#listen my mind has been overtaken by this little au and i am quite literally about to explode from all the details and evil scheming

[demigod-of-the-agni]

something something Ninjago/HTTYD au can actually be a thing because they both deal with characters who want to live up to expectations but end up finding their own way to achieving wondrous things

also dragons? pit to fight dragons in? dragon riders?

[bangtangalicious]

cancelled (2) | myg, jjk

summary: you cheated on your boyfriend, one of the most sought after boys on campus, with the nerd from the back of the lecture hall. now a video has leaked across and everyone is turning against you for hurting such a perfect s/o.

pairing: yoongi x reader ft jungkook

wordcount: 3.7k

genre: smut, yandere!yoongi and nerd!jungkook exyandere!jungkook

established-relationship!au college!au cheating!au

warnings: reader discretion is advised. penetrative sex, unprotected sex, really steamy sex, ring tease (is that a thing), yoongi is a master with his tongue but we knew this, manipulative behavior, yandere behavior, controlling, dirty talk, guilting, mentions of past dubcon activity, illicit filming, mentions of mental illnesses, gaslighting, toxic behavior. this is pretty dark so dont read if it bothers you

twoshot: part 1 | part 2 | masterlist

There are some scents we find comforting. Not necessarily because of the nature of the scent itself, but because of a memory associated with it. For you this scent was Yoongi’s burnt pancakes. They were not good, he knew that and so did you. But your heart would almost burst with joy at the gesture, and you could never quite deny him when he would ask to make you breakfast. The way his kitten like eyes would be full of excitement, eager to please you.

In this case, the scent made you feel guilt. A common theme over the past few days after the entire school had access to a livestream of you cheating on the most loveable, pure and kind guy on campus.

But he was not mad.

Something stirred in you. You wished he was angry, wished that you two would fight it out. At least that would result in a resolve of some sort. You were now simply immersed in a stale mate. Not forgiven, but not accused. Not innocent but not guilty.

You had blocked Jungkook right away, not even entertaining how he would be handling the situation. You had bigger problems.

And those problems manifested into your sweet boyfriend making you pancakes.

“Here you go baby” He handed you a plate. Not an ounce of negativity was seen in his eyes. You felt like you were going insane.

Your phone beeped, another notification. You were not even shocked to see it was just another random person yelling at you for what you had done’ You’d seen it all— death threats, people telling you you were the scum of the earth. Internet hate knew no boundaries. You had lost all your friends. Even your family caught news and did not want to speak with you at the moment. All you had was Yoongi.

“Listen y/n” Yoongi kelt down in front of your seat, placing his hands on your knees affectionately. “I know things are hard right now. If you want, you and I can leave this place. We can leave and go somewhere else where people won’t know about all this.”

Tears escaped the edges of your eyes, “We can’t just leave…No one will hire me, a background check will show up with PornHub on the first search result. I’m ruined.”

“I’ll get the video taken down y/n. Clearly that guy did not have your consent to post it.”

“That isn’t the point” You screamed, grasping his hands firmly as you sobbed, “Everyone knows it happened. They know I was unfaithful. To you. The love of my life. Literally the most perfect angel of a human ever. I’m so horrible I don’t even know why I did it I just…”

Yoongi kissed the tops of your hands. “I know…he manipulated you didn’t he? Guys are the worst. He made you think you wanted it.”

For some reason you were not that mad at Jungkook. Maybe it was because you were too occupied with your own guilt. You did not feel like he coerced you, but telling Yoongi that wouldn’t have really mattered.

“Come on baby. Let’s move somewhere. And let’s get married. I’ll be able to give you what you need. You’ve been such a good girl for holding out so long. We can start over, together, away from all this. There’s nothing else here for us”

The idea was tempting, but your heart clenched thinking you would never see this beautiful campus again. Your friends, your classmates, none of them.

Yoongi reached into his pocket and brought out a small velvet pounch. In it was a dainty little diamond ring, the studs circling in a simple and elegant design. He held the ring to you and you simply gaped at him.

“Baby…You know I love you. I know you love me. So you messed up, who doesn’t? You’re human, and I denied you of what you needed and I am sorry for that. Marry me y/n. Marry me and leave this place with me. Let’s go where no one can ever find us, and be together forever”

You were too young for this. Sure, being in a long-term relationship might not have the same freedoms as being single, but being married was a whole other level of commitment. You knew it would come eventually, but it was still so sudden. But how could you say no? What right did you have to deny the kindness and love of this man after what you did to him? You couldn’t be an even bigger bitch and end your relationship after this could you? It would look so bad. People would think you dumped him because he didn’t want to have sex, which would make you look like a slut and then…

Your mind was dizzy. Yoongi simply chuckled, beginning to kiss the tops of your knees. Inching slowly in the direction of your thighs.

Once his lips were close enough to the hems of your pajama shorts that you were sensitive, you let out a surprised yelp. Yoongi grinned, face still pressed in the inside of your thigh, ring in hand. He wiggled his tongue in a way to push past the cloth, looking up at you briefly with a twinkle in his eye before his hot tongue barely traced your heat.

“Y…yoongi” Your heart rate picked up as Yoongi bit the crotch of your shorts and began to drag it down. It was an erotic sight, and you couldn’t help but feel shivers as you anticipated his next move. Then he did something shocking. He took the diamond ring and placed it flat against your exposed clit, his finger in the circle holding it against you. The cold metal felt amazing. He slowly dragged the ring along your folds, watching as you twitched. He lined the ring up with your entrance and next thing you know he shoved his finger through the ring and into you. You cursed loudly.

“Just say yes. Say you’ll marry me and I’ll give you everything you need baby girl”

He twisted the ring harshly against you causing you to squirm. “F…fuck yes. I’ll marry you. I love you. I love you” You were chanting like it was your mantra. Yoongi grinned and slid this ring onto your finger. He stared momentarily at your hand before returning his gaze to you and capturing your lips in a deep kiss. He kissed you with a hunger you had never quite felt from him before.

“I love you y/n. Now it’s just you and me.” He whispered as he trailed kisses down to your collar, using his skilled tongue and teeth to wiggle off each button, his hands planted on your thighs. He disrobed you, sliding your body to the edge of the chair in order to give him access. You let your legs spread wide. You almost couldn’t believe what was happening.

You had dreamt of this moment for so long. The day you would finally be able to have your boyfriend’s cock buried deep in you. The day where you could curse out his name in pleasure and love him right like he deserved.

Yoongi got up to take off his own clothes. You had never seen him fully naked before, just his chest. You always had an inkling he was big, after feeling him get hard after steamy make-out sessions. Him then politely stepping away to calm down, then cuddling with you affectionately.

His cock popped out, already hard and eager. You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight. Yoongi shook his head to try to get his hair out of his eyes, and an evil smirked played his lips. He stroked his cock harshly while looking at you.

“Look at you” He sneered, “My little slut, so eager for me. You needed cock so bad you’d just go anywhere for it isn’t that right hm?” You shook your head.

“Yoongi…I’m yours…I just want you” You tried to spread your legs even wider, the chair beneath you pressing into your back uncomfortably.

Yoongi walked up close so that he was standing inches away from where your legs were splayed out for him. “Show me how sorry you are you whore” He spat. You whimpered, his words hitting too close to home. You blinked back tears as he slowly lowered himself onto you, the rails of the chair almost cutting into your skin, making you wince in pain.

“Yoongi…let’s go to the bed…” You suggested weakly as his kisses found your breasts and he nipped away at you. He shook his head, allowing his face to pummel in the suffocation of your tits.

“Do you deserve the bed?”

“No but…” You looked away, “It’s our first time”

Yoongi paused, his head still rested against the valley of your chest. He got up suddenly and gripped your hips, picking you up off the chair into his arms. Your naked legs wrapped around him, and your wet core could feel his toned stomach. You couldn’t help but grind at the friction. Yoongi kissed you again, gentler now, his lips swallowing you in so that you could feel every ounce of his pure love. He carried you to the bed and slowly released you onto you back.

He stroked himself a few more times before lining himself up with your entrance. You were soaking at this point, your pussy drooling for cock.

“I love you” He said, not looking at you so much as the desperate clenches of your pussy onto nothing.

“I love you too babe” Now he looked at you. A dark gaze had overtaken him. The love in his eyes was absolutely gone, and there seemed to me a strange aura of anger.

“You’re mine y/n. Once this cock goes in, it’s the only cock you’re ever going to get.”

“I know baby”

“I’m going to fuck you. All the time. You and me, just you and me. You’re all mine. All mine to play with”He started to rub his cock in circles against you, “My little girl, sweet little whore all for me to fuck whenever I want to.” He entered you in one thrust, causing you to yelp as the push of the girth against your walls was too sudden for you to adjust.

“Gonna fuck you up so good” He exhaled, funding into you mercileslly, “My wife, my beautiful fucking wife. My little cocksleeve, baby girl ohhhh” You squirmed in frustration as Yoongi came inside you, his hot seed reaching the depths of you and filling you to the brim. “Shit. You felt so good baby, I’m sorry”

You shook your head. You were more than pleased with the experience. “It’s okay baby.”

“I’ll make it up to you” He pulled out and rolled you into his embrace, nuzzling his face into your chest. “I’ll make you cum so many times baby, we have forever to do it. You’re all mine now”

“Yes baby, all yours”

-

Jungkook bit his nails nervously. He had called up an old hacker friend to help him get into Yoongi’s computer. Something was off. Jungkook would know. Cameras? It had to be Yoongi. It made too much sense, but the question was why. Why would he want the whole school to see someone else fucking his girlfriend?

“Jungkook” His friend, Seokjin, was typing away frantically into a large computer, “Bro this is fucking insane”

“What?” Jungkook rolled his seat up to get a better look at the screen. They now had accessed Yoongi’s servers, and there was all the incoming footage from various cameras all around campus. Under each panel was a small description: Y/n’s biology class, Y/n’s favorite bathroom, etc.

“This guy keeps fucking tabs on his bitch yo. I thought you said they’d been together for a while”

“They have…” Jungkook peered at the footage. “Somehow I don’t think she knows he watches her like this”

“No shit” Seokjin made wild eyes at Jungkook sarcastically and smacked him. Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“I have to tell her. Something is fucked here”

“Look, I don’t know these people, but I have heard about guys sort of isolating their girls so that they become really, like, dependent or something. So that they can take them away and do whatever they want. Pretty fucked.”

Jungkook considered his friends words. “You might be onto something…He could be guilting her into staying with him…” Like an epiphany, the pieces fell together, “Marriage. He’s gonna make her marry him.”

“That’s fucked.”

“Dude shut-up,” Jungkook snapped, his protective instinct now in overdrive. “Give me your keys, I need to tell her. I have to go save her”

“Why?” Seokjin chuckled, “It’s really none of your business. You barely know her too, you guys are nothing but classmates” Jungkook’s heart dropped at the statement.

He shouldn’t care right? He was better now. Was interfering in her life just him becoming obsessive again? Was he reading too much into it?

“Fuck. You’re right. I’m insane” He exhaled, “My first instinct was to hack into her boyfriend’s computer uh, I clearly need to calm down” Seokjin hummed in agreement as he continued to click around on Yoongi’s server.

There were a few moments of silence before something inside Jungkook just ticked. She wasn’t safe. He could just tell. She needed him. He had to find her. “No…no, dude. If there is even a slight chance that she’s in danger I can’t…I can’t let that happen” Seokjin shrugged and tossed him his keys. Jungkook let the key ring twirl on his finger as he quickly dashed out of his apartment.

Yoongi and you had been at it for hours, not being able to get enough of each other’s bodies. You were xausted, laying on the couch butt naked, straddling Yoongi and hugging him tightly. Your skin was sweaty, and so was his. You guys were sticking to one another like glue. The smell of sex was evident throughout the room. You probably would have fallen asleep like that if it weren’t for the sudden phrasing on your door.

“Y/n! Y/n are you in there! It’s Jungkook, please it’s important!” He screamed urgently. Your eyes widened and you looked at Yoongi who simply had a silly grin on his face. He released his hold on you, allowing you to get up

“Um…give me second” You called back, running to your room to find some clothes. Yoongi got dressed as well.

You opened the door and Jungkook popped inside the moment he could fit through the crack.

“I…I need to show you something” Jungkook glanced at Yoongi who was simply grinning with an interested expression. “In my apartment…please…look I know you don’t want to be seen with me, but I promise you I did not film us. I didn’t even want” Yoongi glared at him and he shut his mouth, “Look please, please Y/n you have to believe me. Come over and I’ll show you”

He was gripped your forearms tightly and you wiggled away. “Um…I’m definitely not going to go to your apartment Jungkook” You scoffed, “Just say what you have to say right here”

Jungkook gulped, and Yoongi licked his lips, extremely amused and anticipating the events that were going to follow.

“Can we talk in private?” Jungkook looked deep into your eyes, searching for any small ounce of trust you might have left in him, and ultimately coming up dry.

“No. Just say what you have to say” You said, crossing your arms.

Yoongi paced over to where Y/n was standing and placed a hand on your hip from behind. Jungkook glared at him and he glared right back.

“It was you” Jungkook said dryly, a serious expression causing him to clench his jaw, “You’re a fucking psycho”

Yoongi tilted his head to the side, “Excuse me?”

“You filmed us. She didn’t tell you to pay me to fuck her did she? Hm? No. You, you paid me to fuck her and you filmed it, you live streamed it so that the whole world could see. All so that she wouldn’t have anywhere to turn but to you. You’re a manipulative bastard and a predator and Y/n” Jungkook met your outraged eyes, “You are not safe with this guy. I have proof”

“What the fuck are you saying? Are you high?” You slapped him harshly.

There was a moment of silence as Jungkook touched the side of his face that you hit, looking back up at you bitterly. “I know it sounds crazy. But he literally has cameras following you around everywhere. He watches your every move. He’s sick. Go to his computer and check if you don’t believe me”

“Actually it’s funny you should say that” Yoongi piped in, a charming expression still on display, “The other day I found something really interesting about you Jungkook” He quickly went and grabbed his laptop, opening it up to show them the screen. “You’re calling me a psyco, but you really just want Y/n all to yourself don’t you. You’re the one who’s a creep. I mean,” He scoffed, “I can’t believe you filmed this” He pressed play.

The blood drained from Jungkook’s face. It was a video of you and him. All those years ago. Fucking senselessly, two horny teenagers, all over your house.

Your mouth hung open in shock. You blinked, looking from the screen to Jungkook to try to convince yourself what you were seeing was real.

“You…when did this happen…is that me?” You stuttered, the scenes unfolding in the video overwhelming you. It was definitely your house, and he was definitely moaning your name.

“Y/n…No, I…” Jungkook was at a loss for words. He glared at Yoongi, who was smirking still.

Jungkook grabbed your hair and shoved you up against the window, your chest pressing into the glass. Anyone walking past would be able to see your naked body on display. He let his nose trace from your ear to the back of your neck, inhaling your sweet aroma. You whined his name, trembling as his grip tightened and he pulled your hair back.

“You know how many times I’ve wanted to do this? Hm? You know how bad I’ve wanted to just bend you over and fuck you right when I see you? Years. I’ve wanted this for years. Such a sweet…sweet girl. I knew you’d taste so sweet” He thrusted into you and you moaned his name in pleasure. “Just like that my sweet baby, mmm. Scream for me. Tell me how much you love it” He turned you around and picked up through legs, stopping briefly to remove his glasses.

“Wait…” You panted, your breasts heaving with your deep expirations. “Keep them on”

Jungkook smirked.

“Why?”

“I…I like them…I like you…”

You dropped the the floor in shock. You couldn’t remember any of this, but you did remember feeling some type of way about Jungkook’s glasses. You didn’t even want to know what happened. You needed him to leave. You just wanted Yoongi. Yoongi was simple, kind, and loved you. Jungkook was only making life more and more complicated.

“Get out” You growled at him.

“Y/n…please I know how this looks but you have to believe me”

“He’s clearly obsessed with you. Went to your highschool, followed you to college and didn’t even tell you. He’s probably been stalking you this whole time” Yoongi muttered, clicking his tongue in pity, “Poor guy probably has something wired wrong in his head. I hope you get the help you need Jungkook, really. But I think you better go if Y/n doesn’t want you here” Yoongi politely put his hand on Jungkook’s back to lead him out.

“Y/n! He’s crazy. Yoongi is crazy. He paid me to have sex with you I…” Jungkook held up his wrist, “He gave me this watch! Half a million dollars to do it. See?” You looked to see he was in fact telling the truth, Yoongi’s pricey watch was on his wrist. Yoongi turned to you and gave you a concerned look.

“Oh gosh. I’ve been looking for this, I though I lost it somewhere.” He said innocently, sliding the watch off of Jungkook’s wrist. “Did you steal this Jungkook? Look, my buddy knows a really good therapist, I’ll email you his contact information, please do get some help okay”

“No…” Jungkook struggled violently against Yoongi who was calmly trying to push him out the door, “Y/n…please believe me…I…I don’t even like you okay. I don’t!”

You scoffed, hands open aimlessly as you sat on the floor, still dazed. The tape of you and Jungkook still playing.

Finally Yoongi managed to drag Jungkook out. He was gone for a bit, but you didn’t notice because you were lost in pure shock, trying to desperately search your memory for answers.

When Yoongi came back, he was wearing a pair of glasses. “Hi baby. Are you feeling any better? Poor thing” He knelt down by your side.

“Are those Jungkooks?” You asked. Yoongi nodded, taking the frames off into his hands.

“Yeah. I figured if you like them I may as well take them”

“He just gave you his glasses?”

Yoongi paused.

“I just…took them” Right after he beat in his skull with a baseball bat in the alley behind your apartment.

[agrestenoir]

ml au where lila has the black cat miraculous

lies and trying times (chat noir!lila au)

i.

There’s a girl in a hotel lobby sitting on a plush sofa, watching raindrops trail down the glass pane of the window. Paris storms have overtaken the seemingly quiet morning, and on her first day in the city, Lila Rossi wants nothing more than to leave the stuffy hotel room her father has booked. 

It’s supposed to be for three days, a business trip to impress a few French officials, but her father has already warned her that it might stretch out a bit. However, “a bit” in the Rossi family, is code for “three months to a year, depending on work”. He hasn’t decided whether they’re staying or leaving, which means she can’t decide whether to plan for permanence or establish an escape. The whole thing, like most other relocations throughout her entire life, is exhausting and messy. It’s the whole reason her mother decided to take a vacation to Barcelona three years ago… and hasn’t come back yet. 

Outside, the rain pours hard. Lila can only watch. 

She’s tired of waiting—for her father, for her mother, for her life to start. 

She pushes herself off the sofa, gets up on her feet, and heads towards the front entrance of the Bourgeois hotel. Outside, there’s a bustling and busy city, full of ancient history and secrets—a whimsical world she so desperately wants to throw herself into but has never had a chance. Lila rushes out onto the wet pavement, wedge heels clacking through puddles as she pushes past people. 

The rain pours. Lila leaves. 

She’s tired of waiting.

*

ii.

 The story starts like this: Lila lies. 

It’s something she’s done in every situation. The lies are a quick and easy way to meld in with the new crowd of new people with new faces in a new place; she just wants to be liked and have friends. That’s the crux of the matter: Lila is always lonely. 

In a way, she doesn’t care if everything is built on lies because nothing in her life is permanent—not her parents, not her home, not herself. Consequences are lost on her. She does what she can to process, to fit in, but something’s different this time. 

You see, there’s something about those Paris rainstorms that leave her feeling light and new, where the rain washes away all her sins, like she has a clean slate with no problems. 

In the Paris rain, Lila is born again. 

(In the Paris rain, an evil burns with a new rage.)

In one world, a tottery old man named Master Fu finds a baker’s daughter and a famed son, giving them the tools to save the world from one man’s unquenchable dreams. In this world, he finds a lost little girl who lurks in the shadow of self-created chaos and dreams of doing better. 

Potential, Master Fu thinks, is stronger than nature. 

When he falls waiting for a train, cane clattering across the cement, Lila Rossi stares for a moment before extending her hand to help him up. Rainwater drips in rivets from her tangled hair and sopping clothes, but she still has those sad eyes and soft smile. He tucks the Black Cat Miraculous into her purse as she turns to jump onto the train, walking away with a surety even in the face of risk. 

It’s a gamble, he thinks, but one who can create chaos knows how to control it. 

The story starts like this: Lila lies. 

But it ends like this: Lila can be better.

 *

   iii.

 The first akuma is hard and rigid, his heart a rocky range of every reason he cannot find to love 

Plagg calls him Stoneheart. Lila calls him hurting. 

In a way, a part of Lila can understand where Stoneheart’s dark feelings originated from. Her life is a constant cycle of coming and going, having and hurting, and loving and losing. The geography of her own heart is full of high mountains and wide, open oceans, barriers to block her core from complete destruction, but each day in a new place leads to more bits being chipped away and crumbling to dust. Each place she goes, every person she meets: it’s the same story over and over again 

Paris is different. It leaves her breathless and free in a way everything else has failed to do. 

It doesn’t make her life easier, but it sure does make her believe in the impossible.

“Rock monster,” she murmurs to herself, staring at the akuma as he stalks through the streets. He leaves footsteps of cracked pavement, handprints of crumbled brick on buildings, and his roar echoes like thunder through the city. “I have… to beat a rock monster with a baton.” 

“Hey,” a voice says beside her, startling her from her strategizing. “I’ve got a fucking yo-yo. I think you’re the one who’s better off here.” 

Lila whips around, coming face-to-face with glittering green eyes and a bright smile. A boy stands beside her, all red and black-spotted with a mask to match. His blonde hair is wind-tamed and tousled, as if he’s been dashing across rooftops and flying through the city too. He looks every bit the partner that Plagg told her about. 

“You must be my partner,” she says needlessly. 

“Ladybug,” he introduces and holds out his hand. “You can call me Ladybug, pretty kitty.” 

“Chat Noir.” Lila holds his hand in a strong grip and tugs him forward, until their foreheads are nearly touching. She levels him with a sharp smirk, eyes burning something fierce. “And I am so out of your league.” 

Shoulders shaking, Ladybug laughs and laughs and laughs. “Oh,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m so going to love being your partner.” 

In another world, a charismatic cat falls in love with a blue-eyed wonder. In this world, the cat finds a friend. 

A little bit more of her heart crumbles to dust, leaving her more open to all that life has to bring her.

What do you know? In Paris, impossibilities are possible after all.

 *

  iv.

 “Listen,” her father tells her, three weeks after they arrived in Paris. “Something came up.” 

Lila enrolls in school the next day. She can’t say she didn’t see it coming. 

Francis-Duponte is full of nameless faces and numerous questions, things she’d once rejoice in, but it’s her sixth school in three years, and she just wants a break. Madame Bustier introduces her to the class, and she sulks to the back row, slipping into a seat with hunched shoulders and tired eyes. Interactions are quite exhausting when nothing ever sticks. 

The day passes in slow lunges, no sudden leaps or stumbling stops. The teachers are knowledgeable, the kids are loud, and the world is a kaleidoscope of everything she can’t handle. It’s during lunch, though, that a student accosts her in the hallway. 

“You’re new, right? Lila Rossi?” A girl with bright blue eyes stands in front of her, holding a tablet against her chest. For the first time, Lila is at a loss for words. “Someone told me you were from Milan.”

“I am,” Lila acknowledges, and her mind is spinning away with lies built on threads of promise and purpose, whispering friend friend friend. She vehemently tries to deny it, swallowing back a lump and trying to pretend that old urges aren’t scratching at her heels. 

“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” the girl says. She shifts her weight, gaze skittering everywhere else; she’s nervous, but Lila doesn’t know why. “Do you want to sit with me at lunch? I’m working on some designs, and I was wondering if you could tell me about some of the fashion in Milan.” 

I have my own fashion line.

My father owns half of the fashion industry in Milan. 

I came to Paris because I’m personal friends with Gabriel Agreste. 

I’m— 

Lila doesn’t lie. Lila tries. 

The question hits her in a whoosh, air jumping from her lungs as if a wrecking ball had slammed into her ribcage, and she can’t catch her breath. “I…” Lila swallows again, shaking her head. “Yes, actually, I can do that. I’m probably the best person to ask actually; I know a lot about Milan fashion.” 

Marinette smiles.

*

 v.

 Paris at night is beautiful. 

Lila stares at the dark sky above her, which twinkles with clusters of stars and the soft glow of the pale moon, and she can’t help but think there’s something ethereal about this city. Ladybug sits above her, leaning against one of the struts of the Eiffel Tower, but he’s not staring at the view. 

He’s staring at her. 

She quirks a brow high, a smile slipping onto her face. “Distracted tonight, bug?” 

“Why won’t you tell me your name?” He crosses his arms against his chest and levels her with a quizzical stare. “We’ve been partners for over two months now. Don’t you think that at least puts us on a first name basis?” 

“Colleagues.” 

Ladybug jumps down from his perch above, landing softly on his toes, and settles back on his haunches with a small, cautious smile. “I’m pretty sure we’re way past coworkers, kitten.” 

Lila can’t help the laugh that falls from her lips. “Then what the hell would we be?” 

He flashes her a quick, blinding smile—teeth and all. “Friends, obviously.” 

Lila pauses, trying to make sense of her suddenly slippery world. With a quiet sigh, she drops down and parks herself alongside him. Their thighs brush against each other as they kick their feet back and forth, falling in sync like a pendulum swinging in time with a clock. Slowly but surely, her life in Paris ticks away, seconds slipping past without her notice, and she wonders when the day will come that her father will pick up and move to another city, another country, another continent. 

It goes like this: Lila doesn’t form attachments. 

It goes like this: Lila lies to push people away. 

It goes like this: Lila is tired of being lonely. 

“Friends,” she echoes. 

“Yeah.” He rolls his eyes. “Haven’t you ever had a friend before?” 

Lila toys with her fingers, needing to be doing anything to take her mind off of the situation, but the words still leave her lips. “No, I haven’t actually.” Something tells her that she needs to be open and honest with him. That’s what friends do, right? 

“Oh,” he says. A quick pause and then, “I understand that feeling pretty well myself.” 

There’s silence—thick and heavy like fog before a storm—but she pushes past it and forces herself to admit the truth. “I’ve moved around a lot literally my entire life. I never really had a chance to sit down and… talk to people, I guess. I really don’t know how to have friends.” 

Ladybug bites his lip, pondering the problem for a moment before suggesting, “Well, I think you’re doing a pretty good job right now.” 

She snorts, cheeks burning hot with embarrassment. “You’re lucky I like you, Ladybug.” 

“See?” He pokes her nose with his index finger. “You’re great at this.” 

Lila can’t stop laughing. 

She really, really loves Paris.

 *

 vi.

 It’s been months and months, but if it’s one thing that Lila Rossi knows, it’s that life is only temporary. 

There’s no such thing as permanence when it comes to a home, people, or even friends. 

What a fool I’ve been, she thinks.

*

 vii.

 “You’re a real asshole, you know that, Agreste?” Lila tells Adrien Agreste one morning after Marinette leaves the room, all stammer and stutter, muttering something about the restroom so she can try to drown herself in the sink to quench her raging embarrassment. Alya, the last of their trio, follows at her heels in effort to revive the former if needed be. 

The perky blonde with the green eyes simply blinks up at her, too taken back that Lila erupted out of the blue. It’s obvious he’s confused, but Lila is tired of watching her friend make a fool of herself over a stupid boy who won’t give her the time of day.

“Excuse me?” Adrien asks. 

“I said you’re an asshole,” she continues, crossing her arms against her chest. She leans forward, brown eyes burning with a fierce fire, her smile so sharp it could cut class. “And you’re going to start treating her better, or you’re going to have to deal with me.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he tells her, and she just rolls her head. Stupid boy, stupid boy. “Marinette’s a good friend—”

Lila snorts. “Like you don’t see the way she looks at you, or how she can’t even speak a complete sentence the minute you walk into a room.” She flicks her wrist in his direction, poking the bridge of Adrien’s nose with her index finger. “Marinette’s my best friend, and I will not let you drag her along like she’s your latest toy.” 

Adrien flounders, trying to find the right words. “I’m sorry, Lila, but I really don’t know what you mean.”

His answer makes her blood boil because how can he not see what he does to her? There’s an itch under her skin, because people who are too oblivious are hurt too easily, just like those who fall too fast and hard. Instead of a healthy relationship between two people, you just get a mess of pain and hurt, and there’s no hope of relief. It’s not a happy situation to get involved with. 

How does he not know? And if he does, how can he let it go on? 

“Marinette’s in love with you,” Lila says in a rush and laughs, something bitter and hard. “And you don’t care.” 

There’s silence—a long pause—and then the voice that speaks is certainly not Adrien. “Lila?” Marinette asks, shaky and feeble from the doorway to the classroom. 

Adrien turns to Marinette, eyes softening. “Marinette…?” 

The other girl can’t even form a coherent response—in fact, she doesn’t even try—and instead bolts out of the room before either Lila, Alya, or even Adrien can stop her. 

Something settles in Lila’s chest, like the pieces of her heart are clicking back together just to get broken again. The looming horror of the situation haunts her, a reaper coming to bring death to the tentative peace she’s carefully crafted. Ever since she came to Paris, lessons of love have been the only things she’s learned: how to love a friend, how to love a partner, how to love a city. 

This is her first lesson in heartbreak.

*

 viii.

 “That akuma was my fault!” Lila thunders at Ladybug, their Miraculous beeping insistently as she paces the rooftop.   

“In what way?” He turns to face her, eyes burning into her own. “You know that it’s never the akuma’s fault, so it’s certainly not yours. Hawkmoth—” 

“Because I hurt her!” Chat Noir’s power thrumming through her, Lila can’t stop the hiss that falls from her lips. She grits her teeth, fists her long brown mane, keeps moving because coming to a standstill makes the world weigh heavier on her shoulders. 

“That doesn’t make this your fault,” he says. “They’re vulnerable, and Hawkmoth sends his butterflies when you’re hurt, purposely because you’re at your lowest, when you’re the most vulnerable and easily manipulated. It’s his doing, not yours, chaton.” 

“You don’t get it,” Lila interjects. “I betrayed her, and I put her in that position. Hawkmoth wouldn’t have gotten to her if I hadn’t hurt her in the first place. She’s my friend, and I did that to her!” 

There’s quiet, a stillness that settles over, thick and heavy. “You know Marinette then?” 

Lila snaps her gaze away from her partner, staring at her hands clasped into tight fists. Her ring is still beeping, as is Ladybug’s, but none of them seem to care at this point. “Yeah, I do.” She wonders how much she’s just given away. 

“Are you Lila then?” he asks, and there it is. 

Like an arrow has pierced through her heart, she grasps at the front of her chest as if to smother it’s fire, but nothing helps. Suddenly her world is crashing down around her, and the peaceful bubble she’s spent the last five months inside has burst. 

Lila’s already lost one friend today—is she about to lost another? 

“How do you…?” But she can’t voice the question quick enough as the magic gives away, and both Ladybug and Chat Noir disappear in a kaleidoscope of color. 

It’s Adrien Agreste.

“Oh.” Everything turns slippery, and she struggles to find an anchor to keep her from falling. “Oh god.” 

“Lila,” Adrien says, expression softening as he catches sight of the fear and worry lining her face. “It still wasn’t your fault. You were only trying to protect your friend.” 

“No, you still don’t get it, Agreste. I hurt her.”

The name silences him, and shame washes over her like the high tide against the shore. Adrien Agreste has never been someone Lila gets along with, just for the sole way he turns her friend into a mess and continues on like it doesn’t matter. Lila knows people who string others along without a care—has done it herself for most of her life—because people are not important, and they truly don’t matter to her. 

(Because she doesn’t matter to them—she never has, and never will. So many names and faces, all in different places, who promise to call or write even after she leaves, but no one has ever reached out to her after she’s gone. It’s the crux of her pain, and it makes her realize that she’s never been wanted, she’s never been first choice, and she’s never been someone worth having.) 

“We’re only human, Lila,” he tells her after a long while. The words echo through her head, louder than she wants them to be, but they still speak volumes. He’s not wrong, but he’s not right either. 

“Do you know how hard it is to tell the truth?” Lila takes a deep, shuddering breath and pushes on. “Telling the truth is like… giving a part of you to someone, and today I did that. I told you how Marinette felt, and that was a part of me—a part of her that she willingly shared—and… I took it, and I told you. She will never trust me again, won’t even look at me, and I lost one of my only friends. So don’t try to tell me you understand because you don’t get it.” 

“I’m sure Marinette will forgive you. You just have to apologize—” 

Lila shakes her head. “No, no. You still don’t get it, Adrien, and you never will. I don’t tell the truth because the truth fucking hurts. It’s so much easier to lie. It’s the only thing I’m good at.” She laughs, bitter and broken. “I should’ve just kept lying.” 

Right now, with everything she cares about broken on the floor, it’s the only truth she knows: Lila Rossi is so good at lying, it hurts.

 *

  ix.

 It goes like this: Lila lies. 

It’s easy on most days, just a couple of words strung together to capture the ear of whoever’s listening, to make them linger on her voice, their eyes following hers like a lifeline. In a way, it makes them navigators as they track her across the sky, using a star to find their way. Empowered, she feels infinite, where she can be the impossible and they just pray in her wake, but it’s been a long time since she’s longed for that. 

Paris has changed her. Being Chat Noir has changed her. Friends have changed her. 

Telling the truth has changed her. 

Truth is a faith that Lila has never believed in. It’s a metamorphosis of chance: you have faith in the ones you love, you have faith in the city you protect, you have faith in your partner—but there’s no guarantee that the truth will make things better. Truth, like any form of human nature, just like the lies she used to spin, has the capability to hurt. But like the first time she donned the mask, she curls herself up into a cocoon, the truth a hard shell against the rest of the world, and waits and prays to become a butterfly. 

In the best turnout, Lila flies. In the worst possibility, she falls. 

Lila didn’t realize just how truth could be a weapon. Lies are a two-way street: one who benefits, and those who suffer if they’re stupid enough to believe it. Truth can be wielded to render someone raw and bleeding, until lies seem like the better option, to the point where they can even heal. 

Lila wishes she remembered how to lie. 

Marinette stands in the deserted hallway, arms crossed against her chest, and she refuses to meet Lila’s inquisitive eyes. “I just wanted… to talk about yesterday.” It’s like she’s steeling herself against a stronger power before she presses on. 

“What’s there to talk about?” Lila shrugs and tries to pretend like it doesn’t matter but it does it does it does. “You went full akuma and tried to destroy the city. It’s just a typical Tuesday.” She swallows thickly, dropped her chin to her chest. “At least Ladybug and Chat Noir were there to save you.” 

Marinette laughs, something soft and quiet. “At least there was one bright side.” 

“Obviously,” Lila says. “Chat Noir is pretty damn amazing. I know her actually, did you know that?” 

“Lila.”

“I’m also on a first name basis with Ladybug, but he’s pretty cute, you know? I could totally introduce you guys—” 

“Lila.” The sound of Marinette’s voice freezes her in motion. It feels like she’s trapped in orbit and just waiting for gravity to take hold and bring her down, like a meteor due for impact. 

Lila closes her eyes and spits out a quick, “I’m sorry!” 

“Excuse me?” 

“It’s my fault you were akumatized. It’s my fault you and Adrien aren’t talking.” There’s a burning sensation in the corner of her eyes, and Lila desperately tries not to cry. 

“I…” Marinette presses her lips into a thin line, shaking her head. “First off, I forgive you.” 

There’s a stunned silence. “What?” Lila asks, too afraid to have her repeat it.

“I said I forgive you,” Marinette tells her. “We have a lot more to talk about, but that’s the most important thing for you to know right now.” 

The shake of Lila’s hands amplifies for she’s been shown love and doesn’t know how to handle it. It’s not something she gets from her father and her mother is more distant than the miles away from her last home. Ladyb—Adrien is perhaps the closest thing she’s ever had to someone she cares for, and it’s clear now that Marinette (and perhaps some others) have gotten that close too.

“You forgive me?” 

“Come on.” Marinette grabs a hold of Lila’s shoulder and pushes her forward down the hall, out towards the courtyard where the rest of their class is taking lunch. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, and you can tell me exactly how you know Ladybug and Chat Noir.” 

There’s a pause, and then, “You think I’m lying, don’t you?” 

“Please,” Marinette snorts. “You think I honestly believe that you know Ladybug and Chat Noir personally?” 

“I do.”

“Sure.” 

The two friends go on, much like life does. 

It’s the way of the world. 

It starts like this: Lila lies.

But it ends like this: Lila is better because of it.

 * 

 x.

 “So,” Adrien says from his perch on the edge of the rooftop, his Ladybug mask practically glowing in the afternoon sunlight. “Marinette asked me out this morning.” 

“Huh,” Lila remarks, cocking her head to the side. “You sure you heard her right?” 

Snorting back a laugh, he nudges her side with his elbow. “Please, you know I’d never—” 

“We all know you don’t have the balls to handle that girl.” She stands up and takes a couple steps back from the ledge, unclipping her baton from her waist. “Just like we all know she is the best thing to ever happen to you, and if you don’t her as such, I’m going to break you.” 

“Lila!” he snipes back, cheeks burning red. 

All she can do is laugh as she runs towards the edge of the rooftop, leaping off into open air. “Try to keep up, bugaboo!” 

“Don’t call me that!” Adrien calls after her as the two fly through the streets, past the meandering civilians and through silver sunlight that streaks through buildings and trees. 

The city sings. Lila laughs. 

She’s living.

Oh god, is she living.