke. In the darkness even, Y/N could see the girl’s pupils were dilated. She suddenly began screaming and thrashing around violently, kicking at the open air as if there were a second offender in front of her.

“Hey, hey! It’s okay, there’s nothing there!” Y/N tried but the girl couldn’t hear her, only the muffled calls of her hallucinations.

“Darcy, I need you to shut the fuck up sweetie,” the unsub grimaced.

She quieted down almost immediately but still shook in fear at whatever she was seeing before her.

Y/N turned back to the man in front of her, “Let her go. You don’t want her, you want me.”

“On the contrary, I want both of you,” he seemed coherent enough but was still clearly suffering a psychotic break. Psychopaths usually hid those breaks well.

“Why?” Y/N’s gaze suddenly shot straight through his, “You’re afraid if you touch us you’ll be infected with our sin?”

She made a move to spit in his face and he jumped back, yelling and wiping his face harshly with his sleeve. “You filthy bitch! My father will love you,” a smile etched across his face.

“Your father? Where’s your father?” She looked around for a partner but no one could be seen.

“The destroyer of souls of men. He bears the torch, the herald of dawn,” He spoke in his cryptic tongue but Y/N remembered Reid reciting certain portions of the Bible and poetry regarding Lucifer.

“Your father is the devil, right? Lucifer?” She asked.

He suddenly slapped her, the latex making the blow sting that much worse. Blood trickled from her teeth down her hanging lip but she sat back up despite the pain.

“My mom used to bathe me in bleach. She cleansed me of my sins. She’d scrub the chemicals into my back and say ‘Your daddy’s the devil.’” He seemed to find some inner turmoil with his logic but continued to quote his mother in a southern accent, “‘Your daddy is satan and you were born into this world as an abomination.’”

The M.O. and signature began to align with his claims, a severe case of germaphobia which rendered him unable to carry out the murders himself. He lets his victims do it for him.

As he spoke she watched his face begin to shift and swirl into a much eviler expression. His lips coiled into a smile, his eyes narrowing into black slits and his nose sunk into his skull. He began taking the form of a horrifying wraith, horns practically splintering out of his forehead. The trees began to sway and dance despite the lack of wind and the stars in the sky melted into glowing stalagmites that threatened her toward the ground.

Everything began to distort and she felt herself descend into horror. The acid was taking effect and as the girl’s blood curdling shrieks erupted beside her she began to put her head between her knees and sob. He rubbed her hair, sighing.

“Even the warriors must crumble. You’ll bow to my god,” he stood and suddenly tangled a fistful of hair into his hands, yanking her up along with Darcy.

Shrieking as the pain visualized before her in petrifying hallucinations she was positioned before the screaming girl. The unsub instructed Darcy to take the dagger from his hand and stab Y/N. She refused, shaking her head.

“It’s ok,” Y/N assured even as the trip progressed, “It’s ok. Just do what he says, I promise it’s ok.”

Darcy bawled as she hesitantly took the dagger. She walked toward Y/N and slowly drove the knife right beside her hip bone. She groaned, her hand falling forward onto Darcy’s shoulder. “Fuck,” she moaned as the squelching sound echoed through her head.

She keeled over the agony, wrapping her arms around herself. It was harrowing to have to pressurize a wound on oneself she found. Even the slightest touch against her cut felt like she was being stabbed repeatedly. She felt the cool tip of the Unsub’s gun push her up by her shoulder. That was when she realized only one of his hands were in use. The other one was still inflicted with the gunshot she fired. If she weren’t so high she would have used that to her advantage.

With the pain came even more disillusionment. She looked down at her palms and suddenly a bloodied dagger was grasped in them. “No, no, no,” she whispered.

Darcy pleaded for Y/N not to stab her and the agent had no intention of carrying out the Unsub’s fantasy.

“Kill me yourself you coward,” she spat, “I’m not hurting her.”

“I didn’t think you’d be persuaded that easily,” suddenly a gunshot cracked through the soundscape. It rang in Y/N’s ears causing her to buckle over in pain. Nothing seemed real. Her chest felt like it would tear open at any second, freeing her palpitating heart from it’s confides.

She watched the girl’s body fall limply before her and screamed out, racing to her side. The more she looked at the corpse the worse the gore progressed. Eventually, she was staring at a demon.

“FBI! Kye Alderwood, put your hands up!” Reid’s booming voice came from across the field. When she turned to look at him, though, he wasn’t himself.

He was taller, probably eight feet tall, and his body was stretched and elongated into a bony configuration. His face twisted and melted into a horrifying facade and he charged at her. His hands were giant daggers waiting to rip into her. She didn’t see the unsub aim his gun toward her but heard another shot fired. Suddenly, another demonic corpse laid beside her.

She couldn’t fathom grabbing the gun from the unsub’s vapid hands but there she was snatching the glock from the grass it was enveloped in. She didn’t comprehend that her boyfriend was in front of her. What she was seeing was a nightmare unfolding before her. The delusions were real. It was all real.

Reid stumbled back when he saw the gun pointed at him. He thought it was a mistake but when he saw her eyes he knew she wasn’t seeing him. Her paranoia was evident as she hyperventilated and her entire frame trembled, barely able to stand. Swaying back and forth and she wept he felt himself grow sick at the sight.

“Y/N! Put the gun down, honey, it’s just me,” he pleaded.

A sob broke through her voice, “Get away from me!”

“It’s Spencer, baby,” Now he was crying, terrified she’d pull the trigger. In any other circumstance this situation would have diffused by now but the LSD in her system turned her completely hysterical.

“Leave me alone!” The words being reflected back to him just wretched his heart further.

He wasn’t even pointing his own weapon at her anymore. He stopped pointing it at her the second he recognized her. Now it was pointed askew, the barrel facing the grass beside him. Neither of them could have aimed a gun at one another in the right mindset where she didn’t reside for the time being.

Seemingly, her psychosis seemed to penetrate any affection they shared. Beads of sweat formed on her skin as she held the gun steadily toward his frame. He knew if she shot him it’d be a kill shot. She had the best aim on the team.

“Please, baby, I love you so much. Just put the gun down I won’t hurt you,” Reid persisted through it as he heard reinforcements file in behind him. He spun around, waving Morgan, Hotch, and Emily away.

“Don’t come any closer! She’s drugged, she can’t help it and I swear to God if you shoot her I’ll resign!” He warned the other agents who heeded his warning despite the alarming display before them. They still kept their guns aimed at their teammate in allegiance to the judicial implications.

Y/N’s trip began to peak, the world around her becoming unrecognizable in the heap of apparitions that surrounded her. She screamed as misshapen, flesh colored bats charged down at her, flying toward her and swatted them away.

Reid watched her pushing and swatting away imaginary attackers and took the opportunity to run toward her. She screamed and thrashed around in his arms, clawing his skin and kicking at his legs behind her.

Everything looked like bloody flesh. Every blade of grass felt like rusty nails driven through her feet. She felt like she was coiled in the death grip of an anaconda.

“Stop! Stop! You’re gonna hurt yourself!” He tightened his grip on her and used one leg to pin both of hers against his other one. She was completely entangled in him again and the familiarity of his cologne instantly calmed her, he thought. As fell completely limp, relief deluged his psyche only to be matched with her sudden convulsions.

She slipped into a violent seizure, shaking and jarring her body as he lowered her onto the ground and to her side. Hotch and Emily fell beside him and he watched blood seep from her nose and mix with the medley of blood on her lips. He was whimpering as he tried to relax her muscles and barking orders to the others surrounding him. Eventually, her shaking form was taken by the EMTS who were already on the scene. He stood in the wake of the scene, bodies strewn about him wondering what she saw him as that terrified her so.

She was treated for an overdose in the hospital and as Reid entered her room he saw her small figure curled up on the hospital bed. He felt his heart shatter for the hundredth time that night as he floated toward her like a ghost. Placing his hand on her arm, she jumped suddenly startling him as well. He didn’t expect her to be awake so soon. if

“Jesus,” he breathed out, clutching his chest.

She flipped over to face him and couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “Dork,” she said hoarsely. The way her inflection cracked made him frown in response.

“I don’t even,” he struggled to find the right words, “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry? I tried to kill you, Spencer,” she began to recollect the happenstances, “I could have killed you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know it’s going to be hard for us to get back to normal.”

“You had ten times a normal recreational dose of LSD in your system. That wasn’t you,” he assured.

She nodded softly and scooted back, patting the vacant place beside her on the hospital bed.

“I can’t. I don’t want to hurt you,” as the sentence stumbled out of his mouth he couldn’t help but start crying again.

He was surprised he didn’t bawl himself into dehydration on the way to the hospital. She reached up and grabbed his wrist, leading him down to her where he crawled beside her.

Cupping his face in her hands she felt the sticky coagulation of tears that caked his face. Pulling him toward her, their lips locked and worked against one another before completely enveloping one another in devotion.

Pulling away she caught his glassy irises with hers, “You could never hurt me. Not really,” she replied.

“But I did. I told you to leave me alone and you left and had to go through…” he decided not to bring up the trauma.

She couldn’t remember the trip itself, only what she did during it. He didn’t want to bring it up and trigger an acid flashback.

“I left because I was hurt, yeah, but you didn’t hurt me. I felt so guilty about leaving Clara with the unsub that I thought making you that tea would help me feel better. We should have just stayed in the field, maybe we could have caught him before he killed anyone,” she sighed.

Reid nodded and kissed the tip of her nose, then her forehead, then peppered the rest of her face with the same affection.

She ran her fingers over the skin on his arm and felt raised scar tissue in her wake. Looking down, bruises and scars were freckles across the pale vastness of his arm. She choked back, her hand falling to her lips.

“Did I do this to you?” She asked, her eyes glued to the cuts now.

He craved for her relief so he shook his head. “I don’t remember where I got them but it wasn’t because of you,” He lied. Realistically, she’d clawed and cut his arms until she began seizing. The cocktail of drugs in her system left him a stranger to her while she was high.

She nodded, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“There’s no way we could have known. I need you to not blame yourself for this because if you do I won’t be able to live with myself. This wasn’t anyone’s fault,” he snaked his arms around her waist carefully, avoiding her bandages.

“I know, I know,” she sighed and nestled into the crook of his neck, “I promise I won’t make you anymore occultist migraine tea.”

He pulled his chin from resting at the top of her head to look at her. He suddenly cupped her cheeks now and made sure she understood.

“Please, never stop making me migraine tea again,” he said before pulling her into a kiss again.

FULL SUMMARY:

Reid and Reader are dating when a case involving the occult dredges up turmoil between the happy couple. The case being difficult enough, the resemblance between the Reader and the victims leaves Reid uneasy. After Reader disrupts the Unsub’s routine she becomes a target. After Reid fights with the Reader because of a migraine, she is taken hostage by unsub and is drugged with LSD and nearly shoots Spencer while tripping.

[galahadwilder]

Unwise

Ch. 2: In Which Too Many People Turn Patrols Into Dates

Happy birthday @alexseanchai! You wanted more Unwise? Here you go!

*

Convincing Fu to let her bring out the other Miraculi on a semi-permanent basis had been a chore in and of itself. Feast had proven the depth of his paranoia—though, to be fair, it’s not technically paranoia if people are actually out to get you—and she wasn’t prepared to lose Tikki a second time. He’d refused to allow her to bring out more Miraculi, until she’d forcefully reminded him that A. she is a full-fledged Guardian now, he’d said that himself, and B. She, a child, is the one on the front lines while he hides. (She hates bringing that up, because she knows why he’s doing it, but it was that or go insane.)

Eventually, he’d relented, though he’d let her take only the ones who’d already proven themselves. Which was fine, it wasn’t like she was planning on doing any recruiting anytime soon.

She’d been planning to hand out all of the Miraculi herself, as usual, but as soon as she’d had them in her hands she’d paused, reconsidered. Chat was right—trying to do everything herself has been driving her insane. She already knows that, if she goes down, Chat can take the earrings and Mister Bug it up—or, in an emergency situation, just Cataclysm a butterfly and wait for her to get back up—so there’s a little bit of the weight off there. But the fact is, he was originally never supposed to know the identities of any of the backup, and if she were to have gone down in that situation he’d have been left to continue the fight alone in a way that she never would. The thought makes her want to vomit.

And she can’t deny that the way Chat’s face lit up when she asked him to help her distribute the Miraculi had done something funny in her tummy. Not love, of course, nor attraction—absolutely not that, stop laughing Tikki—but something. She’d laid out all of the Miraculi Fu had let her take on their favorite rooftop, then, after a moment’s consideration, handed him the Horse, the Bee, and the Dragon (she’d briefly passed her hand over the snake, but she saw the way he tried to suppress a shudder; curious as his reaction made her, she knew she couldn’t let herself think about what that was about, lest she learn something she shouldn’t).

She picked up the Fox, the Snake, the Turtle, and the Mouse, then paused, thought, made a decision. “You already know who the mouse is,” she said. “If you ever need an illusionist, and I’m not there to help you...” She held up the foxtail necklace. “This one goes to the Ladyblogger.”

Chat froze. “My Lady,” he said, the Dragon choker dangling between his claws, “are you... sure I should know this?”

She nodded. “You said yourself, I can’t keep doing this alone,” she said. “You’re my partner.”

There’d been no big meeting; someone might’ve noticed that Multimouse wasn’t there, and that would lead to questions she doesn’t want to answer. She’d made a list of reasons why, but surprisingly, Chat had asked for none of them, simply agreeing with her out of hand.

The whole thing is going swimmingly, and yet she can’t help feeling guilty about how she’d arranged the patrols. She’d insisted on not letting Rena Rouge and Carapace patrol together, since there was no way either of them could tear away from each other in a non-emergency situation, so for the first two few nights she’d rotated them through everyone but each other, just to keep from ill-advised makeouts. And yet, here she is, having intentionally arranged herself on patrol with Adrien...

God, she’s a hypocrite.

She can honestly say that after a week of letting other holders cover patrols, she’s more rested than she’s been in a while. But she’s done so many stupid things to spend time with Adrien, it’s not like one more will make a difference at this point, right? And at least this way she’s doing something productive with it. She hopes. If she can, you know, actually hold it together around him to do anything.

“Tikki,” she groans into her hands, her elbows propped on her desk. “Tell me I’m doing the right thing.” The cursor blinks on the anonymous Google schedule she’s been sharing with the team, waiting for her to confirm the time of her first patrol as Multimouse. Her first patrol with Adrien. She wonders, idly, what he’ll choose for his name.

Tikki sighs from her spot on Marinette’s pincushion, rolling a chocolate chip between her paws. “I don’t know,” she says. “Master Fu had very good reasons not to let the rest of us out of the box, but you also have very good reasons.” She looks up at Marinette, her blue eyes shining with compassion. “I do worry about you.”

“I’m just happy to be out and about,” Mullo says, climbing onto Marinette’s phone and poking the screen with delight. “So much new technology! I didn’t get to see this last time you wore me.”

“Not that,” Marinette says, dropping her hands onto the desk—then she tilts her head. “Well, yes that, but not what I’m asking about right now.” She sighs, staring at the calendar block. “Am I being... selfish, with this schedule?”

Tikki purses her lips, then turns the chocolate chip on its side and starts rolling it back and forth on the desk beneath one paw, staring at it pensively.

“Tikki?” Marinette whispers.

Tikki grimaces. “You know you’re not supposed to use your powers for personal gain,” she says. “I’ve told you before.”

Marinette swallows. “I remember,” she whispers.

Tikki tilts her head. “On the other hand,” she says, “this might be more practical than you think.”

Marinette blinks. “What?”

“If he is going to be a full-time member of the team, it might help to acclimate yourself to his presence?” Tikki says, a small smile spreading across her face. “We wouldn’t want you to start tripping over your words in the middle of combat.” She flings the chocolate chip straight up, then launches her tiny body from the desk, swallowing it in a single gulp in a manner reminiscent of the poster for Jaws.

“Hey!” Marinette protests. “I did fine last time!”

“You said one sentence and you had to use Sass to practice it eight times first,” Tikki says with a smug grin, crossing her arms.

Marinette bites her lip, then rolls her eyes. “You see how mean she is to me?” she says to Mullo.

“Hm? What?” the rat says, her head perking up and twisting back and forth. “I’m sorry, I was distracted by this...” Her turns back to the phone, where she��s been swiping between app pages with wide eyes. “Um, magic screen thing.”

Tikki giggles. “Not everything humans do is magic, Mullo.” She flits around to Marinette’s eye level. “Marinette. The day I told you not to use your powers for personal gain? That was our third time out. I didn’t know you then. I do now.” She reaches out, laying her palm on Marinette’s cheek. “You’ve grown into a responsible and professional young woman, and Master Fu has selected you to be the next Guardian.” She floats back. “I trust your judgment. And besides, you deserve a break.” She gestures to the computer screen, where the calendar is still waiting, unfinished. “If this is what you want to do? Then you should do it.”

Marinette swallows as tears brim in her eyes. “I—thank you, Tikki,” she whispers.

“Of course,” Tikki says, zipping forward to hug Marinette’s cheek again. “I love you so much, Marinette.”

“I love you too,” Marinette says, cupping her Kwami to her cheek with her palm.

“Oh my Guardians!” Mullo sobs. “You—you two— you are...” She rolls over onto her back, letting out a tiny melodramatic wail. “Your friendship is so perfect!”

Tikki snorts, backing away from Marinette’s cheek. “Okay. Back down there, Squeakers.”

Marinette sets her jaw, looking at the screen. “So,” she says, “I’m doing this?”

Tikki nods. Mullo rolls back onto her stomach, looking back at her expectantly.

Marinette nods back. “I’m doing this,” she says, and presses her finger down on Enter.

*

This was a mistake this was a mistake this was a mistake this was a mistake—

Sapis (who looks amazing in his costume, his gossamer half-cape floating off his back, furry cuffs on his wrists, black streaks in his carefully styled hair to resemble antennae—oh, she’s going to be gushing about this to Tikki later) is looking at her with eyes like the night sky, golden irises inset on black sclera, and she feels all the breath leave her body. She’s seen enough of Adrien’s patented “Soft Eyes” in candid shots from Alya that she thought she’d be immune, but nope, photographs have in no way prepared her for the real thing. Sweet Kwamis, she’s going to die and she hasn’t even said a word to him yet.

Say something, Ladybug, she tells herself. But under Sapis’ gaze, in Multimouse’s suit that she’s suddenly aware came out far more cute than her usual reassuringly minimalist design, she doesn’t feel like Ladybug, so when she opens her mouth, she only manages to squeak.

Nice, she thinks, mentally kicking herself. Well done. Very professional.

“H-hi!” she yelps. “Are you, um...” She grips her elbow, her free hand playing with the tail of the jump rope tied around her waist. “Queen Bee’s replacement?”

“Yep,” he says in an exaggeratedly deep voice. He takes a Superman stance, pressing his fists to his hips, and turns his eyes dramatically to look somewhere slightly behind her. It looks generally ridiculous, and he clearly knows it. “Sapis, at your service.”

“Sapis?” she says, squinting one eye, trying to remember if she knows what that means in Latin. Sagesse... that’s the same root, right? “Wisdom?”

His whole face lights up, and her heart leaps in her chest. “Old Latin pun,” he says. “Si sapis, sis apis.” He steps forward, holding out a hand. “If you’re wise? Be a bee.”

She stares at him, looking at his hand, then his face, then his hand, then his face. She has—she knows what she’s supposed to do here, but this is Adrien trying to introduce himself, and she knows it’s him, and he doesn’t know it’s her, and she has to get this impression exactly right. The joke is stupid, silly, it’s so very Chat Noir that she’s caught off guard and suddenly her chest is bubbling, she’s laughing, and oh god is he going to think that she’s laughing at him? Is he going to be disappointed? Is he going to be crushed? Oh Kwamis, is he going to hate her forever?

And then his eyes shut, and he giggles, pure and clear, and it’s just like that moment after the umbrella closed on her head. Lightning strikes in her heart all over again, and it’s everything she can do not to fall on her steadily reddening face.

Finally, he calms down, but when his golden-black eyes turn back to her he’s still beaming. “So,” he says, gesturing to her necklace, “Chat Noir tells me you’re really good with that thing.”

She reaches up, fingers it nervously. “I—pretty good, yeah.”

Sapis grins, hoisting his trompo. “Wanna show me what you’ve got?”

A slow, sly grin spreads across her face in answer as she reaches for her jump rope, the confidence building in her chest. This is familiar territory. This, she can handle. “You’re on, bee boy.”

Adrien wants to see what she can do? He won’t even know what hit him.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Family Matters (Zelda Spellman x Reader) - Part 3

Synopsis: Zelda finds out something you’d rather had been kept secret.

Words: 1335

Warnings: homelessness

**GIF not mine**

You’d passed your test with flying colours. It helped that the day you were on trial was a quiet day. You were able to set up a working diary for the Spellman sisters, opting for times during each day they could sit down for meetings amongst their other commitments.

You passed the weeks answering the phone, making pots of tea, and comforting grieving people as they thought of what to do with their deceased loved ones. You’d passed out tissues and cake, doing your best to remain in the background while the sisters ran their business. It was fascinating to watch them work.

You tried to get out before they sat down to dinner, your heart hurting when you saw the four of them together. The difference between their lives and yours were so stark.

“Would you like to stay for dinner, love?”

You looked up from the diary, working through a scheduling conflict. Hilda was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. You smiled at her. Hilda was without a doubt your favourite of the two sisters. She was kind to you, encouraging. Unlike Zelda who spent most of her time watching you, making comments about your work, and generally causing anxiety within you.

“No, thank you, Hilda. I wouldn’t want to intrude,’ you replied with a smile.

“Oh no, you wouldn’t be intruding, dear. We would love for you to stay. Wouldn’t we, Zelds?”

Your gut clenched as you watched Hilda look over her shoulder. Zelda appeared from the shadows, her cigarette holder resting on one of her fingers, her arms crossed over her chest. You bit down on your lower lip, already able to feel the anxiety clawing its way up your throat.

“Of course we would,” Zelda said, her eyes staring intently at you.

“I really can’t,” you said, “but thank you.”

You hoped your voice didn’t sound as strained as you thought it might. You closed up the diary, figuring you could work out the problem tomorrow when your head wasn’t being made hazy from Zelda’s cigarette smoke. You pushed your hair behind your ear.

“Goodnight,” you said to the sisters.

You pulled your coat and scarf on, grabbing your bag from under your table. You waved to the two sisters and pulled open the door onto the dark night. The air was cold when it touched your skin. You shivered, looking up at the sky. Thankfully it was clear, meaning no rain while you slept.

You closed the door on the warm house and shoved your hands deep in your pockets. You hunched down in your coat, hopping down the stairs. You paused in front of the graveyard, looking over the graves. It was one of your favourite parts of working at the mortuary, being able to wander through the graves alone, thinking about the generations of families buried beneath your feet. It was beautiful.

You continued past it, through the mud of the drive. The air felt like ice, burning you where you were exposed. You hurried on, knowing you wouldn’t be warmer at home, but at least you could hunker down and hope for sleep before the sun rose.

You broke away from the main path, heading through the trees. A twig snapped somewhere in the distance. You paused, perking up, looking for the noise. You knew things stalked these woods you did not want to meet in the dark of night.

The shadows kept looking like something moving in the dark. The moon was waning, so far from full. Light was minimal and you had to rely on your other senses. After a few minutes with nothing but your own paranoia for company you continued on, glancing over your shoulder every so often.

You came upon your small camp, passing from behind a tree to enter the clearing. You sighed, sitting down on the tree trunk in front of the fire pit. You knew you should start a fire to warm yourself up but you were beyond tired, just wanting to curl up and sleep.

You unzipped the tent and crawled inside. You pushed your bag to the side, quickly changing into your pyjamas in the darkness. You slid into your sleeping bag, curling up in the foetal position as you tried to imagine yourself in your childhood bed, back home that was no longer home. You squeezed your eyes shut, imagining you could hear your little brother snoring in the room next to yours. You could almost mistake the whistling of the wind for the sound of the kettle your parents brewed every night.

Another twig snapped, like a gunshot going off so close to you. Your eyes snapped open, your body freezing as you tried to hear what was outside your tent. You held your breath, pretending that would help despite the blood pounding in your ears.

A step sounded closer to your tent, only audible due to the silence that had fallen over the woods. It felt as if it was holding its breath for you.

The zipper to the front of your tent began to rise, exposing you to whoever, or whatever, was coming to investigate your home. You should have readied yourself in case of a fight, but you were frozen, only able to watch as your demise drew closer.

“What in Hecarte’s name is this?”

You blinked, surprised at the face peering at you through the tent flaps. Zelda was crouched down, staring in at you. All you could do was blink at her, unable to do anything else. She waited but when it became clear you weren’t going to give her an answer she stood up.

“Get out of there,” she commanded.

You crawled out, doing your best to not look as pathetic as you felt. She was never meant to find out about this. None of them were. This was your shame to live with, the lack of proper house. This was the best you were able to do in your circumstances. You didn’t want to have to admit to any of them this was all you had. You let them continue thinking you went home to a warm house at the end of the day, not a dingy tent in the middle of the woods.

“What are you doing in there?” she demanded.

“Trying to sleep,” you replied with a shrug. You had thought it was pretty self evident.

“Why are you not at home?” she asked.

“I am.”

She looked at you. Her head cocked to the side, as if trying to work out a difficult math problem. You watched her, waiting for any kind of reaction. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going through her mind.

“Why?” she asked.

“I told you I needed the job. This is why. I can’t afford rent, I can’t afford a house, I can’t afford anything. Before my first pay check I couldn’t afford to buy even a cup of coffee. I have nothing. Miss Spellman, I can’t thank you enough for hiring me because now I have a chance.”

She considered you for a moment.

“I think you can call me Zelda, don’t you?”

You didn’t have an answer for her. She was not reacting the way you expected and you weren’t quite sure how to respond if it wasn’t on the defensive.

“Pack your things,” she said.

“Why?”

“This is no way for a young woman to live. We have more than enough room for you to sleep until you are back on your feet,” she said, looking you over. You flushed under her gaze.

You quickly packed up your camp site, glad to have so few possessions. Zelda Spellman was not a woman to be kept waiting.

You followed her through the forest, back to the mortuary. You looked up at the glowing windows and couldn’t help but wonder what your life had come to. You weren’t sure what to make of your new situation.

You knew it would please at least one person.

Tags: @theenglishwizard​ @eyesofanangeltongueofadevil​ @hallospaceboyy​

(If you wanna be tagged, let me know)