B-Team[Chat Noir x Reader] [Chat Blanc x Reader] [Male!Ladybug x Reader]

1

You stood in a void of darkness, a little slice of paradise detached from the rest of the world. All was still and quiet, save for the gentle patter of rain against the terracotta rooftops outside and the raspy sound of your own breath. There, within the darkness, the world was as it should be. It was safe, and rational, and untouched by reality beyond the walls of your apartment where crazy vindictive villains couldn't reach you.

God, did you hope they couldn't reach you.

For a moment you simply stood there, eyes open yet sight unseeing. And in that moment, everything felt right. Everything was fine.

But for some reason you still couldn't breathe. There was still dread and trepidation, and those feelings just wouldn't go away.

Like a child afraid of the ghoulish monsters beneath their beds, that fear would never truly leave on its own. Even children knew that monsters liked to lurk about in shadows, just out of reach of their nightlights. And they knew most importantly of all that, without the light, the mere thought of safety was an illusion.

Suddenly paradise felt a lot less welcoming.

With the flick of a switch, the bathroom was bathed in a bright fluorescent glow. The sight of white tiles and the rubber duckie shower curtain was familiar. Your own appearance, you assumed, would not be. It was with pointed determination that you avoided looking at your own reflection, even as you turned to face the sink and the mirror positioned just above the leaky faucet.

The cold flood of water against your skin was the first thing that felt real. It pooled in your hands, bringing with it the unpleasant sensation of pins and needles against overheated skin. And slowly, as you splashed your face again and again, the dreamlike haze you had fallen into began to dissipate. In its place was a harsh sting right beneath your left eye, and the smear of watered-down blood on your fingertips.

"Fucking hell," you cursed, and hissed, and jumped in fright all at once, because wow, how had you forgotten about the giant cut on your cheek-? And then because you sounded so alien that you couldn't believe it was you who had spoken to begin with, and-

All at once you were coherent, and in the time it took you to realize that what just happened wasn't an awful dream, a volley of other realizations fell into place.

Superheroes and villains existed, tangibly, outside the harmlessly fictitious world of comic books and movies.

Your friend, by some massive leap in logic, was somehow a crime-fighting vigilante as well.

You had seen your friend fighting off an angry bar patron turned discount Saturday morning cartoon antagonist.

For some utterly baffling reason, you were the angry bar patron's target.

And as a result you had nearly died, and your hand was now covered in your own blood.

In conclusion, the day had been a total shit show and everything actually sucked. Nothing was alright, and you weren't okay.

The sound of running water seemed to echo off the walls, while a voice beyond the closed door seemed so far away.

"You alright in there?" the voice seemed to ask, and that's right, you weren't alone, and you were thankful that you weren't. Your friend was still patiently waiting just outside, but you didn't want him to see you like this and you didn't want to see anything at all, when all there was to see was nothing but red.

"No," you called out despite the stuttering and uncoordinated tango of your lungs. "Feeling a little barfy, honestly."

You thought he would scoff in disgust, maybe crack an ill-timed joke in his usual brand of dry and monotonous humor. He did neither of those things, and that worried you. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, "I'm coming in."

Your stomach hit rock bottom faster than you thought possible. In fact, it went further than rock bottom, careening down a seemingly never-ending pit with no intention of stopping. Had you locked the bathroom door? Did you look as frightened as you felt? Would he think less of you? Would it even matter if he did? You weren't ready to find out. You weren't ready at all.

"Please don't. J-just give me a second."

But he didn't wait, because you knew you would never be ready, and you had a feeling he knew that as well. At first there was no indication of movement, his hesitation evident in the way the door slowly creaked forward on rusty hinges. Then, all too suddenly, he was there behind you. You didn't dare peak a glance at his reflection, but what you couldn't see you could hear in the soft coaxing of his voice.

"Look at me."

You dipped your head and closed your eyes instead, and in response you felt his chest heave up and down in rhythm with his sigh. One of his hands moved to rest upon your shoulder. The other snatched your fingers within his grasp before he led them beneath the running faucet. The water had since warmed up and it fell in rosy rivulets down the curvature of your skin into the sink below, washing the red away.

"See? It's all gone, you're fine. Look up, love."

When you didn't move, he mad no effort to force you. When you didn't speak, he gave your shoulder a light squeeze. And it was that uncharacteristic gentleness that gave you the courage to confront what you had been avoiding.

You locked sights with your own reflection. A stranger stared back at you, disheveled and sallow, eyes dull and wide, with a nasty looking gash at the apex of your cheekbone. It looked unnatural, a cheap imitation of what should have been. It wasn't just you either, because the man standing behind you appeared equally out of place.

Decked out in white leather, hair askew, your friend looked nothing at all like the stoic man you thought you knew. Something about that knowledge was terrifying, but there was comfort in the warmth he provided, and his eyes behind the white mask were as blue as they always had been.

That's where your sight remained, staring directly at the only thing that seemed the same in a world that felt so different.

"Atta' girl," he praised, and with an impeccably clawed hand ruffled your already messy hair.

It was an action so nonchalant, so at odds with how absolutely wrong everything currently was, that you said the only logical thing you could think of. "Felix, this is fucking crazy."

His reflection grinned sympathetically. "Isn't it?"