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galahadwilder · 2 years ago

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The Time I Got Reincarnated as an Evil Version of Myself

Chapter 1: Honey Sweet

My AO3 is linked in my bio.

After Catalyst, Chloé’s life only got better. Now a full-time superhero, she managed to finally make new friends, forging bonds with the other members of her team. She’d repaired her relationships with her father and Sabrina, fallen in love, and welcomed a surprise sister with open arms.

Then she wakes up in a world where none of that happened. Where, after Catalyst, she only got worse, and lonelier, and more and more bitter.

The canon timeline, in fact. Or something close to it.

Chloé is the only one who remembers the other world. Her friends hate her, her relationships are destroyed, even her girlfriend has barely ever spoken to her. But that’s okay. Whether good or evil, Chloé Bourgeois has never—and WILL never—let anything stop her.

Honeybee claws her way back to consciousness with a splitting headache.

"Urgh," she groans, feeling her throat seize mid-noise as she tries to fight down a vomit. Might be a concussion. "Anyone..." She winces as the word sends pain spiking through her skull. "Anyone get the license on that Akuma?"

Wow. She really has been spending a lot of time with Adrien lately.

She tries to roll onto her hands, to stand up, when she realizes that something's wrong. The ground—the ground is soft. If she got hit hard enough to get knocked down, she should be either on roof or on the street. Neither of which are soft.

Actually, it feels like she's on a bed.

She shoots upright, then immediately regrets it as her brain hammers on the inside of her eyeballs. "Augh!" she yelps, clutching at her forehead.

Then she realizes that what she's feeling is flesh on flesh. There's no spandex. She's ungloved.

She's not transformed.

Her eyes shoot open, and she once again immediately regrets it as beams of light stab between her fingers straight into her optic nerves. She shrieks, covering her head with her forearms.

Yes, that is definitely a concussion.

She carefully cracks her eyes, trying to regulate the stabbing light as slowly as she can. Still hurts, but less, so she's taking the time to adjust. "Pollen?" she croaks.

There's no response.

Immediately, Chloé throws her eyes open, heedless of the pain. Pollen's not with her? Was she—did—did Hawkmoth get her?

It takes her a moment to adjust, before she realizes that she's in her room. Which, okay, that's not great, because she doesn't remember getting her so she must've blacked out, or maybe died, during the Akuma fight, but on the other hand Zoé probably has Pollen right now so at least the Kwami is safe.

Chloé rolls herself out of bed, groaning again at the throbbing in her head. If the Cure went off, why does she still hurt? It usually knits her back together by now.

She stumbles toward her closet, opens the door, and pulls out her favorite fluffy terrycloth robe. She hopes Zoé is back. She wants to check and make sure her sister—and the Kwami they share—are okay.

She makes her way toward the door to her suite, walking as much with her hands on the wall as with her feet on the floor. Her balance is really gone right now. She should probably get back to bed, rest, but she has to check on Zoé. She's not sure why, but she's starting to get the sinking feeling that something is very, very wrong.

Creeping into hallway is easy enough, at least. Her balance is coming back, the vertigo is retreating. She crosses, light-footed, to her sister's door and knocks. Gently, because ow. Sounds are ow.

For a moment, there's no response, and Chloé feels her heart leap into her throat. Then, finally, she hears Zoé's voice: "Who is it?"

"Chloé," Chloé calls back, her throat rasping.

"...Oh," Zoé says. "What do you want?"

"Just checking on you," Chloé says. "Is—" She swallows. "Is Pollen with you? She wasn't in my room when I woke up."

She hears absolute silence from the room, then the sound of her sister's feet padding across the floor. Zoé throws the door open, wearing her favorite yellow-trimmed black silk pajamas—but the glare on her face is significantly less familiar.

"That's not funny, Chlo," Zoé snaps.

Chloé blinks. "I... wasn't... trying to be?" she says.

"Well, good, 'cause you failed," Zoé says. "I can't even tell what you were trying to do." She crosses her arms and leans against the doorway, scowling. "Why in God's name would I have—like, were you accusing me of working with Monarch? Because I have tried to be a good sister, but there's some things—"

"What?" Chloé says. "I just—" She blinks, swallows. "I just wanted to know if you two were okay."

Zoé straightens, stares at her, confusion written in her wide eyes. "I—what?"

Chloé starts to feel her neck heat. "Did... did I say something wrong?" she says.

"You never ask if I'm okay," Zoé says. She reaches out her palm, placing it on Chloé's forehead. "Are you feeling sick or something?"

Chloé leans into her hand, her eyes fluttering closed. "I think I have a concussion," she mutters.

"...How?" Zoe asks, pulling her hand back (causing Chloé to whine at the loss of contact). "Did you fall off the bed or something?"

Chloé shakes her head. "Took an Akuma to the face," she says. "I just wanted to make sure you picked up Pollen after I detransformed."

Zoé's face grows clouded with concern. "Chloé," she says, "you... haven't been Queen Bee for, like, a year."

"I mean, duh?" Chloé says. "I told you, I had to change my hero name to protect my identity." She's starting to wonder if Zoé is okay, now. Does she not remember?

Zoé's face twists back into a scowl. "Oh, now you're telling me that you were Vesperia?" she snaps. "Real funny, Chloé. I'll see you at school." Then she slams the door.

Chloé blinks. Of... of course she wasn't saying that, Zoé is Vesperia. What has her sister so angry?

Getting ready for the day is been unexpectedly difficult. All of her favorite outfits are missing—in the wash, probably—so she’s stuck with a bunch she doesn’t remember buying. Probably from Daddy. The only lip gloss she’s able to find is that white one she’d stopped wearing months ago when she realized how much it made her look like she was about to demand to speak to someone’s manager—i.e., her mother. (She’d had a full-blown dissociative episode over that one. No way in hell is she touching that particular lip gloss anymore.) She decides that it’s probably a hair down kind of day, though her yellow hoodie seems to be missing so she can’t go full comfy, which is slightly grating.

Zoé doesn't wait for her to walk to school together the way she usually does. Something's really wrong—Chloé must have pissed her off really badly. The worst part is, she has no idea what she even said. She keeps replaying the conversation they had in her mind, trying to figure out what happened, what had triggered Zoé this badly, but she can't. She's stuck on one thing.

Zoé had mentioned someone—or something—called Monarch. She’d talked about them like they were some kind of new villain, almost with a sense of… paranoia? It’s unsettling, a little bit. Chloé can’t help wondering how much, exactly, happened while she was unconscious. Or dead, or whatever.

It’s been a year and she’s still not quite used to thinking that.

She wanders into class holding a tray full of coffees, each of which she’s marked with the animal symbol of one of her friends as a bit of an inside joke—and also to keep them straight, because god forbid she accidentally give Marinette “black coffee or death” Dupain-Cheng some of Adrien’s cream-and-sugar monstrosity.

”Morning, guys,” she says, removing the cardboard cups from her tray and placing them in front of Adrien and Nino. “Coffee’s up.”

The entire classroom falls silent at once, and suddenly everyone’s eyes are on her, pressing on her with the weight of confusion and judgment. Nino and Alya, in particular, seem more baffled than anything else—but Adrien… Adrien seems angry.

”Was… it not my turn?” Chloé says, weakly. Did she do something? Why is everyone so pissed at her today?

“Your turn for what?” Alya says, confused, before she turns her cup and sees what Chloé drew on it. Her face draws tight. “Oh. Thanks. Very funny, Chloé.”

”What?” Nino says. “What did she…?”

Alya points at his cup. “Turtle shell.”

“Oh.” Nino turns a glare on Chloé. “Asshole.”

Chloé’s heart leaps up into her throat, and she swears she can’t breathe. “I—what?” she gasps. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—” What is happening?

Adrien’s face is white as a sheet, now. He’s staring at his cup like he’s been struck dead. She’s not even sure he’s breathing.

”I—I—” Chloé’s starting to feel overwhelmed. Hopeless. Everything’s going wrong today and she has no idea why and oh no, she’s gonna get Akumatized, she has to get out of here before she hurts somebody.

”Scuse me!” she yelps, body-slamming back out the classroom door and dashing toward the second-floor bathrooms.

The charm Marinette gave her is the wrong color.

It’s such a weird thing to fixate on, what with everything happening right now, but focusing on that is helping Chloé keep calm. She hasn’t heard the flap of butterfly wings yet, so it seems to be working?

Either way. The Anti-Akuma charm is the wrong color. It’s… yellow. The same yellow as her uniform. Which would’ve made sense for any number of her Akuma forms, except that the one that Marinette specifically gave her the charm for, she had been dressed in a way that was patterned on Ryuuko’s costume, not any of Chloé’s—red, with black and gold accents. This is not her charm.

She hears the door to the bathroom open, and immediately she’s on alert. There are any number of people she doesn’t want to see right now, and if any of them—

“Chloé? Are you… sitting on the floor?”

Oh thank Kwami. That’s Marinette’s voice.

”Sorry,” Chloé mumbles, barely keeping the tears out of her voice. “Trying not to get Akumatized.” She barely looks up as her friend’s pink capris enter her field of vision, though she does hold up the Anti-Akuma charm. “Charm seems to be working okay.”

”That’s goo—wait.” Marinette seems to dither, stuck between going to Chloé and entering the bathroom stall. “I thought that was a gift from your mom?”

“What? No, you gave me this,” Chloé says, then coughs out a single laugh. “Only thing Audrey ever gave me was mommy issues.”

”I… don’t know what you’re talking about?” Marinette says, unconvincingly.

That makes Chloé look up, meeting her friend’s eyes in confusion. ”Nobody else is here, Mari,” she says. “It’s just us.”

Marinette takes a step back.

Chloé blinks. “What is with everyone today?” she says.

”I don’t… know?” Marinette says.

Chloé sighs, staring back down at the tiled floor. “Did Pollen stay the night at your place? I couldn’t find her this morning and Zoé wouldn’t talk to me.”

Marinette is silent for an uncomfortable amount of time. “Who’s…” she croaks. “Who’s Pollen?”

”Oh, come on!” Chloé snaps, slamming a fist into the tiled floor. “Don’t tell me you forgot. Kwami of Subjugation? Looks like a tiny humanoid bee?”

"You—!" Marinette says, and Chloé is surprised to hear the wetness in her voice. She looks up to see Marinette's reddened face, eyes shining with tears that she's clearly trying to hold back. "Why—why would I—know where—where—where—where—where—"

Oh, no. Chloé knows this look. Something just triggered Marinette, badly, and though she has no idea what, Chloé can't just let her best friend spiral. She reaches behind her and pulls herself up on the sink, staggering into Marinette and sweeping her into a hug. "Hey," she says, pressing her palms against Marinette's back, pulling her in close. "We'll find her, okay? She's—"

The she feels the sink crack against the base of her spine before she even registers that Marinette has shoved her. She slips, pinwheeling, back to the ground, plastic dust raining down onto her head, barely even aware of her own body—the impact drove all the breath, and all the thoughts, clean out of her.

"Don't—don't touch me," Marinette whispers from the floor across from her, shaking, eyes wide. She's thrown herself across the bathroom, too, tripped backward onto her butt. "Don't touch—don't... you..."

Chloé, stunned, looks at her own hands, the dust on them, the deep red scrapes where rough plastic friction burned her skin. She can't feel them yet, but she's going to in less than a minute, and they look... they look painful. Part of her, the ragged, nasty part, the part of her that is her mother, wants to leap up, scream, throw Marinette against a wall, storm into the principal's office and demand she be expelled. She wants to take out the pain of the last few hours on everyone else, because it's always been easier to vent it than feel it.

But more than that, more than anything, she just wants her goddamn teddy bear.

It takes her a moment to realize that she's crying, because it takes her a moment to remember to breathe, but when the breath comes it comes hard and ragged. "I'm—I'm—s-s-sorry," she sobs. "J-j-just want—want—wanted to... to... help."

Marinette looks at her like she's grown a second head.

Chloé, heedless of the scrapes and the dust, buries her face in her hands and finally feels whatever inside of her was still holding together collapse.

Then she hears a very familiar voice in her head. The one she still has nightmares about.

Hello, Princess Solitaire, Hawkmoth says.

@emma-d-klutz @generalluxun @naresar @ninepostsstuff @grotesquewombat @erisluna35 @oblivionhold @all-peristeronic @chaos-has-theories @into-september @claws-and-bee-stings @279ital @drawing2cope

#miraculous ladybug #chloe bourgeois #reborn as a villainess #chloe redemption #zoe lee #marinette dupain cheng #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #original content #my fic #ml fic #isekai #otome isekai #angst #the time i got reincarnated as an evil version of myself #that time i got reincarnated as an evil version of myself

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