#I realized this thought doesn’t make sense without the context that tim’s hair is usually black blob in my art while I draw every strand for

[nicomoon69]

the difference in effort when in comes to tim and bernard’s hair

[lixuagi]

The Cure for Death - chapter 1

(Since some of you said that they would really like to read my Valdemar/MC FF -I’m so happy!!!- here’s the first chapter. This takes place before the actual Arcana storyline, when the Plague is looming over Vesuvia. MC’s abilities and character are based off of one of my ocs that I will introduce in another post. However I didn’t write about her appearence so everyone can imagine their own character, she’s a girl though and she uses feminine pronouns. I hope this doesn’t ruin the reading for anyone. Enjoy! Here’s some context): MC is Asra’s young and kind apprentice. She has a talent that even her master couldn’t teach: a natural talent for healing. But with great powers come great responsabilities, and she’ll learn that ending up working as a nurse for the infamous Quaestor Valdemar. However, a greater danger lurks in the shadow. Will her light still shine if faced with the dark?

Somewhere, in a world suspended between reality and intangible, someone was watching me. -I must have that power. It’s indispensable. – A voice too deep and greedy to not be evil. -I need it for everything to go as planned. I need it to succeed. I have to have it. I must… have her.- But I couldn’t know. . -Here we go. It’s all right now. Try to move your arm- I smile kindly at the little girl sitting in front of me in my shop. She does what she’s asked, smiling back with an even bigger grin that’s missing a canine. -Wow! You’re such a witch! – she giggles, waving her slender limb a few minutes earlier fractured by a bad fall. -I prefer mage, but thank you.- I sneer, watching the faint emerald light leave my palms. -Yes, as you wish! Mother told me she’ll come by in the morning to pay you properly.- I help her get back on her feet, and off the stool. -Tell her it’s not necessary. It was just a small thing.- I take her hand and walk her out the door. - Really?- Her big eyes open wide, glowing with amazement. I nod softly. -Thank you! You’re the nicest witch in the world!- just the time to give me a hug, and the little girl hurries out of the store. I follow her with my eyes, shouting: -Don’t tire that arm too much! And watch your steps next tim– I stop, realizing that, far away as she is, she probably can’t hear me anymore. I cross my arms, shaking my head and muttering to myself: -These kids…- I sigh, turning to go back in, but I find myself in front of Asra, my master and colleague. -A very good job as usual, MC.- he puts his hand on my shoulder with his usual politeness. I sense that’s not all he wants to tell me, so I wait for him to continue. -But you don’t eat with selflessness…you know times are hard. -I look down, feeling naive. -She was just a child…How could I ask her for compensation?- I know he doesn’t like to scold me, but his eyebrows, white as his thick hair, show that he’s already decided to do it. -You know that her mother is the wife of one of Vesuvia’s richest merchants. He would have paid us handsomely. Yours is a rare if not unique gift. No one has such mastery of healing magic as you. This must be rewarded.- I remain silent, my eyes fixed on the floor. Really, I’m a fool. How could I miss such an opportunity when people are starving outside or worse, consumed by the plague? Noticing that I’m silent, Asra sighs, just tightening his grip to reassure me. -It’s okay, MC. -I don’t want you to be hard on yourself about this. I didn’t mean to hurt you.- I put my hand on his, raising my eyes to meet his gaze of a soft violet, strong contrast to his amber skin. -I know. Maybe it’s just… - I swallow, looking for the best words. -I don’t want to be somebody who makes money off other people’s suffering.- he seems to get indignant and gets ready to argue about it, but I interrupt him before that happens. -I just want to help the cause. I just…want to save all those lives.- these words seem to calm him,and his expression comes back relaxed and apprehensive. -You’re not an Arcana. You’re a human being and you can’t save everyone. You have to accept that. You can’t keep accusing yourself forever after– I barely raise a hand to put a stop to his words. I don’t want to remember, but it’s inevitable. -If I had tried harder, if I had resisted…that man’s children would still have a father. He would have loved and protected them… - I cover my face with my hands, while the images of that day manifest before me like apparitions. The man had entered leaving a copious trail of blood behind him. He could hardly speak, given the numerous stabs he had received, from what I could understand, thanks to a robber. Every wound, extremely deep, that I could barely heal, deprived me of so much energy. When I got to what would later be his fatal cut, on the carotid artery, Asra had to tear me from the patient or I would end up going beyond my abilities and dying with him. He took it upon himself to tell the family of the deceased. I didn’t eat for a week after it happened. I felt like a murderer. The guilt gripped me, and was a painful grip. One day the doorbell rang, and I went to open the door. Even though Asra kept me from receiving any more customers while I was so exhausted, now he couldn’t do it because he went shoppingshopping for necessities. On the threshold were two children, brother and sister, the eldest being no older than eleven. -Daddy’s dead, and it’s your fault! -The hate with which the infant stared at me was unspeakable, while just behind him his little sister sobbed incessantly. I stammered something, pale in the face. Days later I saw them again in a wagon. He took the victims of the Red Plague to the Lazaret.

-Sometimes, when the door opens and the bells jingle, I think it’s their ghosts.-I whisper, looking down and staring into nothingness. A tear runs down my cheek, but I don’t realize it until Asra dries it with his thumb, bringing me back to reality. He doesn’t know what to say. Seeing me like that always breaks his heart. He

clutches me tightly, resting his chin on my head. I can feel his jaw tighten. He holds me like this for a few minutes, like he’s afraid I might disappear at any moment. After a long deliberation, he finds the strength to do what’s right. -What would make you happy? -My heart melts to feel he’s putting aside his fears for my well-being. -I want to go out there. I don’t care what happens next. I need to redeem myself, or I won’t be able to go on. -A doubt grips him though, forcing him to give it voice: -Let’s consider the possibility of a repeat of…that unfortunate event. How would you handle it? - I think carefully about the answer. -I’ll have to make it up to it again. For every victim there’ll be three times as many healed.- I clench my fists and I get out of the hug. Even the young man notes that my eyes are full of determination. -if not more. Every night I’ll go to bed exhausted and if not I’ll have to continue even when the moon is shining. It’s my nature, Asra. I was born for this.- I run to the back room, where we both live. His lips open in an expression of utter amazement. Ever since I was a child he has taken me under his wing, finding me in the middle of the road healing pets for pennies. By now he knows me like the back of his hand, or so he thought. He had never seen such passion in a girl who was usually shy and caring. I’ve grown up. At this moment, Asra Alnazar ceases to think he educated me personally. He took care of me, like a gardener watering his flower, just waiting for me to bloom on my own. And at this point there’s nothing he can do. He realizes that if I wanted to, he would have to let me go.

When I return, I have the bag over my shoulder, loaded with everything that could be useful to me during my journey, including, of course, my deck of tarot cards. Although my specialty is healing magic, over the years I have been taught to master the white one discreetly as well. Black magic is still an unexplored

territory, and frankly I hope I never have to experience it. It was always Asra who left me alone in the shop

during his expeditions in who knows which corner of the real world or magical realms. Now it’s my turn.

Let’s call it a declaration of independence.

-Where will you go?- he asks me, eyes veiled with sadness as he suppresses a “will you come back?” -Where’s the need for me to be.- I smile at him, but it’s not enough to calm him down. I look at his worried

face. -This isn’t a good-bye, Asra.- - Promise me.- He’s holding out a hand while also holding something

back. I hand him mine, and he drops a necklace in my palm with an emerald pendant amulet. -What is it?- I

don’t swear. Anything could happen out there. I may never get back to him. -When you need me, if you’ll

ever do, you can contact me with this. I’ll always be with you, MC.- He’s coming up to me, putting his arms

around my neck. I blush at the proximity of our faces. As soon as I hear the click of the necklace closing, I

pull away. Many times I have wondered if in all these years of living together Asra had ever wanted me to

be something more than an apprentice or a friend. But even more I wondered if I wished that too. These

moments with him seem to give me the illusion that it wouldn’t hurt to be with him for the rest of my life.

After all, he has never been anything but kind to me, and a thousand other good things. However, although

these reflections confuse me quite a bit, a part of me wants our relationship to remain pure, genuine. It’s

too precious, it goes beyond physical attraction. It’s so deep that it’;s platonic. If I ever had to make a choice,

I’d die for him. And I’m sure he’d do the same for me. -I have to go- I whisper to him with my head down

without having the courage to look at him again. I put my hand on the door knob and turn it, opening the

door wide. -MC.-I turn to him, and it hurts. For a moment I have the impression that he wants to reveal

his deepest confessions and his innermost thoughts to me. Then he bites his lip like he’s taking it all back. -

You haven’t promised yet.- I smile at him. -I’ll come back,I promise you that.- I didn’t think the first time I

left Asra would be the first time I could lie to him. But with those words,I disappear from his sight,not

knowing for how long.

.

I look around. The streets of Vesuvia have never been so deserted. A boiling wind lifts the sand from the clay soil, creating a vermilion mist. I decide to pass through the market, usually the place that is swarming with people, especially in the late afternoon. Few stalls have the courage to continue selling, the merchants constantly exposed to the incurable and deadly disease. In the distance I can see the stall of Selasi, the baker from whom Asra and I used to go every morning to have breakfast, in more pleasant times. The closer I get, the more I notice the scarcity of the goods: even for him the raw materials are now unobtainable. When he notices me, the man makes his gaze lighten towards my figure, then looks away, as if terrified. To say the least, a peculiar behavior given his joyful character. I remember how his face lit up at the sight of every customer, who he treated daily with all the warmth that a friend would give. Now I stand a few meters away from him when I feel that something is wrong. A familiar aura surrounds him: that of someone who is suffering. My slow pace becomes fast as I approach him: -Selasi!- he jumps. His face looks very emaciated. It’s not just the famine. -Ah, Miss MC… -What can I offer you today?- His voice is a tired, almost inaudible rale. Even stranger, since he is used to shouting to be heard by crowds. His gaze is firmly planted on the ground. -Selasi… you are…- -Don’t come any closer!- I back away, surprised by that shout. Then he continues, mortified: -Please…I don’t want you to…- The question is enough to convince him to look me in the eye. His are injected with blood, his sclera is totally vermilion, his skin is pale and cracked. I have never seen a plague patient so closely, but I can recognize them thanks to Asra’s stories and the medical documents he had given me. He had never allowed me to treat one in the shop, he was afraid that I would be drained of any strength or worse, infected. I wonder if I’d be able to do anything. -Why didn’t you come to me? You’re a friend.- I’m trying to get closer, but he’s reluctant. -I can’t risk causing anyone’s death, I just can’t. I try to keep my distance, but… - one cough interrupts him. He tries to turn around, but when he does, blood splashes on a loaf of bread. The disease takes its course in three days. The first you have a harmless fever, the third you’re at the Lazaret, waiting for your body to be burned among hundreds more. -Please, let me help you. I’ve treated sick people before, certainly not this kind of pathology, but I’ve never been infected. Please, Selasi.- the choice is not difficult for him, after all what does he have to lose? If he doesn’t try, he’ll die soon anyway. -I don’t have much on me, but…- -No, I don’t want anything. I just don’t want you to suffer anymore. Your offer almost hurts me. I’m not that kind of person, not anymore.- Somehow I’ll find other ways to make a living. I extend my hands to his face, and this time he won’t retract. My palms glow bright green. The brighter it is, the greater the effort. Now it looks so bright that I feel like I’ll be blinded at any moment. However, I’ve been practicing a lot since the accident. I am able to endure this, and even more so as I close my eyes to concentrate. My energy penetrates under his skin, looking for the focus of the discomfort. I can feel it flowing, it is liquid and it expands throughout his body, everywhere. It’s… the blood. The problem is now all over the circulatory system, and it’s invading the other organs with disarming speed. I have to stop it. I channel my magic into every single artery, vein and capillary. Nothing must be left uncovered. My being, meanwhile, is now in a total trance. I am no longer aware of the outside world. All I see is my light branching out into thousands of wires and tunnels. When I have invaded every zone, I try to keep my breathing regular, ignoring the dizziness that begins to manifest itself, and I begin purification. I hope that Selasi is feeling instant relief, it would mean that it is working. My stomach is writhing on itself, nauseated, and my legs are made of butter. I can do this. The darkness is about to disintegrate, I can feel it. My temples are throbbing. The heavy air comes in and out of my lungs quickly. I slowly close my fists, calling the light back to me. -Purify and return.- I whisper the formula needed to end the spell. I feel the energies come back to my hands, even if they have now decimated, they have finished their task. I hope it has been successful as I squint my eyelids. My feet touch the ground again. Apparently I was really floating. -Selasi…? -I hardly whisper. I can’t find any answers. For a moment I’m afraid I lost him. My vision is blurred and distorted, I can’t distinguish shapes and sounds come to me muffled. Maybe he’s talking to me, but I can’t hear him anymore. The darkness overwhelms me as I abandon myself to its warmth.

Immersed in the darkness, I can only hear the echo of my thoughts. It’s ridiculous. It would be pathetic if the first time I left Asra, I died. Maybe that’s exactly what happened to me, though. Maybe there was a reason I was never allowed to treat Red Plague patients. Maybe it would have been fatal. At least I saved a life. At least I redeemed myself. I remain immersed in that dense shadow for what appears to be an infinite amount of time. Then I see a pristine light, the famous light at the end of the tunnel. Where is it taking me? When I try to walk towards it I find myself unable to move. But it’s getting bigger, it is the one who is getting closer. My ears ring, it’s deafening. Where am I? When I come out of the luminous aura, I begin to struggle to distinguish a figure. They’re dressed in white, they have a gown, a strange headgear of the same colour in the shape of horns, the skin… green. My imagination is playing tricks on me. They wear a ruby coloured brooch on their chest, it’s shaped like a beetle, and their eyes are bloodshot, with a feline pupil. I’ve never seen this individual. The ringing in my ears fades to make room for sound. The figure is talking. -Oh, you’re waking up, I see.- -Mm…am I dead? Are you an angel?- A giggle answers me. -Oh, no, to be precise, I’m quite the opposite.-

.

Notes: thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it please leave a like/reblog/comment with your opinion and/or how would you like the story to go on! Ik that we meet dr vivisexy just at the end but this is just the beginning, things will change :3 Please keep in mind that english is not my native language so padron me if I made any mistakes!

[insanitysscribblings]

What Almost Was (BTU Scraps)

I just remembered that a few of you were really interested in what almost happened in BTU, so in honor of the 2nd BTUniversary, here are the scraps! They’re fragmented, some of it is stuff that actually made its way into the actual chapters in pieces, and a lot of them are incomplete thoughts that I realized wouldn’t work halfway through and ended up cutting on the spot, but I think they’re mostly decipherable. Each chapter they came from is labeled, so you have some context to work with.

I don’t know how interested you guys will actually be in these, but I hope you get some enjoyment out of forty-eight pages (jfc) of what almost was~

Happy BTUniversary!

~Reyna

From Chapter Three

But the stray was suddenly nowhere to be found. Again.

Ladybug spun around, her wide eyes searching the darkest corners for him…but she didn’t see him. Where the hell had he run off to this time?!

There was a sudden choking sound behind her, and Ladybug whipped around.

Chat Noir had somehow reached the akuma in record time. He held Patchwork up in the air by the throat, her weapon in his free grip. His hand flexed, claws biting into her skin, and Patchwork gave another choked cry.

From Chapter 5

“Sorry. Honest mistake,” he said, and Marinette “hmph”ed at him. He cleared his throat, brushing his lips with the back of his hand, but he couldn’t fool Marinette—glee was dancing through his eyes. Jerk.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” she invited, sweeping into a mock bow as she waved him past her. The amusement in his eyes grew.

“You don’t seem very happy to see me,” he noted, and Marinette’s expression soured further. “You’re still angry about Monday, aren’t you?”

From Chapter Nine

“I just didn’t expect to see him here…”

What an odd thing to say.

“It’s not that strange to see Nino here,” she contradicted him with a curious look, “me and Alya come here for ice cream every Friday, and he usually tags along when he can. Really, you’re as likely to bump into him here as you are anywhere else—”

“I meant that I wasn’t expecting to see him so suddenly,” Adrien corrected, a corner of his mouth twitching for some reason. “I was just kind of minding my own business, and then I suddenly spotted him…

***

“Move, Chat Noir,” Ladybug commanded, swinging her yo-yo as she stared him down, her jaw locking at the casual stance he held in front of her. “Don’t make me go through you.”

“Is that a challenge?” Chat Noir drawled, casually drawing his baton and extending it, daring to give her a cheeky wink to go along with his Cheshire grin. “All right, then: come and get me, My Lady.”

***

A flash of blue caught her gaze. Marinette blinked, turning and spotting an all too familiar figure at the corner: Adrien Agreste stood looking across the street, tucking an eggshell blue scarf into the front of his black trench coat. His gaze was tight, focused on whatever he was staring at…which enabled Marinette to creep up on him casually, standing on tip toes to reach his ear.

“Boo,” she breathed.

Adrien yelped, jumping way higher into the air than Marinette thought possible for him, whirling around and baring his teeth at her, a guttural snarl ripping from his throat—

He saw that it was just Marinette, and the snarling stopped, with him coughing to clear his throat. Marinette raised her eyebrows at him, highly amused.

“Did you just growl at me?”

Adrien frowned, but Marinette did not miss the flush that heated his cheeks.

“You surprised me,” he accused her, as if it were all her fault that he snarled like some hungry beast. Marinette tried not to grin…and failed immediately.

“Still doesn’t mean you should go growling at people,” she teased him, leaning over to peer at his embarrassed, averted gaze. “You’re not gonna turn into a werewolf, are you?”

Adrien gave her a dry look.

“Wrong animal,” he said, and before Marinette could question which animal he transformed into at the full moon, he derailed her. “I didn’t see you this morning. I thought you were sick or something.”

Marinette blinked. Oh…he wasn’t worried about her, was he…?

“I’m fine,” she told him with a shrug of her shoulders, scowling a moment later. “I just hate being cold, so morning jogs probably aren’t gonna be a thing for a while…not outside, at least.”

“Oh.” Adrien went silent about that, his gaze far away as he frowned in concentration. Marinette decided to take advantage of his preoccupation.

“What were you staring at just now, before I interrupted?”

Adrien abruptly straightened, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Nothing,” he said, the response too quick. Raising her eyebrows, Marinette turned her gaze across the street…where Francoise’s gelato shop was in plain view. Even from here, she could see Nino and Alya sitting at the table by the window, laughing and having a good time.

‘Ohhh.’

“You want to see Nino?” Marinette guessed, turning her eyes towards Adrien, who frowned, but sighed in defeat. No point in denying it when Marinette had already guessed right, after all.

“…I was thinking about it,” he admitted with a grumble. His hand moved from the back of his neck to his head, ruffling the blonde hair there. “Suddenly seeing him across the street just took me by surprise, is all…”

Ah. Marinette supposed that made sense: she didn’t appreciate it either when certain people suddenly appeared, as if just thinking about them summoned them to her location—

‘Speaking of,’ Marinette’s mind grumbled as another tall, blonde and familiar figure appeared across the street. Felix took no notice of her this time, merely walking briskly down the sidewalk parallel to them, hands buried in the dark blue pea coat he was wearing. Marinette scowled at his back as he walked away, as if her gaze would be enough to sear him, but then looked away when she realized she must look very strange to Adrien.

Adrien, however, wasn’t looking at her at all—his gaze was trained on the back of Felix as well, watching him go. Marinette’s eyes flickered in between him and Adrien, her curiosity piqued—

Abruptly, Adrien’s gaze was upon her once again.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, raising a golden eyebrow. “Thought you didn’t like the cold.”

“I’m meeting my friends for ice cream,” Marinette informed him, waving a hand across the street at Francoise’s gelato shop. “It’s a Friday tradition for me and Alya, and Nino tags along when he can. Apparently he has something big to tell us, so I’d better get going…” She tilted her head, inspecting Adrien. “…Why don’t you come?”

The unexpected invitation appeared to startle Adrien; he blinked, eyebrows shooting up into his hairline.

“Oh…I’m okay,” he said, his shoulders hunching as he glanced away from her. “You go ahead. Don’t let me keep you.”

“You just said that you wanted to see Nino,” Marinette pointed out, giving him a dry look.

“You said that,” Adrien corrected her stubbornly, though he flushed once again. “And just because I think it might be nice to…to check in, or whatever, doesn’t mean that I can.” Adrien slumped so that his mouth was buried in his scarf, staring at the ground with a guilty look creasing his brow. “He won’t want to see me.”

“Such bad posture for a model,” Marinette said idly, and Adrien immediately straightened his spine. She frowned at the swift reaction, as if Adrien was afraid of being reprimanded because of something so small. Did years of being a supermodel just train him to react that way, to shape himself into whatever the photographer wanted at a moment’s notice?

Shaking her head, Marinette returned her attention to the conversation at hand.

“And you never know until you try, right?”

From Chapter Twelve

“Did we miss breakfast?”

“No, you’re just in time. Come in. Adrien, honey, are you sure you’re getting enough to eat? I swear you look thinner every time I see you, and Marinette looked like she was crushing you there on the sidewalk—”

“Mama!” Marinette protested, unappreciative of this description. She was more muscular than the average girl, sure, but that didn’t mean she was that heavy…

“Well look at him, Marinette, he’s skin and bones!” Sabine tutted, leading them through the bakery and into the house, where the table was already set for breakfast. Adrien called a quick greeting to Tom as they passed, and Marinette ducked back to kiss her father good morning before returning to the kitchen to find that Sabine was loading a plate up for Adrien. “…such a shame for you to be so thin, you’re only twenty-two!”

“He’s a model, Mama,” Marinette reminded her mother, pulling the nearest platter towards her and piling food onto her plate indiscriminately.

***

“Nino?!” She blurted out without meaning to, gaping at the Miraculous user beside her in shock. Shell jumped, shushing her violently, his golden eyes darting about in a wild fashion.

“Dude, shhhhhh!! Don’t go shouting my name for all of Paris to h—wait a minute, you know my name?!”

From Chapter Sixteen

telling him to wait on the threshold for one second as she disappeared into her apartment. When she returned, it was with an armful of towels, two of which she spread out on the floor before she invited him in.

“Step on the towels,” she instructed him, closing the door behind him, and Adrien abruptly understood that she didn’t want him dripping everywhere in her apartment. Cringing in apology—he was such a pest, wasn’t he?—he did as he was told, letting Marinette lead him to a new room he hadn’t seen before: the laundry room. Here, Marinette made him sit on the washing machine as she dumped the armful of towels onto the dryer before

***

“Hey!” She protested, squirming in his grasp as Adrien walked back out into the hall. “Put me down!”

“All right,” he allowed, and he set her back down on the floor. Marinette stared up at him, her brows furrowing suspiciously.

“That was too easy,” she accused him, her hands going to her hips as she scowled at him. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing,” Adrien said with a shrug. He watched her suspicion turn into outrage as he said, “You’re just in time-out.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I’m busy cleaning in here, so you can’t come in. You’re in time-out.”

“This is my apartment, Agreste!” Marinette insisted, stomping her foot, much to Adrien’s amusement. “You have no authority to put me in time-out!”

Adrien considered her for a moment before he shrugged.

“True

***

His lack of response must have been discouraging; a breathless second later, Marinette pulled back, staring up at him, though she couldn’t possibly see him. The way her teeth moved to worry her lip again, the self-doubt flitting through her gaze, finally caused Adrien to react. He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers now, but only for a second. After all, half of him was convinced that it was a mistake, that she hadn’t meant to kiss him. She had probably only reacted that way because he had been so close, and it just seemed natural or something…after all, friends could kiss each other, couldn’t they? Maybe she was just trying to reassure him or something? She hadn’t wanted to kiss him kiss him…right?

Plagued by his own insecurities, Adrien drew back…but Marinette followed.

From Chapter Seventeen

‘You shouldn’t be wanting to kiss him!’ Marinette scolded herself, trying valiantly to get a grip. ‘This was a stupid idea! You’re clearly not thinking straight! Get away from him, right now!’

Marinette didn’t move.

***

Marinette waited for the punch line.

He only looked at her expectantly.

She stared at him.

“You did not buy me a new dryer.” When Adrien only smiled, Marinette gasped in outrage. “Adrien!!!”

“What? I happened to stop by an appliance store while I was out.” He shrugged casually, as if it were no big deal.

From Chapter Eighteen

He opened a mouth and said words, but they were incomprehensible to Shell.

“Oh, he’s British,” Shell grumbled, recognizing the accent and eyeing the little snot with distaste. “You know English, right, LB?”

Ladybug deadpanned him a look.

“You should’ve taken it in lycee like Alya said.”

Shell gave a shrug.

“I don’t care for the language, personally. Anyway, I know all the important English words…but I doubt he’ll appreciate them, being just a kid…”

Ladybug sighed and spoke to the self-proclaimed ‘king’ on her own, translating after a moment.

“He’s waiting for the terms of our surrender.”

From Chapter Twenty-One

“Marinette…do you remember what Chat Noir said? About…how he lost the Butterfly Miraculous?”

Marinette closed her eyes for a moment, reminding herself to breathe.

“Tikki, please. I can’t think about Chat Noir right now.”

“Okay…then how about what Wayzz said, when Master Fu was attacked?”

“Tikki, I’m five seconds away from my head exploding and my brains going everywhere,” Marinette said wearily, turning to Tikki in exasperation. “If you have a point, make it. Please.”

“I’m just concerned that…tonight’s incident…is somehow related to those other two incidents,” Tikki answered after a thoughtful moment. Marinette stared at her kwami, taking in her words slowly. Though her mind was already at capacity, reluctantly, it whirred to life once again, processing the new connection:

Chat had said that some thing had stolen the Butterfly Miraculous from him, indistinguishable, and too quick for him to catch.

Wayzz had said that some dark, indistinct figure had attacked Master Fu and blinded him, and that he never got a good look at what it was.

And now, tonight, Marinette had dealt with some creature of darkness that had robbed her of her free will, freezing her in place, unable to do anything to defend herself until it looked away, distracted by Chat’s knock, enabling Marinette to save herself by causing it to flee from the light—

Marinette went cold as the pieces fell into place, and her mind grinded to a halt at the chilling realization:

“…The Butterfly did this. They know. They know who I am.”

Tikki’s eyes were wide and concerned as she gazed at Marinette.

“I don’t want to believe that…but…it’s possible. It doesn’t seem like this attack is unrelated.”

Though Marinette’s heart had already suffered through so much abuse tonight, once again, it began to throb, relentless.

They knew.

The Butterfly knew she was Ladybug, and had targeted her when she was most vulnerable.

She was no longer safe…and everyone around her was now in danger.

From Chapter Twenty-Two

“Patrol,” Chat was polite enough to fill her in, and Ladybug nodded, working to regain control of her composure.

“Right…okay, so, as long as everything’s quiet, we’ll meet up again for patrol on Friday night. Sound good?”

“Ah,” Chat spoke up, and Ladybug’s gaze snapped to him as he rubbed the back of his head, looking oddly sheepish. “I, uh, may not be able to make patrol on Friday.”

“Why not?” Shell demanded to know, his golden eyes narrowing. Ladybug shot him a look that warned him to be nice before Chat gave his explanation.

“I have a friend staying with me this week, which kind of makes it hard to slip away. I’ll try, of course, but, uh, if I can’t make it, you’ll know why.”

“A friend?” Ladybug questioned without meaning to. She bit her lip when the words escaped, cursing herself again. It was none of her business what Chat did in his free time, so she had no excuse to be prying now. But still, a small part of her could not help but wonder if this ‘friend’ was the person Chat admitted to ‘seeing’ when Marinette had stupidly made a pass at him for no good reason—

“Yeah. So, sorry if I become scarce—she’d notice if I suddenly disappeared all the time without warning,” Chat explained with a cringe.

‘She’.

So it was a woman…

As Ladybug grappled with the sudden python twisting her insides around, she heard Shell say,

“Dude, ditching us for a girl? Not cool.”

Chat opened his mouth, looking awkward, but then his beeping Miraculous interrupted, and he merely gave a shrug instead.

“Sorry. I’ll do my best to make it Friday.”

With a half wave, Chat Noir bounded away, and Ladybug let out a huff, fiddling with her yo-yo in agitation. Shell gave her a strange look.

“…You okay, LB?”

“Fine,” she snapped, contradicting the word immediately with her tone. Shell raised his hands in a peace-making gesture, but Ladybug ignored him, hooking her yo-yo to a nearby streetlight to swing down from the rooftop they were currently occupying. “Let’s go.”

Once they were untransformed, Nino spoke up again.

“Don’t you have a meeting with Adrien today?”

Marinette scowled.

“I was supposed to…but he cancelled.”

From Chapter Twenty-Three

Adrien had suffered through some pretty deafening silences in his time, most of them in his late father’s presence.

This kind of silence, however, was just as stifling as it was deafening.

‘Stay calm,’ he reminded himself, though his eyes darted between the two women in his house in rapid succession, as if expecting them to lunge and tear each other apart. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong…just stay calm…’

Clearing his throat, Adrien decided to tackle the smaller problem first.

“The extra towels are in the wardrobe in the guest room, Eri,” he called up to the naked woman at the top of the stairs, giving her a slight smile.

From Chapter Twenty-Five

He looked so old, Nino couldn’t help but note, frowning as he and Marinette sat across from the old master. He was stroking his white beard with hands that appeared more gnarled than usual, and he moved so slowly now, as if his body weighed little more than lead now. It hurt Nino to watch him, made him feel more than a little guilty for inheriting Master Fu’s Turtle Miraculous. But though his age was now obvious, Master Fu still regarded him with nothing but kindness, and Nino wasn’t sure whether that was better…or worse.

From Chapter Twenty-Six

“…drien…Adrien! HEY, ADRIEN!”

Something whizzed into Adrien’s head, knocking him out of his reverie.

“Ow!” He protested, rubbing the side of his head and wincing. He turned, glaring at Plagg, who matched his expression, cat eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Whaddya mean, ‘what’?!” Protested the kwami, bearing his miniscule, yet very sharp teeth. “It’s ‘after the date’, Adrien! I kept up my end of the bargain—I behaved the whole time! So where’s my cheese?!”

Oh, right. Adrien had completely forgotten about that, since his mind was otherwise occupied…

“Fine, fine,” he huffed, getting off the couch and heading into the kitchen, Plagg in hot pursuit. Adrien dug into his camembert reserve and set Plagg’s prize on the countertop, watching as the kwami immediately flung the tops off the boxes and went to town, eating at a speed that would make anyone sick. Adrien wondered how such a little body could put away so much cheese…but then he remembered that Plagg was a literal god, capable of anything and everything he put his mind to…

“Plagg,” Adrien addressed the kwami once he was halfway through his prize for good behavior, “tell me about Ladybug’s kwami.”

Plagg paused, his mouth wide open as he threatened to shove yet another piece of camembert into his face. Adrien’s question seemed to take him by surprise, however; he lowered the piece of cheese, gaze suddenly guarded as he peered up at Adrien.

“What do you want to know about Tikki for?”

So her name was Tikki…

Adrien had never heard Marinette utter that name…but that didn’t prove anything. Anyone with a kwami naturally had to be stealthy with them…

“You never talk about her,” Adrien said, leaning against the opposite corner as he frowned at his kwami. “Master Fu said you’re supposed to be connected, though…something about two halves of the same whole?”

Plagg huffed, looking away from Adrien.

“So?”

“So…if you’re connected to her…that probably means that you can…feel her in some way, right? Like, maybe you’re able to sense when she’s nearby…?”

Plagg’s gaze cut to Adrien, and then away again.

“That might be a thing that I can do…”

Adrien scowled. Why was he suddenly being so difficult? This was crucial information here!

“So?” He pressed when Plagg took to nibbling at his piece of camembert instead of continuing. “Can you sense her or not?”

“Why are you suddenly so interested in whether or not I know where Tikki is?” Plagg suddenly shot at him, frowning as his cat’s eyes gleamed in the semi-darkness of the kitchen, the moonlight filtering in from a nearby window illuminating his dark fur. “You never cared enough to ask before.”

“That’s because you never mention it,” Adrien shot back, leaning forward, bracing his hands on the countertop as he scowled down at his difficult kwami. “Are you hiding something from me? Something about Tikki’s location?”

Plagg looked away, nibbling on his cheese again.

“And why on earth would I do a thing like that?” He drawled lazily, though Adrien noticed that the kwami still avoided his gaze. “What fun would that be?”

Fun…?

Adrien swiped Plagg off the counter, keeping the kwami clutched in his fist. Plagg leveled him an unimpressed look, even as Adrien brought him up to look him right in the eyes.

“…Is that what this is?” He questioned lowly, watching Plagg’s eyes intently. “Is this a game to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Plagg replied stubbornly, and Adrien grit his teeth, willing himself not to lose his temper. If he let Plagg get to him, he would never get his answers.

“You know, don’t you?” Adrien pressed. “You know where Tikki is, and as a result, you know Ladybug’s real identity!”

“Ladybug, Ladybug, Ladybug,” Plagg drawled, wriggling out of Adrien’s grasp after a well-placed bite to his forefinger. He hung in the air, still looking bored as Adrien cradled his injured finger, glaring up at the stubborn kwami. “I thought we were done with this nonsense, Adrien. Don’t you have a girlfriend already?”

“That’s why this is important!” Adrien burst out, unable to contain his irritation with Plagg’s difficult nature any longer. “If Marinette is Ladybug—”

“Oh, and wouldn’t that be so convenient for you?” Plagg drawled, suddenly grinning. “Both the women you desire, all wrapped up in one pretty little package. You’d definitely luck out then, hmm?”

Adrien paused, staring at Plagg.

Come to think of it…it would be convenient. To have his girlfriend and his Lady be the same person? Honestly, if Adrien thought about it, nothing would make him happier if that were the case.

But the way Plagg phrased it…

“…Are you saying they aren’t the same person?”

Plagg’s stare gave nothing away.

“What if they are?” He asked, folding his tiny arms as he stared down at Adrien. “What will you do?”

Well…if Marinette and Ladybug were the same person…then there was no problem, right?

Except…

Ladybug had rejected him. Granted, that was months ago, and her feelings could have changed…but if it had been Marinette all along, why would she reject him as Ladybug, only to embrace him as Marinette just a couple weeks later? Did she, perhaps, want to kill his idolization of Ladybug before opening herself up to him?

And if that were so…didn’t that mean that she knew that he was Chat Noir?

But no, that didn’t make any sense—his visits to Marinette as Chat Noir did nothing to indicate that she knew who he actually was. In fact, she had hit on Chat Noir before learning that he was unavailable, something that genuinely seemed to surprise her, so didn’t that prove that she didn’t know that it was really Adrien underneath the mask?

So if Marinette was Ladybug, and she didn’t know he was Chat Noir…if she found out…what would happen?

If Marinette found out that it was Adrien who had plotted to kill akumatized victims rather than heal them, that it was Adrien who had turned his back on her all those months ago…

If Marinette found out that her boyfriend and (maybe) partner were one in the same…what would she do?

Plagg seemed to take in Adrien’s silence, giving a little huff.

“Listen, kid: you’re not the first Chat Noir to wonder over a Ladybug. And though I know it’s no use, since all of you just end up doing what you want anyway, I’ll tell you like I told them: don’t ask the questions if you’re not ready for the answers.” Plagg grew uncharacteristically serious. “Especially if those answers are gonna make you look like that.”

Dimly, Adrien wondered if he should be offended by that tone…but he couldn’t muster up the energy. Plagg sunk down, tugging on a strand of Adrien’s hair—one of his many ways of displaying affection.

“Forget about Ladybug, Adrien. There’s nothing wrong about just enjoying what you have. And you’re happy with what you have…aren’t you?”

Adrien thought of Marinette’s smile, the sound of her laugh, the way she managed to steal his breath the minute her gaze met his. He thought of her kindness, not to be mistaken for weakness; her fire that sprang forth whenever injustice appeared.

***

Emerald Shell watched as Ladybug turned around and around, spinning on her heel the moment she reached one end of the beam she was pacing only to repeat her steps in the opposite direction, the movements automatic, for her mind was clearly anywhere but here.

Shell frowned. He didn’t get it—she said nothing was up, but with the way she was acting…

“LB?”

“Hmm?” Ladybug hummed, turning to look up to where he was, perched on the beam just above her. She took in his frown, her brow furrowing to match. “What’s the matter?”

“That’s my question,” he said, elbows resting on his thighs his hands dangling between his legs as he leaned over, frowning down at her upturned face. “Seriously, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” Ladybug denied, pulling her gaze from him, the stiff set of her shoulders telling him otherwise. “I’m just…thinking.”

‘Thinking’. Uh-huh. More like ‘fretting’, if the way she chewed on her lip was any indication. Emerald Shell huffed and turned, carefully lowering himself onto the beam below so he could speak to Ladybug face-to-face. Despite what she said, whatever she was thinking about was not ‘nothing’, and as her friend and teammate, it was Shell’s job to make sure she was okay, physically or otherwise.

“LB, talk to me,” Shell insisted, planting himself firmly in her way, his arms folded across his chest as he frowned at her. “You’ve been unusually quiet all week. Considering asked you out Tuesday night, I thought you’d be floating on air.”

Ladybug blushed under her mask, blinking in a startled fashion.

“How d’you know what hap—” She paused, and then huffed. “Alya.”

Shell snorted.

“Though Babe does know everything, I will take this moment to remind you that I’m friends with Adrien, too.” Shell tilted his head, his smile fading. “…Though, from what I understand, you guys haven’t seen each other since Tuesday either…”

Ladybug looked away from him once again.

“Just because we’re d-dating now doesn’t mean we have to spend every moment together…”

Something was off in her voice. Shell frowned, certain that something was wrong. What was it? Was she having second thoughts? Had she decided that Adrien wasn’t the one she wanted after all? What could she possibly be thinking to make her face look like that?

“Lady—”

Shell cut himself off as they both heard the sound of something whooshing through the air. Shell turned, reaching for his shield—

But it was only Whiskers.

“Evening,” he greeted, straightening out of the crouch he’d landed in as he stowed his staff away. He flashed a brief grin at Shell. “What’re you doing out of your tank, Turtle Man?”

“…‘Turtle Man’?” Shell questioned in disbelief, staring at Chat Noir. “That’s the best you’ve got? What’s wrong, are you running a fever?”

“How sweet of you to worry,” Chat drawled with a smirk…a smirk that seemed rather forced to Shell. “But I’m just cat-tastic, thank you.”

As Shell groaned and rubbed the side of his temple, there was a slight nudge to his back. He turned, blinking in surprise when he found Ladybug there. Though he was already tall enough to eclipse her height, she was hunching behind him, trying, it seemed, to make herself seem as small as possible. As if she didn’t want to be seen.

“What’re you doing?” Shell wanted to know, giving her an odd look. Ladybug avoided his gaze once again, her face turning steadily redder than her suit.

“Nothing,” she mumbled again, sounding even less convincing than last time. “I, um…th-there’s a spot on the back of your suit, and I’m just trying to…to get it off…”

Something was seriously wrong here if Ladybug was bothering to tell a lie that flimsy.

Before Shell could get to the bottom of this nonsense once and for all, however, Chat was suddenly right in front of him. He flicked his hand a little, quietly asking Shell to move to the side. Shell frowned at him. This was a narrow beam—where, exactly, was he supposed to go?

***

Alya glanced up, about to ask Marinette if she wanted to split a dessert with her—Alya had been eating too much junk lately; if Marinette agreed to split, it would make her feel a little less bad—when she noticed something…odd, about Marinette.

No, not odd—different.

“Marinette,” she said abruptly, cutting into whatever Adrien was telling her best friend, staring at her as if she couldn’t believe her eyes, “did you get your ears pierced again?”

Marinette blinked and flushed, the confession written in her expression.

“Ah…yeah,” she admitted, raising a hand to one of her ears, though she didn’t quite touch, as if they were sensitive.

“What? Lemme see!” Nino demanded. Marinette flushed under all the attention, but complied, carefully brushing her hair behind her ears to give them all a clear view of them.

From Chapter Thirty-One

“…What?” Chat asked, a moment later than Shell expected him to. And he didn’t look all that surprised...why was that? He hadn’t seen what happened, so wasn’t this big news?

With a strange look, Shell repeated himself.

“Yeah, the Butterfly dude just revealed himself tonight. Turns out it’s a chick—the Shade lady LB told you about a while back. She just showed up and ruined some fashion show, so now we gotta track her ass down…or would you two rather stand here and trade compliments all night?” Shell gave them a flat look, as if daring them to continue flirting in front of him.

“Not leaving the party so soon, are you?”

Shell jumped as an arm unexpectedly went around his throat. There were surprised cries and swearing on his left and his right, and Shell fought his attacker, attempting to throw him off by tossing him, but whoever was behind him was just as tall as him, and they clearly could hold their own in a fight. Even as Shell rocked back, forcing his shield into the assailant, he gave nothing but a slight grunt, and put more pressure on Shell’s windpipe, choking him.

“Hey, Timebreaker! Lookie who we found!” Shouted a familiar voice on Shell’s right, and he could hear Ladybug grunting with effort.

“Take your hands off her!” Chat shouted on his left, only for the sound of flesh hitting flesh to follow, accompanied with a pained cry.

“You bastards!” Ladybug cried, sounding furious. “Let them go, let them go!”

“Not on your life, Ladybug,” sneered her detainer, and Shell thought he could make out a black suit with red polka-dots from his peripheral vision. “It’s time you all sat down and had a chat with—ow!”

Shell would have liked to put up the fight Ladybug seemed to be putting up, but he couldn’t breathe correctly—spots were beginning to appear in front of his eyes, too. He yanked at the arm around his throat, giving a gasp, and the arm loosened, but only just, as they were pulled through the crowd, blasting carelessly through the police barricade and marched to the bottom of the stairs leading to City Hall, just in front of the fire pit. Shell was forced to his knees, the grip on him still tight. He gasped for air, willing his strength to return to him as, on either side of him, Chat Noir and Ladybug were forced to the ground beside him; it appeared a couple people had to come help restrain them, for they were being ferocious. Shell intended to join them, once his head stopped swimming—

“Well well, look who decided to join the party after all!”

They were much too close to the fire pit; Shell’s eyes would be watering right now, if he wasn’t wearing goggles. He looked up, finding a lone figure standing above all the rest, smirking down at them with green and black paint smeared all over her face. “Welcome to our Chat Noir barbecue!”

The Chat Noir scarecrow smoldered in front of them. Shell grit his teeth. The paintings hadn’t bothered him so much, for they were mean-spirited at worst, comical at best, but this—

“Alix, stop this!” He cried, forcing his voice out around the arm still barring his throat. “Listen, I get it, you guys are angry! The victim-blaming sucks, but this really isn’t helping your cause!”

“It’s Timebreaker. And says who?” Timebreaker challenged with a sneer. “Don’t you read history books, Turtle Boy? No change occurs without a riot or two.”

“How is this better than the Anti-Akuma Taskforce terrorizing victims?!” Chat demanded; Shell saw blood flying from him from the corner of his eye, and he winced, realizing he must have been punched in the mouth.

Timebreaker glanced over at Chat, her gaze becoming chilly.

“No one’s flinging bombs,” she pointed out dryly, to accompanying cheers from her fellows. “The only thing that’s really getting hurt here is probably your feelings, Chat Noir…that is, if you still have any in that cold, dead heart of yours—”

“Stop it!” Ladybug cried, as if she could not stand to hear another word against Chat Noir. “Alix, this isn’t right!! I know you want things to change, and we’re trying to help! But you’re not making it any easier with this insanity! I’ve never been so disappointed in you!”

Timebreaker was quiet, her blue eyes narrowing. She descended a step or two, the fire in front of her making her edges blurry, in Shell’s vision. Though she was so short, there was something almost intimidating about the way she positioned herself above everyone else, behind the fire, as if she were Jeanne d’ Arc, come back from her own funeral pyre to punish those who dared to oppose her.

After a long, tense moment, she spoke again.

“…You know what disappoints me, Ladybug? A hero who chooses to fraternize with a ‘reformed’ hero who, just a few months ago, would gladly see us burning in that fire instead of him. I’m disappointed by a hero who claims she wants to help, but then comes up with some bullshit plan about a peace rally. I mean, what the fuck is up with that? Instead of telling us to stand and fight, you want us to sit down and be quiet? You really expect us to accept that? We, who have been accused of evil beyond our control, and you, who should know better than anybody else what we have to go through because of it? Are you telling us to lay down and die?!”

The members of AVA answered her speech with furious cries, and Shell swallowed, uncomfortable, because he realized he sympathized with AVA a lot more than he should. As one of the heroes of Paris, he could not abide nor condone such behavior…but as a previously akumatized victim…

“Imagine having people hate you for something you had no control over. Imagine someone you once thought was a hero turn his back on you and condemn you for being used in a psychopath’s quest for magic jewelry, or world domination or whatever.

“Imagine finally, finally gaining the power to do something about it, to fight back…only to have your other hero welcome back the threat you were fighting against the minute he changes his tune.

“…Imagine that hero being one of your best friends, one of the best people you know, who you’d hate to see hurt again, all because she was a little too forgiving and put her faith in the wrong person.”

Emerald Shell shivered, his own words, thoughts, and feelings from the past surging back to haunt him, and he hated himself when he felt his sympathy swelling. It didn’t matter how he felt about things in the past, not anymore: this was the present, and right now, from where he was being held down, looking up at Timebreaker—Alix—their anger was justified, there was no doubting that.

The execution of that anger?

Shell cringed as he watched the Chat Noir scarecrow burning in the fire pit.

No. This was not right. They had every right to be angry, but doing this…there had to be a better way. There had to be.

But apparently, Alix and the rest of AVA’s goals were set. As the chanting renewed in force, Alix cried over all of it, her eyes burning as fiercely as the pyre before her:

“Well we will not sit down and be quiet! We will not lay down and die! We are Akumatized Victims Anonymous, and if you think we’re a problem, then we’ll give you a fucking problem!!”

Emerald Shell would say this for Alix—she could give a rallying speech like nobody’s business. It was almost like she was growing taller, her little fist raised in the air in answer to the cries of her comrades…but of course, that was the fire playing tricks on Emerald Shell…

…Wait.

No, it wasn’t a trick of the light. Alix wasn’t growing taller either—there was someone behind her.

The glint of metal caught the light, and Shell’s heart jumped into his throat.

“Alix! Watch out!”

Alix seemed to feel the presence of the person behind her just as he shouted; she whirled around—

THWACK.

Everything froze in place, stunned into silence, immobile.

The only thing that seemed to move was Alix. As the force of the baseball bat connecting with her temple lifted her off her feet, the momentum sent her tumbling down the stairs of city hall. No one dared to breathe, not even as her small form crumbled at the base of the stairs, directly behind the fire pit. Though Shell could no longer see her, he still stared at the place she’d fallen, waiting with baited breath for her to jump back up and rage at the person who had the balls to sneak attack her—

But she didn’t. No matter how long Emerald Shell waited, whether it was the space of a heartbeat or an eternity, Alix did not get back up.

Rough laughter from the stairs snatched his attention, and he stared at the manic grin of the man who was nameless, though he recognized him: the leader of the Anti-Akuma Taskforce.

“How do you like that, you akuma bitch?!” He cheered, sneering at all of them. “That’s just what you get! Act like an akuma, get put down like one!”

From Chapter Thirty-Two

If Marinette could sleep for a thousand years, that would just be super right now, because real life was stressing her the hell out.

Thanks to Shade/Butterfly’s little stunt, Fashion Week had turned into the week from hell, with Marinette’s fashion career balancing precariously between an object of intrigue and a pariah brand. Marinette, with Adrien’s help, was scrambling for ideas, to try and figure out how to come back from this, but it was hard with all the bullshit she was currently dealing with regarding Mayor Fantoche, who kept going on TV to say that he had done nothing wrong in his attack on Alix, and that even Ladybug could vouch that it was self-defense. She really did not appreciate him putting words in her mouth, and could only imagine what AVA’s response would be, once they mobilized again…if they mobilized again…

Marinette sighed, bone weary. That was another thing—Alix.

Feigning ignorance, Marinette had called Kim yesterday to “catch up”, mentioning after a few minutes of small talk that she had heard about Alix. Kim had gone silent for so long that Marinette feared that she had offended him and he had hung up, but then he sighed heavily, the sound heartbroken.

“…She’s in a coma,” he had admitted, and Marinette had had to sit down, because oh god, how had things gotten so complicated?

“I’m so sorry, Kim.”

A hollow chuckle had sounded from him.

“For what? You didn’t do it.”

No, she wasn’t responsible for Alix being attacked, by the mayor of all people. But she was Ladybug. She didn’t care if there was no way she could have known it was about to happen; somehow, someway, she should have prevented it. What kind of hero was she?

“Is it all right if I come to visit?” Marinette had asked, gripping her phone a little tighter than was necessary. “I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want her to be disturbed. I know I haven’t seen her in a while, but I just—”

“Of course you can, Marinette,” Kim had replied without hesitation, and Marinette thought that she almost heard a smile in his voice. “I wouldn’t expect anything less of you, honestly. It’s so like you to care about your friends, even the ones you haven’t talked to in a while.”

Marinette’s heart had sunk all the way to the pit of her stomach at such words. She did not deserve such kindness from Kim, not when just the night before, she had screamed at him to move it or lose it under the guise of a spotted mask and super suit.

Holding in her sigh, Marinette had promised him that she would find some time to stop by the next day. Which brought her to today, utterly exhausted and only playing with the straw in her strawberry malt instead of actually drinking it. She really should drink it—she needed the sugar—but the thought of consuming anything right now had nausea rolling through her stomach.

She wasn’t the only one in low spirits today, it seemed—Alya was talking about work, something Eric did that pissed her off—but her eyes were unfocused, and she, too, played with her frozen treat instead of eating it, letting the sherbet drip onto the table.

Marinette pulled herself out of her own lethargy long enough to frown in concern at her best friend.

“Alya? Are you all right?”

“…Hm?” Alya replied, responding a half-second too late as she seemed to realize Marinette was speaking. Marinette’s frown deepened, and Alya sighed at the look.

“Don’t fret, Marinette,” she assured her with a half smirk. “I’m not dying. Just…things are a little rough with me and Nino right now.”

Marinette gasped.

“Oh no, what happened?!”

“Had a fight,” Alya said vaguely, blowing out a sigh as she dropped her spoon onto her uneaten sherbet and shoved the dessert aside, cupping her neck as she leaned over, her elbows splayed on the table. “This is the maddest I’ve ever seen him, actually…”

Whoa. Nino, mad?

“What did you do?” Marinette wanted to know, blinking in a startled fashion. It must have been really, really bad, if Nino was actually angry about it…

Alya stared at Marinette, appearing to size her up. After a second or two, she sighed and straightened up.

“Don’t worry about it,” she insisted with a flick of her fingers, as if the gesture was enough to wave away their problems. “You look like you’ve got enough on your mind already. When are you leaving for the hospital again?”

“As soon as Adrien gets here,” Marinette replied, though she didn’t stop frowning at her friend.  “Alya, are you sure you don’t want to—”

“We’re working on it, girl,” Alya insisted, her tone closing the subject. Marinette went silent, but she couldn’t help the concern whirling through her. If this was another fight about how Nino was always sneaking off to do the superhero thing with her and Chat…

“Is that why Nino didn’t come today?” Marinette wanted to know, biting her lip anxiously. She had tried to get a hold of him yesterday, after their disaster of a night, but he wasn’t answering his phone or responding to her texts. Was he angry with her too, then?

Alya blinked.

“Didn’t he tell you?” She asked, frowning at the blank look Marinette gave her. “Nino’s out of town right now—his record company is having him tour [someplace in France outside of Paris???]. He’ll be gone for about a week.”

“Wh—?!” Marinette began to exclaim loudly, but then she caught Francoise’s narrow gaze aimed at her, as if he sensed she was about to cause a disturbance in his gelato shop once again. Marinette swallowed her shout, glancing away from him sheepishly and cringing at Alya. “Uh, I mean, no, no, he didn’t say anything…but I’ve been pretty busy, you know, so it’s not like I’ve seen him a lot anyway…”

An odd look passed Alya’s face—the corners of her mouth twitched, like she wanted to smile, but she didn’t, letting her head rest in the palms of her hands instead, smushing her cheeks, as if she was trying to discourage any outward display of amusement. Marinette frowned, wondering what was so funny.

“Yeah, well, he’ll be gone for a bit,” Alya said, sighing a little. “Guess this trip came at a good time, since we kind of need a break from each other right now, to…think things over.”

Okay, none of this was making Marinette feel any better about the fate of her friends.

“You two aren’t gonna…break up…are you?” She asked in a small voice, almost afraid for Alya to hear the question, as if it would put ideas in her head.

Alya seemed to register her worry, for she smiled and reached forward, patting Marinette’s hand.

“No, hun. Things are…tough, right now,” she admitted with a brief pinch of her eyebrows, “…but we’re working through it. We still love each other, don’t worry. We just need some time.”

Marinette sighed in relief, prompting Alya to giggle.

“Look at you, all strung out. You’re acting like you just heard your parents were getting divorced.”

Marinette stuck her tongue out at her best friend.

“Well, you guys’ve been together for as long as we’ve been friends, so if you broke up, it would almost be like my parents were getting divorced…”

“Awww, you see me as your mom, Marinette? That’s so cute.”

“I said almost, Alya.”

***

“We are not monsters! We’re people, too! We are not monsters! We’re people, too!”

“Mari?”

Marinette blinked, tearing her gaze from the display before her to focus on her boyfriend’s concerned gaze. He was a bit ahead of her, arm outstretched as he held her hand; she must have stopped him when she slowed to watch the protest in the middle of Plaza Pompidou. He stepped back, closer to her now, frowning.

“You okay?”

Marinette lifted and dropped a shoulder, turning her eyes back towards the protest.

She had to admit, given their history, this was…a bit of a radical change for AVA.

No costumes. No face paint. Not a trace of goo in sight. No hurtful graffiti about a certain black cat superhero, even.

Instead, they were just…people. Just like they were chanting. They were people, too.

There was a crowd that slowed to watch the protest, and Marinette could tell from the looks on their faces that they were just as surprised by this change as she was.

Huh…was this a prank? A stunt AVA was pulling to lure in supporters before they went back to their wild, goo-flinging, effigy-burning ways?

Or…had the loss of their leader made them stop and wonder if their way—inspiring fear and panic from the previously akumatized victims—was the right way after all?

“Doesn’t look like AVA’s activities are slowing down,” she said as Adrien moved to her side, giving her hand a light squeeze.

“Well…the week of quiet was nice,” he replied mildly. Marinette glanced up, noting the tightening of his gaze as he watched the AVA protest. It looked like he was just waiting for the Chat Noir abuse to start up again any minute now…and it hurt her. She squeezed his hand back and changed the subject.

“What week of quiet? I’ve lost count of the number of times Mayor Fantoche hijacked my favorite T.V. show to state for the hundredth time that he didn’t do anything wrong.” She gave a huff of annoyance. “For a guy who supposedly did nothing wrong, he sure likes to justify himself in all these press conferences no one asked for.”

Not to mention he kept saying that Ladybug could totally vouch for his innocence…but that was a separate headache entirely, one Marinette didn’t have the time to deal with at the moment, not with the future of her fashion career currently jeopardy.

Thanks to Shade/Butterfly’s little stunt, Fashion Week had turned into the week from hell, with Marinette’s fashion career balancing precariously between an object of intrigue and a pariah brand. Marinette, with Adrien’s help, was scrambling for ideas, to try and figure out how to come back from this, but so far, it was slow-going…

“Hey…isn’t that Alya?”

Marinette’s mind was forcibly yanked out of contemplation, wide eyes snapping to Adrien.

“What? Where?”

Adrien pointed her out. Wow, it was Alya. But she wasn’t merely spectating; she circled the protest, her phone up and at the ready. Marinette blinked. What was she doing?

“C’mon,” she beckoned to Adrien, not waiting for a response as she tugged him further into the plaza, circling around the people watching the protest until she was close enough to grab her best friend’s attention.

“Alya!”

Alya turned her head, surprise flitting across her face when she spotted Marinette and Adrien just behind her.

“Oh, hey!” She greeted, but Marinette couldn’t help but notice the hasty way in which she stored her phone in her pocket. Huh…that was weird…

Marinette tilted her head to the side.

“What’re you doing, Alya?”

From Chapter Thirty-Five

“Is Kim okay?” She wanted to check, distracting herself from her own heartache to focus on the well-being of someone else. Nino frowned at the question.

“…He was kind of in a bad state last night,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head as he adjusted his tie, lilac to match Alya’s dress. “Max was with him, but I don’t know if he’ll make it—”

“Wait—isn’t that Kim with Max right there?” Alya interrupted, nodding to the right of them, where Max and Kim were making their way onto the beach, hand in hand. Kim still looked a little rough to Marinette’s eyes; as she watched, he heaved a large sigh, kicking a large sand dune with his foot. Max pulled him to a stop, and appeared to mutter something to him. Kim made a face, but then gave a nod…and to Marinette’s great surprise, he turned red when Max planted a kiss to his cheek.

“Wh—” She whirled to gape at Alya and Nino. “Kim and Max are together?! But I thought—what about Alix?”

“Oh,” Alya said, grinning at the look on Marinette’s face. “I forgot you didn’t know: those three are a thing.”

Marinette felt her mouth come open with a pop.

“Th—the three of them? They’re…together?”

“Oh, yeah,” Nino confirmed with a casual shrug. “Apparently, all those jokes they made back in lycée about having a threesome…stopped being jokes sometime during university.”

“Oh,” Marinette mumbled, feeling her face grow hot. “Oh…well, um…”

“You don’t have to understand it,” Alya assured her with a pat to her shoulder. “Just know that they’re happy.”

“Or they would be, if Alix was here, too…” Nino sighed with a shake of his head. “AVA might’ve been a pain in the ass…but it still sucks to see that gap between Kim and Max where Alix usually is…”

Alya placed her hand on Nino’s cheek to turn his head towards her, smiling gently as her thumb stroked his cheek.

“Smile, baby,” she reminded him. “Today’s supposed to be a happy occasion, remember?”

Nino reached up to cover Alya’s hand with his own, giving it a squeeze. Despite herself, Marinette was jealous.

“I know,” he mumbled, “but it’s hard not to feel Alix’s absence. I mean, she was supposed to be Ivan’s best man, even—or best maid—whatever they were calling her, before Nathanael stepped in.”

“Really?” Marinette inquired with some surprise; that would’ve been a sight to see. How sad… “Then who’s Myléne’s maid of honor?”

“Juleka,” Alya answered, nodding at the pale girl with the dark hair emerging from the bridal tent, arm in arm with a pixie-like blonde woman with baby blue eyes and a sunny smile. “She and Rose are the only two bridesmaids, I think. Myléne wanted to keep the bridal party as simple as possible.”

Again, though she didn’t want them to, Marinette’s eyes turned towards where Adrien stood, scowling at the white dress shirt and dark gray vest he wore with the sleeves rolled up, his slacks matching his vest, and his tie matching his eyes. His blonde hair was windswept; he kept reaching up to adjust it, but it was frankly a lost cause when the wind kept playfully tossing it. He made a face as he ran his hand through it again, and Nathanael, who was dressed similarly, Marinette couldn’t help but note, laughed at him.

Marinette scowled. It was weird to see her two exes being so friendly with each other—though she and Nathanael had been together for much longer than her and Adrien, she bore no ill will towards him. But looking at Adrien, Marinette could feel a tempest begin to build within herself, even though they hadn’t been together longer than two months.

It was not fair—he looked perfectly fine over there, totally content. And it burned Marinette up. Why should she be the only one still hurting over him, when he looked like he was just fine without her?

Though he wasn’t facing in Marinette’s direction—Marinette could only glare at his profile—quite suddenly, he looked over, directly at her. Marinette jolted, not expecting to suddenly meet his eyes. She felt herself turn red and swiftly looked away, attempting to look like it had been mere coincidence that she had met his gaze…but judging from the pitying look on Alya’s face, she could guess that she wasn’t quite succeeding.

“So, since there are only two groomsmen and bridesmaids each,” Marinette began in a determined voice, staring resolutely at Alya and Nino, despite the fact that she could still feel his eyes on her. “I’m guessing Ivan’s other groomsman is…?”

Nino nodded in confirmation, though he cringed.

“Yeah…that was a last-minute thing, too,” he admitted. Marinette huffed.

“Why him?” She asked of no one in particular, almost moving to pinch the bridge of her nose—but Alya caught her hand, and Marinette remembered her make-up. Nice save, Alya. “There wasn’t anybody else Ivan could ask?”

“Well you know, he and Adrien are close…” Nino pointed out, smiling in apology as Marinette pouted. That hadn’t been what she wanted to hear…

“Speaking of him,” Alya butted in, and Marinette caught her best friend frowning in Adrien’s direction. “I know you don’t wanna talk about it, girl, and I don’t know what happened exactly, but are you sure you don’t want me to take care of it? ‘Cause I’ve got my tennis shoes and a pair of rubber gloves up in my room—”

“No, Alya,” Nino discouraged at the same time Marinette huffed, “Don’t tempt me.” No matter how hurt she was, Nino was right—there should be no violence on a day like today. Besides, if she let her best friend get her claws into her ex-boyfriend, she would inevitably regret it, for Alya would make sure any damage she did would be lasting…

“All right, fine,” Alya conceded with a huff, her hands on her hips as she gave her fiancé a cursory glance. “But why are you hanging out over here, Nino? I love you and everything, but why aren’t you hanging out with your best friend?”

Nino suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“Oh,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. “Well…things are…I mean, he’s busy, so…”

There was a distinct awkwardness about Nino, and Marinette noticed him briefly touch his jade bracelet—it was a nervous tick he seemed to pick up, in regards to anything Team Miraculous-related.

Marinette bit her lip, suspecting she knew the reason Nino was suddenly awkward around his friend.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, hating that she couldn’t be more specific—not with Alya there. Nino gave a noncommittal shrug, though in his eyes, there was forgiveness. But instead of relieving Marinette, it made her more uncomfortable, because she knew she didn’t deserve it.

Alya, though it looked like she didn’t appreciate being out of the loop, accepted the situation with as much grace as she could.

“Well, I need to use the ladies’ room before this thing starts,” she announced, grabbing Nino’s wrist to check the time on his watch. “We’ve got about ten minutes…Marinette?”

Marinette gave Nino a martyr’s grimace as she passed, and Nino mouthed “good luck” to her; they both were perfectly aware that Alya was only inventing this bathroom excuse to get Marinette alone for a few minutes.

Sure enough, as soon as they were enclosed in the tiny beach-side bathroom, Alya turned to Marinette, her lips pursed with speculation in her gaze. Marinette withheld a sigh, waiting for the third degree to begin—

“Are you all right?” Alya asked, gripping Marinette’s elbows as she inspected her with some concern. This threw Marinette off, and she answered honestly instead of delivering the diplomatic half-truths she’d been spouting for the past week or so.

“Not really.” She bit her lip. “But…today isn’t really about me, you know? I mean…” She sighed, displacing a dark strand of her hair from the lace braid that crossed the front of her hair, ending in a low bun just behind her right ear, a bunch of hydrangeas laced artfully through the bun. Again, Alya took her hand, as if afraid that Marinette would undo her careful up-do in a fit of passion…an assumption that was probably fair, considering how Marinette was feeling. After giving her best friend a grateful look, Marinette finished her thought.

“…I definitely didn’t think I’d have to see him here…but I can ignore him.” Doubt flickered across Alya’s face, and Marinette scowled. “I will ignore him. Today is about Myléne and Ivan, and their wedding.”

Alya inspected Marinette for a moment. She straightened her shoulders and set her face into a determined expression, willing Alya to believe her conviction…

This made Alya smile.

“Your brave face is good, hun,” she admitted, moving her hands to Marinette’s shoulders and giving them a squeeze. “It would probably even fool me…if I didn’t know you too well.”

Marinette let out a huff.

“Can’t you just pretend to be fooled for once?” She whined. Alya smothered a laugh, bringing Marinette in for a hug.

“As your best friend, Mari, it is my duty to lie for you, not to you,” she corrected, drawing back and flipping half the hair that wasn’t pinned and piled atop her head out of her face. “I don’t know what happened…but I can still tell you’re hurting.” Alya’s pretty features were once again marred by her frown of concern. “As much as I want to help you…I think maybe you should talk out whatever happened between you two with Adrien.”

“But I don’t want to talk to him,” Marinette insisted stubbornly, hating the petulant note that escaped into her tone, and further embarrassed by it when Alya picked up on it, if her raised eyebrow was any indication. “He said something so hurtful to me that I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him!”

“So this is his fault?” Alya wanted to confirm, and Marinette opened her mouth to insist that yes, this was absolutely his fault, him with his stubborn insistence that she blindly trust him, despite knowing that he had burned her in that regard before, and the accusation that she had murdered his father in cold blood when he knew damn well it was an accident and she had apologized more than once for it—

The agony she had seen in Adrien’s eyes that night flashed through Marinette’s mind, the heartbreak in him clear when he came to the conclusion that she didn’t trust him, and abruptly, her assertions dried up in her throat.

That fight between them had been volatile, the result of a dangerous and emotionally chaotic night mixed with all the things they weren’t saying and should have said to each other a long time ago. Though she was loathe to admit it, Marinette kept going over that night in her mind, late at night when she should have been sleeping, trying to figure out what she should have said differently, what she could’ve done to fix it, before everything had been torn apart, broken and shattered at their feet.

Above all, the question that haunted her most was whether or not she was even justified in her anger. Had she been wrong to fire back at Adrien the way she had? Had it been wrong of her to admit she still had her reservations about him, despite observing, with her own eyes, how hard he had been working to change, to right his wrongs?

Despite saying that she trusted him, despite asserting that she had forgiven him…had she actually been keeping Chat Noir—been keeping Adrien—at arm’s length to protect herself, to avoid the pain that came with the fall of losing control…losing him…?

There were no answers, only questions. Which was why it was so much easier for her to just stay angry, to cling to her resentment, reminding herself that Adrien thought her a murderer. It was so much easier to just find him at fault, instead of letting herself wonder whether or not she had really been in the right…especially when a little voice that grew stronger with each day whispered that Adrien wasn’t without his points, however harshly he might have worded them…

At Marinette’s silence, Alya tilted her head.

“…Well, whether or not you talk to him is up to you, I guess,” she said with a slight shrug, though her face was still pinched in a frown. “It just breaks my heart to see you like this, hun. Especially since I can’t help.”

Despite herself, Marinette snorted.

“You know it’s not actually your job to fix everything that goes wrong in my life,” she pointed out. Alya sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes.

“The hell it ain’t,” she asserted, pulling Marinette into a hug again and patting her back. “No matter what, you’re my Marinette, and if it’s within my power and capabilities to ensure your happiness, then I will do it.”

“I know,” Marinette mumbled, the words muffled because Alya’s bicep was in her face. She wriggled a little, pulling back to give Alya a look that was both amused and exasperated all at the same time. “It’s why Nino and I are afraid you’ll wind up in jail one day.”

Alya winked.

“They’d have to catch me first.”

The scary part was that Marinette believed that Alya’s confidence was totally warranted.

Still, it was flattering—Marinette probably could not ask for a better friend, so even if she and Adrien ended up being at odds about this fight forever…well, she would be too busy trying to talk her best friend out of murder to be too depressed.

***

It was hopeless—unless she started mowing people over, there was no way Marinette was getting through that crowd to congratulate Ivan and Myléne anytime soon.

But it was fine, since she wasn’t much in the mowing mood anyway. She simply swayed absently to the music, smiling a little at the glow of happiness that surrounded the blissful couple. If there was anyone that deserved to be happy and in love, it was definitely Myléne and Ivan—or Dr. and Mme. Bruel, now…

There was a soft thump next to her. Marinette glanced over from where she was holding up the wall, noting with some surprise that Nino had decided to join her. Huh…she didn’t think he’d want to talk to her right now, after the stunt she pulled on Monday night…had Alya deployed him to talk to her? If so, why him?

Before Marinette could figure it out, she noticed that Nino was glancing askance at her.

“Hey,” he greeted simply, as was his way. Marinette gave him a tremulous smile.

“Hi.”

Nino turned his eyes forward, his brows furrowing slightly as he stared at the DJ.

“Doing okay?” He asked after a moment. Marinette felt her smile grow.

“What about you?” She deflected. “You look like you’re sour that Ivan and Myléne didn’t ask you to DJ for the reception.”

Nino snorted softly.

“I just came back from a tour—I’m tired,” he said, rolling one of his shoulders, as if to work a kink out. “Besides, they asked me just when things started getting busy…” He touched his bracelet. “I didn’t want to say yes in case I had to back out at the last minute…”

…Ah. That made a lot of sense, actually…

“You never answered my question, though,” Nino pointed out, and Marinette cringed as he turned to stare at her, eyes roaming her face. “Are you all right?”

“…” Marinette sighed, folding her hands behind her back as she leaned her back against the wall. “If I said yes, would you even believe me?”

“Nope,” Nino answered, and Marinette pouted. Damn it, he knew her too well, too.

***

(THIS NEXT PART IS MILDLY NSFW, SO BEWARE!)

It all happened too fast for Adrien to be able to keep up.

One minute, they were professing their love for each other at long last, and the next minute, they were kissing away each other’s pains, the torments caused from misunderstanding each other, the loneliness, the sleepless nights…

Adrien meant to be gentle, but the touch of Marinette’s lips against his, when he was almost certain that he would never experience this sensation again, was too much—he lunged forward, knocking into her, both of them falling back onto the bed. Adrien groaned as his head bumped Marinette’s and she laughed, the sound bright and bubbly and beautiful. Adrien would gladly listen to her laugh forever, but he was too impatient right now, too human—he kissed her again, silencing her laughter as his mouth moved against hers in familiar ways, savoring the little noises she made when their lips parted, not quite muted, though she tried her best.

It wasn’t enough. He needed to be closer to her, so close that he wouldn’t be able to tell where she ended and he began. He only broke away from her lips to press them against her neck, feeling her pulse race as he kissed the spot, sucking greedily at her skin, as if it would soothe the ache, the need for her, growing within him. Marinette let out a shuddering gasp, and Adrien purred at the fingers that wound themselves in his hair, relished in the tug to his tie, bringing him closer to her. He gave her more love bites, unable to help himself—it was almost like he needed to mark her, needed the proof that she was his, and his alone. And Marinette’s tiny moans only encouraged him; that leg she swung over his hip enticed him, especially when she lifted her hips, grinding against him. The sudden friction drew him up short; he hissed, his fingers clinging to the comforter beneath them as he momentarily lost focus over what he was supposed to be doing. It came back to him when Marinette’s hand pressed against his cheek, guiding his head in turning to look at her, her blue eyes luminous in the moonlight. God, even with her tangled hair and flushed skin, how did she still manage to look like a goddess? Adrien was so thoroughly fucked.

“…Too much?” She asked after a moment of searching his eyes, seeming to come up empty for the reason he reacted the way he did.

At the question, Adrien nearly laughed.

Too much? Too much? That was so far from the issue here that it was hilarious.

Adrien shook his head quickly, breathing deeply to get his heartrate back down.

“No. Not…not enough,” he made himself admit, his hand carefully making its way down Marinette’s exposed thigh. She shivered, turning the loveliest shade of red Adrien had ever seen.

“Oh…well, in that case…” she muttered, tugging at his tie again, but now Adrien understood that she wasn’t trying to get closer to him—she wanted him to take it off.

Adrien tried to oblige her so fast that he nearly choked himself with his own tie. Marinette burst into a fit of giggles as he somehow managed to get his hand caught in between his neck and his tie, pushing herself to sit up.

“Here, hold still,” she urged him, smirking as she helped him undo his tie, like he was a child. Adrien didn’t have time to be embarrassed about it, however; once Marinette tossed his blasted tie to the floor, where it could no longer make a nuisance of itself, she kept undressing him, undoing the buttons of his vest, and then his button-up. Adrien made himself breathe, but it didn’t help—his skin caught fire as soon as she touched it as it always did, and it especially didn’t help when she pressed her lips to his chest, so carefully, almost as if she was worshipping him.

His slacks grew uncomfortably tight, and Adrien groaned under his breath. He wouldn’t last long like this…

Marinette seemed oblivious to his struggles; she took her time kissing him, the occasional teasing lick making his heart stutter, his breath shake, his growing ache fierce now, a monster that had to be sated soon, or Adrien would suffer at its hands. The moment her lips met the waistband of his slacks was the moment Adrien’s composure shattered completely.

“N-not fair,” Adrien groaned, pushing hair out of his face with a shaky hand as Marinette glanced up at him, looking too innocent to be allowed.

“What?” She asked sweetly, but she wasn’t fooling Adrien, especially not when her fingertips were inching their way to his zipper, tugging it down so slowly that it was torture. Adrien huffed, muffling another moan with his hand as Marinette’s fingertips traced the length of him, seeming to size him up, and impressed by what she found, if her expression of awe was any indication. Adrien allowed that ego stroke.

“I want to touch you, too,” he answered her question belatedly, equal parts relieved and disappointed as Marinette’s attention was diverted at last. Her face flushed at the confession, but her eyes were intent upon his, dark with lust.

“…So touch me,” she said, sitting up so that she faced him.

Adrien took that permission and ran with it, his hands sliding around Marinette, to the back of her dress, where he had spotted a zipper earlier. It was a damn tiny thing, though, and he growled under his breath when his fingers failed to find it the first couple of times. Marinette seemed to take pity on him and turned around, sweeping her hair to the side to give Adrien better access. Adrien cursed to himself again, feeling every bit the clumsy virgin he was, but he refused to let that fluster him; as he eased the zipper down, he heard Marinette’s breath catch as his free hand smoothed over the skin of her back as it was slowly revealed to him.

He made himself keep his cool, even as he realized that Marinette wasn’t wearing a bra, and though he had seen her shirtless a couple of times before, he had never had time to take note of the freckles that dotted her back, creating little constellations in her skin. Adrien leaned forward and kissed the spot between her shoulder blades, smirking to herself as Marinette’s back arched, the tremor that went through her suggesting that she hadn’t been expecting it. He kissed her more now, paying her back for all the attention she had just been giving him, relishing in the way her breath hitched and shuddered, the whimpers that went through her as he eased her dress off her shoulders, cupping her breasts from behind.

Since he was curious by nature, Adrien took his time exploring Marinette, cataloguing the noises she made and what they meant as his fingers dragged across her skin, trailing kisses across her shoulders.

“Ah! A-Adrien,” Marinette sighed, and Adrien paused, suddenly unsure. Was he handling her too roughly?

It didn’t look like it; Marinette leaned back, into him, her eyes closed as she raised an arm, cupping the back of his neck. And Adrien stared, because it was such a lovely view—Marinette, her skin flushed, breasts heaving as she breathed, and yet, there was still so much to explore of her, hidden by the folds of her dress, bunched up around her waist…

With another quick kiss to her neck, Adrien laid her down on the bed, crouching over her, his fingers digging into the dress. What he wouldn’t give to just rip it off…ah, no, that would be rude, Marinette would probably kill him…

But she was obliging enough to lift her hips at least, and though Adrien felt a little bad, he gave little regard for the dress after it was off, banishing it to the floor with the other clothes. In the glow of the moonlight filtering in from the window, Marinette was beautiful. She always was, of course, but tonight, she glowed, freckled skin completely bared to him for the first time. He drank her in, finding himself falling deeper in love with her, if it was even possible.

Marinette pressed her hands to her face, looking embarrassed.

“W-why are you staring?” She mumbled, and Adrien almost laughed again. She really had to ask?

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, reverent. Marinette’s face went red again, and she covered her eyes next. This time Adrien did laugh, leaning down to peck the lips she’d left exposed.

From Chapter Thirty-Six

“But what does she want?” Bridgette interjected, standing by Felix with her arms crossed, looking desperate. “We still have no idea why she’s doing all this…”

“…I do,” Chat admitted after a pause. Ladybug laid her hand on his arm.

“Chat—”

“It’s okay,” he assured her, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze as he smiled at her. Honestly, he was just tired at this point. Why hide it? Half of Paris already hated him. Did it actually even matter if he told people that this was all happening because of him?

With a deep breath, he turned to Bridgette.

“Shade is exacting her revenge upon Paris because of the death of someone close to her. He was a reporter who stumbled upon Hawkmoth’s secret identity, and was taking bribe money for his silence before he was found dead in his hotel room.”

Bridgette and Camille’s hands jumped to their mouths at nearly the same time, each of them uttering a soft gasp.

“Oh dear,” Camille lamented softly, her hands pressed to her heart.

“I…I remember that,” Bridgette admitted, her blue eyes wide. “That was terrible…” She began to frown. “But…I still don’t understand why she feels the need to revenge herself upon Paris, or upon any of you…”

“Many people blame the reporter for being an accomplice to Hawkmoth; if he had said something earlier, we might have been able to catch Hawkmoth a lot sooner,” Vixen said, her gaze tight.

“And she hates Team Miraculous because we were too late to prevent what happened to that reporter,” Ladybug stepped in when Chat opened his mouth, her side-glance at him warning him not to give too much away, even if what she was saying was only an assumption. “The villain will

I’m part of Team Miraculous,” Chat admitted, his gaze going to the floor. “Hawkmoth was my father.”

“Chat!” Several voices in the room cried, but it was too late—the truth was out. And Miraculous they might be, but none of them had the power to recall words.

“…Oh,” Bridgette muttered, and Chat glanced up to see her mouth was slightly open. “Oh my…I…w-well, of course I won’t say anything, I…”

“I know you won’t,” Chat assured her with a smile that took a lot of his energy to make. “You seem trustworthy. I just wanted you to understand.

Where do you think, Chat Noir?” Without waiting for an answer, she waved at the massive bookshelves behind her. “Honestly, he didn’t hide it very well. Perhaps he thought not being able to easily reach the top shelves would discourage anyone who came looking…?”

Good GOD, even the scraps were too long. =_=; Well, regardless, I hoped you enjoyed the small tidbits of what almost was~ If you want any clarification about why certain scenes were cut, I’m happy to oblige: you just need to reference the specific scene when you send me an ask~

Once again, happy BTUniversary! <3

~Reyna