#RIP marinette's kitchen
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HMBingo "Baking Disaster"
Opening the door to her apartment, Marinette is immediately engulfed by the smell of something burning.
Her first reaction was to panic and worry that someone managed to somehow get through the Waynes’ security system - even if the chances were almost 0, there was still the possibility of it happening.
She knew Damian would be out of the house the entire day, being too busy with WE meetings since Bruce was officially stepping down and leaving the company in his and Tim’s hands.
So it was natural that she’d be worried about the house smelling like something was burning.
Did she leave the oven on? Did she forget something IN the oven before leaving the house?
But she hadn’t even had the chance to cook or eat anything in the morning, and Damian doesn’t step foot in the kitchen without her, so there’s really no way either of them left anything cooking and forgot about it.
Looking down, she found Damian’s slacks at the door and while that did help calm some nerves, it was still not enough, so she called out to him.
“Dami? I’m home!” clattering noises were heard in response, an almost silent “shit” followed and soon after, footsteps were coming her way.
“Uh Mari?” his head peeked around the corner of the foyer. The rest of his body was hidden behind the wall and that was making marinette suspicious, even more so when her collectible “Le Coq Gaulois” baking timer went off.
She never thought she’d ever hear Damian’s baritone voice go up a pinch, but she was suddenly left speechless when it went up a couple notches when he said “Why are you home so early?”
Narrowing her eyes “I’m not early, I finished all my fittings in time. What are you doing Damian, and was that my limited edition french timer that you are NOT allowed to touch?”
“Uhhh no?”
“You don't sound so sure of yourself and that doesn't reassure me in the slightest. What are you doing and what is this burning smell”
“Nothing-”
And as if destiny was having fun with his misery, the fire alarm went off.
Pushing him off the way he was trying to cover from her, Marinette navigated the familiar walls to her kitchen, where she saw a mess of all her baking supplies and some grocery bags in one corner. There was flour all over the kitchen surfaces, the sink was full of dishes and bowls and from the looks of it, so was the dishwasher, batter was dripping from the island and, was that egg on her kitchen cabinets???
Above all this, was a cloud of smoke, clearly coming from her very expensive and custom made oven that was currently looking like a baking war broke out on it and it lost. There were trays with charred remains of something she could not for the life of her figure out what it was on top of it and Marinette could only think What the heck has he been doing to my kitchen????
She promptly made her way around the island and opened the oven, only to have a gust of smoke coming out of it. Ordering Damian to open the windows and close all room doors, she started to clear out the air, in an attempt to shut off the fire alarm. It obviously didn’t work since maintenance was still called up to the penthouse to check if everything was alright and they even helped them with clearing the air.
After the air became more breathable , she sat Damian down. He refused to look her in the eyes, but he seemed very interested in the strawberries container that somehow survived the chaos he brought upon her kitchen.
"Care to explain why my kitchen looks like a warzone, and what were you even doing in here? You never step foot in the kitchen without me. The only thing you know how to make without my supervision is the tea and coffee for our breakfast."
She was all but glaring at him, and in response, she got a very uncharacteristic reaction.
He was pouting. Damian "I'm-colder-than-the-North-Pole-and-my-heart-is-darker-and-more-bitter-than-the-coffee-Tim-and-Mari-consume-everyday-multiple-times-a-day" Wayne was actually pouting. She was so stupefied over this reaction she didn't even notice he was talking to her. well, not talking, it was more like mumbling than anything else.
"You gotta speak a bit louder than that if you want me to actually understand the reason you burned down my kitchen."
"Alfred's birthday is in 2 days and, since he's the one always baking our birthday cakes, I thought I'd bake him one for a change."
"That's so sweet honey! But why didn't you ask me for help, it's not like I was born and raised in a bakery or anything. And I love Alfie like a grandpa, I'd be more than happy to help you with it!"
Damian kept mumbling answers under his breath, which wasn't helping with Marinette's frustration regarding the whole situation.
"Damian!"
"I didn't want to bother you ok? happy now?"
"What do you mean you didn't want to bother me, you know I'm always willing to help!"
"Exactly!"
"wha-"
"It's exactly because you're always willing to help that I didn't want to ask for help. You've been so busy with commissions these past weeks that you always sleep in the studio and I'm the one taking you to the bedroom so you don't wake up sore in the morning. And on the few occasions you're not stuck in the studio, you're busy with back to back fittings and last minute arrangements because the gala is only a month away. I couldn't just pop in on your busy schedule just to have you help me bake a stupid cake, they're not even that difficult to make."
"If they're not that difficult to make, then why is the kitchen in the state it is and we had to have maintenance come up to help shut off the fire alarm?"
"..."
"I didn't mean to ruin your kitchen, I know how much you treasure it and your utensils"
"Oh Damian honey. I'm not upset about it, I was more concerned about your safety! matter of fact, I'm more upset that you didn't ask for my help than I could ever be because of you making a mess of my kitchen."
"I've told you-"
"I know. Let's put it this way, if I wanted to create a portrait for my parents for their wedding anniversary and needed help because it's not an art form I'm used to, compared to you, who always draws portraits of everyone and everything you feel like."
"I would help you, of course!"
"Alright, but! What if it was during Seasonal Meeting weeks. You know, the ones that have you so busy, you tend to sleep in the office and just come home to get a new change of clothes or if me and/or Alfred drag you out of there."
"No meeting is more important than you, of course I'd drop it to come to your aid."
"And why would I not do the same for you? You are just as important to me as you say I am for you. I would have said yes and rescheduled any meetings to be with you for such an important celebration, to help you with anything you need. That's because we're partners, and we support each other no matter what, no matter when. And that Damian, is because I love you."
After a bit of silence - that Marinette assumes to be reflective on Damian's part - he pulls her in between his open legs and hugs her midsection, his forehead leaning against her collarbone and his arms tightening the embrace.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think of it from that perspective. I completely understand what you mean, and because of that, I'd like to ask..." he took a steadying breath "I'd like to ask for your help in baking something for Alfred's birthday."
Exhaling softly, Marinette placed one of her hands on his shoulder, and the other on his midnight strands. Placing a soft kiss to the crown of his head, she smiled.
"Of course you dummy, I was just waiting for you to ask."
He looked up at her and smiled, "Thank you, love."
"We do have to clean up this mess first if we want to be able to bake anything at all." she giggled.
He stayed in the same position,but turned his face around to look at his mess.
"Indeed. Again, I'm very sorry."
"I've told you, it's fine. Let's go. We'll also need to get new groceries since I'm sure you destroyed them all in your attempts to make - hold on, what exactly were you trying to bake again?
"... I prefer not to disclose that information."
"Come on Dami, I need to know so I'll know what we need and what to prepare for it."
"...cake.."
"what?"
"I was trying to make a yellow cake."
"..."
"pft hahahahaha- yello- yellow cake hahahaha! You destroyed my kitchen trying to bake the most basic of basic cakes hahahaha"
Marinette was still trying to catch her breath by the time she managed to finish her sentence.
“Ha. Ha. Laugh all you want, but remember, not everyone was raised in a bakery.”
“Damian, honey. No one would make as big of a mess baking for the first time as you have.”
“Just leave it. It’s alright, we can bake him that and more! Maybe some of those scones he loves so much!”
“Hm. Whatever you want to make, I’ll be your assistant.”
“Oh no, I’m not baking it. You are. I’ll just be here to help and guide you through the steps.”
“I guess it’s time I beat my brothers in another field and finally be unbanned from Alfred’s Kitchen.”
“Suuuuure.”
“Mari?”
“Hm.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome? What for though?”
“I love you.”
“Hehe, I’ll leave it be for now. I love you too Dami!”
#dc x mlb#maribat#daminette#damian x marinette#damian wayne#marinette dupain cheng#dorks in love#damian wayne is a little shit#poor marinette#fluff#lots of fluff#tooth rotting fluff#you'll need a dentist appointment afterwards#baking#damian wayne can't bake for shit#RIP marinette's kitchen#it was for a good cause tho#grandpa alfie#baking disaster#marinette is so done#she's tired of this man's nonsense#arson#“I would have said yes” prompt
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Who made me a Villain (2)
So um... I forgot to post here so here you go.
[Masterlist] [Ao3]
(Part 1) (here) (Part 3)
--------
Marinette woke up, confused and disoriented in her bedroom. Vivid images of her dreams playing back in her head. People turning into monsters, purple butterflies, her playing hero with a yo-yo of all things and a boy in black who made her chest ache but also filled with anger.
She walked down to the kitchen to get some water, careful not to wake up her parents. It has been a few days since she woke up in a hospital with no memories of the past 3 years or so she had been told.
Marinette put back the cup she used and sat down on the cold floor of the kitchen. The chill felt through her pyjama bottoms, kept her grounded in the world she had found herself in.
Everything felt wrong. Her parents felt distant and there was a sense of uneasiness in the city. The harsh whispers when people thought she wasn’t looking, didn’t help her at all. Something big had happened in the past three years and she had forgotten about it.
Her room felt empty and lonely. It looked the same with a few minor changes but there was something still missing. Several somethings. If only she had a clue on what it is.
Wait.
Marinette stood up as she remembered her diary. Her past self would have written down what had gone down during the years she can’t remember. She dashed back up as quietly as she could to her diary’s hiding place.
It was not there.
The box was a decoy.
Marinette sighed. Someone, probably Chloe, might have tried to get her diary. Honestly, she can’t blame her past self for trying every way to avoid being Chloe’s punching bag to the point of being so paranoid.
Of course, she wouldn’t have thought that she might lose her memories and forget where the diary is hidden, wherever it is.
She looked inside the box again in hopes of the diary magically appearing when she noticed the inner lining that wasn’t there before.
Why would she put a padded velvet lining in a box that was supposed to be a decoy? Upon a closer look, it wasn’t glued on properly. Marinette had done something like this before for some of her friends’ gifts and she knew she wouldn't make such an amateur mistake. She took out the lining and found a key underneath. There was some writing on the back of the white cardboard which was used as a support for the lining.
‘Under the chaise’
Marinette looked under it before remembering the hidden space she made by removing a loose tile under the chaise.
There was a box with a lock on it and the key was a perfect fit. Inside was her diary and a strange dark blue glass orb.
There were a few ripped pages in the diary. Many of the pages were scribbled out and hard to read. The ones that weren’t ripped or fully scribbled over had words written backwards or in another language she didn’t know. There were many sketches of cute chibi like animals that brought a smile to her face like they were old friends she can’t remember. Then, she found a page that was different from the rest.
Firstly, it was the first one she found that was written neither backwards or in a different language. Written in big bold letters, it read:
‘Break the glass’
Marinette picked up the glass orb, finding it heavier than she thought it would be. As she inspected the glass orb curiously and confused about everything, she wondered. Why did she, the past her, go to such lengths to hide it but leave clues for someone to find?
Nothing made sense and her only answer was to break the glass like the note said.
Marinette went up to the balcony and once she was there, she threw the orb as hard as she could onto the floor.
It shattered easily. Then, strange blue wisps escaped from it and went into her. Marinette fell onto her knees as memories of the past 3 years, her time as Ladybug and Guardian, crashed through her mind.
Once it was done, tears were streaming down her face as Marinette grieved over the loss of her beloved kwamis. Her only source of companionship in the hell that was Paris was no longer there. She was truly alone.
—---
The girl woke up in her cell, her pillow wet with tears. She sat up, wiped her cheeks and hugged her knees.
Maybe if she had taken on Kagami’s or Luka’s offer to go with them, she wouldn’t be here. It would have made it harder for the Order to track her down and maybe she could have-
The girl shook her head.
No.
It would have only dragged her only friends into the mess that was somehow her life. She wondered if she could pinpoint where it all started going wrong. Was it when Lila appeared? Or was it Hawkmoth? She could not say for sure. It could have been before that when she was placed in the same class as Chloe with Caline Bustier as her teacher. Maybe it was when the once kind Dupain-Cheng couple picked up a starving little girl off the streets who looked similar to their daughter who had died in an accident and named her Marinette.
It was no use thinking about it. She had already decided to leave the past in the past. But the future was still so bleak. While she could get out using magic, based on what she knew about superheroes from Alya’s ramblings (it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to when she thinks of the name. It feels like the name of a stranger). Batman operated Gotham, her new home, and he will probably drag her back if she escapes.
There was a chance she would be released earlier if she played nice but honestly, what use would it be if she ever gets out of Arkham.
She would be an ex-convict with a criminal record so there would still be the same hate and contempt she faced back in Paris if she ever got out.
The girl went back to sleep since worrying about it was no use and something tells her that tomorrow will be a good day.
=====
The dark-haired girl sat alone, eating her lunch. So far, that’s the only thing that wasn’t different from her life in Paris.
For starters, Arkham was nicer than she thought it would be after spending a few weeks here. Clean and neat environment, good food being served daily, mostly friendly staff members and decent cellmates.
Maybe the last one was questionable, considering some of their reputations that she heard about. But they avoided her. Mostly. There were some eyes as she was the youngest inmate currently in Arkham but she was used to it. Plus there was no hatred and hostility in those eyes which made it easier to breathe.
It was different from her imagination of dirty cells with rusty bars, having questionable grey mush for meals and the other inmates picking on her. How sad was her life that this was a huge improvement to being Marinette?
“Hello, sugar. Aren’t ya a little bit young to be here?” A voice suddenly came from in front of her.
The girl looked up in surprise to see two ladies staring at her. The one who called her was a blonde woman with dyed tips, one side blue and the other red, and she had a slight vibe that screamed unhinged. The red-headed woman, next to her, seemed more calm but she had an unusually green tint to her skin. She blinked, unsure if they were friendly or not or if she should answer. After a moment, the girl settled for a wave.
“Ives, look how cute she is. What’s your name?” The blonde exclaimed, “Mine is Harley. Harley Quinn. And this lovely flower next to me is my girlfriend, Pamela. I just call her Red.”
“Hello.” Pamela gave her a small smile to reassure her.
====
Ever since they saw the girl, Harley and Ivy had to know how someone as young as her landed in Arkham Asylum of all places.
After a bit of bribery, knocking out people and breaking and entering, they managed to get their hands on the girl’s files. They expected some type of mental illness that makes it dangerous for her to be around people but trying to kill 14 people in broad daylight was … shocking to say the least. They were also surprised to learn that she was originally from Paris and the only reason she had been sent here was because DNA tests revealed her to be a daughter of the Joker.
Harley and Pamela decided to first observe her and since she was still young, try to prevent her going down the insane clown path as much as possible with their guidance.
For the first few days, they noticed that the girl was very quiet and afraid of making a fuss. Everything about her just screamed depressed and sad.
“You know, Red. I think I figured out the 14 attempted murder charges,” Harley said one day, after observing stalking the girl.
Batman had pulled some strings so they ended up in cells opposite each other under a few conditions. (Such conditions include no more killing people, peacefully surrendering to the authorities and try to get better)
“What about her screams psycho serial murderer like her dad?” Pamela asked, looking over one of her plants, “Honestly, she’s more like a wilted plant that didn’t have sunlight for days.”
“She’s been bullied, Red. The signs are all there. I’m beginning to feel like something fishy is going on.”
Harley began pacing around her cell, “She’s very wary of authority figures so the teachers might have been in on it. She might have been isolated. Parental figures might also have abused or neglected her.”
“You are saying she snapped hard one day and decided to murder her bullies.”
“Like a wounded animal lashing out. But it’s odd. She’s like an empty shell. Like she had given up and resigned to her fate. There's just no rage. No revenge plans. No drive to do anything.”
“I agree that is kinda strange. Or she’s just biding her time and plotting how to finish the job.”
“Normally, I would agree with you but…”
“But what?”
“Her eyes, Red. They look so empty. Ya know that old saying. Eyes are the window to the soul. It looked like everything had been drained out of her.”
“You don’t think she’s going to…”
“Not yet. Maybe sometimes later down the road. It’s hard to tell.”
“Harley, you want to help her, don’t you?”
“You know me so well, Red. She got a rough start so early but she should at least get a bit of joy in her life.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Whatever plan you got cooked up, I will help you.”
“Have I ever told ya that you are the best girlfriend ever?” Harley squealed.
—----
“Um..hello to you too,” the girl replied warily and asked, “Can I help you?”
Harley and Pamela looked at each other before they sat down in front of her.
“Well, nothing really. We just wanted to talk to you, Marinette.”
The girl flinched and then glared at them, “I don’t think I ever told anyone my name.”
“Oh. You are quick, sugar,” Harley exclaimed, “We will be honest with you, Marinette.”
The girl flinched again, causing Harley to pause before making a mental note not to use the name and continuing, “For as long as I have been here, I have never met someone as young as you before. Plus you got that mysterious past vibe going on so I had to find out. A little bit of breaking and entering never hurt anyone. Your file is quite in-ter-res-ting.”
“Then you know that I killed 14 people,” the girl smirked as she brought her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her interlaced fingers.
“Tried and failed to kill 14 people in broad daylight,” Harley corrected and the smirk disappeared, “That’s pretty bold of you. But that’s not the problem here. Why are you here?”
“I think you already know.”
“I get it. 14 people. Nearly killed them. Blah, blah, blah. What I trying to say is murdering 14 people in a very public park where there can be witnesses in broad daylight. Not likely. No one is stupid enough to do that. And I know that you aren’t. I bet that it was in self-defense more than anything. At worst, you should be charged with assault, not attempted murder. Even then, you should be in a jail cell in Paris. Not here in Gotham.”
The girl blinked, not expecting that.
“Not only that. Even if your father is that bastard,” Harley spat out the word with contempt, “and you are declared legally insane, there are other places that they could have sent you. So why were you, no offence but a girl with no powers, sent to one of the most dangerous places in the world?”
No one had backed her up in the trial. She knew it was Lila’s influence but the fact that people she knew all her life didn’t take her side hurt. Now, in front of her was a stranger who only knew her from a file and was listing out reasons she shouldn’t have ended up where she was. It was comforting to have someone look at the facts for once and not take things as they seem.
The girl laughed, surprising the two women, “I think it’s pretty obvious. I was framed. Fourteen against one. Never stood a chance.”
“What shit are teenagers up to that they are framing each other for murder?” Pamela asked in horror.
“Some of my ‘victims’ were pretty famous with lots of money in their pockets. One supermodel, a daughter of a Mayor and one who ‘claims’ to be daughter of the Italian Ambassador. I suppose that’s why my sentence was pretty unfair. I guess even judging by Gotham’s standards.”
The two sorta knew that from researching about Marinette by illegally using the internet. With the help of a VPN and google translate to go through the news about Marinette’s case, they managed to piece together what had gone down.
“No shit. Gotham may be corrupt but this is just outrageous. Weren’t they your classmates?” Harley asked.
“They used to be nice. And then,” she paused as a dark look passed her face, “I don’t want to talk about that anymore.”
Harley looked at Pamela and they did that couple thing where they communicate without words in the span of a few seconds and know what the other is thinking.
“Hey, kid. Wanna go out with us?”
“Huh?”
“You’ll see in a few days what I am talking about.”
—---
The girl screamed as Harley drove them out of Arkham Asylum like a bat out of hell in a stolen van, hanging on for dear life.
“ARE YOU INSANE? We are going to get caught!”
“No worries, sugar.” Harley replied calmly, “Me and Red are pre-ty good at breaking out. Besides, today is the Fourth of July so Bats and his nests of birdies got their hands full with whatever Calendar Man got planned.”
The girl’s head spun, either from Harley’s reckless driving or the information that made no sense dumped on her, “I think I’m going to puke.”
Pamela gave her a look of sympathy and handed her a bucket from who knows where.
After a while, Harley pulled over somewhere outside of Gotham City’s borders and the girl fell onto her knees on the ground, “Thank kwamis, it’s over.”
“Don’t be relieved yet, hun. It’s not over. The fun part is just getting started.”
“Huh?”
“This way is out of the city to throw off the Bat brats a bit. We are going back into the City another way.” Harley explained as she pointed out the direction they were going to go.
“Then, can you let Pam drive? Or me. I know how to and you can tell me which direction to take.” The girl wondered if she should make a portal to get out of enduring more of Harley’s driving.
“We are not borrowing another car. We are going to be taking,” Harley dramatically paused “,the Ivy Express.”
“The what?” the girl asked, baffled.
“Show her, Red.” Harley snapped her fingers towards Pamela.
“Alright,” Pamela exclaimed before focusing her powers on the nearby trees.
The branches nearest to them picked them up and flung them. They landed onto another tree where the same thing repeated.
At first, the girl was terrified over the unexpected method of transport but it was similar enough to her time as Ladybug swinging across Paris that she relaxed a bit and was soon whooping along with Harley.
Where the trees ended and the city started to meet, they stole another car but this time, thankfully, Ivy drove to their hideout which is just an abandoned warehouse the couple had renovated to live in when they were out of Arkham.
Harley opened the doors and exclaimed, “Home Sweet Home.”
“Oh. Wow.” The girl looked around in awe.
The place was a perfect mix of Harley’s brand of crazy and Pamela’s love of plants. Green covered every surface they could, vines wrapping around the support columns and there was a skylight that allowed the light of dawn to filter through. Hammers and baseball bats were hung on a wall and the walls were decorated in graffiti. In the middle of the room was a giant TV and a circular sofa. There was a kitchen in a corner. There was a stairway for a raised platform which acts as a second floor and bedroom.
Suddenly, two brown furry things attacked Harley.
“My babies. Did Selina take good care of you?” Harley cooed as her hyenas licked her.
“She did a decent job,” Pamela said, inspecting her plants.
“Down, boys. Now, let me introduce you to our newest addition. Sugar, this one here is Bud and the other one is Lou. Bud, Lou, this is…” Harley trailed off, unsure if she should say the name or not.
“Marinette’s fine,” the girl said. She had that name for most of her life. It’s just that for the past year when her name is called, nothing good ever happens. It’s the terror of being found when she doesn’t want to be and when someone tries to find her, it is usually time to ‘punish’ her for something she never did.
“But you don’t like it.”
“Just bad memories. I will get over it.” The girl tried to hide the shakiness in her voice by acting nonchalant and with a smile. It didn’t pass the two women's notice.
“How about you choose a new one?” Pamela suggested, “Like a code name. People called me Poison Ivy and it feels less personal. The only one who calls me my actual name is Batman because he’s Batman and it humanises me or so he says.”
“Besides, now that you are one of us, you need a gimmick,” Harley chimed in, swinging her arm around her girlfriend.
“What?”
“You see, Red got her thing with plants so that’s why people call her ‘Poison Ivy’. I mentioned Calendar Man earlier. His name is actually Julian and his thing is to celebrate holidays in illegal but wildest ways possible. And you know Edward, right? The bald one who we let out before we drove off with you. He does riddles and puzzles stuff as the Riddler. Point is Gotham is crazy, sugar. You need a thing so we can show you the best time of your life while you are here and you ain’t going to get that in that padded room.”
Pamela pushed Harley’s arms off and reassured the girl, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I am sure we can pull some strings so you don’t have to spend the rest of your life in Arkham and without associating with us like that. No strings attached. Promise. Harley gets ahead of herself sometimes. I suggested picking out another name because you seem uncomfortable with the one you have.”
“Sorry about that, sugar. And Red’s right. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to agree.”
“Why?” The girl asked in a soft voice.
“Why are we willing to do all of that for you?”
She nodded.
“Well,” Harley tapped her lips, “you are just a kid. Sorry, kid but in our eyes, you are. And no kids like you deserve to spend their life locked up. Reason 2 is the entire city is corrupt to the core and you need someone to show you the ropes if you are going to stay. Number 3 is because of the Joker. Once he hears about you, I know that bastard well enough that he will want to get his hands on you. Me and Red would be able to give you some protection as long as we are around.”
The girl was quiet as she thought about what they had told her. She doesn’t know much about Gotham and the two ladies were willing to help her. They even gave her an out.
“The offer about staying out of Arkham and not doing any crime. What exactly does it entail?” she asked.
“We have a friend who will hear us out about your case. He might be able to change your identity or something and get you adopted or into the foster system.”
“NO!” she cried. The girl tried to recover from her outburst by clearing her throat and replied more calmly albeit a tad shakily, “No. No. I don’t want that.”
“I am sure there are some nice people that would take you in. They don’t have to be from Gotham.”
“What if they start to hate me? What if they find out that I am Joker’s daughter and treat me like I am some sort of freak? Then, I will be sent to Arkham again. And- And- ” The girl started to have a panic attack and switched to French.
Eventually, she calmed down and found herself on the couch being hugged by Harley and Pamela on each side.
“I am guessing that panic attack has to do something with the scums you called parents, huh?” Harley asked.
“They are nice people. It’s just,” the girl bit her lip as she realised that no matter how crazy Gotham was, no one was going to believe her about Lila using magic, “they were manipulated into hating me.”
Harley pursed her lips in worry and questioned, “Do you mind sharing with the rest of us?”
The girl took in a deep breath, “You know how my classmates were more or less bullying me right? They told my parents that I was bullying this one girl and they believed my classmates even though I told them I wasn’t doing that. I guess they were disappointed about how I wasn’t the girl they had thought they had raised and dropped the bomb that I was a stand-in for their dead daughter when they visited me for my trial.”
The plants around the warehouse started to shake in response to Pamela's anger while Harley tried to not blow up as she hugged the girl tighter.
“That was pretty shitty of them. You didn’t deserve that. I only knew you for a few days and you are the sweetest, nicest kid I ever had the pleasure of meeting.”
Pamela pulled them closer to her, “I agree with Harley. If I could, I would go over to Paris right now and strangle them with my vines and use their corpses for fertilisers. Human blood is great plant food.”
“Yeah and, Bud and Lou would also love having human flesh for dinner.” Harley chimed in.
The girl rubbed her eyes at the oddly sweet violent offers and said, “Thanks, guys. But I don’t think my conscience can handle people dying on my behalf.”
“Shame. I suppose my more carnivorous children can live with steak.” Pamela commented dryly.
The girl giggled and they all fell into silence. The silence only lasted for a moment before Harley jumped up and headed to the kitchen area, “Okay, this is a good enough stopping point after unloading some emotional baggage. Red, load up some films, will ya? While I will make some popcorn. It’s time for girls’ movie night. Perfect end after an Arkham breakout.”
“Do you have any preferences?” Pamela asked the girl who shook her head.
“I don’t mind anything,” she replied but after a moment of contemplation added, “Except for superheroes.”
“Good news. You are hanging out with two partially-reformed supervillains. We only tolerate heroes but still hate their guts.”
It got a snort out of the girl. Pamela smiled as she began browsing through the options.
“Um..Mdm. Isley,” a shy voice called out.
“You can call me Pam.”
“Oh. Pam, can you tell me who the other heroes are? I only know about Batman.”
Pamela replied, “First off, they prefer to be called vigilantes. Most of Gotham just refer to any one of them as the Bats. Second, I can’t tell you exactly how many there are because there has been a lot of name changing and Batman has like a new sidekick every other month. This is the basics. In the beginning, Batman had one and he was named Robin. Then they were joined by Batgirl. Robin grew up and flew out of the nest and created a new identity which is Nightwing. He now mostly stays in Bludhaven and comes back to visit Gotham once in a while. Then, Batman got another Robin which we call Robin #2. Unfortunately, Robin #2 died because of the Joker…”
Pamela continued to spill tea about the Bat family drama. Harley returned with the popcorn and added details which Pamela missed. The girl was more invested about the stories of the Gotham vigilantes than whatever movie was serving as white noise.
“Okay, okay. So there is Batman,” The girl held up one finger, “Nightwing who is the first sidekick.” She added another finger, “There was a second one who died. We are on the third one right now but there was a fourth one while the third was gone for a while and came back. The fourth one is a girl Robin who used to and also currently goes by Spoiler. Batgirl also got replaced by a scarier version. And there is a Batwoman. Who is also not the old Batgirl?”
“You got them all more or less.”
The girl turned her attention to the movie while Harley and Pamela’s commentary of it was a nice background noise as she organised her thoughts. She didn’t really pay attention to what they were talking about as her mind drifted.
Chances are if she kept spending more time around Harley and Pamela, she was going to run into the Bats at one point and they would not see her as someone on the side of ‘good’. But was that even a bad thing?
The painful truth was that the girl was tired of defending herself. Back when everyone called her the ‘Everyday Ladybug’, it was exhausting. Sure she was nice and kind but that was just what the class needed to drop everything onto her. She was happy to do stuff for her ‘friends’ or did she just do it because the adults told her to?
She tried to be the bigger person and stand on the moral high ground when it comes to Chloe. That only gave her the worst time in school. She followed all the rules and did her best to help the people around her. And all of that didn’t even matter.
Her status as the ‘Everyday Ladybug’ went down the moment Lila whispered a few sweet lies into their ears with what she now knew was thanks to magic that they believed her.
What would even be the point of trying to show that she was a good person to someone who won’t even listen?
Well, fine if the Universe wanted her to be the bad guy. She would play the part with all she had. Her new name should properly reflect that.
Someone who breaks all the rules. Someone who defies the people in charge. A Rebel.
“Harley, Pam.” The two looked at her with curiosity.
“I got my name,” she announced.
Harley jumped up and clapped her hands in excitement, “That’s fantastic, sugar. So what is it? Oh, is it Raven? But I think that is already taken by a demon chick. How about Night-crawler?”
“Harley, calm down. Give the girl some time to tell us.” Pamela chided her girlfriend.
“Sorry.” Harley sat back down but visibly shaking with anticipation.
“I was thinking of going by Rebel.”
“That is so badass. Why that though? Any particular reasons you can share with us, Rebel.”
Rebel smiled, “I guess if I am going to do this Rouge thing. I am going to do this right. Breaking all the rules cause they are only habits. Plus I can be the Joker’s rebellious teenage daughter. I am not going to be going around Gotham dressed as a clown. No offence Harley.”
Harley cackled, “I don’t mind. I love it.”
“Do you guys have a sketchbook lying around?” Rebel sheepishly asked, “Because I got some great costume ideas I want to sketch out.”
“You can draw?” Pamela inquired while Harley went around to fulfil Rebel’s request.
Rebel replied, “Only clothes. I can do decent art if I try. Fashion is still my passion. It’s one of things from my old life that I don’t hate completely.”
“Sorry, Reb.” Harley came back with a red leather jacket and a domino mask, “No wait. That sounds too close to Red.” She shrugged, “I will think of something. But we don’t have any sketchbooks in the house or paper. Or pencils.”
“It’s fine. What’s with that?” Rebel asked, pointing her chin at the items in Harley’s arms.
“Oh, this.” Harley held up the jacket and tossed it towards her, “This is for your first official debut. I think you are about my size. With the bats focused on Calendar Man, they won’t be paying attention to some stationary store theft. A bit lacklustre for a crime. But baby steps.”
Rebel stared at the mask and jacket. Was she actually going to do this? Step out of the light and go into the dark side.
Pamela noticed her hesitation, “You don’t have to do this. You can back out if you are not ready.”
Rebel shook her head and put the jacket on, “Let’s do this.”
“Atta girl.” Harley then looked over Rebel’s clothes which were the standard Arkham-issued orange jumpsuits, “How about we change clothes first. yeah?”
Rebel looked over herself, “I think that’s a great idea.”
A few hours later, Harley and Poison Ivy were seen robbing the shopping district with a new partner with the name of Rebel.
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(Part 3)
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taglist: @toodaloo-kangaroo, @iloontjeboontje, @buginetye, @angelwreckedd, @anoires-blog, @ever-since-i-was-young, @shutupandactuallylisten, @its-maemain, @vel-vee, @kashlyn, @officiallydarkgeek, @jayjayspixiepop, @cmouse, @transheso, @thecrazyfantrolls
#maribat#mlb x dc#biodad joker#I still don't know how the law works#I just threw in a bunch of legal terms to make it seem legit#local lesbians adopt sad depressed French teenager#I gotta go fix some plot holes in part one#or go to ao3 and read it
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Yours Truly (16)
AO3 here
Ch. 16: Let the Storm Carry Me Away
If Marinette had learned anything about Damian, it’s that he was very punctual. He was always on time to class, finished his homework in the hour he allotted each night, and his texts were delivered quickly, so long as he wasn’t in bed or class. It wasn’t like him to disappear off the face of the Earth.
After a vague discussion on the possibility of Damian arriving in Paris for the final stage of her contest, he had stopped responding to her messages, let alone reading them. She assumed it was a broken phone and tried emailing him for good measure, but all she received in return was radio silence. It didn’t help that not only had Duke forgone any social media activity at the same time, but Tim called her to let her know he had urgent business back in Gotham and the final adjustments would have to be done by an on-site attendant.
Alya reassured her that no, she hadn’t done anything wrong. Boys were just stupid like that sometimes, and it was very likely there was a good reason for all three of them to drop off the map simultaneously. So she went about her week as if it mattered very little to her.
What a lie that was.
Thankfully, she had many things in place to distract her. Paris had entered a cold front, so there was now lots of baking to be done. When the weather turned cold, many commuters would stop in for a warm baked good and a steaming cup of coffee on their morning stroll. Anything to keep them from freezing before reaching their jobs.
Marinette was working overtime to help her parents prepare each night for the morning rush. She readied ingredients, left dough to cool in the fridge, and tried her hardest to leave the kitchen as clean as she had found it – a difficult task for as clumsy as she happened to be.
On top of that, there was a major exam coming up in her history class, and she had finally received news about the upcoming finale of the Paris Young Designers Contest.
She was to begin sewing immediately. For the opening round, candidates had sent in a line of designs with a few mock pieces for reference. Her’s was centered around flowers and their meanings. Something about her continued partnership with Tikki had drawn her to like flowers more than she cared to admit.
For the second part, she was to create the line. Each piece would be examined by a professional who would come to each contestant individually and give critiques.
From there, she would use the notes given to her by the professional to improve the line before presenting it at the final fashion show on New Year’s Eve.
Everyone who was anyone in the industry would be there in the hopes of scouting new interns to add to their team. In years past, some contestants had even been lucky enough to be propositioned by investors to start their own company. The fame earned from the show could easily help them grasp a foothold into the world of fashion.
Right now, she had three weeks before the professional showed up on her doorstep to tear her designs apart, and only half of her line was finished. If she had any hope of getting a half decent review, she needed to keep her focus off of Damian and in the game. Quite frankly, the fabric draped over every surface of her room was starting to feel like it was mocking her.
After four straight days of sewing, stitching, baking, and studying, Marinette was going to rip her hair out. It was a helpful distraction to ignore her worries over her pen pal, but she hadn’t left her apartment aside from school and if she didn’t see the outside world soon, she may very well let herself be bald. Anything had to be better than this.
She dressed herself into the first cohesive outfit she could find – mom jeans and a pink sweater – and threw her stained pajamas into a pile in the corner. She had been wearing them for two days now, and the butter from the bakery was starting to crust onto them. It was certainly not her best moment.
Grabbing a purse and her long neglected phone, she raced down the stairs to put on a pair of old, graffitied sneakers. They were far from fashionable, but they were comfortable and Adrien had helped her paint them. She couldn’t bear to get rid of them when they held such treasured memories.
Marinette burst through the front door and raced down to the street below at record speed, not knowing where it was she had planned to go. She just needed to get away from here.
The afternoon sky was dark, clouds heavy with a whisper of rain. She wouldn’t be able to stay out long, but a few minutes of fresh air was worth the trouble. Her feet began walking, her mind clueless to their goal, but eventually she reached the park.
It was empty, of course, as it always was before it rained. The wind blew whatever leaves remained on tree branches to scatter past her and into the streets. There was something serene about it all. It was quiet, and Marinette could not remember the last time she had known Paris to be so. But she closed her eyes and let the ambience move through her.
The wind blew once more, curling loose hair over her face. She moved with it, laying down on the grass swaying peacefully around her, her back to the cold, hard ground. She was at peace for the first time in months.
There were attempts in that time to reach that lovely feeling, but they garnered little success. It was difficult to compare a forced calmness to true peace. Even the rain drops beginning to sprinkle onto her face could not ruin the moment.
Let the storm carry me away, she mused to herself. Perhaps it would be easier than all of this.
She didn’t think about boys or Batman’s momentary presence in Paris. Nor did she think of half-sewn designs and embroidery. Overflowing orders and baked goods remained in the kitchens at home. Akuma anxiety kept its distance. And her failure of a love life didn’t even dare to haunt her this time.
Marinette was soaked to the bone in cold rain, but her muscles relaxed and her mind kept steady in its pursuit of tranquility. She wasn’t sure how long she laid there, basking in the beauty of mother nature’s storm, before a dull ringing demanded her attention.
It took her a few moments before she realized what the source of the sound was. Her phone. Her phone was ringing, and who in the world was calling her?
Her eyes were blurry from letting the rain gather in them, so she didn’t bother to check the caller ID and answered with a groggy, “Hello?”
“Hello, Marinette,” returned a deep, gruff voice in English.
She switched over immediately to the uncomfortable language. “May I ask who’s speaking?”
“Yes..” An uncomfortable cough. “This is…Dami.”
Dami? Did she know a Dami? Surely, she would remember a name as interesting as –
Oh, Kwamis, it was Damian.
“Oh my! I should have checked my caller ID,” Marinette panicked. “I’m so sorry to have made you feel so awkward!”
He chuckled a bit on the other end, and her heart skipped a beat. She had never heard his voice before this, so how did one man have this much effect on her just by speaking? Maybe she had a fever. Why else would her face feel so warm?
“Uh, what’s up?” Stupid! Who even responds like that?
“I had not spoken to you in a few days, so I believe I owe you an explanation.” He paused slightly. “And an apology.”
Her hand went up to fiddle with a strand of hair. As soon as she made contact with the wet curl, she jerked her hand away in surprise. Kwamis, had she been out in the rain that long?
She laughed out awkwardly, “I’m a little lost. What are you apologizing for again?”
Damian took a deep breath, and she blushed a little more at the sound of it through the phone. She really needed to work on getting flustered so easily.
“First and foremost, I would like to apologize on behalf of my brothers. They unfortunately have little knowledge in the ways of boundaries, and they let the excitement of our friendship cloud their judgment. There is no excuse for how Tim betrayed your trust. He took advantage of your kindness and came to you with deceit rather than good intentions, and that was a line that did not deserve to be crossed.
“I also would like to apologize on my own behalf. While I did not outright lie to you regarding my identity, I withheld important information. You trusted me with various personal information of your own, and I failed to even give you my real last name. The packages you mailed to Damian Al Ghul at a P.O. box in Gotham were for Damian Wayne, delivered to and opened in the family manor.
“I did not want you to know I was famous, even if it happened to be by proxy of my father. I wanted to believe you could know me without knowing who the media believed me to be, and still find me worthy. I thought I could not trust you, despite you never giving me the indication that my worries had any foundation. I have treated you like a fool, and for that I am deeply sorry.”
Marinette was caught off guard. She wasn’t sure what to say in response, but he thankfully continued.
“I regret having left you this week with worry on your mind due to my absence. I suffered a nervous breakdown.” His voice trembled over the words, and she felt sick. “Father has kept me confined to my bed out of worry, and I felt too guilty to message you. I had done wrong by you. My brothers had done wrong by you. I could not bear to face the consequences.
“I understand if you do not wish to continue our communication further.”
Finally, Marinette found her words, almost shouting, “Why would I want that?"
She could hear his surprise in a small gulp through the phone, but she continued on.
“I realize now that, yes, Tim did cross boundaries, but I don’t hold it against him. The way he spoke about you while he was here; it’s clear that he thought he was just trying to look out for you. I was a stranger, who had the attention of his younger brother. I’m sure he just wanted to protect you, in his own misguided way.”
“But–”
“Dami, it’s alright. Tim meant no harm, nor did Duke.” She smiled to herself before whispering, “And I’m not mad at you in the slightest. Sure, I was a bit lonely, and you could have given me a heads up. But I won’t hold your caution against you. It isn’t easy to be vulnerable with another person, especially one you’ve never even met.”
Damian coughed. “You’re too forgiving.”
And she laughed in return, “I get that a lot, I’m afraid.”
They were lulled into a comfortable silence, and Marinette finally drug herself from the grass to head towards home. If she wanted to avoid a sick leave in the middle of the contest, she’d have to change and shower sooner rather than later. But she kept the phone pressed close to her ear, listening to the gentle sounds of Damian’s breathing.
“Perhaps it is time I work on overcoming my need to hide away,” he said quietly and suddenly.
“Oh? And how are you going to do that?” She knew the question was dangerous before she even let it fall from her mouth, but she swore she could hear him smile through her phone.
“I would like to attend the Paris Young Designers Contest finale, so long as you’ll have me.”
#Marinette Dupain-Cheng#batman#maribat#maridami#daminette#Damian Wayne#batfamily#Bat Family#BatFam#miraculous ladybug#mlb x dc#mlb x dcu#wolfish-writes
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Day 5: Shot(s)
Note:
Welp. This was longer than expected but there was soo much detail and ideas behind this that I wasn't sure where this would go. Wasn't too sure if this was a Mature Rating or Teen and Up so for safety I put Mature.
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At 18, Marinette was finally able to go to bars and drink with her friends without parental advisement. Now at 21 and living in America with her said boyfriend. He was a musician and he reminded her a lot of Luka, but he wasn't. He was an American guitarist, named Mickey, she met at a bar that her college friends dragged her to. He was playing cover songs on a single stage, siting comfortably on a stool in his white Tshirt and ripped blue jeans and black and white converse. They had locked eyes during one of his many songs. Marinette couldn't look away and her friends elbowed and teased her all evening. Eventually he had walked over and they got to talking. Exchanged numbers and a date and more later they were a couple.
He had convinced Marinette to go with him to his gig at a bar in the semi high-end side of town. She reluctantly agreed despite it being her birthday and her boyfriend said thag he had a surprise set up for her just wouldn't say when or what. She dressed up in bed nice comfortable clothing, grabbed her purse, locked her apartment extra right, then met him down at the main door of her apartment complex. He pulls up in his black Toyota Camry, window rolled down and looks at her.
"Mmm hey sweet thing. Need a ride?" He tried to sound sexy and cool. Marinette raised a brow then shook her head before leaning down pressing her elbows on the door.
"Sorry sir, but I don't think my boyfriend would be so keen to me taking rides with strangers." She winked twirling her raven hair around her finger.
"Ah lucky guy. Then I guess I'll have to ask this boyfriend of yours for permission." He smirks before pulling the visor down and look at himself in the mirror. "Alright sir. So I want to take this pretty lady here at my window out for a good time. You got a problem with that? No? Well good." He closed the visor and turns his attention back to Mari.
"He said yes?" She asked teasingly shifting her feet to not hurt herself in the stupid heels she put on.
"Indeed he did. Let's go." He unlocked the door and waited as she opens it and climbs in. Once buckled they drove off into town for 30 minutes. No one spoke on the way, but they enjoyed the wind blowing through the car. When they arrived, Mickey got out opened the back seat and removed his guitar case. Marinette waited a minute or two before deciding to just get out of the vehicle herself. She examined the area, finding motorcycles and cars all around this place. The building was almost the side of two bedroom house that had good bones but lots of wear and tear. It wasn't dark like all of Gotham but it had a more of a homey feel to it. Mickey took her hand and pulls her inside, where she meets with the smell of sweat, alcohol, cigarettes, and food.
Marinette felt out of place. There were men and women everywhere. Tables were full, the center of floor was filled with dancing women and a few men who decided to take a chance, and a stage sitting out in the back to allow space. The bar was tucked over where the one would assume was a dining room at one point that elad into the kitchen. Taking a better look around, the inside of the building was more modern and luxurious feel. Men and women were dressed almost formal and yet casual. Some women were even too underdressed in Mari's opinion. She moved around to find a seat at to watch her boyfriend on the stage. He finds a position he was comfortable in and began to play.
A few songs in excited screaming and shouts from the crowed of women near the front later, Marinette decided to go up to the bar to order a drink for herself and Mickey. The bartender, a very handsome brawny type asked for her ID. She handed it to him and watched as he examined the card to see if it was fake. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't mentally drooling over this man. He was kind of tall, dark, and handsome. His blue eyes moved across her card and back to her face if they stayed on her, she'd probably melt right then and there. God I'm such a Hoe I have a boyfriend. I have a boyfriend. She mentally thought to herself. But the man was built. Like could probably lift her up like she was just a sheet of paper built. Her mind let loose images of naughty things she would like to do with him, but then stopped as he handed her back the card.
"Happy birthday little lady." He says giving her a charming smile.
"Oh thank you!" Marinette says blushing red as she remembers her thoughts and now mixing them with his strong honey like voice. "What can you recommend for a good first birthday drink?" She asked.
"Mmm.. shots. And I know just the ones." He smiled and turning around to pick up his mixture of flavors. The music stopped catching Mari's attention back to the stage. Seeing her boyfriend taking a drink of a beer. He looked up and waved it at her then begins to sing another song. It was one of their songs they sing in the car she listened to him but then began to sing along. A two shot glasses clink to the surface next to her arm but she refuse to stop singing until it was over.
-
Jason had been managing this bar for a long time now. He has seen too many dip shits and whores to even give a damn anymore here. As long as there was respect he didn't care what anyone did. So when Tim suggested doing open mic there, to bring in some actual people outside of street urchins, he gave it a shot. A year from today and it has been a success. Many people of different sides of Gotham has visited and he was making enough to revamp the place now exteriorly.
Tonight a loner guitarist had signed up for two nights with a couple other bands. Keeping it timed to allow them to rotate. It was around 1900 when the guy walked in holding his guitar case, behind him was a small woman no more than 5"2' maybe? It was hard to tell with her blood red, can those toothpicks even be considered heels, like heels. She wore a tight pair of blue skinny jeans that emphasizes her muscular toned legs and round ass. She had patches of ripped fabric randomly placed along her legs. Before he could completely eye rape her further, a customer came over requesting for more drinks.
Tim had decided then to show up sitting there on on his barstool sipping on a cup of coffee.
"Come on. You're in a bar. Drink something other than caffeine." Jason remarked.
"Hey, leave me alone. I'm a paying customer." Tim scowls.
"Paying customer my ass." Jason retorts and shifts his attention only to the crowd. His eyes scanned the room looking for the female from earlier to no avail. He gave up for now listening to the musician singing a couple cover songs. After his fourth song, someone stepped up to the bar to order two drinks. Jason looks up seeing the small woman from the door and blinks. He looked over at Tim who was still focused on his cup not once looking over yet and smiles. Perfect!
"Can I see your ID?" Jason asks. She pulls her purse up and pulls out her ID from her wallet. Looking it over purposely delaying giving it back, he takes this chance to look at the woman more. Her hair was in a messy bun and with strands of hair falling all around her face and some caressing her bare skin around her neck and shoulders. Marinette was wearing a dark red top that rested off her shoulders exposing a small amount of cleavage unless she leans over. Which is what she did. She was adjusting herself on the stool and as she waited. He handed her the ID back leaning over be heard.
"Happy birthday little lady." The raven haired woman was blushing. He had caught her eye raping him too. He could imagine the thoughts she was probably having. He'd be lying too if he said he wasn't.
"Oh thank you!" Her voice let out a squeak in her excited tone. "What can you recommend for a good first birthday drink?" This excited Jason.
"Mmm...shots. I know just the ones." He turns around to begin getting his mixtures of flavored alcohol, juice, and garnishes. He preps the different flavors into a shaker then pour into two different shot glasses. He can see Tim's eyes look up from the cup to see the glasses then to the female who is now singing. Her voice was very sweet and smooth, nearing the end with a hum. Tim was watching her with a soft smile then leaned over to whisper into her ear. The woman straighten up and blushed more earning a chuckle from Jason's little brother. She turned around looking down at the drinks Infront of her.
"Ooo these looks colorful." She smiled then reached for one. Jason went to grab for the other one but Tim grasped it earning himself a scowl of displeasure from Jason. Tim just smiles and Salute to Marinette and downs the shot with her. Jason's mouth just dropped watching the scene. Marinette did the same and downed hers with ease and tipped the small glass upside down on the bar.
"Oh my God I want another." Her smile was radiant.
-
Tim was glad he decided tonight he'd finally go back to Jason's bar. Sitting there drinking a decent cup of coffee. Yes, I know coffee in a bar. He thought. He sat at the bar with his brother behind it serving out drinks and food. Tim doesn't really care of the people around him, though it doesn't help that he was tired too. He didn't expect to find a little French woman sitting next to him and celebrating her birthday here of all places. He knew full well that his brother only did the two shots for himself and her. But Tim just said fuck it and took it. Surprisingly, it was smooth. What was smoother was the woman's radiant smile.
God she looked like a freaking Angel. Her skin was smooth and barely tanned. It was hard to tell if this woman was even real until her skin across her cheeks were flush. Jason put down another set of three shot glasses and filled them up with different set of mixtures. Neither moved to grab a glass as they watched the other to see who grabs first.
"Birthday girl first." Jason said.
"I went first last round." She whined with a giggle.
"Then I'll grab first." Tim went to say only for Jason to swipe the glass away from Tim's reach. Tim scowls and reaches for the one in front of the ravenette. She blinked then grabbed the one in front of Jason. With a group Salute, the three of them took the drink as one and gasped out. They slammed the glasses down on the bar. Tim didn't like the flavor of what turned out to be whiskey and cranberry juice. The little woman gave a sour face sticking her tongue out on the side as she decided on what to say.
"So missy, what's your name?" Tim asked curiously. Jason did another set of shots listening. She must be a light weight because she began to fall into a flushed giggle fit.
"Marinette. But my friends call me Mari." She reached up and touched her cheeks. Tim reached over and moved her hair from her face then gently placed his hand on her knee. Mari had turned her attention away looking back at his brother but not acknowledging his hand on her leg. Tim took this chance to look over this woman Infront of him. She was gorgeous, something about her just seemed different than the women that he had once been with. He wanted to pull her into his lap as they continued to take shots. Wanting to cover her exposed skin in kisses and marks from his lips. Tim took a glance over to his brother, watching Jason give the same expression as his own. Desire.
-
Marinette watched the two men who continued to share shots with her. God how did she get this lucky to have two hot men serve and drink with her. They shared another set of shots filled to the brim. Mari continues enjoying herself which hasn't been this good in a long time. She watched the two men around her, taking in their desired sexiness that she underestimated until the third shot set in. The last drink with whiskey and cranberry juice did not taste so good but refused to spit it out. Luckily the man next to her didn't like it either.
"So, do I get to know your names?" She leans forward pressing her chin on the back of the hands accidentally causing her shirt to open around her chest area.
"I'm Tim, your bartender here is Jason. My brother." The man next to her said with a wide smile. Mari turned her head to look up at the bulky handsome man in front of her.
"Mmm... seems almost fitting." She smirks watching the man accidently drop the cup he was fixing. She let out a chuckle. "excuse me gentlemen, but Ill be back for some more celebratory drinks." Mari slides down and walks through the crowd disappearing near the back right corner. She found the sign that says restrooms and slips in. Marinettes mind was wheeling over Tim and Jason. Picturing them wearing her newest designs, measuring them, and just even leaving them there practically naked. She got a glance at her reflection in the large wall of mirrors behind the row of sinks. Her face was flushed and she had a smile present on her lips. She had a feeling she forgot something, something important. With a shrug she went to handle her business and return to wash her hands. It wasn't until she was drying her hands with the paper towel and fixing her hair that she remembered. She completely forgot about her boyfriend.
Marinette quickly runs out of the bathroom bumping into a couple making out near the restroom. She apologized then walked toward the stage trying to find her boyfriend. He wasn't anywhere near the front. She looked around through the crowd until she finally spotted him, wrapped around another woman near the bathroom. Without another thought Marinette goes back to the bar next to Tim and ordered four more shots. Jason applied with only two and waited until she was done to ask.
"What happened little lady?" Tim leaned over again running her thigh out of comfort. She leaned into him but then laid her head on the bar almost defeated.
"I just need to drink. My (now ex)boyfriend was just making it with some woman by the restroom." She huffed out fighting the tears. Tim gives her thigh a squeeze when Jason rubs her hand with his.
"Well, you know how to fix a bad situation. With a good one. And it's still your birthday until midnight. So let's continue to celebrate." Jason says. "Hey Michelle, you'll take over for me? I gotta go home." A woman that was sitting at the other end of the bar glares at him then climbs over the bar and gets behind it to prepare the now asked for drinks. Marinette watched confused as Jason moves out from around and lifts her off the chair like a princess. Tim leaves a tip for the drinks and follows them out. All Marinette could do was blush and cover her face into the man's stern warm chest.
-
Jason put Mari on his motorcycle then climbed on In front of her. Tim placed his helmet on the girls head and button it up before he left to get onto his. Marinette squeaked and hugged onto Jason's waist as he started it up. She let out a fit of giggles as they drove out the parking lot and speeding through the empty roads of Gotham. The two raced to their destination with Mari just laughing and squealing with excitement. There was even a time she let go of Jason and held her arms up in the air trying to catch the air between her fingers. They parked their bikes in the parking garage and dismounted them. Tim helped Mari off after removing her helmet. He didn't want to let go of her waist when he set her down but reluctantly he did letting her follow Jason to the elevator. Tim stayed behind them though, he wasn't complaining, he had a hell of a view.
Arriving to their floor and into the apartment, Jason kicked off his shoes by the door, Mari and Tim following suit, then offered the couch. Jason went to a liquor cabinet he had pulling out three whiskey glasses and a full unopened bottle of bourbon. He filled up the three glasses a shot full as he offered a game.
"A shot for every loss."
"Alright, what are we playing." She asks.
"Mm....what would you like to play?" He asked her.
"Mmm cards." She says. Jason grins and looks to Tim who gets up and grabs a deck of playing cards and began to shuffle them. They were lost in the games and drinking that eventually the whole bottle of bourbon was gone, clothes were all over the living room leading toward a giant king bed and three bodies laying in it passed out. Mari in the middle and held by two strong arms on either side of her.
-
Mari woke up to an empty bed the next morning completely naked and rubbing her very sore and pounding head. She looks over to find a bottle of water and a couple pills of Tylenol sitting on a end table. She reached over and took them then leans over grabbing a random shirt and put it on. Mari makes her way to the kitchen almost tripping over her own feet as she runs her hand through her bed head of hair, pulling it into a over the shoulder ponytail and yawns.
"Wow, so that's what a sexy woman looks like in my shirt." An almost unfamiliar voice speaks from her kitchen making her freeze in place. She looks up and takes in the sight. Two men stood in her kitchen both drinking coffee as one was cooking breakfast. Then it clicked. Her night of events and remembering that two most sexiest men alive bringing her home. Her face grew redder than ever.
"She does look ravishing Tim. But I think we should hold off at least until after breakfast." The man, Jason said as he placed a plate down with eggs and bacon in the empty seat next to Tim.
"Just no more shots. Please my head is still pounding." Marinette says with a huff, forcing herself to get over her embarrassment and goes sit down only for Tim to pull her into his lap and press his face into her neck making her squeak.
"I'm okay with that. Though, you're about wild when you drink." He says wth a soft chuckle and a kiss to her skin making her blush once more.
@maribatserver
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Miraculous Separate Worlds - Chapter 2 - Here and Now
Beginning || Previous || Next
Marinette and Alya worked in the Dupain-Cheng bakery kitchen to prepare snacks for their girl’s night at Juleka’s place. Their kwamis, the ladybug, Tikki, and the mouse, Mullo, sat on a nearby shelf and ate a loaf of banana nut bread. Marinette slid by Tikki, giving her a little scratch on the head. Alya did the same and paused when Mullo’s ear twitched.
“I hear a bike,” Mullo said.
“She’s here,” Marinette and Alya said.
Alya moved out of the kitchen as Alix burst through the door. Marinette poked her head out as Alix headed for them. She stepped back into the kitchen with them and de-transformed. Her biker outfit reverted to a strappy black crop tank, ripped skinny jeans, and combat boots. An owl kwami hovered beside her, then joined the other two kwamis.
“Did you find anything?” Alya asked.
“Sure did. Take a look.”
Alix slammed a magazine on the prep table.
Alya picked it up and flipped through it while Marinette stole glances at it. Alya flipped through until she found a page with rock legend, Jagged Stone. She placed it on the prep table and turned the pages. She skimmed the contents of the trashy gossip then paused at the next page. They all stared at the page.
A young man was displayed on the entire page. He was dressed in rugged, worn leather rocker clothes. His shirt torn to tease a six pack for the camera. His long hair fluffed up and spiked with dark blue dyed tips, mirroring Jagged Stone’s purple. He stared ahead with cold, harsh golden amber eyes with indifference in his face.
“Is this really Luka?” Marinette asked.
“It has to be. His name is listed in the article here. Well, he’s called Jagged Jr., so I would assume it’s him. Not to mention the bits of Anarka I see in him. Granted I definitely see more Jagged in him than Anarka. Oh, and don’t forget Juleka’s piercing golden eyes,” Alya pointed out.
“Really? This is him? He looks like a bitch,” Alix remarked.
“Alix,” Marinette hissed.
“What? He looks like a little wanna-be bitch boy. If he ever showed his face around me and my old crew, we’d kick his ass for being a little poser. Plus, that little six pack tease is all fake. Man doesn’t lift at all,” Alix added.
“I’ll agree with the last sentiment. The make-up and effects did a decent job trying to make it real, but you can see the flaws,” Alya agreed.
“Really? It would’ve fooled me,” Marinette admitted.
“It’s supposed to. You know, just a little eye candy even if it isn’t real,” Alya remarked.
Alix snorted. “Pretty little wrapper, horrible cheap ass candy. Bitch probably ain’t worth shit.”
“Alix, we can’t judge a book by its cover. Especially an artificial one,” Marinette pointed out.
“Whatever. What good is any of this anyway?” Alix demanded.
“Curiosity, I guess. I was worried about Juleka when she said Anarka had a breakdown. I had a feeling she saw something about Luka. After all, you know her reaction to Jagged,” Marinette said.
“I… alright, I see now. But what could we even do with this? If we could have figured what the issue was before, then why bother?”
“Because there’s something here,” Alya pointed out.
“What?” Alix and Marinette asked.
“Rumors and mere gossip, but a possibility. Here, in this section, states how the rockstar father-son duo may be starting their new tour in Paris.”
Alix’s jaw dropped. She snatched the magazine from Alya and read over it.
“But Jagged hasn’t stopped in Paris in years. What would change now?” Marinette asked.
“I’m not sure but take it with a grain of salt for the time. It’s just words from a gossip magazine. For all we know, it could truly just be rumor,” Alya said.
“I think we should keep an eye on this still,” Alix declared.
“Are you sure?” Marinette asked.
“Well, if it is true, it could prove interesting. Helpful almost,” Alya remarked.
“Just keep your eyes and ears open, ladies. If bitch boy does find his way to Paris, we ought to welcome him, no?”
Alya and Marinette smiled. “Agreed.”
“Excellent! Now, this girl’s night, who are we expecting?” Alix asked.
“Us three, Juleka and her dragon, Anarka, and the Agreste twins,” Marinette answered.
Alix grinned from ear to ear. “The Agreste twins, you say. Interesting. Very interesting.”
“I don’t like that smile,” Marinette said.
“Good, cause I’m making plans. And, yes, you should be very afraid.”
Marinette deadpanned. “Lovely.”
“Alright! I have what I need. Min, open my eyes!”
Min vanished into Alix’s bracelet. Her clothes transformed into her white long biker coat that feathered out at the bottom. Black markings decorated the feathers and sleeves of it like a snow owl. On the back was her biker name “Snow Owl” with a snow owl. Paired with the coat was a set of fingerless black gloves and white boots with black platforms.
“I’ll catch you ladies soon.”
Alix summoned her weapon, a book, and ran out. She tossed the book onto the street near the sidewalk. The book glowed and shifted into a motorcycle. The pedestrians shrieked and jumped back when Alix jumped onto it and peeled out.
“She enjoys that way too much,” Alya said.
“I mean, we all do.”
“Yeah, you right. C’mon, let’s get back to work.”
~~
“Bob, what is this?” Jagged Stone demanded. He slammed a gossip magazine on the table.
“Looks like a trashy tabloid, Jagged,” Bob remarked.
“No, this!” Jagged turned to the page with the declaration that he and Luka would be starting their next tour in Paris.
“What about it?” Bob asked.
“Is it true?”
“For once, yes. I’ve decided it’s time to return to Paris.”
“What? We can’t. Please, just another year.”
“No, Jagged. I’ve indulged your trivial fears for fourteen years now. I’m not about to make it fifteen.”
“But, but if we go to Paris, Anarka will find me. Do you have any idea what she’ll do to me?”
Jagged feigned fainting as he fell on top of Bob’s desk. Bob rolled his eyes and shoved Jagged off.
“Jagged, I don’t have time to indulge your frivolous nonsense. If it’ll help, I can hire extra security.”
“What about Luka?”
“What about him?”
“What’ll she do to my sweet, little boy? Can you even imagine?”
Bob rubbed his forehead. “Jagged, that ‘boy’ is a twenty-year-old man. He’ll be fine. Now, have you decided where you’re going for your downtime?”
“Oh, yes. I thought Luka and I-,” Jagged started.
“Luka isn’t going with you,” Bob interrupted.
“I… what? What do you mean?”
“Luka has decided to go to Paris.”
Jagged’s jaw dropped. He ran out of Bob’s office and to the tour bus. He started on it when he saw a teal snake sitting at the entrance. It looked up at him and flicked its tongue. He screeched and fell back.
“Really, Jagged?” Luka’s harsh voice growled.
Jagged looked up at Luka, who stood over him with the snake now on his shoulders. Jagged got to his feet and dusted himself off.
“It just… caught me by surprise. Now, with the tour done, I was thinking we could go to-.”
“I’m not going with you,” Luka cut in.
“Of course, you are. It’ll be another fun father-son outing. You always loved them, didn’t you? Just you and me.”
“And your fuck girl assistant,” Luka added.
Jagged chuckled nervously. “N-now, Luka, Penny is a sweet woman, a hard worker, and-.”
“Shackled to someone like you. Just like me.”
Jagged pursed his lips. “Right. Uh, anyway, why don’t we discuss our trip more.”
“You can with your skank, Jagged. I’m going to Paris.”
“Luka, please, you can’t. Anarka will-!”
Luka laughed. “Anarka will what? What fucking makes you think she or Juleka even recognize me. It’s been fourteen years after all.”
Jagged furrowed his brow. “Who’s Juleka? Is she your girlfriend? When were you going to tell me about her?”
Luka seethed as molten rage coursed through him. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Juleka! My sister, my fucking twin! How many fucking times do I have to tell you this, old man?”
Jagged put his hands up as he cowered before Luka’s wrath. His eyes darted around to the staff that stole glances their way and whispered.
“R-right, Juleka! How could I forget? You know my memory isn’t quite what it was.”
Luka’s lips curled back in a sneer. He advanced on Jagged, then stopped at the sound of a whistle. Everyone stopped and looked towards Bob. Silence covered the area as he approached the pair.
“I think that’s enough of a display right now. Luka, there’s a car waiting for you. Go work off some of that anger before you depart,” Bob instructed.
Luka grumbled but complied. He headed off, leaving Bob with Jagged.
“You need to accept something, Jagged. That ‘boy’ isn’t who he once was. He’s now a man and you can’t keep coddling him. The tighter you squeeze, the more he’ll bite back. And I’d rather not see a physical altercation occur. Especially with so much riding on him. Do you understand?”
Jagged opened his mouth but was cut off by Penny.
“He understands. Crystal clear,” Penny assured.
“Make sure of it, Penny. I won’t have any foul-ups.”
Penny gave a thumbs up. Bob hummed and left.
“I had that, Penny,” Jagged hissed.
“No, you didn’t! Jagged, leave Luka alone.”
“He’s my son, not yours or anyone else’s. I know what’s best for him, not any of you.”
“I am well aware, but you need to be careful. Your ‘baby boy’ is a ticking time bomb. Unless you want to be caught in the explosion, then leave him alone.”
“You’re ridiculous. He’s perfectly fine.”
Penny’s eye twitched. “Fine. Now, why don’t we discuss where you’ll be going for holiday.”
Jagged folded his arms. “Not until Luka comes back.”
Penny forced a smile. “Fine. Go wait on the bus for him.”
Jagged huffed and headed onto the bus. Penny waited before she headed up to Bob’s office. She burst into the room and headed right to the desk.
“For the love of… what now?” Bob demanded.
“Please tell me Luka leaves today,” Penny begged.
“He does. His flight leaves in six hours.”
“Then shouldn’t he be on the way to the airport?”
“Do you want to spend several hours cooped up with an angry man child?”
Penny considered. “Point. Is all his stuff at least packed?”
“Yes. In the car that took him to the gym. I’m going to give him an hour before I send him off. Is Jagged occupied?”
“He’s in the tour bus.”
“Good. Keep him busy.”
Penny nodded and left.
Bob sighed and took a seat. He worked on papers while he watched time crawl on a silver pocket watch. He checked the minutes until the hour was nearly up. He finished his work, grabbed the watch, and headed to meet with Luka. He headed into the lobby and saw Luka sitting hunched over. The snake still on Luka’s shoulders.
“Feel better?”
Luka grunted.
“Good. Let’s go.”
Bob headed to the car with Luka trailing behind him. He stopped with his hand on the back passenger handle.
“The summer is yours, Luka. Enjoy it, but don’t forget.”
Bob reached into his suit and pulled out the silver pocket watch and an envelope. He placed them in Luka’s hand.
“Impress me or you’ll be nothing more than Jagged Jr.”
Anger flared in Luka hearing the nickname. He met Bob’s gaze and glared at him.
“I will be better than him. Just you wait.”
“I’ve been waiting for years. Let’s see it now.”
Bob opened the car door. Luka took a breath and stepped in.
“Don’t disappoint, Jagged Jr.”
Bob slammed the door before Luka could respond. He tapped the roof of the car and it roared to life. He watched it leave, then smiled.
“See you soon, Nevermore.”
#miraculous#miraculous ladybug#miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir#au#miraculous au#alternate universe#alix miraculous#miraculous alix#miraculous fanfic#mlb fanfic#fanfiction writer#fanfiction#fanfic#separate worlds au#separate worlds#mlb marinette#miraculous marinette#marinette dupain cheng#miraculous alya#alya miraculous#alya cesaire#miraculous luka#luka miraculous#luka couffaine#jagged stone#jagged stone miraculous
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"oh," marinette calls out, with a snort and a laugh and something that catches adrien's attention, just as they're about to finish cleaning the dishes. "shoot. shoot! i forgot! it's 2 in the afternoon!"
"do you have something to do?" he calls out after her, watching her disappear out of the kitchen. for a woman without any wings, she's flying out, barely missing clipping the edge of her dark marble counter as she jogs.
"yeah! this is like, my favorite part of my day."
huh. okay. "why?"
"there's this guy i like to watch out of my window whenever i people watch. come here. you're gonna find this so funny."
well, anything to get out of scrubbing the rice cooker pan spotless. he takes his apron off as fast as he can without accidentally ripping the tassles of— he'll hang it up later, this seems more pertinent— and joins her in the living room to look out the window. below, the street is bustling with cafes and mini shops; marinette is sitting on her ledge, parting the small basil plant in the hanging flower box so they both can look out.
"who are we looking for?"
"this guy," she murmurs, doing her best not to point. "spot him. tall, thinnest tie possible. strong nose."
the discription is apt. he's wearing a hat, and there's a flower in his shirt pocket, and he looks kind. the way he moves is purposeful but gentle, something in it reminding him of the way a tree follows the direction of wind passing through the branches. just one thing sticks out, though...
"i see him," adrien says, cozying up with her on the little sofa that hugs the window frame. "wait, is that a pigeon following him?"
"it is. i've never seen him without birds following him, it's the strangest thing."
"does he feed them?"
"i hope so. i can't even figure out what the other option would even be."
he's approaching a hostess table to the cafe across the street, hiding underneath a large pinstriped overhang stamped with the name of the business. there, his face is hidden, and the angle only provides the view of his long legs and polished, shiny shoes; the doves and pigeons around him continue to peck and scavenge around the floor for food.
"god, i love people watching," marinette sighs. "i've drawn this man in my sketchbook so many times. he always comes by, every day, trying to ask the hostess out on a date or something."
"you can hear what they're saying from here?"
"not always. sometimes i get really lucky and there isn't a motorcycle or someone who's got the hots for their car horn and i can listen but they're still pretty far away from me. it's all i could understand with how he acts and always leaves so happy because he manages to give the hostess a flower every day."
huh. interesting.
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one night (chapter 2)
struggling to draw, but apparently i’m good for writing so here’s the next chapter lol
ao3
2: return to cinderella
Adrien sat on the hotel bed with mechanical stiffness, his expression vacant, as if his mind had floated away like dandelion seeds on the wind. Just poof. Gone. It was understandable since he was still reeling from the knowledge that he’d slept with Marinette, one of his best friends, except he hadn’t known it was her at the time, and then she’d thought he was Chat Noir because of the stupid mask, and then she’d run away, and then—
He groaned and ripped his mask off. Why? Why had he got so drunk yesterday? So what if university exams had been stressing him out, on top of modelling, akuma fighting, and publicity events. He should have known better than to think alcohol would be the magic cure. Instead, all of that alcohol had led him into the arms of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
And she was a really good kisser. Like really good. Wow.
Wait, he shouldn’t think things like that. Those were bad thoughts. Marinette was his friend. His no-touch, out-of-bounds, meant-to-be platonic friend.
Who he’d had sex with.
Damn it. This was so messed up.
He let out another frustrated groan and grabbed fistfuls of his hair, flopping back against the bed so he was spread out like a tragic starfish. The Pose of Despair did not help. Her scent lingered on the rumpled sheets, whispering of soft skin, silky lips, and fire-sparking pleasure. Every breath was a memory of her.
Yeah. He was so, so screwed.
“It’s just ‘cause she reminded me of Ladybug,” he told himself. “It was an accident. If I’d known it was her, I wouldn’t have …”
He bit his lip. What would he have done if they had removed their masks and he’d seen Marinette’s face? Would he have wanted to keep kissing her? Would he have stayed?
He swallowed, throat bobbing. The fact he wasn’t certain was answer enough.
“Forget about it,” he muttered. “Just pretend it didn’t happen.”
That’s what Marinette wanted. He could respect that. Maybe. Okay, probably not. The memories were too vivid. There was no way he could forget about their Night of Passion™ easily. Plus, even if she thought he was Chat Noir, he was still her friend, Adrien Agreste, and that meant he would have to see her regularly. Except she wouldn’t know it was him, only he would, which meant he was the only one who would be uncomfortable, which meant—
Gah! He was going in circles again.
Adrien sat up and slapped his cheeks twice. “Focus,” he ordered.
It was time to be practical. Awkward or not, he couldn’t let her know that she had slept with one of her close friends and not some random guy she thought was Chat Noir. Ladybug would kill him if he exposed his identity, especially to fix a one-night stand gone wrong. He would just have to pull on his big boy shoes and deal with it.
Which brought him to his next problem.
He picked up one of the blue heels on the floor—the same one she had tripped over. Unlike Cinderella, she’d left both her heels behind in her mad rush to escape. It would have been funny had the situation been different. As it was, her hasty retreat had been a huge blow to his self-esteem. He had to keep telling himself it was just because she was embarrassed and not because he totally sucked in bed. Yes, that had to be it.
“She didn’t have to steal my shirt, though,” he muttered.
She was lucky he could transform into Chat Noir, otherwise he would have been stuck going home shirtless, and that would have got way too much attention. Speaking of which, where had Plagg got to?
“Plagg?” Adrien called. “You there?”
He didn’t like Plagg hanging around him when he got, uh, intimate with people. Granted, this was the first time he’d had a one-night stand, so it wasn’t like Plagg could make a fuss about it. Still, Plagg shouldn’t have gone too far. He hoped. A horrible vision presented itself: Plagg invading the hotel kitchen looking for cheese.
That sounded terrifyingly possible.
“Plagg?”
He peered under the bed. Nothing. Marinette’s strapless bra was hanging from the lampshade, though.
Heat spread over Adrien’s face. He picked up the bra, trying very hard to repress a fresh onslaught of memories. He still had to figure out what to do with her belongings. It wasn’t like he could keep them, and it felt wrong to toss them out. The best thing would be to return them to her somehow, but the question was how? She didn’t want to see Chat Noir, and he couldn’t do it as Adrien.
He sighed and tugged on his jeans. Whatever. He’d figured that out later. For now, he just had to find Plagg and get out of here.
oOo
“You’re being pretty quiet, kid,” Plagg said, sprawled on the mini fridge and swallowing a whole wheel of stinky camembert. “Still thinking about last night?”
Adrien choked on his juice. Orange droplets sprayed all over his phone, and he had to hit his chest several times before he could breathe again. Plagg’s cackling did not help.
“Looks like that was a yes,” Plagg said gleefully. “Pigtails must have really been something.”
“Shut up.”
More cackling.
Adrien scowled and wiped the juice off his phone. Plagg hadn’t stopped teasing him ever since they’d left the hotel. He seemed to take evil delight in knowing that Marinette was the girl from the club.
“You should just ask her out,” Plagg said. “Make it all official, as you humans call it. It’s obvious you like her.”
“I can’t do that. She thinks I’m Chat Noir! I mean, I am Chat Noir, but—but that’s not the point. Besides, I love Ladybug and—”
Plagg burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” But the traitor actually wiped a tear of laughter from his eye.
Adrien scrunched his nose in disgust and went back to scrolling through social media apps on his phone. Easy way to pass time. Not so great at redirecting his thoughts, especially since whenever Marinette’s name popped up in the comments, his heart would do a little stutter flop. Hi, that stuttering beat seemed to say. Remember when you slept with your friend? Well, you do now. Vividly. Ha, ha, ha.
Adrien tossed his phone aside. Damn it. Nothing was helping him to forget.
He glanced towards his window where Marinette’s belongings lay hidden in a Mr Banana tote bag. (Bought for him as a joke from Ladybug.) He really needed to get rid of Marinette’s stuff soon. It would be just his luck for one of the cleaning staff to find them, and then rumours would spread all over the house that he had been sneaking girls into his room. And then Nathalie would hear about it, because she always did when it came to these things, and Adrien would have to suffer through a very uncomfortable, very unwanted conversation. (He should know. He’d been there before when he was fifteen.)
“I got it!” he exclaimed, shooting to his feet. “I’ll just leave them on her balcony.”
“Huh?” Plagg stuffed a piece of cheese in his mouth, making his cheeks balloon out. “Leave wha—”
“Plagg, transform me!”
Green light flashed and Plagg disappeared. All that was left on the mini fridge was a cheese wrapper.
Adrien scooped up the tote bag and shoved the window open, leaping out with his baton to vault to the next rooftop. It was a cloudy night, but that didn’t matter since he could never see the stars anyway with all the city lights fogging everything up in one big soupy glow. (But he had pulled a cheesy one-liner on Ladybug once by saying he loved watching the stars in Paris—the stars in her eyes, that is.)
Marinette’s rooftop came into view. Her bedroom light was on, but the balcony was clear. Perfect. So long as he avoided the window and the skylight, she’d have no idea that he was there.
He landed on the balcony and retracted his baton. Carefully, he removed her belongings from the bag and then paused, biting his lip as he glanced around. Should he leave them on the table? But then her stuff would be too exposed, and maybe a pigeon would poop on them or something. (And then Marinette would hate him even more. Pigeon poop was horrible to clean, no matter what Mr Ramier claimed.)
His brow wrinkled. He could put her things back in the bag and leave that for her, of course, but that would mean parting with the Mr Banana bag, and he couldn’t give up Ladybug’s gift that easily. Nostalgic memories were awakened every time he looked at that ugly grinning face. Banananoir and Bikerbug had made an epic duo that night.
“Ah, whatever,” he mumbled. “I’ll leave them on the table.”
He’d just knock on her skylight before he left so she’d come out and find them. No pigeon poop catastrophes could happen then. All would be well, and he would be far on his way.
Pleased with his clever thinking, he was about to carry out this plan when he heard the sound of nightmares: the mechanical click of a latch being unfastened, as disturbing as the pebble that sends ripples through a silent-still pond.
His shoulders tensed. His jaw clenched.
“You!”
Marinette’s shriek pierced his ears. He winced and slowly turned to face her, conscious of the fact he was holding her shoes in one hand while he clutched her bra and top in the other. And it was awkward. So painfully awkward.
Her face went pinker than her pink pyjama pants. “You—why are you—”
“I’m just returning these!” he said, impulsively shoving them into her arms.
Bad idea. Very bad idea. Now he was close to her, and he could smell the fruity sweet scent of her shampoo, and his heart was stuttering all over again like, Hey dude, this is the friend you had sex with. Doesn’t she look pretty under the soft glow of the fairy lights?
“This is so mortifying,” Marinette whispered, eyes squeezing shut.
He stood there like a useless lump of flesh trapped in Error mode. No thoughts. Just error, error, error. This was not helping to ease the Awkward. In fact, the Awkward was becoming an unnatural force cocooning them inside a bubble of hell.
He needed to do something. Say something.
“Can I have my shirt back?”
Not that!
She raised her head and stared at him like they were enacting a dramatic scene in a Korean drama, and he had just accused her (wrongfully) of having a secret love affair with his husband. Big gasps all around. Prepare to be splashed with a cup of water, Marinette.
“What?” she said.
“It’s just, it’s one of my favourite shirts and you, uh, kinda took off with it.”
Wow, he just couldn’t stop talking. Maybe he should take a page from Marinette’s book. Flee before any further mistakes could be made.
“You still have it, right?” he said.
Idiot. Stop talking.
Her blush darkened. “I—yes. I have it. And it’s not like I planned to run away with it! I’m not some creep trying to collect souvenirs from my one-night stands. Not that I have one-night stands. I mean, I did with you, but you were the first and—” She clenched her mouth shut, took a breath, and then continued her bullet-train rapid rambling. “I just happened to be wearing your shirt, okay? That’s why I took it. There was no special reason or anything. It was completely unintentional and—and it’s your fault for letting me wear it last night!”
He blinked. It was all he could do after having her throw words at him like a machine shooting tennis balls at his face. “Okay,” he managed to say.
“Good.”
The Awkward reared its ugly head. It was a cloak of silence choking them both.
He cleared his throat. “Um, so the shirt?”
Might as well take this disaster all the way. Plus, it was true that he wanted it back.
“Right,” Marinette said. “The shirt. I’ll go get it. You, uh, wait here.”
She vanished inside her room. He fidgeted with his ring and shifted from foot to foot. Soon, she was climbing back through the skylight and gave him his shirt.
“There,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “Now we have no reason to see each other.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but then he closed it again, not sure what he wanted to say anyway. All he knew was that their friendship, odd as it was with sporadic heart-to-hearts and random outings, was now ruined. It was kind of depressing. Even if he could still hang out with her as Adrien, he’d enjoyed spending time with her as Chat Noir.
Stupid alcohol. Stupid hormones.
“You should go,” she said.
He nodded and took a step towards the balcony railing, but then he paused. “Marinette?”
She jumped like a startled rabbit and swung back to face him. “Yes?”
“Was it really that bad?”
The words spilled free before he could stop them. They stared at each in horrified, mutual understanding: he, because he couldn’t believe he’d just said that; she, because he’d basically just asked if he was terrible in bed, and that’s why she didn’t want to see him anymore.
She coughed and looked the other way, pink spreading over her face like a hot slap to her cheeks. “Um—”
“Forget I said that!” he blurted. “I just—it’s nothing. I’m gonna go now.” He shot finger guns at her and vaulted over the balcony.
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Canary, Part 46
First
Previous
Early update because my internet might go down soon hehe
Marinette opened her eyes blearily and found herself wedged into the corner of the couch, a blanket draped over her legs. No wonder her neck was so stiff, she had been sitting up all night.
The ‘being dead for 24 hours’ thing might have helped that, though.
At least she felt better, for the most part, outside of the way her head pounded and the fact that her memories of the previous day were a haze that she could only make out the broad strokes of.
It was like a hangover, really – less ‘oh shit, I’m dead’ and more ‘oh shit, kill me’.
She rubbed the last of the sleep from her eyes.
She cast her gaze around the dark room. Someone must have come in and turned off the lights and closed the shutters. The game they had been playing was paused, and the TV cast a warm light over the room. Snack bags and coffee cups lay scattered across the coffee table.
Not that the caffeine had done much for them, she thought, as her eyes landed on Red Robin. He was fast asleep, curled on the other side of the couch. One of his showgirl wings was thrown over the side, and the other was pulled on top of him like a blanket. Which was unnecessary, there was already a blanket large enough to stretch across the entire couch, though it was currently bunched at his feet.
She played with the edge of her half of the polka-dotted blanket. It was probably Tikki’s way of apologizing for the previous day. She smiled faintly and murmured her thanks under her breath.
And then it was back to business.
Marinette slowly shifted on the couch until she could peer into Red Robin’s face.
The domino mask was peeling at the corner.
She eyed the sticky residue, which was still shining where the mask had peeled up.
Honestly, it was stupid of him to trust her enough to fall asleep while she was in the room. Really, he should have expected for something to happen. She wouldn’t feel bad about ripping his mask off to figure out who exactly he was.
Knowing the bats, though, this could be a test. A way to decide whether or not she was trustworthy, or maybe they were onto her and trying to see if they could bait her into messing up…
But, she argued with herself, if it wasn’t a test… the current date was February 13th, which meant that her deadline was only 100 days away… and she was stuck inside for approximately one more month… this could be her chance.
Marinette reached over – slowly, carefully, soundlessly.
He wasn’t flinching.
She wished that there was a surefire way to know when someone was faking being asleep outside of checking to see whether their eyelids were fluttering.
Her finger came to rest against his mask, feather-light. She waited. For a stutter in his breathing or a change in his expression. There was nothing.
She bit her lip…
She tapped him on the cheek once and watched his body jerk away so hard that he fell off the couch. She wasn’t sure whether it had been an act, but, either way, he definitely would have ‘woken up’ if she tried to take off his mask.
She sighed internally.
100 days was a long time if you used it correctly.
All she had to do was finish all this business with the Court.
~
Tim raised his eyebrows under his mask when he walked into the kitchen with Marinette, only to find Riddler and Scarecrow at the dining table. He hadn’t been aware that they had stayed the night.
Marinette, to her credit, walked right inside without stopping and grabbed the newspaper out of Edward’s hands. She glanced it over and then clicked her tongue, literally throwing it back in his face. “Shithead. I wanted to do the crossword.”
“Good morning to you, too,” Edward said, unconcerned as he righted the pages.
“It is not a good morning,” murmured Adrien. He was half sitting in Jonathan’s lap in order to get cuddles. He, briefly, reached a hand towards Marinette when she passed, but she shook her head and he went back to attempting to absorb Jonathan without so much as a change in his expression.
Edward pushed a mug of coffee over to Marinette, who immediately forgave him for everything he’d ever done.
Tim scratched his head.
The group was strangely domestic when they weren’t plotting murder.
He made his way over carefully and sat across from them so he could steal a few strips of bacon.
Adrien peeled his face away from Jonathan’s shoulder. “Hey, Red Robin, you’re gonna have to eat quickly.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“‘Cause we’re gonna do some evil plotting,” Marinette said brightly.
He sighed internally, relieved. That was more normal.
~
Marinette, sometimes, wondered just how much Adrien knew.
She could call him dumb, if she wanted, and sometimes she felt it was apt. It was dumb to give away possible advantages like they were candy on Halloween. Just like it was dumb to befriend Rogues, to trust them, to think that they wouldn’t grind his face into the dirt if it meant that they could use his body to get just slightly closer to their goals.
… and yet.
She had been silently struggling for the past couple of days to find a way to bring Edward and Jonathan to Wayne Manor. Anything she did was looked at through a heavy veneer of skepticism, there was always this unsureness in people’s gaze when she asked for something – they always thought there was more to it (and, admittedly, there often was). She had a reputation. It meant that she could bluff her way out of getting arrested, but it also meant that she could never simply ask for two known Rogues to come visit without people questioning why she wanted them.
But here they were. Brought there because Adrien had leveraged their sudden bout of ‘illness’ and their role as their ‘parents’.
He was smart. And, apparently, manipulative in his own right.
But being manipulative brought about a new question: he had proved his worth to her by doing something that she couldn’t, but was it on purpose?
If it wasn’t, if he had just been trying to help her, then that meant she had built quite a lot of loyalty in the four months since they had started working together. Loyalty like that was hard to come by, especially when you’re known for your heinous acts.
And if it was… if he was trying to get on her goodside, to prove that he was invaluable and therefore shouldn’t be cast aside quite yet… wasn’t that better? Wasn’t it better to have a mask that wasn’t as well known as hers, one that people had yet to realize was a mask at all? How could she give up on an opportunity like that?
Either way, throwing him aside when the year was up would be stupid.
She eyed him discreetly beneath her bangs. His hair needed a touchup, the blond roots were peeking out from beneath the dye… though the blond could come in handy, it leaned to the ‘innocent’ look rather well. And, maybe, she could teach him how to soften his features with makeup to seem younger…
Yeah, he could be useful, she decided. If she taught him how to be more wary, he would be a great asset.
(And, maybe, just maybe, she was a little fond of him. He was her partner after all.)
He caught her eye and his lips twitched into the slightest of grins.
“See something you like, M’lady?”
She rolled her eyes. “Cocky of you to assume I even tolerate you after yesterday.”
They had been in extreme pain, their minds had been hazy, and being around each other in that moment had not been great for their mental health. Regardless of whether they were more or less past arguing about all of the stalking and sexual harrassment that had been done now that they understood it was all a misunderstanding, that didn’t mean that all of the feelings surrounding that simply went away. Marinette was still hesitant about touching him even when most of the pain had subsided, and Adrien was still wary about her gaze hours later. Being a dick in that kind of scenario was perfectly understandable.
“I did something good! I had to balance it out somehow,” he said instead of bringing all of this up.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m rubbing off on you too much.”
Not the ‘I forgive you’ that he had been clearly hoping for, but it meant pretty much the same thing. ‘I can’t be mad, you’re still nicer than I am’. He beamed and turned back to his plate.
She wasn’t happy about the fact that the bats now knew she was Ladybug, but she was willing and able to adapt. Willing and able to leverage a bad situation and spin it into her favor. She was a meta, and an overpowered one at that, they would likely want to collect data before attempting to engage her in a fight which meant that the next week or two should go without interruptions… and, on top of that, seeming sympathetic might make them hesitate. A couple of seconds in a fight were hours in real-time, and she would love for them to waste as much time as possible.
Marinette let her gaze fall away, back to the fire she had been staring into for the past ten minutes.
The many files they had used to privately discuss their plans lay burning in the fireplace.
Everything had been decided beforehand, really. She had already laid down the groundwork with Emma. It had just been a matter of explaining the broad strokes to everyone else.
(Communication can, sometimes, be good. When you’re doing evil plans that involve multiple people. No other times.)
She smiled as she watched the fire curl around the edges of the paper, blackening the colorful ink that they preferred to use.
“List the three signs of antisocial personality disorder in children,” said Edward, tossing the newspaper onto the burning pile.
She tore her eyes away to shoot him a cold look. “Very funny, Ed. I’ll have you know I don’t hurt animals or… degrade things.”
“Breaking news: Canary, local serial killer, draws the line at talking about pee,” Adrien teased.
“Yeah! Obviously! ‘Cause it’s gross!”
~
Marinette leaned against the doorframe as she watched Edward and Jonathan get shooed out by Robin. With a sword.
She stuck a leg out to stop his progress.
Robin seemed to be considering chopping it off in retaliation.
“C’mon, kid, can’t you look away for just a few more minutes?”
“You’re lucky we allowed you to scheme at all.”
“And I appreciate it,” she said honestly. Then, her lips twitched into a grin and she batted her eyelashes at him. “But if you give me an inch, I will take a mile.”
Robin looked thoroughly unimpressed.
She huffed lightly. “Brat,” she complained, but she lowered her leg and fell in step with them.
“We didn’t want to stay here, anyways,” Jonathan said, a little huffily. “The Waynes give me the heebie-jeebies.”
“Never say that word again,” Marinette said, her nose scrunching.
“He’s right, though,” said Edward. His lips pressed into a thin line as he glared at the horizon like it would give him the answers. “They’re hiding something. I want to know what.”
Marinette hummed thoughtfully. “They’re rich,” she said. “All rich people are hiding how terrible they are, some are just better at it than others.”
“We’re rich,” Jonathan said, raising an eyebrow.
“You’re also villains,” Robin piped up.
Marinette grinned. “Exactly. Hey, little Robin, what’s up with the Waynes?”
He clicked his tongue. “I am not liable to say.”
“Because they pay for everything you do?” Edward guessed.
“Who knew the bats were sellouts?” Jonathan tried to goad him.
Robin clicked his tongue again and turned his attention back to the front, unwilling to give in to their (admittedly rather obvious) attempts to get him to talk.
Marinette grinned and rested her arm over his shoulder. “Nah, it’s probably because Damian lets him pet all of his animals. They’re cute. I assume that you think your own animals are cuter, though.”
“Choosing a favorite among animals is impossible.”
“Aw. And here I was thinking that Jonathan the Crane would be your favorite.” She pouted playfully. “I got you a whole zoo animal. You could at least pretend you didn’t just add him to your hoard and forget about him.”
“I appreciate Jonathan very much!” he said, seemingly perturbed by the idea of ‘forgetting about’ an animal.
She laughed and ruffled his hair lightly as she pulled away. “I know you do.”
She left them halfway to the gate, for the sake of her own safety, casting an absent wave over her shoulder as she started back up the hill.
Honestly, she didn’t know what she thought about the Waynes. She liked them. This clouded her judgment, left her open for bias… but even she agreed that they were slightly suspicious. She noticed the hesitance, the way they seemed to sometimes cut themselves off in the middle of a sentence, their carefulness when it came to specific topics. Being observant about those kinds of small details was what had kept her alive so long, there was no way she wouldn’t notice them… and yet, she had no clue what they meant. Knowing someone is hiding something isn’t helpful when you don’t know what they’re hiding…
It didn’t help that something had been bothering her since the day before. She only remembered the broad strokes of the previous day, but she remembered that she had learned something. Something her mind had screamed was important…
She shook her head to clear it somewhat. Maybe some baking would help her think a little.
~
Marinette hummed as she popped tiny chocolates out of their mold one by one. She didn’t often make them, but it was the day before Valentine’s day and she didn’t mind making chocolates to celebrate when the ingredients were all free.
“Whatcha thinking?”
Maybe, had she still been pretending to be a normal person, she would have jumped. But now she merely smiled and turned to look at Tim. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.
“I’ll give you two guesses.”
“... uh… about the chocolates?”
“Ding ding! We have a winner,” she chirped. “I’m considering whether I want to make a filling for the next batch. Variety, y’know?”
He smiled. “Well, if you’re making obligatory chocolates for my family, they all like strawberries.”
“‘They’? Do you not?”
“I’m allergic.”
“Ah. You look like you’re allergic to strawberries,” she said, nodding sagely.
He rolled his eyes. “Would you believe that you’re not the first person that’s said that to me?”
“Absolutely. Like I said: you look like you’re allergic to strawberries.” She hesitated for a moment before reaching down and taking one of the chocolates. She held it out for him, smiling faintly. “I know that it’s a little early, but I need a taste tester…”
He raised his eyebrows and took the tiny, heart-shaped chocolate. He turned it over in his hands, examining it with a small smile, before fixing her with a wary look.
“If you’ve poisoned this I’m going to ban you from my video games.”
She rolled her eyes and leaned forward to take a small bite of the chocolate in his hand. “See? Not poisoned.”
“You – I – you –!”
He struggled for a minute, staring at the chocolate with a red face.
She was sure that her wide grin wasn’t helping… but she had never claimed to be helpful when people weren’t paying her.
He eventually decided on: “I hope you know that I know that you testing for poison proves nothing.”
“You know too much.”
Tim laughed quietly and just barely knocked his shoulder with hers. “Maybe you should stop posting on Twitter if you don’t want fanboys to know everything about you.”
“Nah, I’m too funny not to let the world see it,” she said, smiling. She held a hand out for the chocolate. “Here, if you think it’s poisoned, I can make another batch.”
“Don’t worry, I’m just messing with you. I know you wouldn’t kill me.”
He popped the tiny chocolate into his mouth without a single hint of concern.
Marinette was, for once, completely speechless. She didn’t know whether she was flattered or worried – though the warmth rising to her cheeks was pointing to the first.
She watched his face light up and he turned to her, eyes bright.
“Holy shit, Mari, these are awesome!”
She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she simply raised an eyebrow and questioned his use of: “‘Mari’?”
He jumped just slightly and his eyes blew wide. “Sorry, I noticed some of your friends doing it and –.” He was cut off by her quiet snickers. His shoulders relaxed when he realized she wasn’t upset. He smiled sheepishly. “It sounds a bit like ‘Nary’, so it seemed kinda fitting.”
“Oh? And here I was thinking it was some elaborate plan to ask to ‘Marry’ me because my chocolates were so good,” she teased.
Tim rubbed the back of his neck, trying to smile around the blush tinting his cheeks. “And if it was?”
Marinette stilled, a little taken aback.
Because, yes, she was completely aware of his crush on her. Grifting was an art based almost entirely around analyzing body language and reacting accordingly, of course she knew the signs of attraction. He blushed a little too much, dropped in too many jokes about dating, looked at her even when multiple people were laughing… signs stacked up over months of talking and she would have seen them from a mile away even if she hadn’t been actively grifting for the first six months that they had known each other.
But that level of nerves surrounding a question about marriage? It was supposed to be a joke, and yet everything about the way he had behaved screamed that this wasn’t entirely the case.
Was he actually thinking about marriage? They weren’t dating, he hadn’t confessed, and yet he, at least on a subconscious level, liked her enough that he thought having a life with her was somewhat viable. Did he even know that he thought of her that way?
And all of that didn’t even mention how she felt. Because she didn’t know.
Did she like him? Yes.
Did she want to marry him? Now that was a tough question.
Would she? LARP-ing as a normal person for a couple of years to go to college could be fun, but marriage was supposed to last a lifetime. She hadn’t considered marriage since she was a teenager, hadn’t fallen for anyone hard enough to even think about it. And, on top of that, her lifestyle wasn’t one that was made for settling down – not in general, but especially not with someone. She wasn’t the marrying type, Canary was an eternal bachelorette by nature and Marinette fell in line.
Not that she had any real intentions of continuing on as Canary after this year was up. Not in the way she used to. Canary had been created for the sake of destroying Penguin and, no matter what, Penguin wasn’t going to make it out of this deal alive. She wouldn’t stop, but she would have less of a stake in it. She would definitely slow down.
So, maybe she would.
But could she? She certainly didn’t think that she could ever truly make up for the things that she had done like the bats seemed to believe. The harm had already been done, she was not redeemable. People were dead because of her, she had torn many from lives and loves. Her having either at this point was an injustice.
Still… it was nice to pretend. To allow herself to imagine a life where she could date Tim properly, a life where she could be ‘normal’ with him. One where dating him didn’t drag him into a world that he didn’t belong in, where loving her didn’t mean following her down into the dark coal mines that Canary worked in and dying alongside her.
Tim was good, normal, and she was anything but. But she had always been drawn to things she couldn’t have and Tim had always been intrigued by adventure. Truly, they had been doomed to meet and doomed to care. It was some kind of karmic punishment for her misdeeds, she was sure, and she was fine with that pain, but she wished Tim didn’t have to suffer as well.
She had been quiet for too long.
“Mari?” Tim asked, his hand hovering by her shoulder without touching, unsure.
She forced herself to concentrate again, bringing her gaze to his concerned face.
Her lips twitched. “Yeah, yeah, sorry, I was just…” She reached out to cup his cheek.
He was back to burning red beneath her hand, and she wondered, idly, what that would feel like if she hadn’t had gloves.
She swiped her thumb along his bottom lip. Watched his lips part, his eyes widen.
“... considering whether I should take a picture of you with chocolate on your face to bully you. You know how it is.”
His face reddened for a new reason and he ducked away to pull out his phone and check his reflection. He did, indeed, have some chocolate on his bottom lip. He licked it away and then turned back to her, a little huffy. “Well, thanks for not doing it, then.”
“Mmm, well, I am – apparently – marriage-worthy, so,” she said.
She watched his expression carefully.
He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck again, the flush deepening. “Ugh, forget I said that.”
“I won’t, I don’t forget anything,” she chirped.
He huffed again, but his posture was tense.
She decided to take pity on him – tell him that it was okay with a grin, a teasing prod to his side, and a: “And, for the record, if that was how you were proposing, I’d say ‘no ring, no proposal’.”
He rolled his eyes and groaned, his shoulders relaxing just slightly before slumping in exaggerated exasperation. “Right. Money hungry. I forgot.”
“At least I’m consistent,” she winked and drew away to pull out a bag of white chocolate chips.
Compotes and ganaches were great, but she didn’t feel like putting in all that effort. A white chocolate drizzle would have to be enough. She set it in the microwave and began the long, boring, arduous task that was waiting for chocolate to melt.
In the quiet, she realized something: “Does this mean I get to give you an embarrassing nickname now?”
“Technically ‘Tim’ is a nickname. And ‘Mari’ isn’t embarrassing, it’s part of your name.”
She waved him off, the piping bag in her hand flapping, and then poured the white chocolate in. “Give me a minute, I’ll think of something awful for you while I do this.”
“It’s like I’m talking to a wall.”
She approximately halved the batch she had just made and worked on righting them, then blinked up at him with false innocence lining her expression. “Sorry, were you saying something?”
He groaned. “You’re the worst.”
“Thank you, I do try,” she said, smiling as she started drizzling white chocolate over the pile closest to her. She could have made them all uniform, if she wanted, but she had never seen the point of going all in on presenting things made for fun.
Besides, she would rather watch Tim. He not-so-subtly snuck a couple of chocolates from the other pile and popped them in his mouth. She rested a hand on her hip after the fourth chocolate ‘disappeared’, the other hand only barely doing enough to make sure that nothing leaked out of the piping bag. “I’m going to spray this on you.”
He grinned. “You wouldn’t.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Instead of stepping back like she thought he would, though, he leaned forward and laced his fingers behind his back. “You wouldn’t. You like me too much to do that.”
She stared for a moment, her eyes wide and her hands hugging the piping bag to her chest.
He smiled brighter and something touched her lips. She went cross-eyed to look at the chocolate.
“Here. For you.”
She smiled and took it from him. “Thanks for letting me have something I made, that’s very generous of you.”
He blinked.
“Oh my god, did you eat so many that you forgot that I made these?”
He tried to pout, but she was grinning and soon he was laughing and she was stuck hiding her own laughter behind her hand.
And, god, his smile was blinding, she thought. Eyes bright, stress lines softening, a slight flush to his cheeks… his laugh was infectious and god she had definitely caught something – feelings, it seemed – because her heart was beating way faster than it should. How could she not catch feelings, though? He was so undeniably good, and smart, and gorgeous, and she wanted nothing more than to protect and cherish him.
“How about… My Pearl? For your nickname?” she said.
He tried to hide his blush behind a piece of chocolate, but it wasn’t quite working. “Oh? Because I’m more valuable to you than money?” he tried to play it off, batting his eyelashes.
And now she was blushing, too. Great...
No. She wasn’t going to be caught red-handed when it came to being sappy… and, she thought, ducking her head slightly to let her bangs fall in her face, she wasn’t going to be caught red-faced, either. She stuck her tongue out at him. “Please. It’s because you’re about as white as one. It really stood out when you had all that chocolate on your lips.”
He snorted, rolling his eyes and swiping a hand over his mouth. “Whatever, just eat your dang chocolates.”
“I assume you’re going to help.”
“Of course! I’m very helpful,” he teased.
The Valentine’s Day chocolates never managed to even leave the room, but that was okay. They were only really meant for him, anyways.
~~~
TheBetterCanary: that super relatable moment when you have to dismantle a system that has benefited you for years
BlackBat: :(
TheBetterCanary: at least i get to put calendar man to shame on one of his favorite days
BlackBat: :D
Batman7: What are you planning to do and how?
TheBetterCanary: like id tell you youd just stop me
SpoilerAlert: ten bucks says she’s gonna do a murder
SignalOfficial: Man, I just finished my shift, too
~~~
Adrien searched his many tabs for Twitter when it pinged to tell him that someone he followed had posted.
He found it and sighed deeply when he read her tweet. “You’re awful.”
“As a Canary, shouldn’t I warn them when their ‘coal mine’ is about to burst into flames?” she argued, setting her phone on the roof tile next to her and crossing her arms over her chest. The grin playing across her face, as crooked and bright as the moon by her head, indicated that she didn’t really mind, though.
“It’s a power play. At least be honest about that.”
“Okay. Fine. It’s a power play.”
“Thank you.”
They eyed the button wedged between their legs.
“I wonder if we’ll be able to see it.”
Probably, she thought privately. The Court was made up of rich people and politicians, who lived almost exclusively in the outskirts of Gotham. Some of them might even be Bruce Waynes’ neighbors.
“Only one way to find out,” she said instead, ever the showwoman. She picked up the tiny device with a flourish and pointed it at the horizon.
He smiled and tabbed back over to the file that he had been going over for the past few hours while they waited for their trio of adoptive parents to set everything up. “Together, M’lady?”
“Always, Chaton.”
“3…”
“2.”
“1!”
The world burst into flames.
~~~
TheBetterCanary: Hey guys Im not actually Canary but shes letting me borrow her account to make a fun little announcement anonymously
TheBetterCanary: Ive compiled a list of every Court member in Gotham that @/TheBetterCanary @/107kidsncounting and I knew about along with all of the proof we could gather over a month long period
TheBetterCanary: Here you go shorturl.at/hMW27 enjoy the hitlist everyone
107kidsncounting: im going to kill you i didnt spend hours finding proof for you fuckers just to get fucking rickrolled in fucking 2022
TheBetterCanary: Okay okay sorry mom lmao here’s the actual link shorturl.at/BKOR1
~~~
Had it been overkill? Yes, absolutely.
In her defense, though, they had kind of pissed her off. They had completely ignored her usual MO in favor of believing that she was going to try and take down the Court. Her! She was no Saint, she wasn’t going to do something to someone as powerful as the Court unprovoked because of ‘morals’. They should have believed her when she had told them that she would never go against them.
Because, once they had started trying to murder her, they had given her the all clear to go against them.
So, yeah. She felt they completely deserved everything they got:
Jonathan ‘testing out new gasses’ on any Court members he could find; Adrien releasing all of their information to the public to sic a mob of everyday civilians on them; Edward draining their bank accounts; Emma freezing the hidden 13th floor of every building in order to make Talon’s bases unusable; Marinette blowing up their houses…
It was a lot, but Gotham’s Rogues had always been known for their overkill. Especially when they had been slighted.
Besides…
If they were going to shoot first, they should have made sure that their shot would kill her.
~
Marinette and Adrien sat in her main base, legs hanging out like they were too kids at a pool party and not two adults in a thirteenth-story window.
It was a party though.
Wide smiles stretched across their faces as they looked down at the world below, two gods watching humans doing their bidding. Between their stunt in the early hours of the morning and Calendar Man’s attack at noon – he had blown up many buildings in the shape of a heart right in the middle of the city, so creative of him – Gotham was alive in a way that it hadn’t been since Zero Year.
Anger coursed through the veins of every Gothamite, because anger was so much easier to deal with than grief, and the list of Court members that they had lovingly provided made an amazing punching bag.
If you looked carefully, you could pick out the many flickering of shadows that was the bats running around, doing their best to stop people from dying.
And, if you looked less carefully, you could see the bright colors that were Edward and Jonathan in costume doing their best to thwart said bats.
Marinette slipped back inside. “I’m a bad influence on you,” she teased.
Adrien rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t lessen. “It’s nice to see a plan work out.”
“Want something to drink to celebrate?”
“What, so I can be under the influence as well?”
She groaned and slipped out of the window, heading towards the kitchen. “I hate you. I’m leaving.”
He laughed. “Wait! Can I have wine with cyanide?”
“Sure, I think Penguin gave me some a few years back so it should be pretty well aged, too.”
Her eyes roamed the walls. She had modeled it after a Court of Owls base to make sure no one ever entered for fear of angering the Court and, now that she had removed everything she cared about – the swords and knives decorating the walls, the trophies from past fights, the dollhouse she had set up for Tikki – it matched all of their other bases almost perfectly. Masks glared down at her as she walked through archway after archway towards the kitchen, bodysuits loomed over her, tiny knives littered the wall…
She pretended she didn’t notice that one of the suits seemed to be breathing.
She sang to herself, an old lullaby her mom used to sing. She was off-tune, she knew, but it was the other Canary that was known for her voice.
Marinette grabbed two bottles and started back, only to find the newest Talon standing in the doorway.
She stopped singing.
She smiled, twirling the smaller of the two bottles. The blue liquid inside glimmered beneath her fingers.
The Talon, who had been standing tall and practically trembling with rage, went still as they realized just what was in the bottle.
Marinette grinned wickedly.
She threw the vial down between their feet.
Talon lunged forward, trying to catch it before it could hit the floor, but they missed and the glass and its contents splattered upon contact.
Right in Talon’s face.
Frost crept along the Talon’s mask, starting where it had touched them, and then began to spread. Bodysuit and skin alike turned to ice on a floor that was rapidly freezing over.
They didn’t even get the chance to scream.
Marinette rushed to the nearest window, cold creeping up behind her, threatening to make her join the ice sculptures that would soon make up the entire base.
She fiddled with the lock for a moment before giving up in favor of stuffing the wine under her arm for safe-keeping.
And then she threw herself out the window.
Marinette adored the weightless feeling that came with falling – the wind in her hair and clothes, the colors and bright lights of the world whizzing past too quick to process. A whoop escaped her, lost to the wind, and she couldn’t help laying back in the air and letting herself free-fall.
A hand caught her arm and she grinned, returning the grip with ease and smiling at her literal partner-in-crime.
“You should be more careful,” he sighed, releasing the grapple. They fell momentarily while he turned and aimed for a new anchor, and then they were swinging through the city again.
“I knew you’d catch me.”
“Yeah, well, you do have the wine on you, so…”
~~~
TheOneTrueRobin: @/TheBetterCanary, @/RiddleMeThis, @/ScareCrane, and their other evil friend are all laughing maniacally. They will not stop. It has been ten minutes.
107kidsncounting: try hitting one of them
TheOneTrueRobin: They’re laughing harder now.
107kidsncounting: yea lol
TheOneTrueRobin: I should have read the username.
107kidsncounting: probably lmao tell the kids i say hi
TheOneTrueRobin: Fine.
TheOneTrueRobin: They told me to tell you “👍”.
~~~~~
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@jayjayspixiepop @unoriginalmess @miraculousfanfic127 @probably-a-hologram @iloontjeboontje @mystery-5-5 @flyhighdreamer @starlit-dreaming @aespades @lowhangingtreebranches @twsssmlmaa @queenz-z @patton-ly-absurd @miraculous-mystery
#and so the tweets become relevant#im so proud of myself#even though technically they were relevant a while back too#but shhhhhhh thats not important#anyways#valentines day isn't valentines day without a little murder#it's all about celebrating the heart~#canary#maribat#shutterbug#timari#timmari#timinette#ladybug#marinette dupain cheng#tim drake#red robin
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Boulangérella: A Miraculous Fairy Tale AU - Chapter 10
Table of Contents
Read on Ao3
Prologue
beta’d by @7wizardsshallanswerthecall, @mothmanhamlet, @ccboomer and @aubsenroute
Marinette was quite glad that she was not attending the ball tonight. She was looking forward to getting a little bit of sleep. There was still a bit of detail left to be added to the prince’s outfits for tomorrow, but hopefully Juleka could help her with that this evening and she would not have to worry about staying up all night again.
She did wonder, though, if perhaps Chat Noir would come by again. Maybe she ought to leave her rooftop door open for him.
She stifled a yawn and leaned against the window of the boulangerie, wondering if it would be possible to get just a few minutes of sleep before—
“Ready, Marinette?” Alya asked.
Marinette jumped to her feet, nearly dropping the boxes she had so carefully stored the princes’ outfits in. “Yes! Sorry!”
“You’ve got a bit of—” Nino motioned to the corner of her mouth and Marinette hastily used her shoulder to wipe the bit of drool from her chin.
Marinette’s hands were full with the clothing she would be delivering, and Alya’s hands were equally full with the order for the palace. Nino, too, was carrying several boxes of dessert, but he nudged the door open with his foot and held it for Alya and Marinette.
Together they started down the street towards the palace.
“So,” Nino said, “you’re not going to ask about the detective business?”
Marinette did not dare take her eyes off of her feet. “Hm?”
Alya sighed. “Every day for the last three weeks you have asked Nino and me about our side hustle and suddenly, today, you seem to have forgotten that we have one.”
Marinette was fully focused on her balancing act. She was not about to let four weeks of work and pounds of fine cloth go sprawling into the street. “Sorry. Are you two getting a lot of work?”
“The sign your parents let us put up helps,” Nino said. “We did get to track down a missing pair of cufflinks the other day, which was a nice upgrade from missing cats.”
“You know,” Alya added, “you learn a lot helping people get their bread for the day. It’s amazing how fast people forget you’re standing there and that you can still hear every word of their conversation—oh, hold on a moment. My mom wanted me to bring some food to Nora. My house is right here.”
Marinette followed Alya and Nino inside and carefully set her boxes down by the door. She stifled another yawn as she rubbed her shoulders. She considered the risks of just closing her eyes where she was standing when an ear-splitting shriek sent her heart into overdrive. Suddenly she was tackled by two small gremlins with their hair done up in fine silk ribbons, and she was no longer concerned about falling asleep on her feet.
“Hi Ella, hi Etta,” she said, trying to free her legs from their grips.
“Marinette!” Ella shouted. “We want to go to the ball!”
“Alya said no.” Etta looked up at Marinette with big pleading eyes. “Can we go?”
“What did your mother say?” Marinette asked.
“Maman said no,” Alya said as she emerged from the kitchen with a new bag in her hands, in addition to the pastry boxes. “No one is going to the ball tonight. Not me, not Nino, not Nora, and not even Marinette. So stop asking.”
Ella and Etta looked up at their big sister with large, pleading eyes. Alya did not even flinch.
“I’m not taking you to the ball tonight. I’ve got work to do.”
“But we did our hair,” Ella whined.
“Isn’t it so pretty for the ball?” Etta twirled so that the long ribbons trailed out in a circle, nearly hitting her sister in the face.
Alya pointed to the kitchen. “Take those out before they catch on something and rip all of your hair out, then go help Maman in the kitchen.”
Defeated, Ella and Etta returned upstairs.
“Noël was pretty unhappy, too,” Nino said as he shouldered the door open for the girls. “But he’s way too young for something like this.
“Well, hopefully there will be other balls in the future,” Marinette said. “Maybe whoever gets to be queen will like to throw parties like Queen Emilie did.”
“Any predictions?” Nino asked Alya. “You’re always the most in touch with the local gossip.”
“I have no idea what Prince Adrien thinks,” Alya said, “but I do know Lila Rossi is the most popular choice—”
Marinette could not hold back a derisive snort.
“—but from a political position, Princess Kagami is probably the smart choice. But who knows? Maybe Prince Adrien has a fondness for bakery girls who drop their dessert in his lap.”
“I did not drop my dessert in his lap!” Marinette protested for what must have been the hundredth time. “And I don’t…” she sighed. It was no use denying her crush on Prince Adrien, certainly not to her best friends. “Well, it will please you to know that I actually have two dances already reserved for the final night.”
Alya and Nino alike raised their eyebrows.
“Two?” Alya said. “Who on earth with?”
“I’m not telling.”
“Marinette,” there was warning in Alya’s low voice, “who are you dancing with? Who do you even know outside of your work? Is it Master Fu?”
“No! It—Well, one is Luka, who I did meet through work.”
“Oh, Luka Couffaine? He’s come into the bakery a few times. He seems all right.”
“And your other one?” Nino pressed, just as determined as Alya.
“It’s nobody.”
“Come on, Marinette,” Nino nudged her shoulder and she stumbled, just barely catching herself and her precious cargo before she went sprawling.
“I mean, I don’t even know if he’ll show up,” she said, readjusting her grip on the boxes.
“Who is it?” Alya asked.
“He—I don’t really know how to explain it.”
“What’s there to explain? Who asked you for a dance?”
“Um, Chat Noir.”
Nino stopped in the middle of the crowded street and might have stayed there for the rest of the day if an elderly woman had not shoved him and told him to keep walking. Alya merely hummed thoughtfully and said, “Oh, that makes sense.”
Marinette appreciated Nino’s shock more than Alya’s airy understanding.
“What do you mean it makes sense?” she snapped.
“You kept asking Nino and I about missing stuff. You wanted to know if Chat Noir has been stealing things. You have a crush on Chat Noir.”
“I do not!”
“You have a crush on the prince and the most wanted thief in the city. You sure know how to pick them, Marinette.”
“I don’t!”
Alya laughed, but Marinette did not see what was so funny. She had been worried for Chat Noir, yes, but that didn’t mean she had a crush on him. And maybe she was excited that she might get to dance with him because he was her friend and she liked his company.
“Nino?” she asked. “Will you save a dance for me on the third night?”
“Hey!” Alya shouted.
Nino grinned. “Sure thing, Marinette. No one’s asked me yet, so I’d be happy to save a spot for you.”
“Nino!” Alya adjusted her grip on the boxes so she could get a proper glare in at her intended. “You are spoken for.”
“Alya, will you save a dance for me?” he asked with a cheeky grin. “Maybe two or three?”
“I don’t know,” she sniffed. “I might be all booked up. You know, I think I have one spot open, but I was saving it for Marinette.”
“You’d better act fast,” said Nino, “before Chat Noir whisk-ers her away.”
Marinette was the only one not laughing as they reached the palace gates. Her face was bright red and she regretted ever making friends with Nino and Alya.
“You guys aren’t… worried?” she asked, once their laughter had died down.
Alya shrugged. “Girl, you know I trust you. I don’t know how you ended up in a place where Chat Noir asked you to dance, but at least at the ball you’ll be around a lot of people—Nino and myself included. We’ll keep an eye on you.”
“And him,” Nino added, “assuming we can figure out who he is.”
“Do you really think he would show up in his mask?” Alya asked.
“Only if he wants to be arrested on sight.”
They followed a small crowd of people around the courtyard to the servants’ entrance of the palace where a woman with dark hair pulled back into a bun was directing everyone from florists to chefs to musicians. Marinette stood on her tiptoes, but she did not see Luka among the pair with instruments. She wondered if he was already here or if he would arrive later.
“Name?” the woman asked when Marinette and her friends reached the door.
“Alya Césaire and Nino Lahiffe, with Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie and Patisserie,” Alya said.
The woman noted their pink aprons and the boxes marked with the T and S wrapped in laurels. She then looked over one of her three scrolls, nodded and said, “Kitchens, just on your left. You’re looking for Jean-Pierre, who’s handling food setup.”
“Thank you.” Alya did her best at a small curtsy despite her burden and headed inside with Nino on her heels.
“Um, Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Marinette said. “I’m supposed to get the princes into their clothes.”
The woman did not bother to check her scroll as she looked Marinette over. “Yes, I remember you. The palace has an additional request for you.”
“Oh?” Marinette could not fathom what they still needed. She was so sure that she had thought of everything.
“Princess Kagami’s handmaiden has fallen ill after such a long trip. Once you have finished with Prince Adrien and Prince Félix, we would like you to assist her as she gets ready. Duchess Amelie said you trained under a master who was familiar with the fashions of the eastern countries?”
“Er, yes—I can do my best, but I’m not sure—”
“Excellent. We’ll make sure you’re compensated for your time. Do you remember where the princes’ fitting room is?” Before Marinette could answer, the woman turned to a line of young servants, dressed in plain red tunics. “Paul, run upstairs to Prince Adrien. I believe he’s in his father’s receiving room. Let him know the seamstress has arrived. Jordan, find Félix. I think he is helping his mother with the florals.” The two young men hurried into the palace at a full sprint to deliver their messages, and Nathalie turned back to Marinette. “They’ll be there as soon as they’re ready.”
“Oh—all right. Thank you.”
Marinette, too, did her best at a curtsy, and nearly dropped all the boxes onto the floor. Nathalie caught them, and though her expression remained unchanged as she put the boxes back into Marinette’s arms, Marinette could not help but feel like she was displeased.
When Marinette had visited the palace a month ago, it had felt empty. There were grand halls, looming tapestries and portraits, and faded carpets, but hardly any people. Now, she could not go more than a few steps without bumping into a servant delivering messages or rolling a fresh carpet down the hall or polishing a portrait frame. It was a nice change, she thought. It made the place feel alive.
While there were a few close calls, Marinette did manage to make it all the way to the fitting room without dropping the boxes. She had hardly set them down when Prince Félix announced himself with a polite, “Excuse me.”
She curtsied. “Your Highness. Are you ready?”
One of his servants helped him undress and assisted Marinette as she fastened the silver knots down the center of the black doublet. Then they pulled the silver jerkin on over the doublet and Marinette strung the gems across his chest. She tried very hard to hide her proud smile, but she was certain that Prince Félix looked impressed.
“You remembered what I said.” He ran his hands over the black silk that covered his chest. The stones sparkled in the midday sunlight as his fingers brushed against them.
“I know you said to ask your mother, but she said to do whatever you wanted. I hope it’s everything that you hoped for. I do need—sorry, just the hem here, do you want it to the knee or a bit higher? Everyone’s been asking my master for higher hems lately…”
Marinette pulled a stool over and set about adjusting the hem of the jerkin. She was nearly finished when Prince Adrien finally arrived. He smiled politely, but there was something tight in the edges of his eyes.
“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” he said. “I see you’ve managed to make my cousin look like he’s going to a party after all.”
She stood hurriedly and curtsied, ignorant of the spool of thread that tumbled out of her lap and onto the floor.
Prince Adrien knelt down and picked it up. He carefully wound the thread back around the spool. “If you’re not ready for me I can come back —”
“No, Prince Félix and I are just about finished.” She turned back to the hem, hoping to hide her blush, and said quickly, “There is an overcoat as well. It’s floor length, since I thought your mother would appreciate something more traditional, so I don’t know that you’ll want to dance in it, but it might be nice for any walks around the gardens.”
“You seem to have thought of everything,” Prince Félix said.
“I have a good teacher.”
Felix took a moment to examine the silver and black that decorated the sleeves as she returned her thread and needles to her apron pockets.
“It’s well done.” He stepped down from the stool so that Adrien could take his place. Félix settled into a chair, curious to see what she had prepared for Adrien. “I wonder how you’ll outdo yourself tomorrow.”
“Oh, well, I don’t know about that…” Marinette busied herself with unwrapping Prince Adrien’s outfit while the servant undressed him. She tried hard to swallow down her nerves but she was so warm that she was fairly certain she was about to break out into a heat rash.
“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng?” Adrien asked.
“Yes! Of course,” though she was not exactly sure what he had asked.
Félix watched as she fumbled with the fastenings on the white doublet. It was as if the competent woman who had just helped him had become an entirely different person in his cousin’s presence. The work, however, was just as impressive.
Where Félix’s doublet was black, Adrien’s was white. Instead of silver clasps, his were gold, and Félix could not be sure from where he sat, but he thought that there was an additional, much more subtle, gold stitching on the chest in the shape of lilies. The jerkin that Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng and the servant pulled on next was pale green, and brought out Adrien’s eyes. White lilies decorated the hem and a golden belt fastened around his waist. It was a lovely complement to the silver that Félix wore.
She had not just designed with each of them in mind, but she had designed them to look well together. It was no wonder his mother had insisted on the same tailor who had dressed her and Emilie when they were girls. He had a gift, and he had cultivated that same gift within this girl.
Adrien was less impressed than his cousin as he took in his reflection. He had tried to prepare himself for this moment, but there was nothing he could truly have done to be ready to see himself wearing color for the first time in a year, especially not <i>her</i> color. He felt tears brimming in the corner of his eyes and he tried desperately to swallow them down.
“Um—”
Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng’s soft voice broke through his mixture of grief and self-pity. He glanced down at her, finding the top of her head far easier to look at than his own reflection.
“I know you didn’t really want something like this—”
“It’s all right, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng. You’ve done a wonderful job, and I’m sure my father—”
“I just mean…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “I wanted you to know—” She fumbled with the fastenings on the doublet and opened it up just enough to turn out the fabric. “I know it isn’t the same, but I did line everything in black. I thought it might, I—I don’t know, I just thought it might make the transition a bit easier.”
Adrien could not help it any longer. He cried.
It was nothing like the poorly restrained sobs he had spent that first night at his mother’s bedside, nor the agonized wails he had spilled in the Forest of Fay a year ago. It was a small gasp and a few tears, but it was more than he had shed in a long time.
And, more surprising than the tears was the realization that it was not his grief that had overcome him. He was sad, utterly heartbroken, but what had pushed him here was that this girl had cared. She had noticed and listened and cared.
He stepped off the stool and tried to bury his face in his hands.
“I’m sorry,” he said, but she apologized at the same time.
“I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—”
“Please, don’t,” he begged. He heard Félix stand and start to approach him, but Adrien held a hand out to stop him. If he had to endure one more ounce of kindness he would never recover. “I’m all right,” he said, though it was so obviously untrue. “I just… I wasn’t expecting…” He took in a shaky breath and rubbed his eyes dry. “Thank you,” he managed to say into his hands, but he still could not quite bring himself to look at her. He felt like he was fumbling in the dark for some sort of support, but all the usual things he leaned on were gone.
“Um—” Marinette swallowed, unsure if she had done the right thing or ruined it all entirely. “You’re welcome. Why don’t—I mean—I have to help Princess Kagami get ready. I can do that and then come back to finish your hem and any other adjustments when you’re ready?”
“Please,” Adrien and Félix said at once.
Marinette curtsied, though neither of the princes were looking at her, and hurried out of the room, only to stop immediately because she had no idea where she was going.
Fortunately, it was not hard to find a passing servant to point her in the right direction.
Marinette had taken Luka’s advice about grief being private and lined Prince Adrien’s outfits in black. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now she was preparing for another night without sleep. She would be up all night ripping the black lining out of tomorrow’s outfit and stitching in white. Maybe she could get away with putting white over the black. It would be harder, technically speaking, but it might take less time than taking apart and reassembling everything.
She rubbed her face in an attempt to both scrub out her embarrassment and to try to keep herself awake.
Marinette was fairly certain that she was in the right place, but she double-checked with another servant before knocking on the door to Princess Kagami’s rooms.
An attendant answered and Marinette curtsied readily, though it occurred to her that maybe she did not have to curtsy to the people who worked in the palace.
“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I was asked to help Princess Kagami get ready.”
The older woman led Marinette through the receiving room and into the bedroom where she announced her to Princess Kagami, seated at a vanity table and wearing a thin white robe. Her face was as pale as her dress, and Marinette guessed by the white on her fingertips that the princess had been applying her own makeup.
“Your Highness,” Marinette curtsied. “I was asked to help you dress for the ball.”
Princess Kagami did not so much as glance at her in the mirror as she dabbed her white powder under her eyes. “I am not convinced that anyone in this palace is knowledgeable enough to help me. I apologize for wasting your time.”
“Oh…” Marinette considered the walk back to the princes’ fitting room and decided it was not quite long enough. She was not ready to face Prince Adrien just yet. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Marinette glanced at the bed, which was covered in a half-dozen robes, all different brightly colored silks. Some were even hand-painted. “I suppose you’re right. My master made sure I had experience with fashion styles from all around the world—he traveled a lot when he was young—and he told me that ko skirts were the final layer in the dresses from the Bright Islands but I don’t see one here.”
Princess Kagami paused, fingers a hair’s breadth from her eyes and she finally glanced up at Marinette’s reflection. “My mother will probably wear one, but they are not exactly fashionable anymore.”
“I see. Maybe I ought to help your mother get ready instead.”
“She has her own attendants. She won’t need you.” Princess Kagami checked each side of her face in the mirror to ensure her makeup was spread evenly. “Are you familiar with applying eye paint?”
Marinette smiled and pulled a chair over to Princess Kagami’s vanity to help her finish her makeup.
Makeup was not something Marinette applied often, and certainly not on another person, but she did not tell Princess Kagami that. She knew enough to keep her lines even and straight, and she had learned from her master’s training that women from the Bright Islands liked to smudge rouge in the corners of the eyes. Or at least, she had learned with rouge. Princess Kagami had proper paints and powders that she had brought from home.
Marinette dipped a thin brush into the red lip paint. “Girls here tend to do a thicker lower lip, but I think I learned that thin lips are more fashionable where you’re from? Is that still true?”
“Yes,” Kagami said. But she hesitated. She was intent on a perfect appearance to impress her mother, but her mother was not actually going to see her. The person she truly had to impress was Prince Adrien—or rather just Adrien, as he preferred.
“Will you do what you think is best?” Kagami asked.
Marinette smiled and carefully dragged the brush across Princess Kagami’s mouth. Princess Kagami did not so much as flinch.
“Do you want rouge on your cheeks?” Marinette asked.
“What for?”
“Well, it’s what most of the women will probably be wearing.”
Kagami examined her reflection in the mirror. The broad lower lip was a bit much as it was. “I think this is acceptable.”
“I’ll be back to fit the princes again tomorrow,” Marinette said, “so if you see anything you like tonight, just let me know and I’ll find a way to help you.”
“That’s… very kind of you.”
“I’m sure it’s hard to be all the way across the continent and feel like you don’t have anyone who can help you. Speaking of help, you are going to have to help me figure out which order these layers go in. Studying a style isn’t quite the same as mastering it.”
Between the two of them, they were able to dress Princess Kagami fairly efficiently. The layers of bright greens, pinks, and purples became stripes against Princess Kagami’s collar and the way they shifted and shimmered as she moved gave the impression of a field of flowers in spring. The last layer of her dress was a deep violet silk painted in tiny white flowers that reminded Marinette of the bouquet of hellebore that had been left at the bakery a month ago. She tied the dress off with a thin pink sash and, finally, there was an overcoat that hung off the shoulders made of pale pink silk and a pattern of white circles that nestled against each other to create the outline of flower petals.
“You look quite lovely,” Marinette said.
Kagami surveyed herself in the mirror. “I hope Prince Adrien thinks so.”
Marinette swallowed hard and tried not to think about how lovely his pale green jerkin and gold lilies would compliment her pink dress, like the first bloom of spring at the end of winter.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Princess Kagami?”
“No, thank you.”
“Then I’ll take my leave—”
“One thing.”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Will you be there tonight?”
“Oh… no. I have to work on the princes’ outfits for tomorrow. I’m sorry.”
“I see.” Princess Kagami did not look disappointed, but Marinette could hear it in her voice. “It would have been nice to have a familiar face.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Marinette promised. “And I’ll be able to attend on the third night.” When Princess Kagami said nothing else, she asked, “Will that be all, Your Highness?”
“Yes. Thank you, Marinette.”
Marinette curtsied before taking her leave.
She walked back to the princes’ fitting room slowly. She was not eager to face Prince Adrien again. She had scripted seventeen different apologies before she finally arrived at the fitting room and knocked.
“It’s Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” she called through the door. “Are you—are you ready for me?”
Prince Félix opened the door for her. The staff who had been in here to help had been sent away and it was only the two princes left. Marinette thought briefly that it was highly inappropriate for her to be in here without an escort, but as she turned to face Prince Adrien, that thought vanished and her seventeen apologies all vied for exit from her mouth.
“I’m so sorry, Your Highness, I really didn’t want—I only thought—and you had said that—so I wasn’t sure—and I was just thinking—”
“Please don’t apologize.” Prince Adrien stood from his chair and she dropped into a curtsy. “And please—you don’t need to curtsy every time I move or every time you speak.”
Marinette did not dare break her curtsy, but she did lift her head and look at him.
His eyes were bright and rimmed red, and he looked almost as tired as she felt, like he, too, had been up all night. But he was smiling. It was as sad as any of Prince Adrien’s smiles, but it was still a smile.
“I’m the one who should apologize,” he said. “I was caught off-guard, and I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Really?” Félix said, almost too soft for them to hear. “Because I recall you retiring early last night.”
Adrien pressed his lips together. “I said I wasn’t feeling well. That doesn’t mean that I slept well.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I apologize for my cousin. He’s been rather rude this week. And please, don’t be upset, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng. You did everything right. Your kindness was just… more than I was prepared for.”
Félix sank back into his chair as Adrien stood so that Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng could fix the hem of his jerkin. He took in Adrien’s exhaustion and the remnants of his brief cry. Félix had understood the tears, certainly. He knew what it was to be unheard, unnoticed as well as Adrien did. But Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng had noticed the both of them. He could understand why that would throw Adrien off balance.
Once again his eyes drifted to the ring on Adrien’s right hand. It was plain silver, hardly even polished. How he had ever believed it might have been one of the Graham de Vanily bands was absurd. The ring on Adrien’s finger was a cheap token. He was beginning to believe it had something to do with this mysterious, unnamed girl that Adrien was in love with.
Félix reached for the neatly folded clothes he had been wearing when he arrived in the fitting room and pulled his father's ring from one of the pockets. He had not yet told anyone, not even his mother, about the ring. Surely Gabriel had noticed that his ring had gone missing by now, but he had said nothing about it. He had not even replaced it with Emilie’s ring, which made Félix wonder if the ring he had seen on the sleeping queen was real or a replica.
It was entirely possible that Félix was worrying for nothing. Perhaps the rings had been switched some time before his father had disappeared, and it was Emilie’s ring that had disappeared with Michel while Amelie’s had stayed with Gabriel.
But the fact that Félix could not explain, with any confidence, how his father’s ring had ended up on Gabriel’s finger was cause to worry. He slid the ring into a pocket of his new doublet, hidden beneath the jerkin, and decided that he would bring it up to his mother tonight. She might have an answer. It might not be an answer that he wanted to hear, but she was his best source for information, and the only one that he knew he could trust.
“Finished,” Marinette said, and tucked her needle and thread back into her pockets.
Félix stood as Adrien stepped down from the stool.
“Thank you again, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” Adrien said, “for everything.”
“Of course! So… you’re really all right with the lining? And if your outfit tomorrow is also lined in black…”
“Then I think it will be perfect.”
She smiled and blushed, and Félix was suddenly grateful that this seamstress was not a noblewoman. The last thing he needed was another girl competing for Adrien’s hand.
“I’m sure my mother is wondering what’s been keeping us,” Félix said. “But we’ll see you tomorrow.” And he ushered Adrien out of the room.
Marinette was startled by their sudden exit, but she supposed, judging by the orange sunset outside, that the ball was due to start soon. So she gathered up her now empty boxes. She felt drained, as if she was the one who had broken down in the middle of a fitting. She was quite ready to go home and sleep—well, finish her work, then sleep.
Before heading home, though, she headed to the kitchens. She was not sure if Alya and Nino would still be here after everything she had needed to take care of, but she ought to at least check.
Her friends were not the sort to leave her behind. Alya and Nino had finished their work and had found a corner of the kitchen that was out of the way of the chaos to wait for Marinette. It was an unusual sort of privacy, to be unseen amongst a crowd, and they were happy to take the opportunity of a few stolen kisses where parents and chaperones would not bother them.
“Should we find Marinette?” Nino asked. “I didn’t think she’d be this long.”
“She is cutting it a bit close,” Alya said but she leaned in for another quick kiss. “Guests will be arriving soon. At this rate, we might as well just go to the ball.”
“I’m not sure we’re dressed for it.” Nino plucked at Alya’s bright pink apron that matched his own.
“I bet we could find some servants’ garb to slip into.” Alya bit down on her lip as she looked up at Nino, and they both considered the in-between stage of changing into new clothes.
“Alya! Nino!”
Neither turned to look at Marinette.
“We could try again tomorrow?” Nino asked hopefully.
“Maybe.” Alya pressed another kiss to his cheek before finally turning to Marinette, who was squeezing her way through a group of servants trying to carry a roasted pig up to the ballroom.
She waved at Marinette. “Did it all go well?” she asked.
“Er—as well as can be expected, I suppose,” Marinette said. “Everything went well for you?”
“No problems here,” Nino said. “Wouldn’t have minded staying a bit longer.”
Alya elbowed him gently. “Marinette’s tired. Let’s get her home to sleep.”
“Oh, no, I still have some work to—”
But Marinette was cut off by a loud scream from inside the palace, followed by several more.
A servant burst into the kitchen, running for his life and shouting, “Demons! Demons in the ballroom!”
#miraculous ladybug#miraculous ladybug fic#ml fic#miraculous ladybug fanfic#adrientte#fairy tale au#ml fairy tale au#not exaggerating this is one of the moments of the au im most proud of
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I was rereading the Timari 'Hide and Seek' story again and my brain thought up a small after idea. So Tim and Mari, after hiding in an impossible spot to reach (but they're hero/vigilante, it's easy for them), eating desserts and critiquing Gala outfits the two began to catch up, chatting about their work and lives. Both are lost in their own little world with each other. Meanwhile Dick is frantically looking for Tim cause Damian overheard a girl in the most hideous orange dress saying she was dating him and is currently being held back by Bruce whose ripping into the girl for saying such lies about his 13 year old son. Also Damian may or may not cut off a chunk of Lila's hair before Bruce got to him.
Extreme Hide and-Where are You?!
Previous
Disclaimer, both Mari, Tim, and the class are around 17-years-old. Mari and Tim met when they were about 5, and this is 12-years-later.
“Want to continue critiquing their outfits, then steal a bunch of treats? I know the perfect hiding spot.”
A glint of mischief and pure joy showed in both of their eyes as she nodded.
“Absolutely.”
“Alright then, we should grab some food while we’re here then we can go hide.”
Marinette nodded and grabbed a plate filling it with many different and tasty desserts, Tim going after the ones she couldn’t carry on her plate. Once the two were satisfied Tim grabbed her hand and pulled her away. Memories and the feeling of déjà vu filled her to the brim with childish excitement. An excitement she hadn’t felt in a very long time.
“Alright, we can hide out up there and I can promise you no one will ever know or find us.”
Marinette looked up to where his finger was pointing. It was a long, flat, horizontal beam that ran across the stage about 7 feet below the ceiling which meant that it was 39 feet above them.
“We’ll need to put the desserts into a bag or something first.”
Marinette said with a determined nod. Tim looked at her in shock for a split second, a bit surprised she’d be okay with the height and risk. Then he smirked after seeing the strong resolve to actually do it in her eyes. Tim had been up there many times before, so he knew it was safe, he was glad that she trusted him like this, even after all of that time.
“Alright, we’ll head to the kitchen first to get a few containers then we can climb up.”
“Right.”
And they did just that. Needless to say both were silently impressed and slightly skeptical at the ease that each had as they climbed up and jumped off of railings to finally get to the spot nobody would be able to see them from, but they could see everyone.
“Wow! Marinette whisper-yelled and pointed to a woman in a turquoise ball gown with hints of light gold and cream mixed together to form a very lovely design.
“She looks lovely! That’s such a good shade and it really matches her skin tone.”
Marinette said excitedly, her eyes roaming over it as if she were trying to memorize the design. ‘Just like when we were kids’, whispered a small voice in the back of Tim’s mind. Tim watched her and felt a warmth spread through his chest.
“Oh. My. Gosh. That is absolutely hideous!”
Marinette said in a disgusted and aghast manner. Tim followed her gaze and saw one of the socialite’s children dressed in a hideous green and purple suit.
“She gives the Riddler a run for his money.”
Tim replied as he glared at the suit and the child in it.
“I can’t believe they let their child come to this in that.”
“Honestly though.”
Marinette added her voice also disgusted.
“Hey Mari,”
“Yea?”
“Did you start that commission company you wanted for your designs?”
Tim asked curiously as he bit into a brownie. He had remembered younger her had declared that she would become the best designer out there, and by her keen eye it seemed she was still into fashion.
Marinette smirked and leaned back slightly giving off a casual and confident aura.
“Yes, in fact I already have clients too.”
“Is that so? You’ll have to tell me how to find you so I can order something from you. If the dress you’re wearing now says anything, I know I want to wear something made by you.”
A blush spread across her cheeks at the praise. She quickly cleared her throat and pulled something out of one of the pockets in her dress.
“Here’s my business card.”
Tim carefully took it from her hands, a gentle smile on his lips as he stared at the beautiful woman in front of him. When he looked at the card his eyes widened in shock,
“You’re MDC?!”
He practically squealed, his own face quickly flushing scarlet. Marinette turned to him in shock and nodded.
“You know about me?”
“Who doesn’t?! You’re the personal desire or both Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale. Not to mention you’ve worked with so many other celebrities and have even designed for some of the most famous fashion companies around the world! You’re amazing Marinette!”
Marinette’s was as red as a ripe tomato by the end of Tim’s rant. His own cheeks were flushed from embarrassment, but not as much as hers were.
“O-oh. Thank you. I’m glad you like my work.”
“Y-yea.”
There was a pause as both of them nibbled at the food before Marinette cleared her throat and asked,
“What about you? Are you running Drake Industries yet?”
Tim sighed and nodded,
“Yea, I’m also co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises as well.”
Marinette’s eyes widened in shock and turned to look at him.
“That’s a lot! How are you even able to do that?! I pick my own everything and I still struggle to get it all done! Now you’re running two businesses and have time to do things like this?!”
Tim yawned and stretched as he gave her a lazy smirk,
“Terrible eating and sleeping habits, lots of coffee, and a large overprotective friends and family that can’t mind their own business.”
Marinette nodded at that.
“Minus the overprotective friends and family part, I feel that.”
Tim raised a brow at that.
“What do you mean by that?”
Tim asked, rather confused. Surely she had a whole following of friends. She was so good and full of light there was no way she couldn’t.
“Well, my parents love me, I know they do because they are always there for me when I need them. But they are very busy with the bakery and just don’t have a lot of time to make sure I’m doing everything a healthy person should be doing. As for my friends…”
A sad and longing look shown through her eyes, a small frown placed on her lips,
“Well, needless to say all I was to then was a way to get free stuff. It’s better that they’re gone.”
Tim nodded, completely understanding what she meant. Slowly Tim placed his hand over hers, and held it lightly. Marinette quickly glanced at their intertwined hands then up at him.
“Well, I’m here now. And if we were friends when we were just kids, why can’t we still be friends now?”
Marinette smiled at that and gently squeezed his hand.
“Yea! We’ll be the best of friends.”
And one day, hopefully more. Both thought quietly to themselves, another blush covering both of their cheeks. The night went on, the two continued to talk and laugh and make fun of the people down below them. Stuck in their own little world they missed the commotion happening far below them.
“Tim!”
Dick frantically yelled into the crowd. If Tim was just ignoring him again he was going to get an earful about how it’s important to respond to make sure nothing happened to him again.
“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne!”
Still nothing. Dick glanced back and watched as Bruce struggled to hold Damian back from pouncing on a lady in a terrible short orange dress. Her hair was a mess from when Damian had first got his hands on her, and one of her front ponytails was a jagged mess as Damian had cut it off with a table knife.
From what he could tell, the lady had been spreading lies and false information about Tim and herself dating. It wasn’t anything new, but apparently it was enough to set Damian off, which meant it must have been really bad. Bruce, while struggling to hold the little demon back, was lecturing the students about how it was wrong and the amount of trouble that she would get not only them, but herself in.
“What are you talking about Mr. Wayne! Lila would never lie about this!”
A girl in a torn up ball gown and ombré hair practically yelled as she hugged the liar, goodness could her sobs sound more fake, close to her chest in a protective embrace.
“Listen here you little harlot!”
Damian growled, still fighting Bruce’s hold.
“I may not like or pay much attention to Drake, but I refuse to let this harlot sully his and my family’s name. He would never date someone as fake as that-“
“That is enough Damian.”
Bruce commanded, quickly cutting off his son before he could add further insult.
“Now Miss Rossi, I want you to understand that if you continue to spread any more lies and slander I will be forced to take legal action.”
Everyone who knew of or at least had the chance to meet one of the Wayne’s lawyers felt a shiver run down their spine. They were some of the most ruthless people in the world, especially when it came to their jobs. But the children didn’t know of them, didn’t realize the power they held in a court room.
“You can’t threaten Lila! She has more connections than even you, and none of the people will be happy with how you’re treating her.”
The girl with glasses but back, a scowl on her face. Unfortunately she looked anything but intimidating, especially to Bruce. With a quick flick of his wrist Bruce Wayne replied,
“Aren’t these children just adorable!”
The crowd laughed and went back to their gossiping as Bruce made a subtle gesture for the security to take care of the two ladies who dared to slander his son’s name.
Dick found Jason laughing in a corner of the ballroom as he took a sip from what looked like a cup of whiskey as he put his phone away. He had obviously recorded the interaction.
“Jason, have you seen Tim anywhere?”
Jason took a long swig of his drink before he replied,
“And what if I did?”
Dick glared at him and crossed his arms,
“This is important Jason!”
“Why, it seems to me like the whole thing was resolved. Besides, the kid paid me to keep quiet when I saw them in the kitchen. You’ll have to give me something better for me to spill.”
‘Them?’ Dick thought to himself, he’d worry about that part later, for now.
“And what exactly did he give you?”
“A photo collection of sorts.”
Jason replied a little to smuggly. That could only mean that Tim gave him blackmail. Dang it.
“I’ll do your chores for a month.”
“Deal.”
With a quick shake Jason pointed to the upper ceiling of the stage.
“Kid and his friend went all the way up there. Tell him I said anything and I’ll make sure you won’t have any cereal for the next year.”
Dick nodded and quickly raced towards the stage, using his flexibility and time as a vigilante to get up there.
“So you’re telling me that because you put down a container you caused an orange to fall out of the fruit bowl and it tipped over everything on the counter?!”
Came Tim’s distant voice sounding very amused as he chuckled at the other voice which indignantly replied,
“Laugh all you want, but at least I never got caught on a gargoyle by my belt!”
“Now that’s not a fair comparison!”
“Of course it is!”
A moment of silence, then a burst of loud laughter. Dick hadn’t heard Tim laugh like that in a long time. It was honestly relieving. But, he had to make sure that Tim was okay and that nothing life threatening was happening or going to occur.
Once he was at the top both of them quickly turned to look at him. Tim looked very annoyed while the girl stared at him in shock.
“I thought you said no one would find us!”
The girl groaned in annoyance.
“I guess he got his comeback from last time.”
“Wait, what?”
“Don’t you remember Dick? We asked you to seek us out for a game of hide-and-seek and you couldn’t find us. I’m assuming Jason helped you find us up here.”
“What? No, I figured out you might be here by myself.”
They both rolled their eyes,
“Sure you did Dick. Either way, what do you need?”
“Well, there was a girl spreading rumors about dating you.”
Marinette sighed annoyedly and rolled her eyes.
“Lila can never keep her mouth shut, can she?”
“You mean that girl that you were telling me about earlier?”
Marinette crossed her arms, a small frown on her lips.
“Yep, she’s the one.”
“Hey, is she still down there?”
Tim asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Dick didn’t like that.
“No, Bruce had her and her friend removed from the premises.”
Tim and Marinette both shared a glance before they both broke out laughing.
“That’s too amazing. Please tell me you got it on video.”
Marinette weeded out in-between breaths. Dick didn’t understand what was happening or what was so funny, but he wanted to.
“I believe my brother Jason did.”
Tim gave a small nod.
“Excellent, I’ll get it from him later,”
“You’ll send it to me right?!”
Marinette asked excitedly, taking both of Tim’s hands into her own. Tim smirked at her, the mischievous twinkle never leaving his eye.
“But of course my dear. Only the finest for you.”
Tim said in a jokingly posh voice.
“Oh, what a gentleman.”
Marinette replied almost regally. The giggles came back and Dick smiled at the two of them. It was obvious that they had forgotten his existence, back in their own little world. Dick quickly and quietly climbed down without another word. Tim deserved to be happy like that, and goodness did he need a break from everything. So what if they stayed up there until even hours after the party was over. They were catching up, they were enjoying each other’s conversation, and most importantly, they were happy. So maybe Bruce was panicked about his son and how no one would tell him or help him find where he was. He showed back up eventually. And if he unusually disappeared for hours on end these last few weeks, then nobody needed to know that he got a girlfriend. At least, not yet.
Taglist:
@aespades @adrestar @astrynyx @doll246 @queenz-z @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @seraphichana @miraculous-ninja @dorkus-minimus @mysticsoulgirl @ritacrow-blog @snow-leopard-777 @fidget-eep @sometandomstuff333 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @shreeing @achaoticmess1 @miraculous-ninja @liquid-luck-00 @buginetye @stainedglassm @prettylittlebutterflie @laurcad123
#maribat#ask#dc x mlb#mlb x batman#mlb x dc#marinette dupain cheng#fluff#cute#funny#lila salt#lila rossi#lila rossi bashing#alya salt#alya bashing#timinette#timari#childhood friends#hide and seek#tim drake#dick grayson#jason todd#damian wayne#bruce wayne#chaos#shenanigans#please leave a comment#they make me happy#thank you!
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Why Won't You Go Home
Disclaimer: I still don't go here.
...
It is exceptionally kind of Chat Noir to help with the search.
Maybe kind isn’t the right way for Marinette to think of it. Maybe it’s expected. Maybe it’s mundane. Maybe it’s rote, ordinary fanfare for a superhero of the city to lend his hand in a crisis. This search is just a normal superhero job for him. It isn’t personal to him like it is to her. She can feel it in the slow and stiff and disconnected way he picks through the rubble of the Agreste family mansion.
He looks up, and he catches her staring at him.
“M’lady?” he asks.
Marinette blinks. She’s short of breath. She shakes her head, and smooths her fingers over her black-dotted mask, and turns, and crouches to continue sifting through the scattered remains at her feet. “Nothing.”
“M’lady…”
She sweeps away a layer of ash—the pulverized remains of brick and stone and wood. Shards of dinner plates breathe in the open, blue-pattered rims chipped away. She lifts a piece, and it crumbles to ash in her numb and nicked hands, her fingers covered in bandaids from all the wanton cuts from glass she’d dug through so earnestly in the first three days after the collapse.
A hand falls heavy on her shoulders. She flinches. “M’lady…”
“It’s nothing, Chat.” She bats his hand off. “You take the eastern wing. I’ve got the kitchen.”
His presence remains beside her, heavy. “I went through the eastern wing this afternoon.” He crouches, attempting to force eye contact. “…And you’ve done the kitchen already.”
“I didn’t search hard enough.”
“You’ve searched enough.”
Marinette twists away from him. She dips her hands back into the rubble, silkenly demolished, grated down like fine beach sand so near the epicenter of the destruction.
Chat Noir’s hand grips hers, and he stills it.
“He’s not here,” Chat Noir says.
The jolt seizes Marinette by the throat. Tears she thought had long dried up well up unbidden. She blinks to clear her vision. She cannot speak through the knot in her throat, so she shakes her head, and pulls her hand away.
“His bedroom,” she answers, as the only words that can bubble out.
Chat shifts, until he is right in front of her, crouched to her level. “Carapace searched his bedroom already. Rena did. You did.” He grips her shoulder. “I did… He’s not there.”
“I’ll search again.”
“You need to go home.”
“There were 12 bedrooms in the mansion. Four floors. Dining and recreation rooms on every floor. A home theater. …Hawkmoth’s basement. We haven’t searched everything.”
“We have.”
“We haven’t.”
“You need to sleep.”
“I don’t.”
“Ladybug.” He takes her chin. “Look at me. Please just look at me.”
She has little choice. She’s staring into his green eyes, his tinged sclera. Chat’s brow is creased with worry, his eyes lined with exhaustion.
“I know you have a family, Ladybug. I know they have to be worried. Don’t do this to them. Don’t do this to yourself. You’ve done everything you can. There’s nothing more you can do.”
She pulls away from him.
“My family’s fine. I’m fine. What about you? Why don’t you just go back to your own family if you think they’re more important than Adrien?”
Chat’s tired eyes hold hers. His expression remains firm, blank, unwavering.
“Adrien’s gone, Ladybug.”
And it would have hurt less had he slapped her firmly across the face.
Marinette bounces to her feet, teetering unsteady, face flushed and eyes wet. She’s still blinking through tears, fists tight at her side, and it takes restraint to not try to deliver that pain back to Chat Noir. “Easy for you to say. You didn’t know him! You never met him! He was just some kid to you. You don’t care, do you? Maybe this was all some victory to you, huh? Hawkmoth is dead and his base is demolished and you just don’t care that Adrien was—”
“Clearly I do care. I’m still here. I’ve been here. I wouldn’t still be here if I didn’t care.”
“You DON’T care. You search like you’re barely even trying to find him. You’ve given up! Everyone else has given up except me! You don’t get it!” Ladybug slams a hand to her chest, palm open, feet spread, and the words erupt from her throat. “I LOVED him. And I never told him! Don’t tell me he’s dead, Chat! Don’t tell me I couldn’t save him in time. Don’t tell me I couldn’t tell him in time, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t…” Marinette’s resolve wavers. Her body is fizzling with static, light and numb. She tilts, and slowly lowers herself back to a crouch before her balance can fail her fully. “…You can’t tell me he’s gone. He can’t be gone…”
There’s an agony that rips across Chat Noir’s face, one which he holds, and then stifles, and then buries, to the point that Marinette may have only imagined it in the first place. His stance goes looser. His eyes dip, until he’s staring down into the sand-fine rubble of the Agreste manor whose ash has coated him nearly fully gray.
“…I’m sorry, Ladybug…” he says, and he means it. “I shouldn’t have said it like that.”
Silence lingers on the wind between them. Every which way it blows, it smells of demolition.
“No I’m… I’m sorry for yelling,” Marinette mutters, face buried in her drawn-up knees. “I shouldn’t be yelling at you. You’re helping. …You’re the only one still helping. I’m so tired, and I’m so scared, and there’s no one else left helping.”
“You shouldn't blame the others for leaving. The search was called off a full day ago.”
“I don’t blame them.” Marinette lifts her head. “…But I just can’t leave.”
Chat pushes himself up from the ground, rising to full height from his crouch. He extends a hand for Marinette to take. “If you’ll go home, Ladybug, I’ll stay. He won’t be left alone if I’m staying here.”
Marinette blinks as Chat’s hand swims in and out of focus. She processes his words. “…Then what about you? If I leave, and you stay, then you’ll be alone…”
“Worry not, M’lady.”
“…And what about your family then?” She extends a shaky hand. Chat clasps it, and carefully, gently, he lifts her up. She’s eye to eye with him again, her vision darting from his one pupil to the other. He is the only pillar across acres of leveled land, decimated to nothing. “You haven’t left yet either, have you? You’ve been here just as long as me. You haven’t left. They must be worried about you.”
“No one in my family is worried about me, it’s fine.” His grip on her hand tightens. “My friends… are worried. But that’s because they’re good friends. They’ll be fine.”
“Chat…”
“I’m right, aren’t I? You haven’t been able to go home because you can’t leave him alone here… I’ll stay then. I’ll keep searching, I promise, as long as you promise me you’ll go home to your family for tonight, and shower, and eat, and sleep.”
"And you?"
"Hmm?"
"Why haven’t you left yet…?”
Chat lets out a simple chuckle, and he offers her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just worried about you, M’lady. It’s that simple.”
Marinette blinks, and rubs her eyes through the mask. The sensation of grit digs into her knuckles. It’s coated her entirely. She blinks again, and her vision, her balance, is still hazy. She’s just now feeling the weight pulling so heavily on her chest, and protests die in her throat. “…Okay. Okay then, Chat. …Thank you. Thank you, I’ll—I’ll go home, okay Chat.” She looks up. “But I need you to promise me something too.”
“Anything.”
“When I get back, then you’ll go home and rest.”
Chat’s smile lingers, the dead and plastic one. His worn eyes hold hers, and Marinette realizes for the first time since the search began that there’s something uncomfortable nested deep in them, something staring at her like she’s the last thing holding him together.
“…Chat?” Marinette asks again.
“Hmm?”
“When I’m back, you’ll go home.”
He reaches a hand out, and he ruffles her hair. “You’re very tired. M’lady has been awake for far too long. The sun’s setting now. You should get going.”
“Chat.”
“I’ll only need a quick cat nap, M’lady, once you get back. I needn’t go anywhere.”
“That’s… no, Chat.” Marinette shakes her head. She pushes his hand away. “You also need to shower, and eat, and sleep, and see your family and friends, Chat. Promise me you’ll do that. Promise me that’ll happen once I’m back tomorrow.”
She’s staring deep into his eyes, watching that restrained and uncomfortable something bloom closer to the surface. She’s staring into glassy pools that are slipping harder to recognize, and Chat’s plastic smile remains on a face so absent. His eyes refuse to see her no matter how directly she stares into them.
“We’ll talk tomorrow, Bugaboo.”
“Chat.”
“Please.”
“Chat.”
“Tomorrow, I promise.”
“Chat—” She grabs his shoulder, and pulls him a fraction closer, in hopes that his glassy eyes might finally see her back.
“Yes, M’lady?”
“Why won’t you go home?”
He is covered in ash and soot. His face is uniformly streaked with dust, and it mangles into his hair, soaked four days deep. And his four days sleepless eyes stare through her. He hitches his plastic smile higher until the corners of his mouth waver. He opens his mouth to say something, to say something, to say something.
“Sure then. Tomorrow. As soon as you’re back. I’ll go home. I promise to give my pillows a good few extra fluffs for you.”
And his face is unrecognizable by the time the words leave his mouth.
Marinette tugs him closer, until he is pressed against her. She wraps her arms around him and squeezes. Hesitantly, he returns the hug, with a force that presses the air from Marinette’s lungs, until he clings to her like she were the last thread holding him up above a chasm.
Then all at once, he releases her.
“Go. Go, Ladybug. Go home.”
She breathes deep, and her ribcage stutters. She nods.
“Tomorrow. Early. I’ll be back. Then it’s your turn.”
“Naturally. In the meantime, I’ll check the bedroom again, alright? I promise to leave nothing unturned.”
She backs away, and turns, and lingers. And somehow, even with the way her body stutters and stalls, she’s still gone faster than Chat realizes. He’s left alone with the setting sun tinging all the leveled debris orange. He exhales, shudders, and wills himself to not breakdown on spot. Not until he’s sure Ladybug is far away.
He moves, as promised, to the bedroom, taking the phantom trace of demolished hallways and doors out of habit. He stands at the center, and shifts ash with his toe, and silence falls around him like a blanket.
He sets his hands to the air, clasped around a pocket of nothing. He bounces his palms closer, once, twice, fluffing the air, and fluffing it again, so as not to break his promise.
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Interrogating Dishes
A one-shot based on the below image, for @boldlyanxious @mochegato and @izanae
The soft sunlight creeping in through the curtains wakes her up, making her sigh. Deciding she probably wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, Marinette rolls over in bed, glancing at the alarm clock- and immediately panicking.
“Shit, shit, shit.” She curses under her breath, falling out of bed as she rushes around the room, getting dressed as professionally (and quickly) as possible. She’d had several alarms set. How had she managed to sleep so late?
“Mari?” The gruff voice of her boyfriend speaks up tiredly. Marinette pauses, taking a moment to appreciate how attractive Jason was. Bed hair and all. Another glance at the clock rips Marinette from her thoughts.
“Hey, babe. I’m running late for a meeting with a client. I should be back around four.” She says, hopping slightly as she tries to shove her foot into her heeled ankle boot. Remembering that they were supposed to have some of his friends over for dinner, she pauses.
“Could you do the dishes before Roy and Kory come over? I completely spaced and forgot to do them last night.” She asks. Jason gives her a tired smile and nods before sitting up and leaning over so she could give him a quick kiss. He immediately snakes his arms around her waist, tugging her close. She melts into the kiss for a moment before pulling back, sighing.
“I know. Go kick some fashion ass.” He says, giving her a short peck so she could leave. Marinette smiles at him softly before grabbing her purse and sketchbook and heading off for the meeting. God she loved that man.
---
Marinette sighs tiredly as she climbs the stairs to the apartment she shared with Jason. She’d have to try and convince the building manager that he was capable of fixing the elevator so that she could let the kwami fix it without question. After all, Babs was meant to stop by sometime within the next week. Sticking the key into the door, Marinette freezes. The sounds of splashes echoed throughout the apartment. Which…wasn’t the strangest part.
“Who do you work for?” Jason growls out. Marinette sucks in a deep breath. What the hell was going on? Quietly slipping out of her heels, she slinks across the room. Just as she’s able to peek into the kitchen (where Jason’s voice came from), he speaks again.
“Who’s your contact?” Jason yells as he plunges her favorite coffee mug under the water. Marinette blinks, a small grin creeping onto her face as she watches her boyfriend continue to interrogate the dishes. At least he’s having fun, she thinks, unable to suppress her laugh as Jason screams:
“Don’t lie to me, damnit!” Marinette immediately bursts into giggles as Jason whips around, eyes wide. He grins, setting the mug back down into the sudsy water. He quickly dries his hands off before walking over and pulling her into a deep kiss. As she pulls away for a breath, Marinette smirks.
“Did you enjoy interrogating our dishes?” She asks cheekily. Jason snorts, pulling her back into a kiss. Marinette sighs into it. Life was never boring in Gotham.
Permanent tag list (open): @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess @crazylittlemunchkin
[ID: a social media post by fangirlnado reading “my boyfriend is washing the dishes and I just heard him say “who do you work for? who’s your contact???” while repeatedly pushing a glass under water
at least he’s having fun???”. End ID]
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Of Moldy Bread and Cockroaches
I’ve seen a few fics where Lila reports the bakery to the health department and then plants bad pastries and pests just as the inspector arrives and gets the bakery shut down. I started wondering, what would happen if she got caught doing that? Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!
Lila kept watch as she waited for the health inspector to finally arrive. She had made multiple fake reports about the bakery over the past week to get someone to come out, but no one had come yet. And she had found the perfect spot to make sure she saw the man arrive, too! She was in disguise in the park, on a bench that had a clear view of the bakery entrance, the side entrance that went to the Dupain-Cheng home, and still let her stay hidden. She didn’t have to worry about school at the moment since her stupid class and teacher thought she was visiting the royal family in Spain, and her gullible mother thought school was out for another akuma attack. Both of which gave her an alibi so no one would suspect her when Maribrat and her goody-goody parents were humiliated and lose everything.
She was almost too distracted by her daydream of Marinette crying and homeless to see a very professional looking man step out of a taxi in front of the bakery. He looked at the display with a very critical eye before writing some things down on his tablet. That had to be the health inspector she had been waiting for. Once she saw him entering the front, Lila hot footed it to the side entrance to sneak in.
The door was locked, but she had come prepared with a lockpick set she had gotten a couple years ago. It was really too easy to get inside. In fact, it had been much harder to get the fake evidence she would need to shut the place down. She discovered while going through the dumpster for old pastries that the bakery didn’t throw away much of anything. They sold out most of the time, and the things that didn’t were donated to a local homeless shelter. It took three days of dumpster diving to find anything, which ended up being a single batch of croissants that had burned in the oven. Heck, collecting some cockroaches from a restaurant dumpster down the street had been easier; albet, a lot more disgusting.
Once inside, Lila crept towards the door as she heard Mme. Cheng speaking to the man. He was, in fact, the health inspector. A malicious grin stretched across her face as she put the first moldy croissant on the counter next to the-
“What are you doing here?” A deep voice growled behind her.
Lila froze for a moment, suddenly realizing that she had heard Mme. Cheng speaking with the inspector, but not M. Dupain. She couldn’t let herself get caught! She was facing away from him and he hadn’t seen her face yet, so there was still a chance. Grabbing the first thing she could, she didn’t even look to see what it was, she swung it around at the towering man before trying to run past him.
Despite hearing him curse in pain, Lila didn’t make it two steps before the man grabbed her by the collar of her jacket and lifted her off of the ground. She swung her object at him again, only for the enraged man to grab her wrist and twist, forcing her to drop it with a shout as it clanged to the floor.
The noise drew Sabine and the inspector to the back where they say Tom holding Lila off the ground. Furious and still trying to escape, she tried kicking at him only for him to release her wrist, grab her ankle, and then release her jacket so she was hanging upside down. More items hit the floor as her hat fell off, a couple of croissants and the tupperware container of cockroaches fell from her pockets, and landed next to a bloody knife…
Uh-oh.
Looking up, she saw that his right arm was bleeding from where she had slashed him with the knife, which had her fingerprints all over it. She was going to be in so much trouble unless she could think of a way out of this!
“What happened, Tom?” Sabine asked, worried when she saw her husband’s bleeding arm and was slightly confused by the girl hanging upside-down in their kitchen. It took a moment before she seemed to recognize Lila as the girl that had gotten her daughter expelled a few weeks before.
“I was coming down to meet Inspector LaStare with you and caught this girl putting bad pastries with the others.”
“That’s not it!” Lila yelled in a panic and she wiggled in his grip, resembling a fish on a hook. “I-I-I was- I was getting rid of them! I was taking them off the counter to throw them away!”
“And your container of cockroaches?” Asked Sabine, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring dubiously at the girl.
“Those aren’t mine! I swear! If you would just let me explain-”
“I’ve already heard enough to recognize your voice, young lady,” the inspector snapped as he stepped closer to glare at Lila. “I bet you weren’t paying attention when you called the health department all those times and the recording told you that your call would be monitored and recorded. And when a single business gets over twenty complaints in less than a week, it gets some attention. But when we listen to the recordings and hear the same voice for every message, we figure it’s someone with a vendetta against the establishment. Still, we do our do-diligence and inspect the establishment, but I had no idea how stupid a person would be to attempt to plant fake evidence while I was here, in full view of the security cameras.”
She couldn’t help her surprised gasp as she, while still hanging upside down in the hulking baker’s grip, looked around the kitchen ceiling until her eyes landed on the cameras. One pointed at the side door she had picked open and the other pointed at the counter where she had put the moldy pastry.
Sabine leaned in close, glaring straight into Lila’s upside-down eyes. “Young lady, what is your mother’s phone number?” It was clear that it was more of a demand than a question, but she was still trying to think of a way out of trouble before Sabine grabbed her face and forced Lila to look at her. “You can either tell me her number now, or you can tell the police so she can go pick you up at the station while they tell her all the crimes you’re being charged with.”
Angry at being caught and forced to call her mother, Lila thought of what she could do as she tried to look and sound pitiful as she recited her mother’s number. Not difficult since she was red-faced from hanging upside-down for so long. She might not be able to get out of trouble, but she’d be damned if they didn’t pay for humiliating her.
After Sabine stepped into the front of the bakery to make the call, Lila tearfully looked up at Tom. “Can you please put me down? I’m getting really dizzy.”
She could tell that the man was tempted to drop her on her head, but he was too much of a goody-goody like his daughter and he eased her gently to the floor. As soon as he let go of her ankle, Lila’s uninjured hand snapped out and grabbed the tupperware of cockroaches, ripped off the lid, and flung the insects across the floor.
Tom and Inspector LaStare yelled in surprise and disgust as Lila attempted to escape, this time running for the front of the bakery. She actually made it out of the kitchen, but ended up face to face with Sabine. Without a word, the woman grabbed Lila’s by the arm, flipped her over her shoulder to the floor, and twisted her arm to where she couldn’t move.
“Are you okay, Tom?” Sabine called, her voice eerily calm to Lila’s ears.
“She flung those cockroaches across the kitchen! They’re everywhere!” Tom yelled as he and the inspector scrambled to try and kill or capture the insects.
“I’ve already called her mother and the police, they’ll be here any minute.”
Lila’s struggles doubled when she heard that. “You said you wouldn’t call the police if I gave you my mom’s number!”
Sabine merely twisted the girl’s arm a little more, halting her struggles rather than letting her arm break. “I said no such thing. I only said you could choose whether to talk to your mother here or at the police station. And I promise you, young lady, your mother is going to hear everything you’ve been up to. Including what you’ve been doing Marinette.”
~oOo~
The fallout had been epic after the police and Lila’s mother arrived at the bakery.
Greta Rossi had been in denial at first, not wanting to think that her daughter was capable of such terrible behavior. But it was hard to argue with the video evidence and eyewitness accounts of Lila attempting to plant moldy pastries, vindictively releasing the cockroaches in the kitchen, or attacking Tom Dupain with a knife, which would require stitches.
It got even worse when school let out for lunch and the majority of Lila’s classmates came rushing over when they saw the police and ambulance at the bakery. Mme. Rossi had asked them why they were all out when there was an akuma on the loose. The class asked her why they were back in Paris since she was supposed to be in a meeting with the royal family of Spain. It became apparent after a few more minutes of back and forth that Lila had been lying for the entire time they’d been in France and Greta would have to meet with M. Damocles and Mme. Bustier soon about her daughter’s absences and failure to contact her.
When the police were placing handcuffs on Lila, she started shrieking. “You can’t do this to me! I have diplomatic immunity! Let me go or I’ll get you fired and Italy will invade France for what you’re doing to me!”
“Wrong!” Greta spoke over Lila as she approached her daughter. “I’m a secretary at the embassy, not a diplomat. Only I have immunity, you don’t. I was lucky to even be able to bring you on assignment rather than leave you with your Zio and Zia in Italy. But I see that was a mistake, and now both of us will have to pay for that mistake!”
Lila continued to shriek and curse as she was forced into the back of the police cruiser and taken to the police station.
In the end; Lila was charged with corporate sabotage, breaking and entering, assault with a deadly weapon, and slander by Tom and Sabine. She was also charged for truancy, forgery, bullying, slander, and cyber bullying for what she’d done to Marinette at school. Lila’s mother was forced to pay for an exterminator to take care of the cockroaches, as well as all of the supplies and pastries that had been at the bakery and had to be thrown out due to the infestation that Lila had attempted to cause. But the worst was having to pay restitution for the time the bakery was closed. Turns out, Tom and Sabine’s bakery really was the top bakery in Paris and had the receipts to prove it.
There had been some worry that the temporary shutdown would hurt the bakery’s reputation, but Inspector LaStare, with the help of Nadja Chamack, had seen to it that none of the problems would blow back on the Dupain-Chengs. Inspector LaStare had gone on record stating that it was a rare occasion where an establishment was completely innocent of the accusations brought against it, but this was one of those times. He then showed footage of Lila planting the moldy pastry, assaulting Tom with the knife, and flinging the bugs into the kitchen before attempting to escape. He also stated that he was personally working with the Dupain-Chengs to make sure that the bakery was up to code and open as soon as possible so all of Paris could get back to enjoying their favorite pastries.
Viewers all over Paris were appalled at the actions of the teenage girl,discovering her vendetta was against Marinette since she knew about Lila’s lies. While laughing at her as they watched Tom hold her upside-down by her leg and Sabine flip the fleeing girl over her shoulder via security footage. The footage ended up being shared by people all over YouTube and gained millions of views, showing their support for the Dupain-Chengs and humiliating Lila on a now global level.
There was also sympathy towards Marinette and outrage towards the Francois Dupont administration when Nadja reported how Lila had also been bullying Marinette without receiving any help from the school. This would result in both Damocles and Bustier being suspended from their jobs until they completed training in regards to handling bullies.
With all the publicity against Lila Rossi, Gabriel Agreste had been left in a difficult position since Lila had only recently been named a new spokesmodel for his brand. Adrien, however, offered a solution to save face and help the brand in the future. So, when Nadja was doing a followup on the story the following week, Gabriel did a video interview where he very publicly announced Lila’s termination from the company for her actions and announced that he had offered Marinette an internship and a scholarship to the fashion university of her choice, so long as she was accepted. This caused a slew of universities to scout Marinette themselves, as it wasn’t every day a fashion mogul does a public shout out to a girl in college. And just like that, sales and public opinion of the Agreste brand went up.
Lila watched all of this unfold from her prison cell outside of Paris. She had been tried as an adult and was caught committing perjury during her trial, which prompted the judge to give her the maximum sentence for her crimes. She couldn’t even enjoy the pleasure of being akumatized anymore since she was so far out of the city. All she could do was sit in her cell eating moldy bread with cockroaches as her only friends as she sulked on the fact that she had failed, and the entire world was laughing at her.
Taglist:
@2confused-2doanything @7-sage-7 @aadnrsstar @abrx2002 @awkwardromances @bayball @babylovebug18 @botanicalfoxx @back-cats-and-broken-mirrors @caffeinetheory @cheshire5210 @chocolateherringtacofan @city-of-all-tunas @classycollectorreviewworld @corabeth11 @chocolatechipcookiesandcamembert @darkened-flame @delightfulcookiesrecipespizza @fandom-trapped-03 @ghostmaster @iamblinkmarvelarmy @interobanginyourmom @izang @jesussavedevenme @kazedancer @kitten12113 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @lilypotter2018 @lunataravler @ladylupuscrow @maskedpainter @miraculouslydumb @nerd-nowandforever @ola-is-dead @pandacatxd @plushbookworm @plz-excuse-my-inner-ravenclaw @pheonix-biach @pandora-fucking-box @raiderofthelostbooks @ramos123 @rowanrouge @rowanyx @ren121 @seesea22 @seraphichana @sashakoi @shypeacekitten @tazer6787 @that-girl-sakea @thecrazyfantrollshasmoved @the-smallest-kittenz @tishwinchesterannabethjackson @t1dwarrior-of-earth @ulmban @with-forward-motion @wonderbat91939 @zoiechance
#lila lies#lila karma#lila salt#lila gets exposed#marinette dupain cheng#tom dupain#sabine cheng#badass parents#mlbjustice#ml fic#ml prompt
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This may seem random but I’m honestly curious how the Dupain-Cheng apartment is planned. I’m not knowledgeable about French apartments, all I know is the basic and famous architectures there. So there’s 3 floors (bakery, possibly the parents’ room, living/kitchen/dining/possibly t&b) and an attic with a balcony? I’m asking for reference because I’m confused and everything in the MLB universe is kinda exaggerated when it comes to scale. TY 🙏
Heeeyaaa!! Sorry this has been sitting here for a whiiiile because I knew it would take a lot of time for me to answer, so I've been working on it bits by bits when I could.
But somehow it seems pretty much of an issue on tumblr today so anyway let's finish to break it down now 😂 (beware that I'm not a Parisian architect so it's a lot of deductions from what I know about Parisian apartments in general and personal researches, I could be wrong in my interpretation & analysis of it)
So as you're saying, there are three floors including the attic, plus the ground floor (side-note btw but sorry it may seem confusing but I'm talking using UK English, meaning what Americans call "first floor" is "ground floor" in UK Eng, so the "second floor" for Americans is the "first floor" here, etc. It's easier for me cause that's what we do in my language too; I'll also use both the 'flat' and 'apartment' appellations cause I'm lazy and never pay attention to which one I use rip, language coherence has left the window, my old English teacher wouldn't be proud)
It's pretty common for bakers to live above their bakery in France, though not all do.
By the way, for your information, the Dupain-Cheng Bakery which here is situated in Place des Vosges, was heavily inspired by the Boris Lumé Boulangerie that is located in the 18e arrondissement, in Montmartre:
Also for your information, this is what the bakery they got their inspiration from looks like (I took a trip there with my friend google map and tried to screenshot the whole building - it's bigger than the Dupain Cheng's house since it has more floors and I doubt the bakers live in it all, but I wanted to check how far their inspiration went but it seemed it stopped at the shopfront + the global looking-aspect of the building; I also checked the roof and no balcony there). But yeah the building looks very typical-Parisian block of flats.
It's pretty common in Paris to have one or more flats per floor, so you'd have a common staircase in a building and each floor can be split into two, three flats with doors and doorbells and stuffs.
What always struck me was the staircase of the Dupain Cheng's house to access the different floors: they look exactly like a common and shared staircase between a few residents of a flats block. We see a blue staircase with doors on each floor having doorbells and such. There's even a little stickers above the doorbell to indicate the name of the flat's resident.
My best guess here is that they own what used to be a block of flats with different residents, and that they reorganised it into one same house (the Dupain-Cheng, or the people who owned the bakery before them, or even before, etc. The point is that at some point, these apartments have been converted into one and the same so the owner of the bakery owns it all).
(undercut for the rest cause it's starting to get long):
Know that flats in Paris can have very different size, even in one same block of flats! Some can be 12m^2, some 30m^2, etc.
In Troublemaker, Marinette tells Jagged that the restroom is upstairs. Which considering the arrangement of their house is super vague and not informative at all. We also know that there are two doors with bells on the 1st floor (2nd for Americans). So my guess is that on the first floor, one flat was converted into the parents' room, and the other into the bathroom (for which you'd need to use a different door than the parents' room one, and as I said above, that could be smaller than the room for the parents' bedroom).
(Not the best screenshot but yeah we see 2 doors from what were 2 different flats in this, and that could easily be for the parents's bedroom and for the bathroom, one or the other. It's also possible that the parents have their private bathroom too).
We know they come inside the house from the bakery, though there could be a side-door somewhere because when the bakery is closed it'd make sense to use another entrance, and if they want to go to the living-room & kitchen (which we know is on the 2nd floor - 3rd for you Americans - thanks to episodes like Weredad and such), they will ring that bell (as we saw happening in Stormy Weather, Kung Food, Weredad, etc.).
This 2nd floor is organised as such, according to the concept art I found here:
So you have both the kitchen and the living room in one place which is something that is done more and more nowadays as an "open space" type of thing. Their table to eat - they can't have a big feast there clearly aha. The main entrance door is behind the couch, from the point of view we're in on the 2nd picture. And we can see the stairs leading to Marinette's bedroom, which do look like they've been added afterwards as a reorganisation.
Marinette's room clearly is in the attic arranged into a room, and her balcony probably wasn't one but I think some work happened so it could be converted into one - just the fact that she has to go out through a window indicates that imo. Especially since said window is pretty high up and you can only access it thanks to the fact that they made a mezzanine for Marinette's bed. Plus I've looked it up and you don't find these kind of balconies much in Paris - there are roof balconies but they rarely look like Marinette's.
Again, picture of her room that give a good idea of how it's organised that I found here on which we see the trapdoor, the desk under her mezzanine for her bed and the window giving access to the balcony:
(notice that she also has a sink, which give an access point to water which isn't common in a bedroom - so it probably used to be something else before that required an access for water, like a bathroom for instance).
We don't see the little bed with umbrella from here but it's where we're situated when looking at this picture. I found also good models of her room here if you want to have a look.
As for the balcony, here it is:
So yeah the fact that it's above the attic next to the chimneys + the uneasy access is what's making me wondering if it wasn't added afterwards, and that before the roof was kinda looking like the one next to it separated by the chimneys!
Here I'm done haha, I hope I answered what you were looking for as best as I could! 😊 again I don't pretend to know the exact truth of how it's done but this breakdown seems logical to me - at least I'm pretty sure of an old apartment block converted into one same house!
Have a nice day! ☀︎
#ask#anon#ml French culture#again anon sorry for the weeks of waiting#I just have few energy so I got there slowly but surely#but I hadn't forgotten you#Dupain Cheng family#Dupain Cheng apartment#Dupain Cheng bakery#marinette
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Chats and Bags
Marinette and Adrien have been happily married since they left school and she finally feels ready to tell him the truth. She’s Ladybug and Guardian of the Paris Miraculouses. Unfortunately, maybe the cat should have stayed in the bag.
Marinette slumped back against the closed door with a tired, but satisfied groan. She toed off her heels and wriggled sore, sweaty, stockinged toes.
“Honey!” Marinette called into the apartment. The lights were on, casting her home with warm, soft light, and the tv hummed quietly from the loungeroom. She hung her coat on the hook by the door and stretched, padding into the kitchen. “Adrien, I’m home.”
“Princess!” Adrien hopped down from his perch on one of the kitchen’s bar stools and came bounding towards her, smiling brightly. He scooped her up into a hug and span them both around, giggling like a little girl. “How was work?” Adrien set her down with a kiss on the tip of her nose.
“Good, we finally got all the kinks worked out for the Winter bridal line but that’s not important right now. I’ve got something really important to talk to you about.” Marinette smiled and took Adrien’s hands in hers. “How about we talk over dinner?”
Adrien winced. “Oh. I already ate.” Ah. Marinette spied the emptied takeout containers sitting abandoned on the kitchen bench. One person’s serve. Adrien caught her and flashed a blinding smile. With the sparkle in his eye and Adrien’s perfect smile, Marinette couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed despite the hunger gnawing at her belly. He bounced on his toes. “I can listen while you eat.” Marinette shook her head and smiled, ignoring the tightness of hunger in her belly.
“That’s okay, it can wait.” Marinette took a deep, steadying breath. “Just- just sit down, I need to go get something.” Adrien perched on a barstool, still smiling brightly. Marinette padded away down the hall to her workroom. Tikki floated out of her blazer pocket and smiled encouragingly when she was at eye-level.
“You can do this Marinette!” Tikki chirped. She flitted about, practically dancing in the air. “It’s Adrien! You two have been in love for years, telling him you’re Ladybug will just make your relationship stronger.”
Marinette steeled herself, confidence boosted. “You’re right Tikki. I can do this. I’m Marinette!” Marinette powered into her workroom and burrowed down to the bottom of her scrap fabric chest. She pulled out the wooden box at the bottom and Tikki phased into the lock and the box popped open on well-oiled springs. Inside, cushioned by stained scrap cloth, was the Miracle Box. It had changed as Marinette grew older and wiser in her role as Guardian, turning from the giant spotted egg, into a baby pink briefcase style sewing kit.
Marinette took one more deep breath to steady the shaking of her hands before reaching in, drawing out the case and standing in one movement.
“Okay.” She smiled nervously at Tikki. “Let’s do this.” Tikki gave Marinette one more bright smile before hiding away in Marinette’s blazer again. Tikki’s weight in a hidden inner pocket, nestled close against Marinette’s side, was soothing and familiar enough to spur Marinette on once more.
Marinette left the workroom behind her and with each step down the hall, towards Adrien, her dear, sweet, perfect Adrien, the box in her hands grew lighter. With every step Marinette took she got closer to finally, finally being able to share her burden. Closer to never having to keep another secret between them ever again. Marinette had everything else she’d ever wanted, and the only thing standing between Marinette and Adrien’s future (with three kids and a hamster) was one teensy, tiny, itty bitty little conversation.
“Phew!” Marinette said to break the quiet, too loud, and she winced when Adrien startled.
Adrien looked between Marinette and the case curiously, perfect golden brows furrowed in a mix of obvious confusion and curiosity. “Your sewing kit?” Marinette perched on a stool opposite Adrien, taking her time to straighten the kit on the island between them. She forced herself to meet Adrien’s eyes, suddenly trembling with nerves.
“Not just a sewing kit,” Marinette murmured. Just do it. Like ripping a band-aid off. She opened her blazer and Tikki floated out, giving Adrien a cheery little wave. “It’s the Miracle Box. I’m Ladybug, Adrien.” Tikki giggled and settled on Marinette’s shoulder.
For his part, Adrien seemed unphased. He smiled brightly with that little twinkle in his eye Marinette had always adored.
“Adrien?” Marinette gently pressed. She didn’t want to press him for a response but his silence was making her heart tremble. Adrien’s smile grew to a thousand-Watt beam and he seemed almost to vibrate in his seat.
“I’m so glad you finally told me,” Adrien chirped. He reached out and brought Marinette’s hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and then another to her sparkling wedding ring. “Now we don’t need to keep secrets between us!” He pressed another kiss to her knuckles before grinning dashingly. “Plagg.”
“Plagg?” Marinette whispered. She felt cold and hot all at once. “So you’re-“
“Chat Noir, yes.” Adrien grinned in that smug, ‘cat that got the canary’ way Marinette had come to expect only from her partner. Seeing it on Adrien’s face made her stomach flip and decidedly not in the butterflies and curling toes and shivers down her spine way. “I’m so glad you finally told me M’Lady, it’s been agony not being able to call you My Lady every day.” Marinette’s blood froze.
“What did you say?” She whispered. Ice crept through her veins and closed her throat.
“I’ve wanted to call you My Lady for years, and now I finally can!” Adrien pressed yet another kiss to Marinette’s knuckles before ploughing on. “Well I’ve known for years M’Lady!” Adrien – Chat – Adrichat? practically purred. “Ever since I saw you leaving my room after gifting me my favourite beret.” He sighed dreamily, apparently totally ignorant of the ice in Marinette’s blood slowly creeping from her blood into her expression. “It was Fate, M’Lady, and look at us! Together forever because you finally saw that we were made for each other.”
That phrase was painfully, heartbreakingly familiar. “Adrien, I don’t understand. Are- what are you saying? Did you only marry me…because you knew I was Ladybug?” Marinette’s eyes burned with potential tears. “I thought you loved me.”
Adrien finally seemed to realise things weren’t completely fine and dandy because his expression fell into that kicked puppy look he was so good at. “Of course I love you Bugaboo! You’re the Ladybug to my Chat Noir, the yin to my yang, the creation to my destruction.” Marinette snatched her hand out of Adrien’s grasp and his expression crumpled like tissue paper.
Marinette stood, her stool scraping and Tikki dislodged from her shoulder. “My name is Marinette.” Her breath hitched and she snatched up the Miracle Box, clutching it to her chest. “You know I hate it when you call me Bugaboo. You know that.” She stumbled back when Adrien stood, still smiling that cat grin.
“There’s no need to play coy anymore, Princess,” Adrien purred. “We’ve been married since we were eighteen.” His stare grew hot, eyes darkening and he circled round the island. Marinette shifted towards the doorway. “You and I know each other intimately.” Adrien pressed closer still. “What are you so upset for? We’re happy together, aren’t we?”
“You lied to me!” Marinette shouted. Her outburst seemed to shock Adrien almost as much as it shocked Marinette herself. “Did you really only love me because you knew I was Ladybug? Would you have even considered dating me, marrying me, if you thought I was just plain old Marinette?”
“Well what was I supposed to do? You wouldn’t let me in as Chat, so when I knew for sure who you were behind the mask how was I supposed to resist?” Adrien demanded and if Marinette had any doubts he was Chat Noir they were thoroughly, utterly trashed on the floor. No one else could be so entitled, so, so pig-headed! That was the last straw. Marinette steeled herself.
“I’m going.” Adrien startled. “I…I need some – some time to myself. Don’t call me. I’ll-“ Marinette’s breath hitched and she forced herself to continue past the lump in her throat- “I’ll call you.” Marinette fled, barely remembering her coat and shoes as she bolted out the door.
“M’Lady!” Adrien called. “Princess!” His voiced cracked, clearly nearly in tears. Adrien’s heartbroken shouting cut off with the closing of the elevator doors. Marinette let out a sob, finally breaking in the relative comfort and safety of the elevator.
Tikki fluttered up to pat Marinette’s cheek sympathetically. “Oh Marinette. It’ll all be okay.” Marinette swiped roughly at her eyes, drawing away the tears that were starting to fall. Tikki gave her a soft, sad-eyed look. “You should call your parents, Marinette.”
“But it’s so late and they need to be awake early tomorrow to open the bakery and if I keep them up too late-“
“Marinette,” Tikki interrupted firmly. “Your parents love you, call them.” Marinette gave in, pulling out her phone just as the elevator doors opened. Tikki hid away in Marinette’s blazer. Marinette dialled her parents’ number, slipping her coat on one arm and her shoes back on as she listened to the dial tone.
“What if they don’t pick up?” Marinette worried. She didn’t have to.
“Marinette, honey?” Her maman answered. “Is everything okay, sweetie? You’re calling quite late.” Marinette sniffled.
“Maman can I- can I come stay tonight?” The doorman gave Marinette a nervous look as she passed and she realised she probably looked awful, with her tear-streaked makeup and her coat only half on. The thought only served to make Marinette feel worse and she gave a small wail that echoed in the empty street. A stray cat hissed and skittered out of her path.
“Oh sweetie, sh sh. Of course you’re welcome, Marinette. Do you want me to come pick you up?” Marinette wiped her nose on the back of her hand.
“No, that’s- that’s okay Maman.” Marinette sniffled again, listening to the click of her heels on the sidewalk as she collected herself. “I’ll be there soon,” Marinette assured her maman. She forced a wobbly smile even though Maman wouldn’t be able to see it. “I promise.” Marinette hung up and turned her face to the sky. The moon was washed out by the streetlights, and any light that may have made it past was smothered by city smog. Altogether a fittingly depressing picture.
In all of Marinette’s fussing, her planning, making contingency plans for her contingency plans, never had Marinette considered that Adrien already knew. Knew and never told her and and and- Marinette paused in the middle of the path and shrieked, stomping her feet and barely resisting the temptation to sit down in the grime of the sidewalk and cry like a little kid. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.
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A Cat of Their Own - Chapter 8
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]
Marinette bolted upright in bed, legs tangled in her blanket, eyes stinging.
Her own scream still echoing in her ears.
---
Sabine was up early that morning, as usual. It was relaxing, quiet. Especially after all the craziness of the week. There had been three more akumas in the three days after the ice woman and then two additional ones just yesterday. They had all been easy fights. Marinette had come back after about twenty minutes each time and hadn't looked bothered at all. She just went right back to her homework or her sewing project or texting Alya or whatever else she'd been doing, like nothing had happened.
Truth be told, Sabine was a little jealous of Marinette's complete lack of fear about her situation. Aside from her occasional complaints about their safety or worries about her secret identity being revealed, nothing seemed to bother her at all. She faced death every day, but her own safety didn't seem to matter to her. And she was the only one in the household that wasn't always exhausted by the constant attacks.
Sabine wasn't sure how much longer she was going to be able to live with the knowledge that Marinette kept putting herself into danger.
As she poured a bag of flour into the big mixer, Sabine remembered the first time Marinette had tried to help them in the kitchen when she was just three years old. She'd stood on her tiptoes on a chair, tiny pigtails bobbing, and accidentally dumped an entire bag of salt into the mixture, completely ruining the dough. Marinette had been so worried she'd done something wrong and would get in trouble, but Tom and Sabine had just laughed and started another batch. Mistakes were inevitable when learning something new, and they'd started her with a single loaf to practice on, so she hadn't really ruined much.
It was so different now. One wrong move could be disastrous. Mistakes would be permanent if Ladybug and Cat Noir failed.
A scream from upstairs made Sabine jump and look at Tom. "What was-"
Marinette.
They ran upstairs together, following their daughter's panicked voice, through the hallway, into the living room. The talking became sobs as they pushed open the door to their bedroom.
"See, look," Tikki said. "They're fine. They're right here."
Marinette had her phone in one hand. The blankets were ripped off their bed and pooling around her feet. She almost tripped over them as she ran to hug them, throwing her arms tightly around both of them.
Cat Noir's voice crackled over the phone. "What's going on? Is everything okay? Is everyone all right?"
"Where were you?" Marinette wailed. "You weren't in bed. I thought you were hurt."
"It's after four," Tom said, stroking her head. "We were down in the bakery."
Everyone froze, the last word hanging over all of them. Tom looked ashen. Marinette trembled against them. "Bakery" was a huge hint. Had Cat Noir heard that? Would it even matter if he had?
"See?" Tikki snuggled into Marinette's cheek, soothing her. "I said everything was fine. It was just a nightmare."
Marinette nodded and brought a hand up to cup the kwami, holding the tiny body against her face. Tikki's small hand swept a tear away with a gentle caress.
Tikki and Marinette cared about each other, Sabine realized. And she felt a twinge of gratitude that someone had been close by when she had woken up.
Cat Noir cleared his throat. "Is everything okay now?"
"Yes, sorry." Marinette rubbed tears off her chin and cheeks. "Sorry, I thought that they- This was so stupid." She glanced at the clock. "I thought you'd still be asleep. I didn't see the time, but- You two can go back downstairs if you need to."
"I can stay up and talk, if you want some more company," Cat Noir offered.
Marinette groaned. "I'm so sorry."
"It's fine," he said. "I'm happy I'm the first person you thought of when you needed some help. And I had to get up in a few minutes anyway."
Marinette pulled out of the hug and looked at the phone, her face lighting up in the dim shine of the screen. "Ugh, I'm so embarrassed I woke you up over a nightmare."
"Do you want me to stay up with you?" he asked again. "It's really no problem."
"No, but thanks for the offer. Bye." She hung up and put the phone on Tom's nightstand, carefully plugging it back in, and just as carefully not looking at her parents.
"That must have been some nightmare," Sabine said. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." Marinette ran her fingers through her hair and stared at the blanket at her feet.
Sabine pressed a little harder. "You'll feel better if you talk about it. What happened?"
"No," Marinette repeated. "Because if I told you about it, you'd realize that I'm worried about you." She looked up at Sabine. There were more tears in the corners of her eyes. "And I'm not allowed to do that. Remember?"
She ran out of the room, sniffling.
Sabine's breath caught as a wave of guilt washed over her. Marinette was not as laid-back and carefree as she had been pretending to be. How had Sabine missed that? Her daughter was having nightmares. She'd been so anxious that it was leaking into her sleep, and Sabine didn't know because she hadn't wanted to listen.
She turned to Tikki. "Does she have nightmares like this a lot?" Tikki would know.
"Not usually. Seeing you two so close to the akuma really scared her. She had to pick between defeating it and protecting you."
It had turned out fine. Marinette had made the right choice and done both. But that was apparently little comfort to her.
"Go check on the bread," Sabine told Tom. "The timer's probably going off. I'll talk to her." And try to undo some of the damage I've done, she added to herself. She hadn't wanted to know the full terror of what Marinette went through. She still didn't. But she needed to.
For Marinette.
The staircase up to the attic room seemed longer than normal. Every board squeaked and groaned. She knocked on the trapdoor and waited for an answer. It came, very faint and muffled.
Marinette was wrapped up in her blankets on her bed. Sabine climbed up the ladder and laid down with her, wrapping her arms around the bundle of her daughter, like she used to do when Marinette was little and had been scared by something more trivial.
"I'm so sorry," Sabine said, brushing Marinette's hair off her face. "I was so worried about you that I haven't been thinking about how upsetting this must be for you. You've been carrying a huge burden by yourself for so long."
She scrubbed her eyes dry, trying to show that she wasn't really that bothered, even as she snuggled closer to her mother. "I'm not alone. I have Tikki and Cat Noir."
"You should have been able to share it with me when we found out, and I didn't let you. You can now. I'll listen. I promise."
Marinette peeked up from her hiding spot under Sabine's chin and studied her face for several seconds before asking, "Don't you think I care about my parents? I used to go out there knowing that I could die and you'd never know what really happened to me. I worry that Hawk Moth will find out who I am and he'll kidnap and kill you. I worry that an akuma will come after you and I'll have to watch it hurt you while I can't do anything. That I'll have to choose between you and keeping the city safe." She paused to take a shaky breath.
That was exactly what had happened. For the first time, Sabine wished Tikki would step in and say something, but while the kwami had followed her into the room, she hadn't come up to the bed.
Sabine knew she didn't have the experience to say anything comforting that wouldn't sound hollow. This level of responsibility and anticipated grief was so far beyond her.
And still Marinette continued. "And I don't know what I would do. I was able to save you both this time, but what if next time I have to choose? Really choose?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "What if I make the wrong choice and the city is destroyed? But what if I make the wrong choice and you die? I don't even know which is worse. And I'd have to live with knowing I made that decision and chose the consequences."
Sabine listened in silence as Marinette laid her fears bare for her for the first time. Honoring them now was the least she could do after all the time she had spent selfishly listening to her own, especially when she should have been helping Marinette through hers. She wished she could fight all her battles for her, even the akuma battles, but the weight of who she was wasn't something Sabine could take away.
Marinette pulled back a little bit, so their faces could be level when she said, "But I do know that being Ladybug is a choice that I don't regret making." She said it warily, like she expected Sabine to convince her to lay the burden down.
"I know," she said simply. She'd always known that. "Your job is to help the city, and mine as a parent is to help my daughter. Part of that is keeping you safe, but it also includes making you feel safe. And loved, and supported. And I'm sorry that I haven't been doing a good job of that lately."
Marinette smiled sadly. "I'm sorry too, for hiding this from you for so long, and making you feel like you couldn't trust me."
Sabine pulled her in closer, tucking Marinette's head under her chin, and held her until she heard her breathing even and slow and deepen. Slowly, the tension left her shoulders and her grip around her mother loosened.
It wasn't peace that Sabine felt, but it wasn't quite resignation either. She had always trusted that Ladybug and Cat Noir would win every fight before. She could do that again.
This was more than a child - a young adult - should have to carry, that was certain. But at least she now had another set of shoulders to help her share the burden.
Read chapter nine here.
---
Author’s note: GUESS WHAT. I’ve officially finished writing this story! Chapters nine through eleven are fully completed and ready to upload!
Tag list: @redhoodsdoll @lunadensmidnightprowl @fleurie3am15inspo @ladybug-182 @vixen-uchiha @secretacademia @little-boats-on-a-lake @wonderbat91939 @thecatsart0406 @heinrode @dawn-the-rithmatist @maybe-potato @tbehartoo @marimause-15 @lovej0w0y @nonbeenary-enbee
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