#i know that she lives in 21st arrondissement

[kari-go]

So I have been trying to figure out the location of Francois Dupont and Marinette's house for you know, AU stuff and I have come to the conclusion that

The Eiffel Tower cannot be fucking seen from Place des Vosges and it's making things very fucking difficult

[actually-factually-anonymous]

Marinette is not poor.

Just posting something I wrote a little while ago:

I always have a little snicker whenever people call Marinette "poor". While the writers put her and her school in a fictional 21st arrondissement; the position of the Eiffel tower and general decor actually point to the girl living in what is very clearly (at least according to the few French speakers I've had the pleasure of talking to about this series with) the 16th arrondissement.

Aka: The Old Money district of Paris.

Her family are apparent minor celebrity bakers who cater to high class events and who get to own (that's important, the Dupain-Cheng's own the bakery, not rent it) and live in a building worth millions of euros in one of the most wealthy parts of Paris. A building and business they likely inherited from Roland at some point, and that family also contains a clearly rich Grandmother who can spend her golden years traveling and can casually buy her Granddaughter a new motorcycle for her birthday.

Her room alone would be unaffordable for any working class person, it's the size of a studio apartment. Add in the location and Balcony; and an actual Parisian commoner would probably need to divvy the space up between a dozen roommates just to make rent. Sure it looks tame compared to Adrien's gilded cage, but make a comparison to let's say... Alya's room (which we have seen and actually resembles a working-class teenager's living space) and suddenly she's looking pretty bougie.

Let's not forget that direct across the road from a school (based on the prestigious Lycee Carnot by the way) attended by the children of the rich and powerful to a degree that cannot be coincidental. But it's unsurprising that Marinette's mingling with the elite when she's already babysitting news-achors' children and has a host of personal connections with celebrities.

As for her hobbies, anyone that has ever taken up design or dressmaking, or really anything creative has to know that it's not cheap. And that stuff that Marinette makes? There's no way that she's covering that with the odd babysitting job unless Nadja is paying her with hundreds of euros per session (I don't know, maybe Manon's on a blacklist so Marinette can choose her price?).

Correct me if I'm wrong: but the closest thing to Marinette or her family having any kind of money problems in the show was the fact that they'd been saving up for Marinette to have a trip to China. Which implies that at least they can't go out to another country on a whim: but that's not exactly poor now is it?

If Marinette looks like some schlub from the Banlieues, it's only by comparison to her ultra-wealthy classmates. Her parents show no signs of financial struggle, and Marinette herself is rarely called to help out in the family business. She lives in a room bigger than some apartments. Her hobbies are ridiculously expensive, but the most she has to do to cover them is occasionally babysit for one of her celebrity connections.

Marinette's. Not. Poor.

She is upper-middle class at worst.

And as for hardship in the future? The girl has already had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity dropped in her lap via Audrey Bourgeoisie, another one through Jagged letting her design his glasses (talk about visibility for a young designer), gained recognition through Gabriel Agreste's competition and is the sole heir to her parents' and Gandmother's combined wealth. Unless she well and truly flubs every opportunity she has her fashion career is about as close to set as it can be, and even if it bombs: her familial wealth means that unless she goes on a spending spree she probably won't even have to work. She could literally just appoint a manager for her family bakery and live full time as Ladybug...

Oh, and she's also dating Adrien Agreste. Who was the sole heir to the Agreste Fortune, but now that his parents are gone: he's probably one of the richest minors in France. Worst come to worst, she has a sugar-kitty to keep her afloat.

Marinette is not poor. She was never poor. Barring multiple acts of absurd misfortune that destroy her family's wealth and home and her celebrity connections and her burgeoning professional reputation and her relationship with Adrien: she never will be poor.

Even then she'd still be Ladybug and The Guardian of the Mother Box. She could have a single euro to her name and would still have a home in the Guardian Temple- she's not exactly one missed payment away from being on the streets.

This idea that she's some working-class underdog is much like the romanticized trope of the "lonely hero struggling under her responsibilities" that Marinette often gets in fanworks: it's something that ignores her canonical privileges for the sake of drama and putting her on a pedestal for how she suffers under her duty. In reality, Marinette has a literal wealth of riches in terms of generational wealth and metaphorical riches with her massive support group formed from her family and many friends (many of whom are ultra wealthy themselves).

Marinette is not poor.

[jinx-jade]

A fairy’s protection chapter 1

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sabine asked as the taxi pulled up to the bakery.

“Maman, you’ve been asking me that about everything I’ve done since losing my vision. Yes, I’m sure this is a good idea.” Marinette says exasperatedly.

Tom gave his daughter a pitiful look, “Sweetheart, your mother is just wor… ” 

“Worried about me. I know.” Marinette interrupted, causing Tom and Sabine to give each other worried looks.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Marinette claims before entering the taxi.

Her trip from the 21st arrondissement, Paris, France to Gotham, New Jersey, America wasn’t as bad as she had thought it would be.

Once she collected all of her luggage, that wasn’t much, Marinette left the airport and walked into an empty alleyway. She checked the area for any form of energy, but having found none, Marinette asked Kaalki to open a portal to her new home.

The ‘new home’, was an old apartment building that borders the edge of a shopping district. It is a five-story building that Marinette had bought and renovated during her time as the independent designer MDC, with the money she had made before being forced to retire.

It was originally supposed to be the first MDC boutique, the first floor specifically being renovated to be a store.

The second floor was built to be her workroom, with extra storage and workbenches.

The other three floors were renovated to be living quarters. This included the Masterbedroom, Masterbath, two guest bedrooms, a full bathroom, the kitchen, dining room, living room, and a study.

However plans change, and due to what Marinette and the kwami have labeled the incident, Marinette could no longer see. Instead of sight, she uses a white cane and focuses on different energies to ‘see’.

She decided to retire from being MDC and told her parents what to type to email and inform her clients. Meaning the plan for MDC’s first boutique was thrown in the trash.

Marinette not being one to give up still moved to Gotham and into her apartment building. She simply changed what she planned on selling.

The kwamis had thrown random ideas back and forth till they settled on opening up a flower shop. An idea that Marinette easily agreed to.

During her first month in Gotham, Marinette and the kwamis turned the second floor into a greenhouse so she can grow plants herself. If they happened to use magic to speed up the plant growing process, then no one needed to know.

The flower shop was called Jardin de fées (fairy garden). She not only sold flowers but also sold tea mixture and baked goods. All of which Marinette and the kwamis prepared and made themselves, from arranging the flowers, grinding the tea leaves and herbs, to baking the snacks and treat.

Three months into Marinette living in Gotham and her flower shop was surprisingly doing pretty well. When the shop was open, there were always customers moving about and ordering flowers for loved ones or special occasions.

Marinette hadn’t even run into any trouble while being in the city.

Of course, the moment she mentioned the lack of trouble to the kwamis, a crash was heard on her roof.

Marinette moved to the door that leads to the roof, reaching out her own energy to check for any trouble, Marinette let out a gasp at her observation. She quickly grabbed her medkit before exiting the building onto the roof and starting to attend to the person’s injuries.

The person had multiple cuts as well as a knife stuck in their lower abdomen.

“Hey. Can you hear me?” Marinette asked as calmly as she could. She could freak out about this later.

The person gave Marinette a grunt of acknowledgment.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’m gonna treat these wounds before you bleed out. Ok?” Marinette informed them before placing her hand near one of the wounds.

She took a deep breath, extending her energy through the person’s body, which allowed her to ‘see’ their internal injuries. It also allowed her to see toxic green magic that felt slimy and almost as if she could drown in it.

Marinette grabbed the appropriate supplies to sitch and band-aid the wounded person. It wasn’t the worst injury she patched up, but it was her first time patching a person up without sight.

Marinette pulled on the slimy magic that seemed to be a mix of unbalanced creation and destruction energy and used it to aid her work. Using this energy seemed to have made the person fall unconscious but other than that it didn’t seem to harm them.

After all the injuries were stitched shut and the knife was removed, she began to put bandages over it to not let it get infected when she sensed two other people landing on her roof. Both were injured to a lesser extent, and seem to be trying to stay hidden with how far away and quiet they were.

She let out a sigh once she was done attending to the wounds. Marinette had also attempted to balance out the magic imbalance, but to completely even out the amount of creative and destructive energy would take multiple days. Something about the way they showed up on her roof made her have a feeling that they didn’t want to stick around that long. Which was fine with her, since she didn’t want to expose herself as a magic-user.

“To whoever is hiding over there, your friend should be fine now.” The energy coming off them seemed to coil tightly in what might have been in surprise, stress, or nervousness. It might have even been a combination of the three, but Marinette ignored it.

“Make sure they get lots of rest and don’t pull their stitches,” Marinette informed them before gathering her stuff and leaving the chaotic roof. “Have a nice rest of your evening,” Mariette said, before retreating into her home.

She then proceeded to stress bake the kwamis’ favorite treats well into the morning hours, before the kwamis finally convinced her to go to sleep.

[fridayfirefly]

A Guardian in Gotham

Read A Guardian in Gotham on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 19 - Guardian

Note: In this AU Master Fu gave out the Ladybug Miraculous to Marinette and the Black Cat Miraculous to Adrien before consulting the Kwami. Marinette turned out to be a true holder, but for the Black Cat Miraculous, not the Ladybug Miraculous. However, she and Adrien made it work and were able to defeat Hawkmoth anyway. After Hawkmoth's defeat she becomes Lady Noire full-time.

----------

Being the Guardian of the Miraculous was hard work. There were no family vacations, no sleeping in or going to bed early, no breaks. Marinette could not relax until Hawkmoth was defeated. Which explained why it was such a jarring change once the Miraculous Team defeated Hawkmoth.

Gabriel Agreste was behind bars. The citizens of Paris were free from the threat of akumatization. Tikki, Plagg, and the rest of the Kwamis went dormant in order to restore the damage done to Duusu's Miraculous. Marinette didn't exactly know what to do with herself. Suddenly it hit her that she was no longer the middle schooler who accepted the burden of Guardianship. She was in her final year of high school, nearly an adult. All around her, her friends were making future plans. Adrien was taking a gap year to help Emilie recover from her coma. Alya was accepted to a prestigious journalism program. Nino was DJing at one of the best clubs in Paris. Luka was releasing his EP. Kagami was training for the Olympics. Chloé took up an internship with her mother.

Marinette couldn't move on, the way all of her friends were able to. Marinette couldn't be a normal girl anymore. She couldn't go to university, start a family, live a normal life. She needed the rush of adrenaline that came from two little words - Spots on! or more recently, Claws out!

It was around this time that the Temple of Guardian got in touch with Marinette, offering her an opportunity to continue her work as a Guardian of the Miraculous. They send Marinette a box of old journals, dating back to the 18th century. The journals detailed the discovery of twin "wells of evil" located in the American cities of Gotham and Metropolis, then named Mortham City. The Masters of the Miraculous who made this discovery studied the evil and expressed the desire to find a way to remove it, but didn't have the chance to complete the task before the Temple of Guardians fell. When the Temple reappeared they believed that the Masters had managed to destroy the evil in Mortham, due to the reports of the city's recovery and renaming to Metropolis soon after, but were unable to destroy the evil in Gotham. The city festered, growing more and more troubled while Metropolis flourished. Marinette's task was to do her best to study and remove the evil in Gotham.

Marinette applied to Gotham University, feeling relieved that she might finally find her purpose.

----------

Marinette's dorm room at Gotham University was rather lackluster; it was the typical tiny, cramped American university dorm, complete with a stained carpet and a bathroom shared between six girls. Her roommate was a computer science major named Barbara Gordon. Barbara was older than Marinette, a senior while Marinette was only a freshman. It was a fluke accident that the freshman dorms had filled up before she was admitted. Secretly Marinette wished that she had been able to room with another freshman. Barbara was rarely in the dorm room, too busy with her coursework and her real friends to make small talk with her nervous roommate.

Marinette barely spent any time in her dorm room, either. She spent most of her time in class or at the library studying. Marinette had the ambitious plan of double majoring in both fashion and business, in order to start her own fashion company someday. Her classes overwhelmed her, and Marinette began to regret overloading her first-semester schedule. It gave her barely any time to work on her Guardian work, let alone join an extracurricular.

Marinette wanted to decorate the dorm and make it more of a home, but because of a plane delay, she ended up arriving at the university the day before classes started, giving her no time at all to go to the store and buy anything. Another unfortunate casualty of Marinette's late arrival was that she still hadn't figured out how Gotham's bus schedule worked, so she walked everywhere, even in the pouring rain.

Overall, Marinette's first week of classes was miserable. That was why Marinette was crying in her dorm room, alone, at six in the evening on a Friday night. It all started when Marinette saw a picture of her old class on social media. Alya and Nino were making faces at the camera; Marinette and Adrien were both grinning, Marinette's blue scarf wrapped around his neck; Ivan and Mylène were holding hands, staring into each other's eyes; Rose was posing, kissing Juleka's cheek; Alix was perched on Kim's shoulders; Nathaniel had his arm wrapped around Marc's shoulders; Max was holding up Markov so he could wave to the camera, Sabrina and Chloé were smiling, holding hands.

The photo had been taken years ago, on their first day of lycée. Marinette remembered it well. They had all been nervous about starting at a new school. There was no guarantee that they would all be in the same class. Max had calculated the odds for even half of their class staying together and it wasn't good. But that morning, when Marinette walked into her homeroom and saw all of her friends sitting there, she knew that it would be okay. Chloé revealed that she had gotten her father to provide a generous donation to the school to keep them all in the same class for the rest of their education. Marinette had been so happy to get to stay with her friends. Now she was on a different continent from them.

The tears started to fall, slowly at first, then more and more until Marinette was sobbing, face pressed into a pillow. How could she have made such a stupid decision? All of her friends were in France and she left them, all because she couldn't move on.

Two knocks on the door halted Marinette's sobs. "Babs? Are you in here?"

Marinette got up and opened the door, revealing a young man. He looked to be her age, tall, with black hair and blue eyes. "Barbara isn't here right now," she told the man.

The man blinked, looking at Marinette like she wasn't what he expected at all. "I guess I should have called her before I showed up. I'm Tim, by the way. I was just here to drop this off." Tim held up a container filled with chocolate chip cookies.

"I'm Marinette. If you want, you can drop the cookies off on her desk. I'll tell Barbara that they're from you, once she comes back to the dorm." Marinette wiped her eyes with her shirt sleeve, trying to get rid of the evidence of her crying.

"Are you okay?" asked Tim.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just a little homesick. Nothing to worry about."

"You should come with me to get dinner," offered Tim. "I was just about to stop in at the dining hall."

Marinette shook her head. "I wouldn't want to impose."

"It wouldn't be an imposition at all. I hate eating alone."

Marinette gave him a wary look. "I don't know you. Why would you invite me to eat with you?"

Tim shrugged. "You look like you could use some company, to take your mind off of your homesickness. Unless you want to spend the rest of your night crying in your dorm."

Marinette bit her lip as she thought it over. It would be nice to get out of the dorm and get something to eat. On the other hand, Tim was a complete stranger whose intentions Marinette still didn't trust. Then Marinette remembered the photo of her friends and made up her mind. If she couldn't have her old friends here in Gotham she would have to make new ones. "Alright. Just give me a few minutes to get ready."

Marinette threw on a pair of jeans, a Gotham University hoodie, and her sturdiest pair of sneakers.

"So what's on the menu tonight?" asked Marinette as they walked out of the dorm building to Tim's car.

"Uncertain. I can't remember the last time the dining hall actually updating its online menu. I was planning on crossing my fingers and hoping that they would be serving something edible tonight."

Marinette wrinkled her nose. "Is the food usually edible?"

"It's hit or miss. If you want, we could go to a diner instead?"

Marinette nodded. "I don't want to spend my weekend with food poisoning."

"Good choice." Tim turned the car around and started driving into the center of Gotham.

"Are you a senior like Barbara?" asked Marinette.

Tim shook his head. "I'm a sophomore. How about you?"

"Freshman. This is actually my first Friday in Gotham."

"Where are you from?" asked Tim.

"Paris, 21st arrondissement."

"That must be a pretty big change. What made you choose Gotham?"

Marinette shrugged, not wanting to give away her real reason. "I figured all the supervillains and Rogues might remind me of home."

Tim looked confused for a second before a realization passed over him. "I forgot about Hawkmoth. It was a big deal here in Gotham when he first emerged because the Mayor of Paris refused to allow the Justice League to intervene. All because he was worried about 'damaging the historic buildings of Paris'."

Marinette let out a bitter laugh. "That wasn't the real reason, you know. I was friends with Andre Bourgeois's daughter, Chloé. She says that he didn't want the Justice League to get involved in the fight against Hawkmoth because he couldn't merchandise any of the Justice League members. Ladybug, Chat Noir, and the rest of the Miraculous Team, on the other hand, never copyrighted their images. Paris used the Miraculous Team to bring in billions in tourism and Bourgeois never paid them a cent."

Tim looked surprised. "You sound like you know a lot about the Miraculous Team."

"I got to know them all pretty well. My classmates were known throughout Paris as the 'Children of Hawkmoth' - as if it was our fault that Hawkmoth targeted my school at a rate astronomically higher than the rest of the city. Of course, when it turned out that Gabriel Agreste's son was one of my classmates the nickname got a bit more personal."

Tim let out a break. "I suppose moving to Gotham makes sense when you've spent that much time in proximity to superheroes and supervillains."

"Gotham is an improvement to Paris under Hawkmoth. At least none one your Rogues can mind control." Marinette shuddered at the memory of her friends and loved ones turning against her due to Hawkmoth's influence.

Tim pulled into the diner parking lot. The pair got a booth in the back and put in their orders. Tim and Marinette spent the night trading stories of the most interesting Parisian akumas and Gotham Rogues.

Tim was enraptured. He told Marinette that for years it had been difficult for outsiders to get any reliable information about the Miraculous Team, outside of what Andre Bourgeois used for his tourism campaign. So Marinette did her best to share all the little details that every Parisian knew like the back of their hand: That Valentines Day was the worst holiday because all of the akumas were love-based. That they were trained in school to either lock their emotions down or let them all out, if they saw an akuma, to try and diminish the akuma's power. That Ladybug and Chat Noir, once they realized that their fanbase was primarily children, made it a point to never swear during their battles.

By the end of the night, Tim and Marinette made plans to meet up the following day. Tim promised to take Marinette out into the city for the shopping trip that her delayed flight caused her to miss. Marinette went to bed that night hopeful for her future in Gotham, a feeling she never thought she would have again.

----------

Over the next few weeks, things got better at Gotham University. Marinette started spending more time out of her dorm room with Tim, and eventually, with her roommate Babs and Tim's brother (and Bab's boyfriend) Dick. Tim became Marinette's lifesaver after he taught Marinette how Gotham's bus system worked. Marinette finally got around to decorating her side of the room. Her new style and color scheme (navy blue and sunflower yellow, Gotham University school colors) suited her much better than the pinks and whites of her high school days. Her productivity increased as she settled into the school, and Marinette found that she actually enjoyed her classes. It wasn't perfect, but Gotham University began to feel a bit more like home.

Most importantly, Marinette had begun to make progress on her work as a guardian. It had taken a whole weekend, but she eventually located the epicenter of Gotham's evil, a rundown tenement building in the heart of Crime Alley. The basement of the building housed storage units, one of which Marinette promptly rented. She set up her workshop there, bringing out the Miraculous Box so that she could consult the Kwami. Tikki and Plagg both woke up from their hibernation and Marinette got to work.

"I can sense the evil," spoke Tikki. "It's overpowering."

"It's like going from the Sahara Desert straight to the middle of the ocean," added Plagg.

"It does feel similar to drowning," Tikki agreed.

"Do either of you have any idea how to get rid of it?" asked Marinette.

Tikki shrugged. "I wish I could tell you how to defeat it, but it's unlike any enemy the Kwami of your Miracle Box have ever gone up against before. But look on the bright side, we know that it can be eliminating. I can only assume that the Kwami were involved when the evil was eliminated in Metropolis."

"The solution is easy. We cataclysm the evil," said Plagg.

"We don't know what would happen if we use cataclysm against something that isn't fully corporeal."

"Then we use Sass's second chance until we get it right."

Tikki brightened up. "Oh, that is a good idea - using second chance, not using cataclysm irresponsibly."

"See! I do have good ideas sometimes. We could also use Pollen's venom to freeze the evil in place and stop it from fighting back."

Marinette could listen to her two favorite Kwami argue forever. She had missed them terribly. But she had a job to do, so she interrupted their banter. "Do you think I should use Mullo to wield multiple Miraculous?"

Tikki shook her head. "You'll need at least one other person with you. If you get hurt, someone else will have to use second chance."

Marinette pondered that fact. "Luka's going on tour next month. He's stopping in Gotham for a weekend. Chloé is only an hour drive from Gotham, up in New York City, so she could be here any time. If we plan everything right, we could have the evil destroyed before the semester is over."

Once again, Tikki shot down Marinette's plan. "This is too strong for Luka's second chance or Chloé's venom. If you want to do this right you'll need to use true holders."

Marinette winced. Finding the true holder of a Miraculous was a near-impossible task. Of her entire Miraculous Team, only Marinette and Adrien were true holders. While the Kwami could sense a person's aptitude, they needed to be within fifty feet to get an accurate read. There was no way Marinette would be able to find the true holder of both Sass and Pollen. "Okay, new plan. What if I get Mullo to multiply myself and then have each copy of me take a different Miraculous?"

Marinette brainstormed with the two Kwami for hours, desperate to find a solution to the problem that had plagued Gotham for centuries. However, they still couldn't come up with a plan in which Marinette would be able to rid Gotham of the evil without enlisting the help of at least one other true holder. In the end, Marinette decided to take Tikki, Plagg, Sass, and Pollen back to the dorm with her, hoping that they might stumble upon another true holder.

"I wish we had a better plan," sighed Marinette.

"Keep your head up, Marinette. The only thing we can do now is stay positive and hope for the best," advised Tikki.

It wasn't a good plan, passively waiting for someone to solve her problem for her, but it was the only plan they had. Marinette had no other choice. If she tried to take on the evil alone, it would overpower her. It was disheartening. Marinette rode the bus back to her dorm. The streets of Gotham felt colder on the return trip.

Getting dinner with Tim was the only thing that could cheer Marinette up, so she pulled out her phone and sent him an invitation to meet up.

Marinette: Do you want to go get dinner? I heard the dining hall has vegetarian lasagne

Tim: Sure! Be there in twenty

Marinette put her phone away as she got off the bus and started walking towards the dining hall, dodging the sidewalk puddles that never seemed to dry. Even when it wasn't raining, Gotham was a dreary city.

Tim and Marinette chatted about their classes as they ate their food. By the end of dinner, Marinette felt a little better about her disappointing day. Tim could always lift her out of a bad mood. Marinette considered it his superpower.

"I'll see you tomorrow," said Marinette as she got out of Tim's car in front of her dorm hall. She expected to get to her room without incident, but as soon as she got into the relative privacy of the stairwell, all four of her Kwami were circling around her head, speaking in rapid succession, too quick for Marinette to keep up.

"I can't believe it!"

"You've got some luck, Pigtails!"

"This is great news!"

"I can't wait to meet him!"

Marinette blinked as she tried to make sense of the Kwamis' words. "What's going on?"

Pollen's eyes were bright. "Tim is my true holder!" the Kwami squeaked excitedly.

Marinette gasped. "Really?"

"He'll make a perfect Bee. He seems so smart and funny and considerate. I bet he'll feed me loads of honey and get fresh flowers for all of his rooms and be my best friend." Pollen sighed dreamily, pure joy in her voice.

"Pollen, have you ever had a true holder before?" asked Marinette.

"Of course. It's been a long time, though - at least a thousand years since my last true holder died. I missed it a lot. But now I have Tim!"

Marinette smiled, overjoyed that she finally had the means to complete her mission, that Pollen finally got to meet one of her true holders again, that Gotham might be freed from the evil that had loomed over it for centuries. Mostly, she was overjoyed that she met Tim all those weeks ago, that he took the time to get to know her, that he was there for her when no one else was.

----------

"So the Kwami are little gods?" Tim stared at Pollen with an almost scary intensity, as if he thought looking away might make the Kwami disappear.

Pollen flew up closer to Tim to explain. "The Kwami are linked to certain aspects of humanity: creation, destruction, intuition, protection, et cetera. We have a certain amount of control over these qualities. I am the Kwami of Subjection, of control and mastery. I can give you the power to incapacitate your enemies."

"Incapacitate them how?"

"Using the power of venom, you will be able to freeze your enemies in place."

Tim wrinkled his nose. "That sounds a little morality dubious. How do you know I wouldn't use it for evil. This is Gotham."

Pollen rolled her eyes. "You're my true holder, Tim Drake. I trust you with my entire being."

"What does that mean, for me to be your true holder?"

Pollen's cheerful expression turned sad. "Of all the Kwami, my powers are the most often exploited. The power of subjection, of complete and total control over your enemies, is corrupting. However, you, Tim, are my true holder. Your self-control is strong, I can sense it. You will not be corrupted by the power I give you. You will wield it fairly."

Tim glanced over at Marinette, and she gave him her most encouraging smile. "I need you, Tim. I've needed you for a while. First, as a friend, when I was at my lowest, and now as my partner. There's an evil that resides in this city, that I have been tasked with destroying. I can't get rid of it alone. I need you to help me."

Tim's eyes widened. "You mean there's a supernatural reason for Gotham's condition?"

Marinette nodded. "There's a well of evil underneath the city. Using the Miraculous, I can remove it. But it's too powerful for me to do it alone. I know this is a lot to ask, but-"

Tim interrupted Marinette before she could finish her sentence. "You know, Gotham is well known for its distaste for magic-users and meta-humans." Marinette opened her mouth to protest but was interrupted once more by Tim. "However, I trust that you want to do what's best for this city. I'll help you."

Marinette's face brightened. "Thank you! I have a plan but I still need to fine-tune the details. I'll get back to you as soon as possible. For now, you should take the Bee Comb with you. You'll need to form an emotional bond with Pollen before you can achieve peak performance."

"You seem to know a lot about the Miraculous and the Kwami."

"It's my job to be knowledgable. I'm a Guardian of the Miraculous."

----------

"So how does a girl like you become a Guardian of the Miraculous?" asked Tim as they ate their lunch in the storage unit after a long morning of pouring over plans.

"I was chosen by the previous master. It's a long-standing tradition that the Guardian can only be a true holder, because true holders notoriously incorruptible except in the most extreme situations. I was the only true holder that Master Fu knew of, other than himself, so despite my age and despite the fact that I wielded the Ladybug Miraculous rather than the Black Cat Miraculous, the Miraculous I was the true holder for, he passed the responsibility onto me."

"How old were you when you became the Guardian full-time?"

Marinette tensed her shoulders. "I was fourteen. Master Fu wanted to wait longer, but there was a situation. I lost my only mentor, with only a fraction of my training completed."

"That sounds rough," Tim's tone was sympathetic. He placed his hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

"It was difficult," Marinette admitted. "For the longest time, I was mad at Master Fu for waiting so long to start training me. It wasn't until I got older that I realized why he was so reluctant to start my training. He felt guilty for stealing my childhood away from me. The situation in Paris was bad and tough choices had to be made. I don't blame him, but there are a lot of things I wish had been done differently."

"I'm sorry that you had to go through that. I don't know what I would have done if I had lost my mentor-" Tim's thoughtful tone turned frantic. "Not that my experience with mentorship would compare to yours, because I wouldn't know anything about being a teenage superhero."

Tim's words were suspicious, but Marinette didn't have time to figure out what he was hiding. They had a job to do. "Well, it's time to get back to work. You need to practice using venom on non-corporeal objects. I want to see if you're able to freeze the wind."

"Sounds good, Bugs."

"Bugs?"

Tim nodded. "I figured you could use a nickname. Do you not like it?"

"No, it's fine." Marinette paused. "Actually, it's better than fine. I really appreciate it. Thank you, Tim."

"No problem, Buggsy," Tim teased.

"Okay, now you're pushing your luck," Marinette teased right back.

----------

Lady Noire and her partner Yellowjacket stood in the basement of a rundown tenement building in the heart of Crime Alley.

Lady Noire spoke the plan aloud, the rhythm of her words revealing that she had spoken them many times before in preparation for the event. "I'll start by drawing out the evil. As soon as it senses the power of destruction that I hold it will try and consume me. I need you to be ready to use your venom the moment it emerges. Once it is frozen, I will use cataclysm. Are you ready?"

Yellowjacket responded. "I'm ready."

Lady Noire closed her eyes and let out her breath in a drawn-out hiss. The shadows around her darkened and she let out a pained gasp as she fell to her knees.

Yellowjacket sprung into action. "Venom!" he shouted, thrusting his palms out to let his power fill the room. The whole room lit up with yellow light, bright enough to rid the room of all but the supernatural shadows.

The shadows, which had been growing exponentially, suddenly stopped dead in their tracks. Lady Noire got back up onto her feet, a vicious snarl on her face. "You have been terrorizing this city for centuries. No longer will I will allow this evil to haunt Gotham. Cataclysm!"

The shadows crumbled, leaving behind only natural darkness. The transformation disappeared from Lady Noire, leaving behind a girl, who gasped for breath. "Tim, we did it!"

"Pollen, buzz off," commanded Yellowjacket. He was so impatient to hug the girl that he had his arms wrapped around her before his transformation was finished. "It's over, Marinette."

The girl shook her head gently. "It's not completely over. The effects will surely linger - Metropolis still sees its fair share of villains - but it will be nothing like what it was before. I imagine the vigilantes that roam Gotham will have a much easier job, though."

The boy tensed up. "Speaking of the vigilantes that roam Gotham, I suppose there's something that I should probably tell you. I'm Red Robin."

The girl blinked once, a dumbstruck expression on her face then burst out into peals of laughter. "Just my silly luck that I ask a vigilante to be my superhero partner."

The boy grinned. "I am rather fond of your silly luck. It's what brought us together."

@maribatmarch-2k21

[jalaluvsu]

Interference

https://beautiful-disasters-sunshine.tumblr.com/post/631749044177403904/what-if-marinette-was-tims-little-sister-who-was

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“Y’know, just ‘cause Kori’s got a baby coming doesn’t mean you can boss us around Robin,” Beastboy whined as he stepped out of the Zeta Tube.

He scoffed at the notion, “That’s literally exactly what I can and will do, you absolute buffoon.”

“Oh, shutup.”

He sighed. There isn’t ever a moment where Garfield doesn’t wish Starfire still led the Titans. The past three weeks have gone by at an agonizingly slow pace, filled with never ending fights between him and Damian. And! Before you get the wrong impression, no, he did not start these fights. In fact, he was practically the one getting attacked!

Really, what’d you expect him to do when Damian insulted tofu during dinner at the Waynes’? Smile and wave?

Laughable.

Garfield will tell you what happened after, whether he’s proud is a matter of who asks. Let’s just say Alfred’s put him on a month-long ban from the dining room at the manor; worth it, nonetheless.

“Beastboy, earth to Beastboy,” He heard Raven chant over comms. Oh, right, the mission.

“Reporting for duty!” he saluted obediently, like the responsible hero he is.  

“Stop standing there and you know, actually read the coordinates I sent to your navigator,” he grinned at her snark as he pulled out his compact. A hefty amount of unchecked notifications was in its wake.

Automated message coupons from the local pizza place at Jump City (hell yeah!)

Missed calls from Terra, he faltered at the offending contact; as if he would respond. The time for that has passed, long passed.

He scrolled down the small screen as he flitted his gaze past the hundreds of junk mail. Ah, and lastly, one lengthy preview of information regarding the mission. The text listed an address along with...enrollment details? Huh.

Garfield glanced both ways before crossing the busy street; him previously being in the too-bright alleyway. 

Okay, see, he knows what you’re thinking. Someone like him- or rather someone who looked like him, would stick out like a sore thumb. Especially in a place like Paris. How common were metahumans here? Probably not as high as the rate in Metropolis, that’s for sure.

There were only so many green colored people, and a good ninety-nine percent was or is associated with heroes (vigilantes, fine) or even aliens. That being said, he was keeping it on the down-low. In Paris, he wasn’t the cool, collected, and most desired by all Garfield Logan. In Paris, he was just Grant Roth. What? It’s a good cover! And he was planning on taking Raven’s surname eventually anyways. (wink wink, nudge nudge)

A few spells and enchantments via Magical Goth Gf ™ prior to his ride in the tubes later; he practically looked uncanny to his appearance before the whole ‘failed experiment injection’ thing. You know, a mop of auburn hair, pale as paper skin, and cutesy little freckles (Blue Beetle’s words, not his) (Okay, maybe it was his too..)

Garfield pulled out his pocketed compact once he safely made it across the street. Now that he gave more than a glance at the address it looked...short. In fact, it was vague, extremely vague. He discreetly looked around for any eavesdroppers and lowered his voice to a whisper as he walked down the 21st arrondissement.

“Uh, guys? Where exactly am I supposed to go?”

He hated not knowing how to do something he was expected to, incredibly so.

“I was hoping you’d dispose of your body there,” he paused, "but since you asked so nicely, we’ll tell you.” Robin chimed in matter-of-factly.

Garfield could practically feel the next set of words. He didn’t know what they were, but they were going to suck. He just knew it.

Raven took a long swig of coffee before announcing the dreaded news, “We’ve signed you up for a foreign exchange student program,” 

Ah,

“You what?!” he shrieked. A couple of onlookers gave him dirty glances, he smiled sheepishly.

Blue Beetle toggled his audio, “C’mon Gar-“ Robin interrupted,

“No names on field!”

 “Shutuuuuup,” he drawled out.

“Anyways, Beastboy,’’ cue pointed glare at Robin,’’ did you really think we’d let you roam around without a leash for what? Three months? In a foreign country of all places?” Garfield could practically hear the smirk in his voice, the fucker.

“I was hoping, yeah!” Damn. He thought he would get away with them actually trusting him here alone, wishful thinking on his part.

He pouted at the idea as he scouted for a place to lounge in.

Raven huffed, “You’ll be living with a host family during your stay at Paris, if it wasn’t clear enough already.”

He froze; what other surprises were up their sleeves?!

“C’mon, be real for a sec. I’m a superhero, I don’t need to go to public school, I don’t need a couple of strangers!” he stressed as he weaved between crowds of Parisians.

Ooh, a bench. He sat with the intent of winning this argument, no matter the consequence. So what if he looked crazy, supposedly talking to himself? Priorities people, priorities.

“Doom Patrol’s strict orders, you know, ‘cause they can’t homeschool you a whole continent away,” Jamie deadpanned.

Garfield dragged a hand down his face. Stupid Doom Patrol, stupid worrying for his wellbeing. “But- it’s a mission!” he gestured rapidly, in clear exasperation.

Jaime tsked, “And? Gotta keep that brain of yours in tip-top shape, amigo!”

“Whatever, man;” he got up to dust himself off, “still don’t know how that’s related to the address on the Seine but- “

“They live there, your host family,” Raven supplied.

Garfield scratched his chin in wonder. Who lives in a body of water? That’s so- Wait. His friends were totally holding out on him!

“You guys didn’t tell me I’d be staying with Aquaman! That makes this ten times better!”

What were the chances that the man himself was in Paris too? They can bond over sea creatures, and Garfield could show him his animal transformations! This mission wasn’t so bad, it wasn’t bad at all. He had an extra skip in his step as he pranced down the pavement.

“Are you entirely brain dead?” Robin audibly face palmed,

”No, you’re not- you know what? Yes, you’re going to be living with Aquaman. At a river. In France,” quiet murmurs along the lines of ‘idiot, and ‘cómo adorable,’ sounded out from his remaining teammates.

“This is gonna be so awesome!” Garfield exclaimed giddily.

He spotted a boulangerie-pâtisserie a couple blocks away. Aha! Time to get him some sweet, sweet, treats. And hopefully, some directions.

“Robin spent weeks doing full analysis on the whole family,” Jaime grinned over the comm.

Raven cut in, “Even though it was incredibly self-destructive, “

Analysis? On the King of Atlantis? Boy, no one was safe from Damian’s wrath.

“Awww. You do care, Robin!” he cooed as he entered the bakery.

Robin gasped, affronted, “Don’t flatter yourself! I needed to make sure you wouldn’t feel obligated to blabber all our secrets, obviously.”

“Better than nothing, I suppose,” Garfield shrugged to himself, but quickly zipped his lips shut once someone came into view.

“The Couffaines are...adequate at best;” he quieted, “well, at least from what I could infer before I was so viciously torn away from my research!” was sniffed hotly.

Couffaines? Was that a code name?

“If I didn’t know any better Robin,” Jaime mused, “I’d think you were taking after Tim, especially with how many late nights you’ve had...”

A beat.

Garfield ignored the squabble taking place in his left ear, opting to chat with the kind looking, lady at the register.

“Hello! What can I do for-“ she looked up from tying her apron,

“Oh! You must be new here; I don’t recognize you,”

Garfield offered his hand, “Hah, yeah! I was just walkin’ around town. I’m Grant, by the way,’’ he silently praised himself for remembering his alias.

She shook it firmly, “Sabine.”

A warm smile was sent his way before she gestured to the variety of sweets on display. His mouth watered at the sight and contemplated his choices, no matter how hard it was.  ‘’What would you recommend?’’ he whispered, completely in awe.

Sabine paused to give him a once-over before lighting up. ‘’Well, you don’t strike me as a tart kind of guy so, how do you feel about chocolate?’’

‘’Love it.’’

‘’Great! My husband just put out some fresh Pain Au Chocolates before you came in!’’ Score. His luck hadn’t completely run out.

‘’That sounds fire! I’ll have that,’’ he exclaimed cheerfully.

She blinked at his wording, ‘’Pardon?’’

What? Did she not unders- Oh.‘’Sorry, American slang. It means cool!’’ he rushed out.

She mulled it over, ‘’Ah, okay. Well, coming right up!’’ Sabine opened the glass in search of the Pain Au Chocolates.

“Don’t ever compare me to that insufferable fool, -“

He snickered, “Your brother?”

Robin fumed, “-you complete and utter nincompoop!”

“Now, now, don’t use big boy words on me,” Jaime taunted.

“I’ll show you ‘big boy’ words-! “

Garfield faux scratched his ear in favor of switching off the comm as he watched Sabine bag the treats. He grinned in thanks once handed to him.

“If that’ll be all...?” She trailed off.

He wasn’t really paying any mind as he took a big whiff of the sweets. His thoughts floated over to a haven filled with a never-ending overflow of pastries. Ah, what’s stopping him from staying here forever? A pat on his shoulder, apparently.

“Hm?” Garfield found the petite baker leaning over the counter with a patient smile.

“Sorry, I totally zoned out! Did you say something?” he rubbed his neck bashfully.

She chuckled, “I asked if there’s anything else I could do for you, sweetie.”

If there anything else she could- Right! Yes, he needed to know where the hell he was staying at. Garfield fumbled for his phone, luckily for him he copied the address into his Notes app.

“Yeah actually! Well, not food wise but, I’m here in Paris for,” he blanched momentarily, “uh, an exchange program; and I have a like host family here, right?” he gestured to his voice; the American accent evident.

She nodded.

He continued, “And I don’t really uh, like, know exactly where I’m supposed to meet them. I was wondering if you by chance knew someone who lived on the Seine around here?” Garfield shoveled a croissant into his mouth.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Marinette was a lot of things.

To some she was the sweet bakers’ daughter, insanely witty and clever, granted a bit scatterbrained, but she was your trophy student by all means of the word; to others though, she was someone to be wary of. A classmate’s spew of lies crawling under their skins, itching to be taken into account. Every move watched meticulously, waiting with bated breath for a slip up, for anything to grasp on to.

In simpler terms, Marinette was over it. Over being unable to speak her truth; over being villainized, constantly put under a spotlight. There was already enough on her plate, one of its regulars accumulating to a steadily-rising designer. One of her biggest flexes, if she was being honest; because really, what fourteen year old could say they constructed glasses for the Jagged Stone? Surely not the average bunch.

Oh, and did she mention superheroine? Yeah, she’s a superheroine.

The whole gig was shoved at her face, three months shy of her thirteenth birthday; and by gig she meant a brief guide, a blindingly red polka-dotted suit, a questionable choice of weapon (seriously, a yo-yo?), and an ill-timed partner.

Nonetheless, she worked with what she got. It's kept her alive so far already, why complain now?

She rubbed her eyes with a stifled yawn, ‘’Radiant....Carefree....Dreamy…’’

Marinette slammed the snooze button at the sound of that god forsaken jingle. Christ, she needed to change her alarm. All it did was make her reminisce of her former crush on Adrien Agreste; top teen Parisian model, son of fashion mogul Gabriel Agreste, and current boyfriend of future Olympiad, Kagami Tsurugi. Alas, old habits die hard, and this one was going to crash and burn any time soon; Marinette was sure of it.

A groan sounded out as she flopped to the floor, skillfully ignoring the tinkling laughter coming from her bedside. Ah, who was she kidding? It’d take some sort of absolute miracle to get over him completely. She would end up forever lonely, pining over a taken man, indefinitely getting dropped from position as lead designer for Jagged, friendless, Akumatized, disowned by her parents-

“None of those things are true, and you know it!”

She snapped her gaze up to the floating embodiment of creation, Tikki. Had her friend really thought that, that look could get Marinette to take back her spiel? She looked like an angry kitten for crying out loud!

Her cheeks reddened as she got up and dusted herself off, “Did I say that out loud?”

Judging by the narrowing of the tiny god's eyes, she’d say yes, it was said out loud. Damn, she was not looking forward to a morning lecture about her declining self esteem and her tendency of speaking her mind. Before Tikki could get even a word in, the Just In Case™ alarm for bad mornings went off. She shot the kwami a rueful grin and scurried over to the counter.

“Radian-“ the clock was chucked out of the three story building. Marinette watched from her window as it plummeted to its demise, in a heap of cheap metal and wires. Lovely.

A red blur zoomed to the front of her face, making her go cross-eyed, ‘’Marinette!’’ Tikki frowned shakily, struggling not to smile at her antics. 

She shrugged and skipped over to her closet, in search for acceptable clothes,

‘’What? It was getting annoying! And besides, it’s not like it was worth that mu-!’’ They both froze at the pounding of the trap door.

Ugh, couldn’t they wait to bother her later?

‘‘You better get out of there soon, young lady! I don’t want another call from your school added to the list,’‘ Marinette was going to absolutely combust. It sucked enough that barely any of her ‘‘friends’’ stuck around, but Tom and Sabine? Really? Believing some complete stranger over her? It must be the lack of familial relation that makes it sting a bit less. It must.

She groaned tiredly, ‘’Yes, Sabine.’’

Once the descending pattering of her footsteps quieted, Tikki raced over to latch onto Marinette’s cheek. Her bluebell orbs peered up at her, filled with sympathy for her holder. She shook her head at the silent offer to talk; there’s no time for a pity party. 

The kwami sighed sadly, before pecking her cheek and floating over to rest on her shoulder. Marinette plastered on an encouraging smile, ‘‘C’mon Tikks’, help me pick out and outfit for today! You know how indecisive I can be,”

After some thinking, they’ve come to the mutual decision of something completely out of Marinette’s alley. Instead of her usual pink capris, floral shirt, blazer, flats, and pigtails; she sported a plaid pleated skirt, a tucked in Queen Bee graphic tee, black two-inch heart buckled platform Mary Janes, and spacebuns. Who knew her wardrobe from Clara Nightingale’s on-set music video would come to use? 

She ogled her reflection with a satisfied smirk, yeah, she was hot. 

‘’Holy shit, Tikki, if I was still into Adrien,’’ she whistled, ‘’he’d drop to the floor as soon as he saw this; and that’s coming from me!’’ 

The kwami shook her head good naturedly, ‘’I’m glad you think so. I really like confident Marinette!’’ she nudged her shoulder, ‘’Although, I hope you aren’t doing this for your classmates’ approval...’’ 

She directed her gaze at Tikki; an other person’s approval? Why would she do something for another person’s approv- Oh. She actually wasn’t that far off. 

‘‘Pssh. No, I would never! This is all me baby! The awesome, cool, and Pinterest board version, I mean,’‘ Marinette gave her little friend finger-guns and grabbed her purse. Enough about her, they needed to get to school before she was late again. 

‘‘Get in Tikks’, if we wait any longer I’ll be,’‘ she checked the time on her phone, ‘‘like five minutes late to homeroom!’‘ 

She flitted into the bag as Marinette settled it onto her side. With one last look-over, she was off. 

To say she struggled down the stairs was a complete and utter understatement. She almost died, multiple times. Maybe the platform shoes were a bad idea, a very, very, very bad idea. Marinette clutched onto the railing with an inhumane grip that could rival Alya’s on her phone; and that was telling you something. 

Once she made it passed the death trap, or rather simply a few steps, she grabbed an espresso and a handful of cookies; the former being for her, and the latter for Tikki. She gave a fleeting wave to Sabine and Tom, not that they gave any mind. 

She pulled out her phone, 8:26, she could work with that. Her phone buzzed with a text notification. 

 (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 𝖈𝖍𝖑𝖔𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 ♥          ɴᴏᴡ

where the fuck are you

Marinette snorted and slid the cookies into her purse. She unlocked the screen and tapped the message icon.

{𝟖:𝟐𝟕}  .•°¤*(¯`★´¯)*¤°   🎀  𝓃𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝑒  🎀   °¤*)¯´★`¯(*¤°•.    

wouldnt you like to know weather boy

.

.

.

{𝟖:𝟐𝟪} (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 𝖈𝖍𝖑𝖔𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 ♥

wow ur so funny im literally laughing so hard rn 😐

.

.

{𝟖:𝟐8}   .•°¤*(¯`★´¯)*¤°   🎀  𝓃𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝑒  🎀   °¤*)¯´★`¯(*¤°•.  

thank you, thank you, im here all night 🖤

.

 Marinette looked both ways before crossing the intersection, Dupont just about a block away. She chugged her now-cold coffee and tossed it in the recycling bin, ‘’Score! And the crowd goes wil-!’’ the atmosphere suddenly stilted.

‘‘Dupain-Cheng,’‘ she swiveled around, and was met with the putrid swamp green slits shes grown to despise. 

A snarl rolled off her tongue, ‘’Rossi.’’ 

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omg guys so hi. im doing this. im actually doing the thing i said i would do here  cuz im a bad bitch. 3k words i think. sorry for any mistakes i literally wrote this while watching pbs kids LMAOOOASODFWOEB @beautiful-disasters-sunshine idk if u still wanna be tagged when i do this kinda stuff but pm me if u dont <3

[kryptored]

Fall

Would you look at that, huh? I finally finished mine and get to post it for all of you to see, especially @bbwoulfc who I wrote this for and provided me with wonderful prompts.

Here’s to my first time participating in the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Valentine Exchange Event 2021. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Cross-posted from AO3.

Organizing his room isn’t something Luka learned from his mother, but it’s what he makes into a habit after living with her his whole life before moving out. His apartment isn’t as messy as La Liberté is after leaving it alone into his mother’s hands, but that doesn’t excuse him from cleaning his own domain every now and then. And so on that’s what he ends up doing on a Monday, free from other obligations that would’ve prevented him from cleaning.

He starts off by clearing out a particular box stained with multi-coloured paint, sitting at the bottom of a shelf in the corner of his bedroom. He wouldn’t have paid too much attention to it on any other day and just made sure to organize the chaotic stacking of whatever’s on top of it, but there’s something about the chaotic joy that emits from the box, calling out to him like a fairy in the forest. And so he sits down, clearing out the surprisingly spacious box filled with so many things. He finds old photos of him and Juleka smiling widely into the camera and showing off their missing teeth, a few forgotten guitar picks obviously painted by himself, some beads of what could only come from his mother’s collection, and an old shirt that he hopes was washed before sleeping in the box for years. But underneath all of those lies an even smaller box painted dark-teal with splatters of pink, rectangular in shape, and with a latch keeping it closed.

The box is small enough that he can hold it with his two hands, but the sound of shuffling tells him that something is hiding inside it. He opens the box carefully, mindful of any stray glitter that he might’ve forgotten about (something he’s learned in the past), only to find something else. He picks up a small notebook that appears to have something stuck in between its many pages, and he realizes they’re pressed flowers – daffodils, rose petals, violets, daisies, and even bluebells. He carefully closes the notebook, making sure that the flowers are left undisturbed, and notices something written on the first page. He recognizes his handwriting and his pathetic attempt at writing his name in cursive, Juleka’s, but there’s a third name that’s written by someone else’s. It looks much neater than his, so it’s easier for him to read it, and his finger gently brushes against the years-old charcoal on paper: ‘Marinette Dupain-Cheng’.

All of a sudden, the name of a long-lost friend unlocks memories of the past. Memories of children spending most of their days together, running around and splashing each other with water and sharing snacks while sitting under a tree. He sees memories that unlock something that has been planted in his heart a long time ago, spending years in silent hibernation, until now.

He blinks his eyes multiple times, trying to shake away the wistfulness and longing of what he thinks is already gone, and puts the notebook back in its place. As he does so, he notices a necklace chain lying at the corner of the small box and picks it up. Strangely enough, nothing is attached to it. He thinks hard on what could have been there, and whether or not it had been lost during one of his previous cleaning before, during, or after moving out. He’ll have to ask his mother and maybe Juleka about that. For now, he pockets the chain and puts the small box right by his bed as a reminder to put it somewhere else.

Not wanting to get too distracted, he quickly and carefully puts the rest of the trinkets away and continues with his cleaning. Despite that, though, he spends most of his cleaning time thinking about the past and a girl he once called Marinette.

While he clears out the dust gathering from every corner, he remembers the softness of her hand whenever they held hands.

While he sweeps the floor, he hums the tune of an unnamed song he remembers singing to her after tripping and scraping her hands and knees.

While he washes, dries, and folds his laundry, he smiles when he remembers the sound of her laugh.

While he cooks dinner, he remembers the smell of grass that lingers around them after rolling around it for hours.

It takes him until he’s lying on his bed, eyes wide open, fingers twiddling with the necklace chain that he realizes it’s always been there. The feelings have always been there, but he was too young to know until now. He closes his eyes to sleep, hoping to at least see her again - if not in reality, but perhaps in his dreams.

He wakes up in the morning, tears staining the sides of his cheeks, and he realizes he’ll never see her again.

A few days after the impromptu visit down memory lane, he walks into an arts and crafts store to buy some special paper to use for his band’s flyers. After asking an employee on which aisle to go to, he hums the same song that reminds him of her, and for now he won’t cry again. But as he turns the corner of the aisle, he halts his steps and his face is frozen with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

There, standing in the middle of the paper aisle, is who Luka can only assume is Marinette (if he remembers her features correctly). From the looks of the basket she’s carrying filled with paint and paintbrushes, she must’ve been here for a while now. She looks pretty - no, prettier - than how he remembers her, and he wishes he can take a picture of her in case it’s all he has left of her before she disappears again.

She looks pretty (what was wrong with repeating it?) standing there looking at the shelf of cardstock paper, her hair done up in a bun with a few stray strands brushing against her neck and cheeks. She’s wearing a peach-coloured blouse with a ruffled collar and short butterfly sleeves tucked into light-blue high-waisted jeans, and gold-coloured sandals.

Luka changes his mind and thinks that she’s not pretty - she’s absolutely beautiful.

“Marinette?” He calls out to her in a soft voice, unsure if she’ll hear him. Luka remains standing still, his breathing even caught in the moment, and that’s how Marinette finds him when she turns around at the call of her name. She puts on a polite smile, unsure how to address the stranger who knows her name, until she realizes it’s not just a stranger.

It takes her a while to recognize Luka, mostly because of the teal-dyed tips of his hair that apparently suits him well. He’s grown up from the lanky boy she used to grab onto whenever she gets scared, judging by how well the all-black raglan t-shirt clings to his arms. She notices how tall he’s gotten, what with how long his legs look wearing those dark skinny jeans and a pair of low cut white and mint green sneakers.

“Luka? Is that you?”

They simultaneously walk closer to each other, but still wary about whether or not they’re mistaking someone else for their childhood friend.

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” He asks, and his heart beats a little louder and faster when he hears her laugh, the back of her hand covering her mouth to hide her smile and he so wishes to see it again after all these years.

“I guess it has been.”

“So… 15 years, huh?”

“Hm? Oh! Oh, yes!” She laughs again and he loves the sound of it. It sounds even better than he remembers it to be. “I can’t believe it’s been that long already.”

“Yeah, neither can I. So, uh… how have you been? How’re your parents? Do you live around here, too?”

“I’m doing fine and so are my parents. They have a bakery and apartment set up at the 21st arrondissement, so you should come by! They’d love to see you again, you know?” she holds onto one of his arms, and it feels so warm and he doesn’t want her to let go. “What about you? How’re you doing? And Juleka? Your mom?”

“We’re great,” he responds breathily, “I’m glad to see you again, you know? And I’d love to drop by at the bakery. And you said ‘they’ so, does that mean you…?”

“Moved away? Yes, I have.” She lets go, and he feels as if winter has come to hold him instead. “It’s actually not too far from them so, we don’t really miss each other that much.”

They continue with their small reunion, walking around the store while exchanging stories that they missed out on each other. They talk as if 15 years had never separated them at all, until their meeting comes to an end when Marinette sees that time and tells Luka that she has somewhere to be. Sad as it is, he finds comfort when they exchange numbers and have something to hold onto the other - to have something to remind them that they’re not separated anymore.

He waves her off from the store’s door, and it’s only when the same employee he spoke with earlier asks him if he’s found what he’s looking for that remembers he was there to buy paper.

Right, of course.

They spend the entire night after their reunion talking to each other, and it ends with them agreeing to meet up outside of Shakespeare and Company, a bookstore they’ve both been meaning to visit soon. They agree to meet the day after, and it leaves Luka feeling nervous as he picks out what to wear. After 15 minutes (he made sure to wake up extra early today) were spent looking through his closet, he finally decides on a white graphic shirt slightly tucked into light-grey chino shorts with a brown belt to secure it, and blue and white loafers. He grabs his dark-green crossbody bag, checks that everything he needs is already inside, locks his door, and leaves for the bookstore.

When he arrives at the bookstore, he sees Marinette standing outside looking down at her phone, and he can’t help but admire at how adorable she looks wearing a white oversized shirt with drop shoulder sleeves reaching down to her elbows and tucked into all-black shorts, black high cut boots, and a black bucket hat to cover her head from the bright sun. As he walks closer, he notices that she’s left her hair down this time, and the image reminds him of those times she and Juleka would practice different hairstyles on each other. Her other arm holds onto the strap of her own crossbody bag.

Luka coughs into his hand to catch her attention, to which she responds and he’s happy to see how bright her eyes are when she notices him.

“Luka, hi! You’re here!”

“Hello, Marinette.” He greets her, and the way those words leave him feels all too familiar until now. “You ready to go in?”

“I’m excited, actually. But I think knowing you’re spending the day with me makes it even more exciting.”

Unsure whether the weather is getting warmer or not, he clears his throat and opens the door for her. “So am I, actually. After you.”

The day goes well - even better than yesterday - and they spend it like good old friends who leave no time for awkwardness. They touch each other by the arm or by the shoulder, something similar to what they used to do, and yet they’re also more than that. Each touch is warmer and lingers longer than the last, and Luka can only hope that Marinette feels it, too. He thinks she does with how she turns around quickly after they brush their fingers against each other while reaching for the same book. His mind is stuck with the image of what he can only assume was a blush on her face, unable to respond to her squeaking out, “I’ll check the next aisle!”

He only stares at her back, initially scared that she’ll disappear again and never to see him again for 15 more years, but he calms himself and ponders on the tingling that tickles him from inside out. And for the rest of the day, they peek through corners of bookshelves and vacant spaces in-between books, smiling and laughing as they share their finds and decide on what to buy.

They leave the store to eat lunch at a nearby café, doing some more catching up with each other. They talk and talk and talk the entire day away, going from one place to another without a care in the world besides from knowing that finally, finally they’ve found each other again, and it’s like they don’t want to let go of each other again.

The next few days, unfortunately, do not cater to their sudden need for each other’s company, because of their own personal responsibilities. Luka and practicing with his band, writing and composing songs, and visiting his mother and sister while letting them know that he’s seen Marinette again. Marinette, on the other hand, finds herself busy with multiple card orders from her clients, helping out at her parents’ bakery, and definitely letting them know that she’s seen Luka again.

It’s not until a week and a half later that they get to see each other again in person for a picnic. Although they spend the previous nights texting and calling each other, there’s just something about seeing someone special to you without the physical limitations from their phones. Even when it’s summer, the days and nights they spent apart after reuniting could only make them feel like it’s winter.

The picnic was to take place on a field outside of the city, a place recommended to him by one of his bandmates (after some well-deserved teasing when they found out the reason for his asking). Because it was a bit far, Luka volunteered to drive them both there with his car. The lack of the typical urban noises they’ve grown accustomed to only serves as a plus, considering they were both the type to prefer a calm ambience.

Marinette had brought some home-made pastries for them to eat, as well as some water and juice to drink. She also brought with her a sketchbook and some pencils in case inspiration were to strike her and use it for any future cards to make. Asides from those, she also made sure to bring two small bed tray tables for them to place some of the food on. She also decided to wear a light blue V-neck dress just brushing against the top of her knees with circular cap sleeves extending down just before her elbows, and white sandals. Once again, her hair is left down to spread across her back.

Luka, on the other hand, was quite adamant to take responsibility for bringing the picnic blankets that could fit an entire class and more when they first planned the outing. Asides from those, he also brought some foldable chairs for them to sit on if the ground started feeling too stiff for their bottoms, and his guitar to pass the idle time by playing some music for both of them. As for his clothes, this time he went with a light blue button-up shirt with the first two buttons left open, paired with black shorts, and sand-yellow loafers.

After arriving at the field for their picnic, they choose to sit close to a small cluster of trees that would give them more than enough shade to protect them from the sun. They were taking out all of their picnic essentials from Luka’s car while also admiring the scenery in front of them, when Marinette said something.

“This is wonderful, Luka. Please thank your friend for recommending this place, and I really think we should start doing this more.”

“For sure, Marinette. And not that I don’t like it, but aren’t you a bit too early to say that?” He turns around from where he’s busy placing their food basket down, “What if you ended up hating the picnic?”

“Wha - no! As if!” Marinette looks over her shoulder quickly and he sees her eyes going wide, her hands clenching onto the blanket she was supposedly fixing, “Why would I even think that? Why would you think that? This place is perfect, the weather is perfect, the food is perfect, and - ”

“And the company is perfect?” Luka’s question was a gamble on his part, and he hopes that Marinette doesn’t notice the trembling of his voice.

“Yes!”

He also wasn’t sure that she’d even say something back, but he watches as her eyes slowly widen even more, the flush in her cheeks rapidly gaining territory of her entire face, and her mouth shaping into a large ‘O’ until -

‘Yup, there it is.’ He thinks to himself, unsure whether he’s referring to the lovely shade of red on her face or the fact that his childhood friend finally realizes what she’s said.

“I-I mean – it’s because – I wasn’t thinking properly when you – but that doesn’t mean that I think you’re – but you know what I – ” Marinette quickly turns her back on him, her shoulders tense and hunching, and just as Luka’s about to reach out and touch her shoulder for comfort, he’s startled when he hears her muffled scream.

“H-hey…Marinette, come on. It’s okay.” His hand finally makes contact with her shoulder and pats it gently. “I understand, so don’t be too hard on yourself, okay?”

He sits closer to her and gives her a side hug, rubbing her arm to try and console his easily flustered friend. It seems to work when her face finally surfaces from the safety of her hands, face still a little red, her brows scrunched up in worry and her eyes glossy from unshed tears.

“Hey, hey…” he coos at her, leaning even closer to her to the point that their shoulders are practically touching, “It’s alright. I get it. You know you don’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of me. And besides, I am the perfect company after all.”

“Lukaaaaaaa!” she whines and hits him not too hard on the chest, inducing a hearty laugh from him.

“Alright, alright! Easy there, Marinette. How about we forget about this and go right ahead with eating. Sounds good?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. Why don’t you get some of your stuff that’s still in the car, and I’ll set the food?” He gives her the car keys, implying that she can lock the car afterwards. Just as Marinette takes the keys, turns around, and walks away, Luka quickly turns his back towards her to hide his face that’s now rapidly gaining a new shade of red.

‘Magnolia and cherry blossom;’ he thinks to himself, referring to the smell from his friend, ‘like a walk at Champ de Mars.’

Before getting caught, he goes right back to taking the food out from the basket and sets everything down onto the blanket with shaky hands.

After eating and admiring the view, they eventually find themselves leaning onto each other’s back. They make no other noise asides from Luka strumming his guitar and the occasional scratch of charcoal against paper on Marinette’s end. After the slightly awkward chattering from earlier, it worries Luka that there had been little talk between them since then. And even when Marinette would keep on assuring him that everything’s alright, it worries him that perhaps after being separated for 15 long years, not everything goes back to the way it used to be.

Perhaps he is expecting too much, thinking of what ifs and could have beens, and he’s left clueless on how to keep their strange relationship afloat if the day ends on a sour note. Perhaps he should’ve kept his mouth shut, and maybe Marinette wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable anymore and -

A muffled thud rouses him from his deep thoughts, curious to know what could’ve dropped onto the blanket. Just as he turns back to ask Marinette what it was (if she would even answer him at all), he sees something flash from her small and soft hands.

There, sitting perfectly from Marinette’s hand, is what looks like an open pocket watch with its outside the colour of champagne. But as he looks closer, he realizes it’s actually a compass with a sundial instead of a watch with gold-coloured rims. Marinette notices him looking at what she’s holding, and before she can say a word, he beats her to it by asking,

“You still have that? After all these years?”

“Of course. It’s one of the few things I can never let go.”

Instead of saying something back, Luka immediately starts patting his shirt and shorts, before finally putting his hand in one of his pockets to grab something and pull out the same necklace chain he had found in the small box hiding in his room, and holds it out to her.

“This is its chain for it, right? The compass, I mean.”

“Y-yeah. You told me I could have the compass while you keep the chain, so we’d know there’s always a chance for us to see each other again.”

The words ‘and we did’ are left unsaid, but they still knew what it meant for them. What it means for them. No longer able to stop himself, he cups both her cheeks and leans his forehead against hers, close enough to smell the flowers on her again. Close enough to brush his nose against hers. Close enough to just kiss her.

But he doesn’t and she doesn’t. And frankly, they’re alright with what they have right now.

They end their picnic in the late afternoon, with the sun still up and hinting a shade of orange in its yellows. They pack everything back inside Luka’s car in silence, but the kind where they are comfortable and content without the words. They spend the rest of the drive back to the city basking in a new kind of understanding, one that they’ve chosen to keep among themselves, hands bashfully brushing against each other every now and then, and eyes sneaking glances at one another.

They don’t talk again until Luka drops Marinette off, helps her put all her stuff back in her apartment, and stands outside of her door.

“Thank you again for the picnic, Luka.”

“And thank you for the company, Marinette.” Instead of getting flustered at the reminder of what happened earlier, she only offers him a small smile.

“You know you can stay a little longer if you want,” she offers, “surely you must be tired from driving.”

She wraps her hands across herself, her fingers playing with the fabric of her dress. Her hair is now tied into a loose side ponytail, her sandals replaced with soft home slippers in light pink.

Luka scratches his right cheek with a finger, his eyes telling her without words that he is more than ready to accept her invitation. His left hand is hiding within the confines of his pocket, fidgeting as much as possible with his phone.

But just as Luka opens his mouth to verbally accept her offer, they hear something buzz. Luka immediately takes his phone out, sees his mother’s name and excuses himself, walking a few steps away from Marinette. He notices her glancing away, giving him some privacy.

His head is filled with today’s events, even as he listens to his mother’s words through the phone. He can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, they’re not just childhood friends anymore. That maybe, just maybe, these feelings between them can grow just as they have. But as soon as he comes to that conclusion, his heart drops at what his mother tells him.

He hangs up after bidding her goodbye, puts his phone back in his pocket, and walks back to Marinette. For every step he takes, he dreads of the disappointment he’ll see on her face as soon as he tells her,

“Sorry, but I can’t stay.”

The guilt eats at him as he watches her smile drop, her bright blue eyes looking from up at him to down at her shoes, her brows a little furrowed from -

‘Disappointment. She’s disappointed I can’t stay.’

“So, uh…” he clears his throat, “I really want to stay, but Ma called me to – ”

“It’s okay, I understand.” Marinette finally looks up, and Luka’s glad that there aren’t any tears. “Just tell her and Juleka I said hi.”

“Yeah, for sure.”

He remains standing in front of her, still not ready to leave her in fear that it’ll be the last he sees of her. They remain standing in front of each other in silence, the gaiety from today slowly slipping away until it leaves them with a cold hug. All of a sudden, it feels like winter during a summer night. It doesn’t make sense; not in the slightest, and Luka hates it.

“I guess I’ll just call you when I get home?” He asks her, his arms opening up to invite her for a hug.

“Yeah, of course.” She walks into his embrace, and he’s not even ashamed of letting out a sigh of relief when he feels her hands wrap around him. “Let me know when you’re back home.”

He hums in agreement, even when bites his tongue to not say ‘I am home. With you.’

They separate after a few more seconds, but only enough that they’re still wrapped around each other, Luka looking down at Marinette’s face. He looks into her eyes, and he sees the same blue sky that often smiled upon them when they used to be children, and he wishes to see the same sky now that they’re no longer that young. He looks at the small blush that finds itself spreading onto her cheeks like the picnic blankets they used, and he sees the sunset that used to smile down on them whenever they bid farewell and went back home; before the last goodbye turned into years instead of a night and day.

And suddenly, he has an idea.

He has an idea, and it’s a very bold one. He has an idea that has been whispering suggestively at him from the very corner of his mind, persisting to catch his attention and never going away. He has an idea that persists on calling out to him, screaming at him, telling him to just –

He leans down slowly, his eyes looking into hers before falling down onto her lips. He looks into those lips that he keeps thinking whether they taste just as sweet as the pastries she bakes.

Instead, he gently presses his own lips onto hers, and all he tastes are blueberries and lemon. He thinks he’s kissing pure bliss, but perhaps it’s happiness.

He feels her hand cup his cheek, slightly putting pressure onto the skin and pushing him closer to her, and suddenly happiness turns into elation. Marinette is responding and it’s utterly delightful. Luka doesn’t want to let her go anymore – because he’s finally telling her what’s been gnawing at him – but he pulls away, nonetheless.

He hears her whine in disappointment, and he mentally berates himself for making the habit of disappointing her.

“I have to go now.” He whispers to her, but with where he’s looking, neither knows if he’s telling Marinette, herself, or her pair of lips.

After gaining the confidence to look into her eyes again, Luka believes his knees are going weak.

“I really have to go now.” He tells her, and he leans onto her hand when her fingers start caressing his cheek.

“I know.”

He finally lets her go and steps away, unwilling to turn his back around; afraid that he’ll lose sight of her and never see her again for years. Or ever at all.

“I’ll call you later?”

Marinette can only smile at the boy she once knew 15 years ago, tucking stray hands of her hair behind her ear.

“I’ll wait for you.”

He smiles back at her before walking away,

only to quickly turn back around to kiss her like sunlight with the flowers on fresh, spring morning.

[dawnwave16]

Not what I expected

#1; 2 (here); 3

Chapter 2:

After all one of his contacts had the same eyes, identical in colour, shape and depth. Aaron Hotchner. 

A little known fact about Aaron Hotchner or “Hotch” as he was known to most people was that he had blue eyes. You might think it should be obvious but Hotch had decided early in his career at the FBI that to better protect those he cared about he would wear brown contacts. Only those that worked closely with him or had been around him at work parties knew his eyes were a clear azure blue. Matt was one of those that fell into that category.

“Hey, what is it that has you so distracted? You've been out of it since you went out for that walk. Weren't you trying to clear your head?” Mae was only trying to tease Matt but stopped seeing that he truly wasn't listening to her. She clicked her fingers in front of his face. Matt blinked.

“Did you say something?” he asked, still trying to get his head back in the game.

“Yeah, look are you alright?”

“I need to talk to everyone as soon as this case is done and before we even think of leaving for home.”

“Alright then.” Mae shook her head in confusion. “In the meantime can we get back to the case?”

The evening quickly faded into night and yet another body was found. By the time they made the connections and had a solid lead on a suspect they had a fourth victim and they all felt they were running out of time. When Clara made the connection about it being about love it seemed to trigger a landslide of good news and lucky breaks. The butterflies from the stomach of the fourth victim were linked back to a Butterfly House, which had lead to them finally getting the break they needed and enabled them to finally catch the unsub. It seemed like everyone was glad that the case had finally resolved itself.

As they were making sure they had all their things together, Matt spoke up.

“As you've probably all noticed I've been slightly distracted since I went for my walk to clear my head. Anyway, there is a good reason for that.”

“Oh?” Clara asked, “You sounded surprised when I called you to ask where you were, it was as though you'd lost track of time.”

“I had” Matt admitted. “I was sitting in the park when I heard screaming, I went to get up to go investigate but a local teen, Marinette, advised me not to and sent me to her parents' bakery to make sure I was safe. She said it was an Akuma attack and that her mom would explain what that meant.” Before he team could ask Commissaire Clement, walked in.

“Did you just say that you were near an Akuma attack? Were you hit or affected in any way? We try to keep track of them all so I'm guessing the attack you referring to was the one in the 21st arrondissement.”

“Yes, I was near it but as I've just said to my team I was sent to a bakery to seek shelter and the woman who runs it, Sabine explained what was going on. How did you know that it was the one in that area? Are they not all that common?”

 “It's a fairly common area for them as the high school, Collège Françoise Dupont, is across the road from both Tom & Sabine's and the park. The attacks are fairly common but the only other attack we've had has been “Mr Pigeon” who is a regular one and that one as become so common we bearly noticed it anymore.” Commissaire Clement explained. He seemed almost resigned about the attacks. “We are working with Ladybug to try track down Hawkmoth but so far we seem to be hitting a dead end.”

“Wait, back up a bit.” Jack said, his voice telling everyone he meant business. “what are Akumas, are you using some kind of code so that no-one can understand you?” Matt and Commissaire Clement glanced at each other, sighed and gestured for the team to sit back down.

They then explained what was going on in Paris to the team. Clement even added information that Matt hadn't known, such as the fact that they had an active trace for Akuma butterflies running through all police cameras around the city. They even had a database of victims and flags got raised if the same person got hit more then twice, outside of mass events like Hero's Day and Miricle Queen.

Soon after explaining as much as he could Commissaire Clement was called away leaving the team to think about what they had been told. Since none of the team was making a move to leave now and they hadn't been kicked out of the room, Matt decided to contact Monty. As usual, he answered promptly though he did seem a little confused.

“Hey Matt, I thought the case was finished and that you would be on your way back. What's with the call?”

“Hey Monty is it possible for you to see if Garcia and Hotch are around?” Jack and the rest of the team instantly looked at Matt.

“If you going to drop another bomb on us can you at least give us some warning?” Mae didn't sound happy as she growled at him.

“I don't know if it is a bomb I'll be dropping. I have a suspicion but no proof and don't want to make a mess by speaking out of turn. The only reason I'm even doing this with everyone here is the person it concerns may need our help.”

“Our help with what?” Hotch had just been linked into the video chat as Matt spoke and he seemed just as confused as everyone else.

“Hi Hotch, I'm probably going to seem like an insensitive idiot for asking this especially around so many people but I have to ask, did you at any stage know a woman named Sabine Cheng?” Matt was nervous as he asked this but he didn't know how else to explain the similarities he had seen in Marinette. Hotch took a minute to reply but when he did it was clear he had never expected to hear her name ever again.

“I did meet a woman with that name, but it was about 16 years ago. I remember she and her husband met Haley and me at a bar one evening. We were in Las Vegas as Sabine's family didn't approve of Tom at all and had some political clout in Paris where they lived. They'd come out to Vegas to get married and have a quick honeymoon before heading home to open a bakery. I don't remember much of that evening as the four of us hit it off pretty well and went drinking together. We all woke up in the same bed but with no idea of how we got there. There wasn't any indication of anything other than sleeping happening so we just shrugged it off, went for breakfast and then went our separate ways. We didn't exchange numbers or anything so there has been no further communication between us. Why do you ask?”

Matt closed his eyes then took a deep breath and spoke as calmly as he could. “Garcia please pull up a photo of one Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Okay,” Garcia's reply was extremely confused but she was used to weird requests. Monty was doing the same thing and Matt knew the second her picture was shown. Hotch let out a choked gasp, Garcia and Monty seemed stunned and once Monty had sent the image to the rest of the team their reaction was equally telling.

“Oh, my” Clara and Mae seemed to murmur in unison, while Jack groaned softly for once grateful that they didn't have to book any flights and that they had their private jet.

“Now I know nothing is confirmed but I think you can all see why I needed to ask if you knew her. I think we should confirm if she is your daughter with a DNA test but I thought you should see why I wanted to talk to you first.” Matt tried not to shock anyone further, understanding that they needed time to process what they had seen.

“How old is she?” Hotch's voice was soft as he asked.

Garcia was the one who answered, though her voice was equally soft, “She's just turned 15 Hotch, I'll send a request to the labs to run a paternity test to confirm it but it seems like you have a teenage daughter.”

“Well,” Hotch said looking up at the IRT through the video chat, “Is there anything else I should know about before I meet her?”

Matt just sighed knowing it was going to be a long day.

[lady-charinette]

The Cute Suspect Chapter 4 - Adrienette AU Cop!

Chapter 4

“Miss Dupain-Cheng? I’m Captain Bourgeois, your new babysitter.”

Marinette swallowed, eyes locked onto cold blue ones, “Babysitter?”

The blonde flicked her hair over her shoulder, the sudden slam and locking of the door making her wince, “Precisely, I’ll be making sure you behave while officer Agreste is at work.” Without any hesitation, the woman took off her shoes and hat, before guiding Marinette by her elbow towards the living room.

Marinette clumsily followed, frowning at the slight pressure on her elbow, but begrudgingly following to not aggravate the female policewoman. It was obvious she meant business and Marinette was never one to mess with the law.

Well….until…that incident.

Marinette was deposited on the couch, while the captain strolled into the kitchen. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Plagg watching her, he seemed relaxed enough, but not overly affectionate as he was towards his owner or Marinette.

The captain stopped beside the black cat, scrunching her nose, “Someone needs a bath.”

Plagg hissed, but it was no serious threat, his tail was still relaxed, back not hunched and he promptly walked over to Marinette, who gently scratched his head. He laid down near Marinette’s feet, as if to guard her against the blonde woman.

Marinette wondered what relationship the woman had to Plagg, to Mr. Agreste in general. He called her a friend, but she seemed so casual in his home, as if she knew exactly where everything was, as if she practically lived there.

As it turned out, she did. The blonde woman opened cupboards and drawers Marinette hadn’t explored yet, effortlessly taking out ingredients, utensils and setting up water to boil.

The sleeves of her uniform were meticulously rolled up, folded, before she set to work on the cutting board.

The minute Marinette’s chains rattled when she wanted to stand up and ask if she could help, the rhythmic sounds from the knife hitting the cutting board stopped and the woman’s back grew even more rigid if possible, her head tilted so she caught a glimpse of the suspect from the corner of her eyes.

The dark-haired woman froze, feeling like a deer caught in headlights, before her trembling lips finally stilled enough to speak, “Uhm…do…do you need help-“

“No, thank you.”

The answer was curt, sharp and painless.

The woman suspected this was how the rest of her day with the captain would go.

Mr. Agreste mentioned the woman was a friend, how could such a kind man like him possibly be friends with someone like her?

“Ice queen.” Marinette’s thoughts halted abruptly when the captain moved her head, as if actually hearing her thoughts, before she dumped what looked like chopped up vegetables into the pot filled with water.

Exhaling in relief, Marinette felt her body sag back against the couch. She saw Plagg jump onto the empty spot next to her, cuddling up to her side and purring contently, his head resting on the side of her stomach.

Marinette petted his head, feeling slightly more reassured about her situation, it remined her of Tikki nuzzling her to comfort her whenever she had deadlines to meet or an overload of work on her designs.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng,” the authoritative voice caused Marinette to straighten automatically, “Have you or have you not been responsible for the robbery at the store?”

She didn’t expect the straightforward question, weren’t police officers supposed to interrogate her first? Maybe use sly tactics or intimidation or a play with words to butter her up? Did only detectives do that?

She swallowed, stiffening, lips set into a thin line.

She wouldn’t, she gave her word.

After another moment of silence, captain Bourgeois finished cleaning the knife and cutting board and set it aside, stirring the pot, not once turning to face the suspect, “I see.” She paused briefly, as if thinking, “Armed robbery gets you either three years in jail or up to eight in repeat and especially violent offenses. According to the background check we did of you, you’re not a repeat offender, which will lessen your sentence. Your sentence will also be lessened if you confess the identity of the other offenders involved.”

Marinette sat still, listening to the captain recite it so easily, like a bullet from a shotgun, quick, precise, fast. Her stomach churned, she couldn’t rat out the others, but she was the only one caught, she would be the one sent to prison. What would maman and papa think? What of her job at the designing company?

A shaky breath left her lips, feet nervously shifting against the carpet, “I-I know what you’re doing, I won’t tell anything.” She didn’t dare look at the woman’s back, least she turned and pierced her soul with those icy eyes.

The captain huffed, but gave no other reaction to her statement, except, “Suit yourself, Miss Dupain.”

Something hardened within Marinette and she spoke through grit teeth, a fierceness to her voice that wasn’t there before, “It’s Dupain-Cheng, Miss Bourgeois.”

“That’s Captain Bourgeois, to you Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

Despite her harsh tone, there was a small smile on the blonde’s lips.

Adrien’s eyes scanned the information written on the piece of paper, lips captured between his teeth as he calculated the distance between the precinct and the address.

“Hey! Heading out?” Wayhem strolled by with a fresh stack of papers in his hands, probably another case, or research materials for an old one.

Adrien smiled weakly, “Yeah.”

The brunet rose an eyebrow curiously, “Hey, what’s up Mr. Sunshine?”

Adrien sighed, leaning his head back against his chair, “You think she’s involved beyond a reluctant accomplice?”

Wayhem glanced at the paper in his friend’s hand, before he gaze swept over the files of the recent robbery and he stuck his bottom lip out, “Well….hard to say. Do you have evidence denying it?”

The conflicted look on his face told Wayhem all he had to know, “So, what makes you so sure she was forced to tag along? I mean, she still refuses to say any names, right?”

The blond straightened in his chair and ran a hand through his hair, “Yes, but… she’s not in our files, not even for a speeding ticket. She never did any sort of offense in her life, suddenly diving headfirst into robbery doesn’t seem logical. Not to mention, what would drive a young woman such as her to do this? She seems jumpy, a bit clumsy and nervous, not exactly the usual profile of the people we throw into the cell.”

Wayhem gave a loud, drawn out sigh, getting annoyed looks from some of their colleagues, Adrien smiled apologetically at them and they turned their heads to concentrate back on their work, “Maybe it’s just an act? To get you off her trail?”

Adrien shook his head, “I don’t think so, earlier this morning, when I surprised her in the kitchen, she was like a scared deer. A seasoned criminal would react differently, or at least someone who’s committed a crime before. Also, I gave her enough openings to surprise me or just attempt to escape. She took none of them, I don’t think she even noticed any of them. She could’ve attempted to flee when my back was turned, try to break the window during the night, anything. She didn’t do anything Wayhem, she behaves like a scared civilian held hostage.”

Wayhem pursed his lips, rubbing his chin, “Hmm….there’s that.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously, “Wait, how is Plagg reacting?”

Adrien shrugged, “Plagg loves her. He showers her with affection. Hasn’t hissed even once. He didn’t even react in the morning when she was in the kitchen and I asleep. He was laying right next to me, as if we were alone.”

“Fur standing on end?”

“Nope.”

“Did he try to bite her when she got near his cheese stash?”

Adrien gasped, “Not once! Not even once, Wayhem! He has his cheese stash in multiple places, right? She walked near it at least several times, but he never reacted.” The man ran his hands down his face in frustration, “She must be innocent Wayhem!”

The brunet looked exasperated, “But-but why?! Ugh, there’s nothing going on! I need her to be a little guilty just to spice things up a bit!” he pouted like a child, “Just imagine, handsome cop living with dangerous criminal? Hunk of a cop forced to share living quarters with deadly woman looking to slit his throat-“

Adrien pushed his overzealous face away from him, expression flat, “First, stop describing me so weirdly. Second, she’s barely an amateur criminal. Slitting my throat? She jumped when I opened the door, I can’t imagine her sneaking around anywhere with a dagger in her hands.” The blond stood up, grabbing his jacket off his stool and putting it on.

Wayhem followed him towards the exit, gesticulating wildly with his hands, “You know how female criminals can get, no hate, but they often employ charm and the innocent, defenseless act to fool. It happened before Adrien, we have a few psychopaths in the cell for that you know.” He would need to be an octopus to be able to count how many times they’ve arrested females, and males, who employed various practices of deceit and false charm to get their way out of a jail sentence.

“You know, it’s always the quiet ones!” Adrien leveled Wayhem with a half tired, half amused look.

“Yeah…I know, Wayhem.” With that, Adrien left through the double doors and towards the elevator, an amused smirk on his lips from recalling memories of Wayhem a few years ago, the quiet, shy recruit who was scared of everything and anything.

————

12 Rue Gotlib, 21st arrondissement

Adrien looked at the paper in his hand, before he looked upon the building he now stood in front of.

It definitely was the same address.

Pocketing the piece of paper, Adrien made his way inside.

The bell chime above his head alerted the patrons within of his arrival. Almost immediately, a shorter woman of Chinese descent greeted him with a bright, warm smile, “Welcome!”

A tall, large man emerged from behind what Adrien deduced was a kitchen, waving friendlily at him, “Good day, young man!”

Adrien paused, inhaling the sweet scent of baked goods and the warm, inviting atmosphere around him.

He had expected many things, a small apartment, a rundown, cheap building, a small house, anything.

What he hadn’t expected was to run into a bakery, much less one of the best ones in Paris.

Adrien put on a friendly smile, tone polite and soft, “Bonjour.”

Thanks for reading and I’m sorry for the short chapter!

@mariladrichatinette

[jacquesthepigeon]

Alya knows Ladybug chose her because of her passion for heroism thanks to the Ladyblog (at least she thinks that's why) and that Nino was an obvious pick because of his actions during Anansi. Now, picture her trying to beef up Marinette's hero résumé so that she'll get picked next.

"Hey Marinette I want you to join me on every single Ladyblog video and podcast from now on. Just really get your name and face out there :D"

"Oh wow, Ladybug, you know who could really help right now? My best friend Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who lives in 12 Rue Gotlib, 21st arrondissement, her phone number is 0X XX XX XX XX. She's very kind and smart and makes good snacks ;) Wait why are you leaving I'm not done talking about her!!!"

[31saveurs-blog]

house. hold.

i woke up, felt awful about myself but did my god blessed to stay out of the valley of shadows. i continued packing. then hugging my knees. then wandering to the mirror to criticize every thing i could see. squeezing every distateful part of me. completely. self. destructing. got sponsored to cry. felt better.

I did the laundry, for the house, like paying a due. a rental agreement I never signed. I bought the whiskey this weekend, i bought the detergent, i folded the sheets, and emptied the bins. i stayed up late with the cretins, eating smoked plums and sipping less whiskey than the rest of them: jim, denis- the daddy man and a few russians. to say I’ve been enjoying myself is refreshing.

The day before I’d read three hours of my fourth step sins to my sponsor on 4 hours of sleep: girl with a brain my brain running like the trades: times, days, pillows, suitcases. check lists, coffee. whiskey. afraid to admit some thing I don’t want to see. What happens to Us when I leave...after The Reading I stalked the few kilometers it takes to cover the city , suddenly so vast before me. dying. flaking apart on street corners. say anything. do anything. anything to give me a sense of being-- this righteous perfectionist needs to control something, to tick a thing off the list. and live having some thing accomplished.

i cancelled a, rare, dinner date and kept walking. And crying. i walked in the house i've been living in since june, even if i hate it, even if, don’t fuck with my stability, i go mental bean. even so, even so, I went home, and dinner was waiting.

fast forward twelve hours. Knees deep in winter coats, my one pot I’ve been carrying across 9 arrondissements, the suburbs and back again. my other calls in a calm after a little storm. it’s sunday, dinner party is in preparation. there's laughter and flirtation upstairs, it’ convivial and i’m finally in on the jokes. still, in my private asylum i cry in burst. rock and roll.

and pack crazy. parsing myself into pieces. to stay. to go. Winter in Paris to CA. Mich calls and i spend an hour sitting in corners, against the bed, in the closet, legs up the wall. i compare packing to art directing your life. And I love this tall child.

After two hours of talk. My fatal flaw. I snag my snip on the whisley lip at 4o clock. and dont stop. little sips, with the hoodlums upstairs back into the dungeon to deal sort, and drag out. six hours later i probbly imbibed 4 drinks, and a half glass of wine. I have to take what I have managed to pack to Saba’s for staying. I pick up a photo strip, we look sad. Me and |-|e.

I finally realize the too scary is the afraid of how much i want to be with this human. How it dominated in the begining. how i’ve fought to find myself within it. and maintan a seperate connectedness. these words, sound stupid, i want an awful lot for myself. and I know what loving him looks like, but i haven’t all the clues on how to love myself. not with consistency. Step 4 sinkhole. I guess that’s just it at the moment. I have to take hot easy. Adjust as my form shifts. I’m scared to death. And dying. But so excited to live.

Saba was nice to me, not knowing i  walked in while she was on the phone, poured myself a whiskey, put it back and then asked. wild thing. she lit two cigarettes after I balled at the sight of her, two left and her parents coming the next day. She held me on the couch and said, that’s my friend you’re talking about while I confessed i decided i wasn’t allowed to eat anything today. i’m horrible. hateful human. spiralling out of control, even so even so even so every one i know keeps saying the contrary.

The I got home someone had brought a menorah and the room sang in Hebrew.  miracle lit.

I wandered downstairs, finished packing my teachers rucksack and booked a new ticket. January 21st. So much later than I wanted, but the prices keep changing. 100 euros and three places to stay later. I’ll be home after Christmas. I’d be on a plane to la right now.

I have a great deal of shame.

I got wasted on accident purpose. The house. The talks, the readings, all revealing. All good. All in. Full disclosure : one fat fear, minus the unforeseeable future.