#near-akumanette

[miracle-sham]

Frigid They Froze Midst Heart Thawing Woes.

| Daminette December |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] | | [UwU] | | [OwO] |

| Everyone always thought Ladybug was unbreakable. That she was immune to negative feelings, unlike the rest of Paris. That she would never falter, never fail, never fall. And so no one could have expected when tragedy strikes and Paris falls at the hands of her once beloved hero. |

| Now who could save them all, from the icy clutches of a devastating Akuma? |

| And would anyone even try to save the once beloved hero, over the countless suffering civilians? |

———

| Word Count: 16,172. |

| Warnings/Tags: Akumanette/akumatised/hurt Marinette, Implied/referenced character death motif, Near death experience, Temporary character death, Not really character death, Major character undeath, Past character death, Grief/Mourning motif, Mind control/Mind manipulation, Mind control aftermath, Blood and Injury, Canon-typical violence, Minor violence, Snow/ice powers and theme, Frozen apocalypse/icy wasteland, Lovers to enemies, Enemies to lovers, Some Swearing, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and angst, Slowburn, Eventual happy ending, Angst with a happy ending, Reunions, and Recovery. |

———

| A/N: It's here! It's finally posted, only took a little over a year to complete this monstrosity of a oneshot! I would like to thank everyone who read the uwu-speak apwil fowols version and the massive amount of support you all showed for it, this meant the absolute world to me and really helped keep me motivated to finish this in full! I truly hope you'll all enjoy the original version, in it's entirety just as much as the apwil fowols version! |

| I'd also like to just say thanks to Saf and Rae as well, for their moral support throughout writing this! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. |

———

 Was it always doomed from the start? Marinette wondered hollowly, eyes flickering from frozen ruin to frozen ruin. Barely visible from within the seething flurry of snowflakes.

 Bleak.

 Blinding.

 An unending expanse of glistening and swirling snow and ice. Almost too bright and too obscuring to see anything else. Even despite the dullness of night.

 A white-out illuminated by the snowglow.

 Now, the only company she could keep were the immortalised frozen statues of the people who were unable to escape the devastation of the descending blizzard she wrought. Their silence of life was deafening.

 A chilling mockery of what had haunted her nightmares.

 Kicking her legs idly from her precariously precious position on the railings of the Eiffel Tower, the familiarity of the action almost burned as cold as the frigid city itself. Was this how Chat felt? She mused, staring at the bleached white and faded blue spots of her Ladybug?—Frozen Heart? Lady Blanc suit. Shaking her head, she couldn't help but curl her lips slightly in distaste. Maybe it's ironic that I didn't end up in black with red spots like all the false Ladybug Akumas.

 But her new colours are what she deserved. An echo of her once-partner; just as she was an echo of the hero she used to be. Especially in how the accents of her new Akuma suit echoed the old hero suit that the ice power-up had given her, with the crystalline and snowflake patterns covering the once-red-now-white parts, and the ice-blue crystals along her waist and around the yo-yo.

 Perhaps, there was some small comfort, in that the destruction she caused was little in comparison to that of Chat Blanc's. She tilted her head to the side and stared up at the night's snow glow-light clouded skies. Her moon was still intact for one, not that it was visible from here any longer, however. Though, not quite a small mercy so much as another chilling mockery, really.

 She clenched her fists so that the icicles clinging to the metal dug into her suit's gloves. For two, only her Paris had been affected this time. And for three, her death toll was significantly lower, what with only killing a huge swathe of Paris' population as opposed to, y'know how he wiped out all life except himself.

 Her Paris still had survivors lurking within the desolation. Treading tracks through bitter winds, clinging to slowly petrifying hope. Survivors that would scream and cry and yell and try ever so futilely to fight against her, whenever they saw her in her new form, reduced to a wraith of her former glory. They were the only sounds other than the crunch and crackle of ice and snow, or the tinkling of icicles in the wind.

 Not to mention, her Hawkmoth still lingered on. With his black ice glazed goadings that fractured her mind like her and Chat Noir's bones had, beneath his butterfly staff.

 A haunting reminder that she had fallen, failed them—Paris, that even their beloved little heroes weren't infallible.

 Scoffing to herself, Lady Blanc shook her head and shifted her position so that she could curl up into a ball and rest her heavy head upon her knees. Though, there was no crown to weigh her down, just the cold harsh wasteland that she had ruptured in rime.

 (It was almost ironic still, that the ice power-up suit she once wore so long ago, gave her a tiara of icicles but her Akuma form did not—the symbolism of this change, however, was not lost on her—after all what is a princess without her crown. Headless. That's what. As the suffering people decreed.)

 Nonetheless, Paris as it was and now is, had formed the freezing prison of her own making. Even with Hawkmoth's influence shattered like the ice of his statue's form, Lady Blanc was tethered—ice-bound—to Paris. A cruel twist of irony that with her frozen heart, Hawkmoth had ensured her weakness was the warmth, the heat. To make it so nothing would thaw her heart, especially not some pitifully desperate professions of love, friendship, and claims that the real her was still inside and that she just needed to fight him and his influence—control even.

 Biting back a bitter laugh, she ignored the near-silent whispers in the back of her mind crying those very same proclaims. Something that Hawkmoth hadn't anticipated. Especially seeing how her once-partner had turned out after so long in isolation. Would that be my fate too?

 In response, the creeping pernicious laugh of Hawkmoth rattled like hoar frost mantled chains in her head. It seemed to last an eternity before fading into the frore like everything else within Paris.

 Lady Blanc closed her eyes slowly in languish, thoughts drifting back to her once-partner. They might not have been meant for each other romantically, especially after she fell in love with a prince of her own. But perhaps Chat was onto something when he said we were meant for each other. Opposites in power yet our fallen fates are mirrored in white and blue and drenching loneliness.

 She sighed wearily. As if it would somehow ease the burden and the pain. Opening her eyes, she glared listlessly at the frosted-over traffic lights that would remain devoid of colour so long as her tyranny would reign. A mix of colours she wouldn't see together again unless she left Paris. Murmuring beneath her breath, “I never thought I'd miss that eyesore suit of his…” she smiled hollowly.

 Regardless of whether Hawkmoth made it so that leaving her gelid domain or destroying her Akuma object would kill her or not, it was not like going anywhere else would be viable after what she did. She'd be branded a criminal—a villain, like Hawkmoth—then locked up and be left to rot—languish—or well, melt. After all, like most Akumas, she'd become something a little less human. And in her case, a little more ice thanks to the akumatisation.

 What would her boyfriend even think of her now? A twisted reflection in the ice of the one he loved? Or perhaps just an obstacle between getting the one he loved back?

 Well, it wouldn't matter anyway.

 If Lady Blanc never strayed from within the reaches of the frost… It would be unlikely he'd see her again, especially as she was now. And at least by never drifting from the floes of Paris, she'd be able to put up a worthwhile fight against whatever self-proclaimed heroes and vigilantes would inevitably come knocking.

 Inevitably. Because an entire city had been glaciated for days, then weeks, then months with no signs of the calamity being undone. And whilst the Justice League and others had respected, that during Hawkmoth's reign she and Chat Noir held authority over who else could be active without being a potential Akuma risk; undoubtedly that respect would melt away like the snow and be soon forgotten. What with the sheer amount of destruction and a glaring absence of any heroes, temporary or permanent, really it would only be so long until someone would try to step in or investigate.

 And for all that her wretched hope was worth, she dearly hoped it wouldn't have to be Damian who would be sent to scout out and attempt to remedy the tragedy.

 After all, if other heroes or vigilantes infringe upon what is hers, then it's only fair they fall under her jurisdiction once more despite any revoking on their part. And unlucky for whoever the poor souls that would be sent to investigate turn out to be, Lady Blanc won't be allowing such a disrespect of her once-authority to stand, regardless of the current situation.

 And if he is sent… Well, then no matter how much the tiny shred of life-warmth-happiness, that is encased in layer upon layer upon layer within the ghost shell of her frozen heart, begs her not to. She will have to defend herself and her domain. Even if it means hurting him. And perhaps even killing him...

 The second Lady Blanc finished the thought, her resolve cracked under the weight of those pesky emotions of hers. Choking back a silent grieving sob, her shoulders heaved. It almost seemed as though the emotions might pass, when for the first time since the akumatisation, she genuinely burst into tears. A drowning surging wail of regret and loss and hurt and fear, all twisted together. But not even crying was spared from what she had become. For the wind howled in tandem with her wails, and the only tears she could shed were frozen ones. And as she cried her frozen tears, so too did the sky. Hail, falling from the sky and shattering onto everything in the air. Over and over and over again. Cascading shards of ice like relentless blades slashed into the surfaces. Leaving them covered in a blanket of icy caltrops.

 She scowled through the crystalline blurriness. The airborne hail shards swirled harmlessly around her whilst in the distance, faint yells and screams began to echo—a warning for those also trapped within the hailstorm to take shelter. Lady Blanc didn't need to patrol to know that bright vivid red splatters of blood would soon be painting the ice and snow. But patrol by heart she would. Any sight of bright colour amongst the white was now both a threat and a treat. As evidenced by Hawkmoth's gleefully maleficent croonings, in her mind.

 Uncurling herself from her position on the Eiffel Tower railings, Lady Blanc stretched idly before launching her yo-yo towards the sounds of screaming, and swinging over to follow where it may lead.

 It didn't take too long, despite being distant-sounding from up the Tower, the screams were actually rather close by. It was just that the sounds had been muffled by all the hail and ice wrought by the storms of her whims.

 Sticking to rooftops and balconies—not unlike how she used to—Lady Blanc arrived at the point where the screams originated from in under thirty seconds. It was almost too easy to find. Freshly glistening splatters of crimson on powdered white sparkled like a burning beacon.

 Settling softly like snow, upon a nearby roof that gave her a clear view of the painted snow, she focussed her attention on it. Not even bothering to check for the one who bled—as if Hawkmoth would allow her—she nestled on the shadowed drift beside a stone-cold chimney and stared at the rare sight. Futilely begged her hollow heart to feel something for the pain and suffering spilt.

 Even from her high perch, she could clearly see how the warmth of the blood had thawed the ice around it somewhat. The colour was already partially diluted and diluting further as more snowflakes fell. It wouldn't be long before the leeching frost claimed it and caused the colour to fade away to white like everything else that had once held vibrancy in this city.

 Another flicker of colour caught her attention, not far from the blood below. Red as well, though not the red of blood but the red of a bird raised by bats. She tilted her head to the side and listened for any sound beneath the silence of the crying cold.

 A sob pierced the air, followed by hushed whispers—promises—of safety, of help.

 That won't do, the crooning taunted.

 Lady Blanc gritted her teeth and forlornly tried to tune it out.

 The accent of the one whispering promises, was distinctly Gotham—a voice of bat wreathed in red, deep with a slight growl not unlike a cornered animal tending to an injured juvenile. Not him then, not as sharp and snappy as his accent could get. No, he was more likely to hiss than growl.

 The Bird below, most likely Jason from the voice—though Red Hood in his current attire—stepped fully into view and glanced skyward. Searching, seeking. For her.

 For but a split second, Lady Blanc felt the urge to call out in desperation, to reveal herself and beg for mercy, for forgiveness, for help...

 Your heart for power, reminded the inciting whims.

 Cold like coffin glass; she, in languish, conceded.

 Otherwise staying perfectly still like the statues she spent most of her time around these days, Lady Blanc narrowed her eyes and with the slightest will of her ghost-shelled heart, wrenched upon the lightly falling hail. And stirred the clawing blizzard.

 From hail to icicles, it rained.

 And the icicles, they wailed.

 Slashing talons of ice carved through the flurry of snow, piercing the bitter night.

 The sudden onslaught of shattering followed by cursing below did not, in fact, bring her any joy. Hawkmoth may have found it entertaining but that was all the more reason Lady Blanc hated doing it. But she couldn't let them see her, recognise her.

 A crash of bodies tumbling through a broken down door below, granted her the freedom to close her eyes and soften the storm back to a languishing lightness. But with it, revealed the blood-stained street whitewashed pristine once more.

 Scowling, Lady Blanc glared at where the colour had been. At least, she reminded herself, there will be another soon. Birds of a feather flock together.

 Yet no sooner had she thought that, a warning from her domain she heard.

 Warmth, whispered the writhing winds.

 And behind her, the familiar sound of a katana being drawn cut through the crackling silence of snow settling on ice. He was here; the verglas on the roof's metal railings hardly crunched beneath the ninja-light footsteps of him.

 “You, are not Ladybug.” Robin hissed oh so astutely. His katana raised; ready to slash at what he must clearly perceive as an imposter, a snowmelt simulacrum. Unhesitating. Still as ice not unlike his civilian-earned title. The Prince of Ice indeed.

 Lady Blanc tilted her head to one side, in mimicry of her once-partner. A billowing cloud of mist and ice burst from her blue lips in a frosty laugh. “No, no I am not.”

 He scoffed, and took another step closer. “Then who are you and where is Ladybug. Or Chat Noir.”

 “You're a detective, aren't you?” She responded noncommittally.

 “I am the son of Batman, of course I am!” Another step closer. Snarling, he added, “if you have hurt her—either of them, then I will make you pay.”

 Lady Blanc stood, swiping off the light dusting of snow that had settled on her as she had been settled in contemplation. She could tell him the truth. That she had hurt both of them dearly, froze them to the bone and stole the warmth—life—from their hearts, leaving them pale shells of frost and grief. But… that would be giving Hawkmoth what he wanted—the anguish of forcing others to hurt their loved ones, twisted and under the beck and call of a mad villain. Never mind, it was definitely already too late for those shreds of her morals to surface beneath the ice of her traitorous mind—considering not even ten seconds earlier, what she did to Red Hood. And that's not even counting what she's done to Paris.

 Turning to face him, her lips curled into a mocking smile. “So presumptuous. You don't recognise me. And yet…?” Pausing to chuckle as bitterly as the winds and shake her head slightly, she gestured sharply at him. “Some detective you are.”

 Delicately, she took a few steps back, until she was all but swaying over the ice-slick edge. Motioning to the swirling vortex of snow that reformed beneath them, her smile melted into a thin downturned sneer. “Why not take a look below. After all, I'd be more concerned about the other bird down there, than Ladybug and Chat Noir right now.”

 “Red Hood is handling the situation adequately.” Robin hissed, glowering at her with that desperately familiar expression of barely restrained violence borne from protectiveness. “What. Have. You. Done. To. Them.”

 Lady Blanc's lips curled into a wry smirk. “Mhmm, well I suppose if it's handled, then that's my cue to leave.” She teetered on the edge and swung her yo-yo idly as if in preparation to throw it. Quickly glancing back at him, her wry smirk faltered for but a fleeting moment as she briefly diverted the avalanche of languish and fear fueling her power.

 She swallowed a breath of chilling air thickly, a meagre attempt to keep the roiling emotions at bay for the fragile moment in which she offered him a silver lining of truth. “The only thing to happen to the heroes, was a fridged family reunion turned frosty. You're far too late to save them now.”

 Exhaling harshly, she tilted forwards and over the edge.

 Only for Robin to lunge after her.

 One. Second. Too. Late.

 The wind whipped around them as his fingers scarcely brushed through the space she had once occupied.

 A weightlessness cascaded over her as her feet left the roof and she began to fall. Her yo-yo, clasped closed within her hand. And distinctly, no grappling line extended.

 Faintly from the roof, she could hear Robin cursing in Arabic. He hadn't fallen with her, it seemed. How almost poetic it was.

 She was a fallen hero, and he was still stood safely atop his own heroic vigilante pedestal. Safe from being dragged down with her into the burning blizzard.

 The distance of said fall was roughly ten metres or so, and the snowdrift would cushion her landing. Harmlessly, though in no small part thanks to a side effect of her akumatised form and said snowdrift, she flopped into the snow like an ungraceful cat. Her limbs splayed in the mockery of a snow angel. Lady Blanc let herself stay as she had fallen, within the snow angel. Waiting patiently, she listened carefully for any sound that would signify where and what both the Birds could be doing. She would need the advantage on their next move in order to slip away dramatically and effectively.

 No less than half a minute passed before she once again heard the approach of Robin's steel-toed boots crushing the snow below with each furious step.

 Crunch-crackle-crunch-crunch. Crunch-crunch-crackle-crunch.

 Swish. The silver blade of the katana gleamed through the veil of white. It was easy to see that it was now aimed at her throat this time. Ready to strike should she bring him more strife, clearly.

 “Where are they?” He demanded immediately upon stepping within her sight, shoulders trembling. Whether from cold, panic, or fury, it was hard to tell.

 Lady Blanc cocked her head to one side, causing part of the snow angel surrounding her head to concave in on itself over her. Obscuring part of her vision with more snow, not that she really needed to rely on her vision anymore, what with her Akuma abilities. She bared her teeth at him, in the mockery of the smile. “Where the reunion occurred.”

 Scowling, Robin pressed the katana closer to her neck, in warning, all but hissing his next words. “And where is that?”

 “Where do you think?” She responded, raising an eyebrow behind her mask. Closing her eyes, Lady Blanc smiled wryly, a single stray tear trailed down her face, freezing and falling like lonely hail. Breathing softly, she exhaled slowly but deeply and in doing so, she began to melt back into the snow. The ribbons in her hair melted away first, causing her hair to fall from its signature pigtails. And as she became one with the snow, so too did the magic that kept her identity from being recognisable, thawing away just enough for connections to be made.

 “Stop!” Robin yelped, a brief moment of confusion and conflicted panic washed over his face as he began to piece it together; obvious in the way his eyebrows wiggled—jumping between furrowing and raising—in the way he gritted his teeth and pouted before biting at the insides of his lips then falling back into the gritted expression and then repeating the expressions again. In the way his fingers flexed in a specific pattern against his katana—a pattern that she knew he only did subconsciously when feeling conflicted or when losing his trust or faith in someone. In the way his—

 —His expression shuttered into neutrality.

 Lady Blanc couldn't help but note how it was the very same expression he would make every time him having fought family or friends was brought up in conversation. The muted flickers of determination, betrayal, grief, and reluctant resignation. The echoes of mourning the pain once more.

 A cascading avalanche of guilt slammed into her as she stared up at him with fracturing horror. And he came crashing to his knees before her, like an ungainly newborn fawn, in equal parts shock.

 Grimacing, Robin blinked slowly, clearly reassessing the situation. In a small, almost disbelieving—almost challenging voice, he whispered, “Marinette?” and winced immediately after.

 Lady Blanc would have snorted at his reaction, as he was no doubt remembering the 'no names in the field' rule but at that very moment, she was barely weathering the swirling storm of grief tearing through her mind.

 And in response, the storm outside of her howled like the shattering of her heart. The wind thrashed and flailed, ripping the fallen hail and icicles into the air once more in a deadly dance of blades and bludgeoning. The uppermost layers of snow were torn from the top and scattered into the air, blanketing Lady Blanc and Robin in the powdery pall of the blizzard.

 As if both were frozen into statues, neither moved a muscle. Eyes latched onto each other with all the desperation and dread of the too-thin cracking ice over a plunge into frozen waters; a splintering of the shards of their promises to one another unspoken.

 How long ago had it been, since they'd both whispered the words of comfort and safety to one another. Of agreeing to let the other protect them, and save them should it come to it.

 How long since she had last held him in her hands, and hugged him with all her might.

 How long...

 Another stray frozen tear fell from her eyes. Followed by another, and another, and another. Until the tears turned to streaks of ice cascading down her face. Two thin wobbly rimy lines from eyes to chin.

 Lady Blanc jerked forwards from where she was still half-melting into the snow angel, reaching one hand towards him in a frantic heart-wrenching attempt to hold him once more. To feel him beneath her grasp with the definitive evidence that he was real, that he was warm, that he was alive.

 The ghost of a smothering wail was wrenched from her throat as her fingers just barely brushed the side of his face and the bursting agony of his warmth scalded her. Her fingertips melted, dripping down into the snow. Her fingers, then hand, then wrist, then arm, swiftly followed but a second later in excruciating boiling pangs of languish. Pining in grieving love as she languished—fading and withering away—before him.

 The last thing she saw and heard, were his eyes scouring across the snow angel she had made, him swallowing thickly and choking out a near-silent heartbroken whisper. “Angel...”

 The snowdrift collapsed in on itself once more, covering up the space she had taken up and leaving it an empty snow-filled grave.

 Unbeknownst to her, Robin stared uncomprehendingly at the empty snow-filled grave—angel that she—what was left of Marinette—had just melted into. 

 “No... No-no-no-no!”  His voice dropped to scarcely a rasping raging whisper of mourning despair laid bare. “This can't be…”

 With a trembling hand and heart, he weathered the fading storm, reaching one hand to the place on his jaw where she had reached for him with her snow-light touch.

 “I will save you.” He vowed, for he had a wraith to put to rest and he would not be repeating the same mistakes again. He would follow her down this time, no matter the fall.

 ———

 Down in the depths below the Agreste manor, Lady Blanc reformed within Hawkmoth's now snow and statue-laden repository of a hidden butterfly garden. A languishing ache in her hollow heart.

 With her identity revealed, it would only be a matter of time before he and his family tracked down the lair to confront her. Now that they knew she was alive and she had failed, that she was weak even beneath the haunting frostbitten necrosis of Hawkmoth's influence.

 Pointedly ignoring the shattered and rotting remains of said villain—carelessly littered across the edge of the butterfly garden, halfway to tipping over the edge of the platform—she huffed to herself and paced the icy walkway. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to hours. Still, she did not relent. Though every so often… she caught her attention drifting over to the frore statue of Chat Noir, and her akumatised glacial ribbon—one that Damian had sewed for her, with delicate robins and ladybugs inexpertly stitched along it—clutched in the frozen outstretched hand. With every glance towards her object, the overwhelming urge to crush it with all her strength flittered through her mind, not unlike the Akuma within. It was a pointless urge, a snowmelt memory of what she used to do in the face of such objects. Destroy and free in order to heal.

 She's tried to, oh how she's tried. But her hands burn cold, and cataclysm could burn only in rot and rust. Neither would burn hot enough to melt the seal keeping her ice-bound in her wretched frozen form.

 A delicate chiming interrupted her thoughts. Her icicle warning system. The Birds had found her. The traps throughout the Agreste Manor, both Hawkmoth's and her own, were still active. But they wouldn't keep them from finding and entering the lair for long. And she could always deactivate her own traps for them...

 You know what you must do. Crowed Hawkmoth, in her head like the pinpricks of icicles dripping blood onto snow.

 Lady Blanc's steps faltered and she shut her eyes, tipping her head back and scrunching up her face. Letting out a heavy sigh, she gritted her teeth and continued pacing, fixing an aimless angry glare at anything and everything in sight within the lair. Reluctantly, she decided to verbalise her thoughts to herself in an attempt to help herself decide on her next course of action instead. “I… I can't let them destroy my object. It can only be destroyed by heat and if it is, then there's a good chance it will kill me. Just touching him hurt so badly… I can't… I can't go through that again. I can't...”

 Pausing for but a shallow wraith of a breath, she winced. “Furthermore, with me akumatised, the miraculous cure cannot be cast unless the earrings are stolen from me.”

 She sighed again and dropped her shoulders, one hand reaching up to brush her fingers against the miraculous within her grasp but hesitating at the last second again. Not daring to actually touch it. “If I try to remove them, like I tried with…” Her thoughts trailed off and a pained expression crossed her face. In the corner of her eye, she could see her reflection twisted and warped in the ice, the blue of her masked eyes almost glowing like her once-partner's cataclysm in the dim light.

 As she stared, a loud SNAP echoed through the lair. And one long thick crack spread across the reflecting ice. Starting from the neck of the reflection. The same place where Robin's sword had been aimed.

 A second crack shattered the silence.

 Whirling around on her heel, Lady Blanc turned to the direction it came from. Her heart dropped. Her thoughts ground to a halt. The ribbon, her akumatised ribbon, was now cracked. Just like the reflection. Just like her resolve.

 A wave of pain slammed into her. She collapsed to her knees. Head held in her hands, she stared desperately at her literal lifeline. “No, no, no, no!”

 The chimes echoed again. More urgently this time. And she knew, knew without needing to understand exactly what the chimes conveyed—one Bird caught in a trap, one Bird free and heading straight for Hawkmoth's vault where the lift to the lair was still hidden, even after all this time. And lastly, two Bats stalking and surrounding the estate—circling like owls waiting for the moment to swoop down and rip her apart with their talons.

 Time was running out.

 She could hear him, the haunting echo of Hawkmoth whispering in her mind, urging her. She needed to act. She needed to fight them. Protect her ribbon from being destroyed by them. She can't do it. Not like this.

 Lady Blanc swallowed thickly, desperation clawing at her throat. Glancing back over her shoulder at the distorted and cracked reflection, she wailed to herself. “I know, okay, I know I should've fought against this harder, I should've been able to overcome this. But it's only now that the ice is cracking. What changed? Why now? Was it because I cried today, for the first time since I failed?”

 Not unbidden, the answer comes to her mind wreathed in the malefic goading of Hawkmoth. And with it, a silent question too, one that she hadn't dared ponder in all this time.

 Bunnyx?

 It had to be. How else could the Bats and Birds have arrived within Paris without her domain warning her until she had stumbled across them by sheer luck. Why they arrived now and not sooner, not before she had started to crack and thaw. Why Robin's first reaction to her, was establishing she wasn't Ladybug—at least not anymore—and his next was asking where Ladybug was. And why Damian was so surprised by it actually being her and not yet another fake Ladybug Akuma.

 After all, it wasn't as if Bunnyx warned her that her once-partner had been akumatised when she was sent to that timeline to fix it. Just that she had to fix it.

 And now more than ever, she desolately wished she knew what truly happened to that timeline after the cure had been cast.

 Frowning, Lady Blanc threw herself to her feet. Hawkmoth's whisperings crescendoed like rupturing and shivering ice and frostbite within her mind; rotting all that remains of her.

 It didn't matter. Not anymore, she was not Ladybug, nor had she been her in such a long while. And despite the languishing guilt, she made her final decision. “I don't want to die… I can't let him kill me.”

 Her final stand.

 A shiver ran down her spine and that was her only warning that her time was up.

 He had arrived.

 Heralded by the swooshing of the lift descending into the frozen grave.

———

 The seconds passed ever so slowly as the lift moved ever closer to the walkway platform. Lady Blanc held her breath and kept her eyes shut. Held herself still as ice. Held her desperately melting plan in fracturing hands and hoped with all the frangible will she could muster. No matter how her resolve continued to waver still, under Hawkmoth's strengthened sway it was gradually refreezing. Though slower still than the lift's descent. And so she readied her yo-yo.

 She never wanted him to follow her, not now, not to here. But he did, and here he was.

 It felt as though the lift opened far too quickly; the silence shattering like the rime cracking beneath his boots as he telegraphed his steps across the walkway.

 “Marinette…” Robin's voice rang out, echoing almost hauntingly as it bounced against the ice-slick walls and ceiling of the lair.

 Marinette, Marinette, Marinette. Whispered the lair in imitation, intertwining with Hawkmoth's malevolent laughter; lancing pain crackled through her mind at the sounds.

 Lady Blanc grit her teeth. Opening her eyes, she immediately glared at him with all the hatred and animosity she could wrest. “Lady Blanc.” She corrected, like an icicle to the heart.

 His footfalls ceased, leaving behind the hollow wraith of an echo. “Lady Blanc, then”—hesitating for but a moment, he cleared his throat—“I do not wish to fight you.”

 “And I'm supposed to believe that?” Incredulity laced her tone as she snarled out the words and bared her teeth. Unable to do anything else but watch him warily as Hawkmoth's unrelenting laughter putrefied and compounded—rattling through her skull like the mockery of a heartbeat.

 Robin stilled, though not quite as still as her nor the frozen statues of Chat Noir and what remained of Hawkmoth. It was poetic again; an ice-warped reflection of their last moments before he had attacked her unprompted.

 When he made no further reaction or response—in actions or words—she cocked her head to one side and re-evaluated him, eyes narrowing and snarl wilting—languishing—into a wry grimace.

 Lady Blanc deliberated for a moment, not quite hesitating—she then opened her mouth to speak, voice almost powder snow soft, as softly as she could be in this form—but despite that her voice still carried the sharpness of black ice. “Why are you here? Why now, why wait all this time only to investigate now?”

 He took another step forwards, as if taking that for a cue to approach and gently raised his hands in a show of being unarmed and following through with his intent. “You—Ladybug and Chat Noir never responded to the Justice League's calls after Paris became frozen over for beyond a week. Nor did you or anyone on your team respond further, after the League tried and failed to reconnoitre due to the impassable surrounding blizzard.”

 And if she hadn't known him as well as she did, she never would've noticed the strain and distress underlying his words. However, through her Hawkmoth knew as well and he made her well aware of the fact with his malicious gloating—it was obvious as to how very much so he was enjoying the negative emotions that Robin was feeling at this very moment.

 Lady Blanc tightened her grip on her yo-yo, refusing to show weakness by moving towards him or away from him. “Again, then why are you here now?”

 Taking yet another step forwards, Robin lowered his voice to that calming steady voice: the one that all heroes use when talking to victims. “We were recently given permission by a miraculous holder on your team to operate within Paris in regards to matters pertaining to the miraculous.”

 She snarled, Hawkmoth's fury amplifying her own. She had delayed long enough, and that was all the confirmation she needed to know Bunnyx had indeed decided to interfere. Swinging first, her yo-yo sliced through the stalemate between them.

 He raised his arm on instinct. Wrong move. Having seemingly forgotten this wasn't just another one of their spars. As the yo-yo lashed against it. Whipping around the armour and digging in tight.

 The white-outs of his mask widened almost comically. Before she wrenched on the wire. Sending him head over heels and crashing into the glass coffin of Emilie Agreste.

 Like the shattering of Hawkmoth's statued form so long ago now, the coffin burst into thousands of glittering deadly shards. Cascading down around Robin as they began to pierce into the kevlar armour.

 Hawkmoth's languishing howl roared within her mind like the white-out outside. Lady Blanc flinched for a moment that lasted an eternity of ice, ducking her head slightly and scrunching her face up in pain on instinct. Her grip on her yo-yo loosening for no longer than Robin's heartbeat.

 But it was enough. Enough for him to tear the wire from his arm guards and prise himself from the broken remains.

 A thin trail of blood trickled from a deep gash on Robin's cheek, just below where the eyemask's edge could have protected him. The white-outs were now down, and a determined glint in his eyes.

 The sight of crimson red dripping down and splattering on the iridescent glass and ice surrounding the coffin caused Lady Blanc to freeze.

 Hawkmoth's howling paused too, shifting like an avalanche into contemptuous delectation. That's it, he crooned in cloying praise, make him bleed for all he's ruined.

 She could almost feel the tender disquieting glazing of the butterfly silhouette upon her face. Though a quick glance at reflecting ice still showed only the cataclysm glow in her masked eyes.

 And yet, it was distraction enough for one of Robin's birdarangs to slash into her left ribs, carving deeply. The thin gaping wound spilt gushing snowflakes and ice crystals instead of blood, that splattered against the rime-encrusted walkway. Her miraculous suit only protected her so much in her akumatised form after all, and it wasn't as if she couldn't just reform once more—should she be defeated here and now, as inconvenient and painful as that would undoubtedly be.

 With the crack of the yo-yo wire, Lady Blanc retaliated. Aiming for Robin's throat in vengeance.

 He lurched into a roll. Diving away from the coffin and glass whilst launching a birdarang at the yo-yo.

 Crack.

 The two weapons collided midair. Clattering harmlessly to the ground in between them. Only for the yo-yo to melt into the snow. And ever dutifully, the rime reformed the weapon back into her hands.

 Robin cursed in Arabic, plucking his sword from his sheath.

 Two steps forwards, two steps back. The two moved in sync. For every swipe of her yo-yo, he parried with a single slice of his katana. A slash to his right leg. A dodge to the left. A stab to her collar. A simple flip backwards.

 Their blows quickly snowballing into a flurry, neither able to quite get an edge over the other.

 “Stop!” Robin begged—demanded, dodging another of her strikes with practised ease. “This isn't you! You're akumatised. Let us destroy your object so we can fix this!”

 Oh, but how much blood was on her hands and how many lives had she froze asunder? How could she live with herself even if it all was fixed and she forgot, all the pain and suffering undone?

 Scoffing, Lady Blanc shook her head as if to dispel the thoughts; dancing forward with another spin and slash of her yo-yo. “It's a little too late for that.”

 And with that, she wrenched upon the power her akumatised form granted her. Sharp icicle blades splintered and rose from the verglas pall across the walkway.

 Robin cursed again, more heavily this time as he began to frantically drop and dive and parry and slide. Forcing all his attention on avoiding getting skewered or pushed over the edge of the walkway railings, instead of solely on her.

 Strategically, Lady Blanc pulled back, letting the blades keep him occupied as she positioned herself between him and her glacial ribbon. It was a miracle he hadn't noticed it—or rather realised what it was—yet.

 He sent a languishing look towards her, weaving between the blades like snowmelt through the cracks in the ice. Fluid and graceful but swiftly running out of space to slip away.

 Turning her attention to the coffin behind her, she quickly analysed the damage. Despite everything, the corpse remained perfectly preserved and unharmed. Not even a single shard of glass had grazed the skin within.

 Hawkmoth's preening complacency at the sight, felt like the pricking of bare skin on hoar frost; sending blighting shivers down Lady Blanc's spine. It shouldn't have been enough to distract her.

 But it was enough. Enough for him to tear his way through the blades and throw himself at her back. Pinning her to the walkway in the clingiest hug learnt from his family that he could imitate. And gripping tight as she shattered.

 Your heart for power, Hawkmoth hissed.

 “No, no, no-no-no plea—!” But the sudden scalding pain of warmth wrenched a wretched scream from her throat. Agony flared across her back at the once comforting touch. The heat rending her apart in a fractal rupturing. All too acutely was she aware of the haunting SNAP-CRACKLE of her glacial ribbon fracturing with her. As everything she held back came crashing down around her. And oh so desperately, did she try to twist and prise herself from his burning grasp.

 “Let go, please! I don't—” She wailed despondently, words wobbling from the pain. “—want to—don't want to die…”

 “I'm sorry. This is the only way I can help you. Please, forgive me for hurting you.” Robin—Damian pleaded, clinging on tight, refusing to relinquish holding her in his arms despite the pain it was causing her. He couldn't. Even as her akumatised form began to languish, not melting this time: but thawing.

 As oddly enough, the warmth was enough to keep Hawkmoth's presence at bay for the first time since she became akumatised.

 She stilled again, the fight in her deliquescing as her body did. Frozen tears thawed into liquid tears as they spilled from her eyes. She trembled, choking on her own heart-wrenching sobs cascading from her lips.

 Yet despite that, the more Lady Blanc thawed, the worse it became. She—Marinette let out a chilling keening, half-melted fingers clasping at his neck as she feebly tried to return the hug in her final moments of clarity.

 Together, they held each other in their arms as her akumatised form languished away. Until all that was left was a hollow in Damian's chest where his heart lay, the snowmelt freezing him to the bone through his armour, and two inert plain black earrings on the ground before him.

 “I'm sorry.” He whispered in languishing repetition, to all that remained of her. “Please, forgive me.”

 She didn't reform.

 Damian waited.

 And waited.

 And waited.

 Still, she didn't reform.

 She was gone. She had to be.

———

 However, unbeknownst to him, the glacial ribbon had not fully shattered. Held together by the last crystals of ice clinging to the fraying threads of the original fabric.

 And further unbeknownst to him still, Marinette—Lady Blanc reformed imperfectly—still half-melted—from the ice and snow up at the top of the Eiffel Tower. It was the first place she could think of returning to that would be safe enough for her to untangle the frosty scalding flood of emotions tearing her apart at the seams. In the wake of her melting, all that was left of him were the snowmelt memories of him holding her, and a searing hollow emptiness where the connection to the storm had been boiled away by his warmth.

 Not even to mention how furthermore, that very same searing hollow emptiness was scalding her right where her miraculous had since been worn. Oddly enough, the lack of the earrings' weight felt heavier upon her ears.

 Yet again, it was almost poetic. That she had fled here to the tower in her panic after that tragedy of a confrontation. The place where the shattering had first begun.

 Gasping for shallow breath, she let the liquid tears fall like her languishing hopes as she collapsed to her knees. Dripping down her face almost in mimicry of how she had melted—was still partially melted—and carving grooves in her snow-formed skin from the tear-melt.

 It felt as though everything was conspiring against her, let alone both her body and mind thanks to whatever influence of Hawkmoth's Damian—Robin had ruptured.

 “How…” Marinette—Lady Blanc mumbled numbly, achingly so, “how did this go so horribly? I was supposed to—Why did I—Why didn't I—” choking on her words, she desperately hugged her arms around herself in a futile attempt to feel the warmth—any warmth—again. “Maybe I was right, earlier… maybe I really was doomed from the start?”

 But the only answer to her whispered words, was the silent absence of the blizzard no longer blanketing—shielding—Paris like a funerary pall.

 Hollowly, she noted that she'd need to move soon. Seek shelter not unlike how she had previously forced the surviving Parisians to do so. Because with no barrier between her and the outside world anymore, and the Bats already flocking the place. Not even to mention her miraculous forsaken from her. It would only be a matter of time until it was too late for her… for those fears of hers that she had mused upon only fleeting moments ago. Before she fell and shattered as though an icicle plummeting from the tower's railing and rupturing apart in a burst of rime upon colliding with the ground, regardless of how deep the snow drifts below were.

 The very thought only reigned to torment her further. Sobs wracking her frame, wrenched from her cracking throat as she wailed her languish, grief, and regret in a rending requiem.

 Her keening hung in the air, the tightened noose of the gallows throttling the silence until it fractured as she had.

 And though the blizzard may have melted from the sky, the silver clouds still swayed across the sky like the impatient blade of the guillotine—ready to bring the heavy blade down upon her neck in the name of justice. (As if he hadn't already silently threatened to be her executioner when he had held the katana to her frozen throat.) As if he hadn't followed through with it. As if he hadn't nearly succeeded…

 She couldn't return. Not anymore. Not to him.

 Marinette—Lady Blanc dropped her arms from around herself. “What do I do now?” She whispered to herself, staring at her hands as if they bore the answer.

 Wretchedly enough, she could hear a response in the susurration of the snow. There was only one answer left; haunting and rotting and all that remained. And though the blizzard no longer prevented those within Paris from escaping the freezing prison, Lady Blanc was still ice-bound to the donjon where her object stayed. She had no choice. No true final say.

 For the absence of any other option was deafening.

 And so, she held her head in her hands, and cried her heart apart.

———

 At some point, Damian lost track of the time, holding onto the snowmelt memory of her in his arms.

 A steadying hand grabbed onto his shivering shoulder, snapping him back to awareness.

 The first thing he noticed was the taste of iron and salt on his tongue, and the dried blood and tears on his face.

The second thing was that Black Bat and Red Hood were both now down on the walkway with him as well. Black Bat was further away than Red Hood though, investigating the broken glass coffin and corpse within.

 Red Hood, however, was squatting in front of him, helmet under one arm, his signature leather jacket missing and a look of concern engraved on his face. “You with us now?”

 Damian nodded stiffly. The faint rustle of leather against his neck gave him pause. He turned his head to look at his shoulder, only to see the missing jacket, as well as Black Bat's and Batman's capes, draped over him, though practically swaddled in the latter. The weight and warmth comforting in their familiarity. It was then, he noticed that his wet outer armour had been removed, leaving him in his dry thermal under armour.

 Red Hood pushed his hands against his thighs and stood up. “Good.”

 Humming, Black Bat sidled over to the two of them and nodded in agreement. “You gave us a scare.”

 “Yeah, when your comms and tracking beacon died and there was no response even after an hour once you went dark despite the weather clearing up outside, nearly gave B fucking heart attack.” Red Hood added, a false levity in his voice as he huffed. “Don't think I've ever seen him look that emotionally constipated.”

 Black Bat shook her head, a tenuous cheeky smile playing on her lips, then swiftly moved to boop Red Hood on the nose. “Not emotionally constipated, just scared,” then cocked her head to one side, the smile faltering slightly. “Like you.”

 “I wasn't scared for Robin.” He protested half-heartedly. Pausing to scan the repository again, he grimaced. “Especially not once we found you drenched and half frozen to death.”

 Before continuing, he took a slow breath, “fall through the ice into the water down there?” He tilted his head towards the edge of the walkway railings to indicate at the ice floe below, “or something?”

 “Or-somethin'…” Damian mumbled in languish, words slurring together slightly. He scrunched his nose up like Marinette used to, in order to show his displeasure.

 Black Bat frowned at him, her body language practically screaming concern and worry as she creased her eyebrows, curled her shoulders up and leaned towards him ever so slightly.

 Red Hood, on the other hand, narrowed his white-outs at him. “Right.” He said, tone practically dripping with suspicion and scepticism. “Well B's gone to grab you some hypothermia blankets and shit, so wanna share with the class what happened then?”

 Damian bristled, not even attempting to curb the slurring of his hiss. “Doess'it-matter?”

 “Yes,” Black Bat cut in, emphasising her words heavily so much so that they hung in the air—echoing lightly like windchimes in the ice-strewn room. Her gaze bore through the fabric encompassing him as he held her full attention. “Always, little brother.”

 Raising an eyebrow, Red Hood took a step back to give Robin more space. “Considering you look like you're gonna fucking keel over and join Chat Noir over there, yeah I agree with Black Bat and say it fucking matters.”

 At Chat Noir's name, Damian froze. He swallowed thickly and glanced up at the ice statue not far from his position on the floor, with the shattered but barely still intact ribbon in hand. Then he glanced down at the earrings—her earrings.

 “I found them…” He croaked, not taking his gaze from all that was left of her.

 “Chat Noir, and Ladybug, I can see that.” Red Hood muttered, voice softening considerably. “Did you manage to find the Akuma, the object, or Hawkmoth?”

 Damian scooped up her earrings with trembling hands. “No.” He corrected coldly, “The shattered statue isn't Ladybug.”

 Red Hood jerked back slightly, startled, then squinted at him. “What. Then what happened to her, where is she?”

 “Here…” Cradling her earrings in his hands, Damian finally looked up at Red Hood again with unshed tears shining in his slightly glazed over eyes.

 There was a pause as Red Hood stared at the earrings in Robin's hands and the surrounding puddle of snowmelt. “Shit, I'm sorry.” Stepping closer, Red Hood gently pulled him into a hug and tucked Robin's head under his chin.

 Black Bat quietly joined the hug as well, staunchly wrapping her arms around both Red Hood and Robin's shoulders. “It'll be okay, little brother. You have her miraculous…” She paused, tilting her head to one side as she tried to find the words she was looking for. “The cure. It can fix this.”

 “Sh-she was the Akuma…” Damian whispered, voice cracking in lament as he shivered. The cold kevlar of his siblings' armour was definitely not helping his situation despite the warmth of the hugs—and that very thought nearly set him off again. “She was weak to temperatures above freezing, from what I observed. Whenever we made contact, she would proceed to melt, causing her excruciating pain.”

 He shallowly swallowed a choking breath of frigid air. “I killed her.”

 Just before either Black Bat or Red Hood could respond, Batman swooped in (though not quite with the same effect as usual, due to the lack of the cape) from the lift with the cold weather emergency medical kit piled high in his arms. The pure anguished brooding demeanour laid bare across his furrowed face.

 Silence, barring the thundering strides of Batman approaching, permeated the air as the rest of his family grasped what Damian just admitted to.

 “B—” Red Hood started defensively, tensing and shifting his hug to more of a protective curl around Robin.

 Batman waved a hand—from beneath the armful of supplies—at Red Hood, grunted in acknowledgement and without missing a beat, deposited said medical supplies down a few paces from the hug. Close enough to be easily accessible but far enough away to still give the three some space. He then began meticulously sifting through the contents and pulling out what he deemed necessary.

 A foil hypothermia blanket was first, Batman immediately outstretched one hand to pass it to Red Hood. Followed swiftly by a travel mug, and a sealed medical-grade single-use plastic disposable drinking straw (for both sanitary and safety reasons).

 Black Bat temporarily extracted herself from the hug first, to allow Red Hood to grab the blanket and properly wrap it around Robin.

 In the meantime, Batman cracked open the travel mug and straw, bending the latter before plopping it in the mug. Causing the delicious aroma of hot chocolate with melted marshmallows to suffuse the air. Awkwardly, he shuffled closer to his children and slowly offered the drink by the bent straw to Robin so he could take a sip without needing to leave the hug or blankets. “Here you go, chum. Drink slowly, okay.”

 Damian nodded, hesitating before taking a small slow sip.

 By the time he was halfway through the drink, there was still no sign of Marinette having reformed, though strangely enough, the ribbon in Chat Noir's hand had begun refreezing over the cracks fracturing it, in the meantime. Despite the warmth of the drink filling him, it felt as though there was a cold dark pit in his stomach at the loss of her.

 Making sure to finish the hot chocolate in its entirety first, so as to not waste it or for any attempts at talking to be rebuffed by his family, Damian squinted at his father, choosing his next words carefully. “Are you… displeased with what I've done. I've killed her.”

 Batman stilled, closing his eyes for a second as he held his composure. “I know you have,” he began carefully, “and I won't lie that I'm unhappy about the situation that you ended up facing alone. I only wish one of us had been able to back you up sooner, so you wouldn't have this on your conscience.”

 Red Hood cleared his throat loudly, and glared at Batman from over Robin's head.

 Fidgeting under the glare, Batman continued. “But I could never be upset with you for protecting yourself in self-defence. Especially given what Ladybug has told us before in regards to Akumas and Akuma victims.”

 He paused, glancing towards Red Hood briefly. “And even if you hadn't killed her in self-defence, I would still regret that you had to fight someone you cared about alone. Regardless of the situation, you're my son, and I will always love you. Killing someone,” his gaze flickered up to Red Hood again, “doesn't change that fact.”

 “I—” Damian started, tears leaking through the corners of his mask. “Thank you, father.”

 Batman moved the empty hot chocolate mug off to one side and then leaned in, pulling Robin into a warm bear hug.

 Red Hood watched the exchange quietly, before glancing away, mouth twisted into a light frown.

 A long heartfelt moment passed before Batman released his Robin from the hug.

 Damian sniffled faux-haughtily, trying to smother the impending tears as he curled his shoulders up. “I suppose I should utilise the miraculous now, to bring her back.”

 Batman grimaced at the reminder of the magical artefacts afoot. “As long as you know how to safely use them, yes…”

 No sooner had the words left his mouth, the miraculous (still in Damian's hands) began to glow a bright bubbly pink.

 Damian's heart clenched at the sight of something that, he supposed should have been unsurprising, was so violently reminiscent of her.

 A bubble no larger than the diameter of an average rat or another small mammal perhaps, split off from the rest. It darted away, twirling through the air in front of Damian, not unlike something out of a children's fairy-themed show.

 The glowing bubble coalesced into a small red being that was vaguely evocative of a ladybird, if one squinted. And squinting, Damian was.

 “Hello!” It greeted with a cheerful sort of wariness and a strained smile. “I am Tikki, Kwami of Creation and the Ladybug Miraculous.”

 Black Bat pulled away from the group hug again. She grinned back with an equal edge of wariness—though somewhat tempered by her curiosity—and waved at the little thing, then dipped her head in a light nod. “Nice to meet you.”

 The other three Bats stared uncomprehendingly at the Kwami.

 “What the fuck…” Red Hood muttered, shaking his head slightly at the sight. “It's a fucking floating magic bug creature…”

 “It,” Damian hissed protectively, “just introduced herself with a name. Have some manners, Todd. Tikki and the other Kwamis, according to Ladybug, are divine spirit-like beings that grant her and the other Parisian heroes under her leadership, their powers.” He cleared his throat, and quietly and rather hastily added. “If it weren't for our current circumstances, it would otherwise be a pleasure to finally meet you.”

 The slight wariness faded from Tikki as her strained smile became even more so. “It's a pleasure to finally and formally meet you too, even under this situation. Though I must admit due to the nature of how us Kwami interact with the world, my knowledge of what has happened is unfortunately limited.”

 She glanced between the four vigilantes, and then towards the glass coffin, or more specifically the frozen statue of Chat Noir before it. Slowly taking in the full weight of the situation at the unmistakable signs of a powerful Akuma attack and her missing holder. Tikki's strained smile fell immediately as tears began to shimmer in her eyes. “Oh, Chat Noir…” She chewed her lip as she grimaced, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. Cautiously, as though afraid of the answer, Tikki looked to Damian, “and my holder…?”

 “Ladybug was Akumatised.” Damian answered her. “She has been… confronted and prevented from continuing what she was doing. If you could lend us your power so that we may reverse the damage done and return her to how she was before the akumatisation, it would be appreciated.”

 Before Tikki could respond, a chilling—wailing—wind sliced through the frozen repository.

 “No.” In a whirling flurry of snow, Lady Blanc (still donned in that same bleached mockery of the ice power-up suit despite the absence of the miraculous) fully reformed before the frozen form of Chat Noir. Ensuring that she had placed herself between the Bats and her akumatised object before they could even dare approach. Though she was no longer half-melted, the tear-melt grooves down her cheeks had only deepened. She swallowed thickly, shoulders trembling and hands gripping her yo-yo with the desperation of a lifeline. “I've warned you once before. I will not warn you again.” Glowering at them, she let the last of her power—that languishing frigid fury—drown her next words in haunting rime. “It is too late to fix what I have done.”

 “Marinette!” Tikki cried, darting towards her, “that's not true, the miraculous cure will work if you just let us use it on you! It's really not too late, I promise!”

 With the flick of Lady Blanc's wrist, the yo-yo swung towards Tikki, coming far too close for comfort to the distraught Kwami. Slicing through the air as it preceded an arc of blade-like icicles launching from the verglas-encrusted walkway, all of which were aiming not only at Tikki, but the Bats and Bird behind her too.

 Black Bat reacted first, in immediate response she flipped forwards and threw a volley of perfectly aimed Batarangs. Each Batarang struck a blade of ice, shattering them harmlessly between the living and statues.

 Neither Lady Blanc nor Black Bat moved as the ice cascaded onto the walkway with delicate clinks and chimes.

 Black Bat stared icily at Lady Blanc. “You will not harm them.”

 Holding his breath, Damian frantically attempted to scramble out of the blankets binding him and face her, himself.

 It was only thanks to Red Hood and Batman's trained reflexes and familiarity with wrangling him, that they were able to restrain him from doing so, seeing as he was still recovering and sorely lacking in the armour department. Though the prevention was not without a litany of swears muttered by Red Hood in the process.

 Lady Blanc eyed her two main threats: Black Bat and Tikki, ignoring Black Bat's words and the scuffle behind her. The others were less of a threat, as not only was the kerfuffle keeping them occupied but it was obvious they'd prioritise protecting Dami—Robin over targeting her object. Especially due to the fact he was surrounded by field medical supplies and unarmed— vulnerable. “The cure,” she snarled, taking one singular step forwards, “will not erase the experience, the memories of everything that has happened.”

 “That's not true…” Tikki repeated, quieter and more subdued this time. She hovered closer to Black Bat's right shoulder for safety. “You're akumatised, you won't remember once we purify your Akuma.”

 “But the survivors will.” Lady Blanc seethed, in wretched mourning. “And so will you. The cure won't fix the pain and suffering I've caused everyone. It won't erase the wrongs I've committed.” She paused, glancing between them all, eyes blazing like Chat-Blanc's cataclysms; just like her earlier reflection had shown. “But it will erase me. Permanently. There's a chance it could erase this entire timeline from existence. It's happened before.”

 “Before?” Black Bat asked, watching Lady Blanc with a careful curiosity and damning concern. Scrutinising her every expression and gesture for unspoken answers.

 “Besides,” Lady Blanc continued, pointedly ignoring Black Bat—gaze flickering passed her too quickly as she continued to glance between the rest— “even if you cast the cure, it won't undo the effects of my akumatisation… time will still have passed, people will still be traumatised, the damage will still have been done.”

 Faltering for but a second, she added on quietly enough that, had it not been the Bats as her audience, it wouldn't have otherwise been heard… “I will still be a villain once it all melts to nothingness.”

 “You're not a villain.” Batman calmly rebutted. “You didn't choose to become an Akuma, nothing you have done as an Akuma is your fault.”

 “Indeed!” Damian interjected, glaring at her in return, though the effect was dampened via the blanket, jacket, and capes still bundling him. “You were, and still are, under the effects of an emotionally manipulative villain. If you were to face judicial processes as other villains do, in a court of law, you would be excused under duress.”

 Red Hood snorted, muttering under his breath, “yeah, or excused under undue influence, y'know considering how you're reacting right now.”

 “I have slaughtered hundreds and thousands of innocents.” Lady Blanc hissed, stalagmites of ice surged from the verglas around her as her fury spiked. “Others have been declared villains for less.”

 Batman sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose and then raising both his hands as a gesture of peace. “Even if you are a villain, as you say you are. That doesn't mean you're beyond help. Contrary to popular belief, I don't dress up as a bat and beat up criminals because I think they're beyond help. If that were the case, I, Batman, would kill. But I don't. Because everyone deserves a second chance and the help needed to change.”

 “Would you give Hawkmoth a second chance? Or the Joker?” She scoffed.

 A moment of silence crackled through the frozen repository with all the grandeur of a guillotine's blade released.

 Red Hood death-glared at Lady Blanc, mouth twisted between utter bewilderment and the curl at the corner of his lips that betrayed the downright chilling wrath lurking beneath. His eyes almost seemed to glimmer green in the reflection of the ice. “Are you seriously fucking comparing yourself to the fucking Joker?”

 There was no response.

 Inhaling deeply, he then hissed through his teeth and gesticulated violently in tandem. “Did you not fucking listen to everything we just fucking said?”

 Lady Blanc stilled sharply, shoulders jerking back into a tense and more defensive position; teeth accidentally snapping down onto her tongue in the process. Snowmelt pooled in her mouth from the wounds, instead of blood. She swallowed thickly, grimacing as she glanced aside—unable to bear looking at any of them for any longer.

 “Further fucking more,” Red Hood continued, “you've only fucked Paris up. One city. That ain't shit compared to how many places those bastards have fucked up.”

 She flinched, thoughts spiralling back to her once-partner's akumatisation. Shaking her head stiffly, her eyes caught on the statue of Chat Noir once again. “You should have seen what preceded me. It could've been far worse...”

 “But what could have been, is not what is and has happened.” Damian cut in, cautiously. “Does that not speak of the person you are, regardless of your own akumatisation?”

 Her hands trembled—shivered, only slightly but just barely enough to be noticeable. Fingers curling and uncurling around the yo-yo like the staccato of her heartbeat. “No. You're wrong.”

 “Why? Why are we wrong?” He demanded, not unkindly but unrelenting in his determination. “You say you could have done worse, ergo you actively chose to limit the destruction you've unwillingly caused due to factors outside of your control.” Damian scrunched up his nose and tilted his head to one side. “Something which many Justice League members ought to aspire to when they're under the control or influence of outside forces. Therefore you have achieved something wherein even seasoned heroes and vigilantes, whom are known globally for frequently saving the world, could not.”

 Gritting her teeth, Lady Blanc swung her yo-yo out towards the four of them. Arcs of glacial blades lashed out in waves.

 Immediately, Black Bat, Red Hood, and Batman slipped into defensive stances in front of Damian. Blade by blade the ice shattered. Batarangs and bullets tearing through them.

 And in the chaos of the attack, Damian freed himself from the blanket and cape cocoon. Sprinting down the walkway, he dodge and weaved between both friendly and not-so-friendly fire—or more aptly, frost.

 “Robin!” Shouted Batman, noticing just a split second too late. His head turning to face his son and hand reaching out but unable to fully draw his attention away from the slashing of the reforming blades.

 Blade after blade, the arcing waves continued. Though every blade that sliced towards Damian, melted before it could dare hurt him. Step by step he approached unharmed. Icemelt puddles formed in his wake, swiftly refreezing into bitter black ice.

 Lady Blanc took a hesitant step back. The shivering was worsening now, as though she was affected by the cold, despite her akumatisation having granted her immunity to such a thing. “Don't.” She warned.

 “No, I will not give up on you.” He insisted as he kept making his way towards her. “I made a mistake in the manner of which way I approached and tried to save you earlier. And for that I am sorry but I promise to do better this time.”

 She scoffed wetly, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes once again. “I'm not the same as the person I was before. No amount of talking or powder snow promises will change that.”

 Lashing out with the yo-yo again, it barely skimmed by his neck. But its effects were instantaneous; his footsteps halting. If her aim had been true, it would have wrapped around his neck like a noose. Faltering at the realisation, she backed away closer to the shattered glass coffin.

 Yet another mirroring of their most recent fight.

 Accidentally, she bit the insides of her cheeks and once again, snowmelt flooded her mouth. She swallowed it thickly, throat constricting as if she had hung a noose around her own neck instead.

 Another stalemate had been reached.

 Back and forth.

 Stopping and starting.

 With every step forwards, a step taken back.

 A deadly dance, wherein all actions either party could make, were missteps.

 They were going in circles.

 Again, and again, and again.

 And it was obvious to all, that it could not be kept going for much longer. One side would have to give out, crack and melt, and languish away.

 Lady Blanc had been on the back foot since their arrival, no thanks in part to Bunnyx's machinations. Hissing through her teeth, she sighed. “It's rather telling, isn't it? How you all keep beating around the bush and going on about fixing this, saving me, and undoing everything! And yet not a single one of you has come up with a refute to what I've said. To the undeniable truth that the Miraculous Cure isn't as all-powerful with its "limitless"—” pausing, she made air quotes with her fingers without letting go of her yo-yo or the wire, “—healing as everyone seems to think it is capable of. It can't cure the time that has been lost, the painful memories made, the suffering endured.”

 The following silence from both Tikki and the Bats spoke a thousand words.

 “Why?” Lady Blanc's shoulders shook heavily as her breaths quickened in time with her rabbiting pulse. “Why can you still not understand, after everything I've said and done? Why can't you understand there is no salvaging what has been broken with my akumatisation? There's no undoing of what's been done unless Bunnyx herself goes back into the past to prevent the timeline from forming in the first place!”

 Tikki tsked. “Marinette, please. You don't have to repeat yourself. There's always a—”

“—Is there?” Lady Blanc cut her off icily, seething, chest heaving, teeth bared. “Is there really? Because so far all you've done is said that it can be and then not given any evidence!”

 Damian hummed inquisitively, narrowing his eyes at her. “Does it matter?”

 “Robin!” Reprimanded Batman.

 “Are you fucking kidding me?” Red Hood snarled, not a second later.

 “How can you say that?” Tikki asked, brows furrowed and mouth twisting as though biting into something sour.

 Black Bat, barring Lady Blanc, was the only one to not immediately react in outrage at his words. His sister merely frowned and began slinking around the edge of the walkway towards the akumatised ribbon, whilst the rest were distracted by him. Just in case they all failed to talk her down peacefully.

 In contrast, Lady Blanc's own reaction was one of suspicious bemusement. Though she made no attempt to move neither closer nor any further away, that didn't mean she wasn't still a threat.

 “Because why does it matter?” Damian lifted his chin up and took a step closer to Lady Blanc, challenging her. “What makes an akumatisation so vastly unique in comparison to say any other tragic mass villain attack?”

 He turned to stare at his father and brother, equally daring them to argue against him. “We have faced villains who have rewritten the universe before, villains who have caused mass extinction events that we fixed before, and we have helped victims who have been labelled villains due to various reasons beyond their control no matter the damage they may have caused.”

 Puffing out his chest like an indignant robin as he took yet another step closer again, Damian continued, not letting a word in edgeways. “Why should an Akuma be treated any differently to those similar situations? And despite the time lost, trauma and pain suffered, and the damage remaining, the world still turns. The survivors still live, and the days still pass. And most importantly, those who were victims, are given a chance to heal after the tragedy.”

 Lady Blanc stood frozen in place as she listened and contemplated, face etched in distress.

 Taking his chance, Damian drew further towards her still, until he was between her and the ribbon.

 “As you said, the miraculous cannot fix anything. But no one, not you, nor the survivors, can heal until we undo or mitigate as much of the damage as possible. A wound will not heal if what caused the wound has yet to be removed.” Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, Damian reached out to offer her his hand, nearly begging. “Please, will you let us help you heal?”

 With trembling hands, and a languishing resolve,  Lady Bl—Marinette—reached back. Wincing preemptively, she fragilely grasped his offer like a withering lifeline and clasped his hand in her own. A final sob tore from her throat when for the first time since becoming akumatised, the warmth did not hurt her.

 It didn't burn. She didn't melt. Nor thaw. Nor languish.

 But unbeknownst to Marinette, the ribbon did. The unyielding ice that had protected—sealed, guarded, trapped, imprisoned—it for so long finally thawed, leaving the Akuma inside vulnerable.

 Her knees buckled and it was only thanks to Damian's impeccable reflexes, that he was able to catch her before she could hit the ground. Causing the tension in the air to fracture and fade.

 “It's okay, you're safe now.” He assured her, as he held her in his arms. “It will be over soon.”

 Marinette shook her head, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, listening to the steady beat of his heart in one ear. “'M sorry, 'm sorry, 'm sorry, 'm sorry.” She gasped out in an avalanche, tears choking her words.

 He hugged her tighter in response, channelling how his family's hugs always made him feel—beloved and safe.

 Giving her a moment to recover herself, Damian soothingly rubbed her back in circles and gently asked. “Can we free you from your akumatisation, please?”

 Unable to immediately bring herself to words, Marinette nodded, cold tears trickling down her face and onto his shoulder.

 “Thank you, my beloved.” Damian responded, voice tinged by the hints of a warm smile as he stared at her in relief. Momentarily, he turned his head to nod at Black Bat and shifted his arm away from the hug just long enough to pass the Ladybug Miraculous over to her.

 He spared Marinette one more quick glance before returning his attention to his sister. Who, in a swift and elegant motion, tugged back her cowl and carefully fastened the earrings in place.

 Though Damian was soon distracted by tapping on his other shoulder in rapid succession: two short, two long, a pause, three short, three long, one short—one long—one short, one short—one long—one short, one long—one short—two long. A beat passed, and then the pattern repeated.

 “You don't need to apologise.” He muttered as gently as he could muster, turning his gaze back to her and continuing the soothing ministrations of rubbing her back. “Perhaps, you should focus on matching my breathing instead?”

 Marinette shook her head but ceased tapping nonetheless. Inhaling shakily, she tried to copy his breathing by the calming rise and fall of his chest. Soon, her cries softened, and her grief and fear melted—draining away like her will to fight had before. “Since when did you get so good at… this.”

 Sniffing haughtily, Damian hid his grin. “What are you talking about, I've always been excellent at comforting people.”

 “Yeah, only if we're calling animals people now.” Red Hood butted in.

 “That reminds me, Hood. From henceforth I shall be referring to all my pets as my "fur babies".” Damian replied.

 Marinette wheezed, not quite able to manage actually laughing yet.

 “Don't you dare! You used to agree with me on this!” Red Hood argued, staring at Damian aghast. “B, c'mon back me up here!”

 Sighing wearily, Batman shook his head, more focussed on gathering up the forgotten medical supplies, and re-equipping his own cape. “If Robin wants to do that, then so be it.”

 Red Hood's yelped in mock betrayal. “How could you!”

 “I shall name my next pet in your honour, father, in gratitude for your support,” Damian announced, nodding sagely. “And,” he continued dramatically, “a Furby in derision of Hood's lack thereof.”

 “See! Look at what you've done!” Red Hood hissed, throwing his hands up in exaggeration and turning around as if to leave. However, he moved only to grab his jacket and shrug it on instead.

 Marinette let the conversation lull before nudging Damian with her shoulder and staring at him quizzically. “You didn't actually answer my question?”

 He sighed, closing his eyes for a second. “After Paris remained frozen over for more than a day, I became very… worried for you. When the situation persisted beyond that first week and the Justice League failed to get in contact with you or any known heroes, yours or theirs, active in Paris at the time. Well, father put his foot down and convinced me to attend therapy.” He paused to take a deep breath. “It has helped significantly, suffice to say.”

 “I see,” she responded, voice pitching up on her next words in uncertainty, “that's good?”

 Damian nodded in agreement. “It is.”

 The conversation lulled to a stop again, as Black Bat and Tikki conversed softly in the background.

 Though Marinette still could not help the trembling gasp that escaped her, as she heard the words of the transformation echo in the repository. “Wait—”

 This was it.

 This would be her last moment before her memories would melt away as with how her akumatised form shall. Her last moment as Lady Blanc. As—

 She should do something. Anything. Before she loses it all and the timeline is prevented by Bunnyx, once again. No! She can't let this happen again, she can't let Hawkmoth win after this, after everything. “When you cast the cure…” Marinette started, words sticking to her tongue like ice, “Hawkmoth will—!”

 And yet, the indecision struck, paralysing her as though she were just another frozen statue in the repository. She struggled desperately to get the final warning out. “Don't let him—!”

 “We know,” He soothed, “we won't. It will be okay.” Damian promised, holding her carefully. “I promise you, cross my heart, Habib Albi.”

 Darkness rippled at the edges of her vision and distantly she watched as her icy suit began to boil and bubble that blackish-purple viscous magic of corruption. Desperately, she clawed through the lingering decision paralysis to pull away from Damian's shoulder.

 So that the last thing she saw, was the concerned but affectionate look in his eyes and the warmth of his smile, before being consumed by the bright purifying magic.

 A languishing wraith finally laid to clement rest.

———

 The first thing Marinette noticed, as the darkness and disorientation faded, was the familiar tingling of the Miraculous Cure having been cast. She froze, heart plummeting in her chest as she began to tremble.

 Quickly she took stock of her immediate awareness and blurry memories. One, she didn't remember casting the cure. Two, she wasn't transformed, she was in her civilian clothes. Three, her Miraculous was missing, her earrings were gone. Which can only mean, she couldn't have cast the cure. She had failed. And she can't remember what had happened—Oh, oh.

 The memories before the darkness sharpened in clarity, painfully so and Marinette nearly keened in distress as she connected the dots. She really did fail. Chat Noir and herself had confronted Hawkmoth in his lair and—

 —Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath, struggling to breathe with what little air her shallow breaths brought her.

 “You're okay, just breathe with me.” Damian's voice cut in, through the confusing fog of de-akumatising. Cradling her hands in his own. His hands were warm and gentle, grounding.

 Jerking her head in a shaky nod, she tried to match his breathing. Unsuccessful at first, but getting closer with each following breath.

 As she did so, Damian slowly and softly began to rub soothing circles on the back of her hands.

 Seconds passed like the gentle melting of unsettled snow overnight. And once her breathing finally evened out, she hesitatingly glanced up and towards where his voice had come from, to see him sitting in front of her on his knees. “What,” she paused to find her courage, “what happened? I remember Chat and I finally facing Hawkmoth. We had him cornered and then—”

 A sob tore from her throat as she spoke, cutting off her next words.

 Sighing deeply, Damian glanced away from her for but a brief moment as if to compose himself. “As you are most likely presuming, Hawkmoth akumatised you. We're not sure what was the inciting catalyst as you didn't announce it during our responding presence. Chat Noir does not appear to adequately remember what exactly occurred before your akumatisation either, nor was he conscious throughout any part of it.” He paused, tilting his head to gesture over his right shoulder and at Black Bat, who was lurking a few paces behind. “Before you worry, we dealt with Hawkmoth as soon as Black Bat cast the cure, all remains of what was affected by the akumatisation has been undone, healed.”

 “Oh…” Was all the response she could immediately muster, the numbness of the situation settling in like the first frost of a winter's morn.

 “Indeed,” he nodded, “if it brings you any comfort—”

 —Before Damian could continue, Red Hood cut him off with a lungful cheer from somewhere on the other side of the repository based on the faint echo—“AYY, CHAT NOIR KICKED HAWKFUCKER IN THE BALLS!”

 Which was unsurprisingly followed by Chat Noir making quite the strangled from-mild-embarrassment yelp. “I take back everything nice I've ever said about you, Hood!” Grousing, a slap echoed throughout the repository. From the sounds of it, he had either dramatically flung a hand over his face, or he had slapped Red Hood in the face; though it was most likely the former rather than the latter considering there was no further yelling. Sighing loudly, Chat Noir continued, voice growing more and more distanced as his footsteps faded away. “Let me,” pausing most certainly for the dramatics of it, “become one with the ice again and melt into oblivion so I never have to hear what you just yelled ever again. 'Kay, thanks, bye!”

 If the sudden patter of footsteps followed by the swoosh of the lift were anything to go by, he had truly just up and skedaddled away from Red Hood—perhaps he did actually slap him.

 Huffing lightly in laughter, Marinette cracked a small and hesitant smile up at Damian. “At least things are returning to normal then, right? Since they're both… they're not… y'know.”

 “About that,” Damian closed his eyes slowly and breathed in slowly, when he opened them again, his gaze was one of languishing guilt. “Habibti, you were akumatised for far longer than any previously known victim.”

 And oh, how for a moment she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her chest, like the echoing of an avalanche crashing down around her. Leaving her breathless in a wretched sort of deathless, with the whispers of snow-melt memories that had since rotted into nothingness. Intangible yet frangible as it slipped through her freezing cold fingers. A wraith of what she had become.

 “How long?” She asked, not quite begging—not quite reluctant either. Nevertheless, the words hung heavy in the air as though they were the executioner, readying the guillotine's blade over her neck.

 “Marinette,” he started, voice laden with an uneasy tinge of desperation. Biting his tongue, Damian grimaced and shook his head slightly, gaze flickering away from her to fixate on a point behind her. But still, he swallowed a breath of air thickly, and pulled out the calming hero voice. “My beloved, no one blames you. It was not your fault.”

 Pursing her lips, Marinette prised her hands out of his and curled them into fists upon her lap. Brooking no dispute, she repeated once more, words hanging heavier still. “How long?”

 Damian sighed, flicking his gaze back to her. “You were akumatised for four months before we could purify your Akuma. I'm sorry we couldn't reach you sooner.”

 “It's fine,” Marinette answered automatically, without hesitation, “you tried your best.” She licked at her lip quickly, before chewing at it. “But no, that confirms it.” Lightly shaking her head, she huffed near silently. “Not the longest Akuma then.”

 “What?” Damian cut in, brow creased and lips curling downwards in confusion and concern.

 Giggling humourlessly, Marinette shut her eyes and shook her head again—more forcefully this time—what remained of her earlier smile twisted into something hollow—a ghost shell. “Blanc was akumatised for over half a year.”

 At her laugh, Damian couldn't help but tense and lurch back. Mentally, he rattled through every known Akuma recorded on the Ladyblog or mentioned by Marinette or another Miraculous wielder, but all his answers came up blank. Cautiously, he reached his hand out and gently set it over one of hers. “Who is this Blank? There is no record of an Akuma by that name.”

 “No.” Sniffling slightly, she clasped at his hand like a lifeline, blinking her eyes open for but a second only to squeeze them shut once again as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. “No, there wouldn't be. He's the one who preceded me, from before. But it's fine now, he's gone, and the cure fixed it, fixed him, freed him. It's fine. It's—” her breath hitched, “—fine.”

 Softly, he tsked, tenderly rubbing circles into the back of her hand once more. “But you're not fine.”

 “Please,” she whispered, heart breaking audibly like the cracking of ice, “don't. You know I can't afford to not be.”

 Damian was reminded violently of Lady Blanc, the ghost shell of her heart, and the words she spoke during their final confrontation—the slips of truth never elaborated upon, and forgotten memories stolen away by the purifying magic—he shook her hand gently to emphasise. “Not anymore, you do not have to. Hawkmoth has been apprehended—Red Hood and Chat Noir are transferring him to the local authorities as we speak—and his Miraculous has been confiscated, which is currently being overseen by Wonder Woman. You are safe now, beloved. You can rest.”

 A sob was wrenched from her throat, tears spilling down her face as she shook her head. “I'm Ladybug,” she scarcely breathed, trembling beneath the weight of the words, “I'll never be safe, not whilst I bear this burden alone.”

  Delicately, he pulled into yet another gentle hug, trying not to think of how easily he could almost hear Lady Blanc uttering the same in devastation.

 Making a small noise in his mouth, Damian lifted one hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “There is no need for you to be Ladybug at this moment, and regardless of whether you continue wielding the miraculous or remain under the mantle, you're not alone. You have myself always, and Chat Noir along with your other chosen Miraculous holders, both our families, Wonder Woman, and the rest of the Justice League. You need not continue to carry your burden alone, my dear.”

 “You make it sound,” Marinette paused to sniffle again, inhaling sharply, heart stuttering, “so easy, mon chou.” A heavy grief drenched her words, clinging like winter's final frost.

 “Because it is, Angel, I know it may not seem like it but it's true. Though it may take time for you to accept this, as I've said, I will be by your side always. If you need a helping hand, then I will lend mine to you. If you need protection, then any of us would happily offer to shield you. If you need a shoulder to cry on, then you have ours to lean upon. It will not be easy, regardless of your choice going forwards, but you will never be alone again, I promise.”

 A hundred heartbeats passed in silence as Marinette chewed her lips before she spoke again. “Is that a promise you can keep?”

 Damian huffed, reaching out to hold her hands once more, with a gentle shake for emphasis. “Not even my last dying breath could keep me from fulfilling this promise, I swear upon my life.”

 As he finished speaking, he placed her hands over where his heart lay in his chest. “I swear, Ya Hayati.”

 “I—” Marinette started with a whisper, she swallowed her words and her breath, feeling the beat of his heart in her hands. “—Okay. Okay, I trust you, Mon Cœur.”

 He nodded his head, still clutching her hand upon his chest as a small smile graced his face. “Thank you, my dear.”

 Then, he leaned towards her until their foreheads met, hers far cooler to the touch than his.

 It was Marinette's turn to huff, in faint amusement this time, her own equally small smile growing the longer they stayed like this.

 They held each other in that loose embrace for a few minutes, before Damian interrupted the sombre silence surrounding them. “What would you say to a kiss, my beloved?”

 “Oh? Well, that'd depend on the kind of kiss, wouldn't it, hmm?” She teased back softly, eyes twinkling in the low light of the lair. And though she tried to hide it, a sliver of sorrow still shone beneath that fragile lightness of relief held within.

 Damian moved to lean back, squinting at her with a furrowing brow and pursing lips. “If you do not—”

 “No!” Marinette cut in frenetically, eyes widening and squeezing at his hand to pull him back in close. “No! No, I do. I really do.” She chewed her lip and swallowed, gaze casting downwards for a moment. “Sorry, I'm still…”

 Exhaling slowly, Damian's eyelids fluttered closed. “You do not need to explain yourself to me, we have plenty of time for you to recover from this ordeal. As such, we can always kiss later, should you still be willing.”

 “No, no, no, it's okay, I promise. I would like one, I would like a kiss from you,” glancing back up to face him, a hint of nervousness to her voice. “That is, if you're still offering?”

 He inhaled just as slowly as before and blinked open his eyes to stare at her unrelentingly. “Are you certain?”

 Nodding, she squeezed his hand again, gently. “Yes.”

 “Then you are okay with me kissing you now? Upon the lips?” He questioned just as intently but no less softly.

“Absolutely.” Without hesitation, she uttered as she nodded once more, lips curling into a small soft smile.

 “Okay then.” He answered.

 Ever so slowly, Damian gradually leant in once more, giving ample time for her to interrupt or stop him if she desired.

 But she did not. She, instead, also leant in.

 And so hand in hand, cradled against Damian's heart still, their lips met. Ever so warmly did they tenderly kiss.

 After a few moments, they parted, leaning back from one another again, neither out of breath so much so as the kiss had come to its natural gentle end.

 Marinette's shoulders shuddered as she drew in a breath. Tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I love you.” She whispered under her breath.

 Damian, on the other hand, seemed just as unshakeable as usual. He frowned at her, “are you okay, beloved?”

 Wordlessly, she nodded once more, sniffling slightly as the pricking tears began to fall.

 Alarmed, Damian let go of her hand like it burnt, desperately hunting for a tissue or for something—anything—else that could help.

 Only to be interrupted yet again, as Marinette darted forwards, head falling into the crook of his neck, and arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. “Thank you.” She whispered, with a voice trembling just as much as her body. “I love you, Mon Cœur, so, so, so, so much.”

 He hesitated, frozen in position like a dreaded ice statue, before slowly wrapping his arms around her in return. “And I, you, Ya Hayati.”

 Damian rubbed soothing circles into her back. “When you're ready, the others are waiting for us outside in the courtyard of the Agreste manor.”

 Marinette sniffled. “I don't know if I can face everyone, not after this.”

 He faltered for a moment, hands stilling as he was sharply reminded of the near similar conversation they had had earlier, whilst she was still akumatised. “You may not remember but you implied something not dissimilar to that, as an Akuma.”

 “I did?” She asked, blinking back tears, an edge of morbid curiosity and dread in her voice.

 Humming in confirmation, he continued to try and soothe her. “You did. You didn't believe that you deserved to be de-akumatised—forgiven—for what you had done under Hawkmoth's influence. But you're not the first person we've cared for, who's been forced to hurt others because of the influence of another. The others won't hold it against you. Nor will your city. You've told me before, how the other heroes have all been akumatised before, Chat Noir and yourself included now.”

 He paused, both in breath and movement, to let his next words sink in. “No one will blame you, you tried your best and it worked out in the end. It's over, Hawkmoth has been defeated thanks to you.”

 Unable to hold back the tears of relief, she sobbed into his shoulder. “Thank you.”

 “Of course.” He answered gently, resuming the soothing motion.

 A good five minutes passed, of him cradling her in his arms, before her sobs and shaking faded to faint sniffles and drying tear tracks.

 Breathing in slowly, she squeezed her eyes shut and nodded in determination. “I'm ready.”

 “Are you certain?” Damian checked, leaning back and dropping his arms to his sides.

 She opened them again and looked him in the eyes. “Yes, I am, Mon Chou.”

 “Good.” Damian responded, already moving to stand, offering a hand up to her as he did. “Then let us go join the others.”

 Hand in hand, he lead her back across the walkway (they had fought upon it, how strange that it felt like a lifetime ago already), over to the lift.

 The walk from the lift's exit in Gabriel's study, to the courtyard was quiet and uneventful but it was comforting just to have Damian by her side. Waiting in the middle of said courtyard, was the unmistakable sight of the Batplane.

 With hesitant steps, Marinette let herself be led into the batplane's interior, a warm rush of air greeting her from the vents of the vehicle. And there, within, with gentle smiles of relief, stood them.

 Batman, at the emergency medical bed of the plane, pausing in the packing away of the medical kit and containment of used supplies to look up at her, relief etched into every wrinkle not hidden by the mask. He nodded at her firmly, and hummed in consolation before returning to his task.

 Nightwing, lounging across the pilot's seat improperly so that he was facing both his family and the console screen of the plane's controls, seemingly in the middle of contacting Oracle. He spun around in the seat, grinning dazzlingly at her, as he waved a hand. “Hey! Good to see you back!”

 Oracle, though not in person; her symbol on the console screen flashed brightly for a second. “Marinette! We've all missed you. Hopefully, you're feeling okay now?”

 Cass, stepping forwards from the shadows by the passenger seats on one side, and offered out her hand; in which the ribbon, that had been Marinette's akumatised object, and the ladybug Miraculous earrings lay. A requiem.

 Jason, smirking at Tim and Adrien from his seat next to her, turned his attention to her and cocked his head to one side, staring at her unperturbed. “You're looking a hell of a lot better than you were earlier. Good for you.”

 Tim, nursing a travel mug of coffee, smiled tiredly and waved at her with one hand for a second, then continued listening idly and patting Adrien on the shoulder in a sort of awkward half-hug of commiseration.

 Adrien, huddled on a seat, still clearly mortified from earlier apparently, as his face was in his hands until he heard her footsteps. His face pinched, a thousand words left unsaid as the weight of their heroics pinned him in place. “M'lady…” He grimaced though the corners of his lips twitched up into a little grin, tearing up slightly as he watched her. “I'm glad you're safe now.”

 Damian, behind her, took her hand and squeezed gently, offering a tender smile.

 If she hadn't already cried her heart out minutes ago, then undoubtedly she would have burst into tears once again, at the warm and welcoming sight.

 She was home, happy, safe, loved, and warm.

 And at the end of it all, she had been wrong; it was never doomed from the start.

———

| Thank you for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this long oneshot! Comments, Kudos, and Bookmarks are much appreciated! |

| If you want to try braving the shorter uwu-speak version, see the [UwU] and [OwO] links here, or at the beginning! You will not be compensated for any psychic damage taken due to reading that, however! |

| Feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I’ll be more than happy to answer! |

| However, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

| Lastly, if you want to create fic, or art, or podfic, or anything else based on this fic/au, or use it as inspo then feel free too, just as long as you tag me (if on Tumblr), or (if on Ao3) use Ao3's inspired by option, as I'd love to be able to see it! <3 |

| Once again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading! And I hope you have a wonderful end to the year, and a happy new year! |

[miraculousdeservesbetter2024]

[princess-of-the-corner]

Literally the only canon event for akumanette that could happen in Lady Luck is in the Ladybug Episode, but even then it might not. Gabriel isn’t a fuck so CB near akumanette won’t happen. MariChat is canon in Lady Luck so Demasque has no reason to exist, and Chloe wasn’t a fuck like Astruc tried to show in derision so Panic, modt likely hopefully, won’t happen

I mean Lady Luck already had Miss Fortune which. Yeah was a big breakdown for Mari having her black/white worldview shattered and trying to figure out how to sort someone like Chloé. Hero Chat didn't get that because her realization on that front happened more slowly instead of getting hit by a truck.

As of the future for LL/HC: I genuinely can't think of a reason that Mari would be Akumatized. Like, /maybe/ something triggers a panic attack and/or some kind of ptsd nightmare is enough to attract a Butterfly, because ya girl still has some trauma.

But yeah it's. Even when Marinette gets upset at something, it's unlikely for her to have the full on despair that would cause an Akuma unless I fabricate some specific ass situation like 'oh everyone pretends not to care it's her birthday because they're planning a surprise party', but even then? Not only have I already established that the class is too smart to try that nonsense(especially with Hawkmoth running around), but tbh Mari is more the "I'm working so hard and juggling so many things I totally forgot it's my birthday!" type.

[angelofthequeers]

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Chapter 13 | Chapter 15 | AO3 link

“Ugh, do they seriously think I’m going to get my hands dirty cooking like some maid?” Chloé scoffs loudly as Marinette’s father demonstrates how to make the perfect ganache. “If I want a croissant, I just make my butler get it for me.”

“He’s not making croissants, Chloé!” Rose says as Adrien shoots Chloé a quick look out of the corner of his eye, debating whether to tell her to pipe down or avoid making a scene. “Those are macarons!”

“It’s all done with a flick of the wrist!” Tom says, still stirring the ganache. “But you mustn’t go too fast or you might splash yourself!”

“And soil my Chanel pants?” Chloé complains. “Who’s he kidding?”

Tom holds out the mixing bowl to demonstrate the emulsion, and Adrien has two choices: he can do the right thing and tell Chloé to shut up, or he can lean in to see the emulsion and ignore her, letting her grow even worse. Marinette’s words from last week come swimming to the forefront of his mind.

“I’m telling you this because you’re the only person she’ll listen to.”

But just before Adrien can gather himself enough to tell Chloé to stop it, he catches sight of Marinette leaning in to see the bowl with sparkling grey eyes and his confidence ruptures like a pin in a balloon. He can’t call Chloé out now. If he does, he could ruin this whole thing for Marinette, when she looks so happy to have her father here to show them how to bake. And ever since the photoshoot, ruining anything for Marinette is the absolute last thing that Adrien will ever do.

Later, he decides. Next time Chloé’s mean, I’ll call her out. She can’t do too much harm beyond a few nasty comments anyway, right?

Decision made, he leans in with Nino to view the bowl until Tom takes it back and asks Marinette to go and put it in the fridge in the cafeteria and Lila volunteers to accompany her. But why does he feel like there’s a stone in the pit of his stomach?

His question is answered when the fire alarm goes off moments after Marinette leaves the room and Miss Bustier leads them out of the class in an orderly fashion. When they’re gathered in the courtyard and Principal Damocles is grilling them to find the one who called the fire department with a false alarm, Adrien can’t properly focus. All he can think about is how he’d once again turned a blind eye and pretended that everything was fine to avoid getting involved. But Marinette had been right: ignoring Chloé’s antics hadn’t made them disappear.

In fact, when Chloé smugly points the finger at Marinette and declares that she must be guilty because she was absent from the classroom when the alarm went off, Adrien starts to wonder if his inaction had just made the situation even worse.

“Uh, excuse me, sir, but it couldn’t possibly be Marinette,” he pipes up, raising his hand and hoping that he at least doesn’t outwardly look like he’s a mess internally. “Why would she disrupt her own father’s cooking class?”

Marinette’s look of gratitude tells him that he’d done the right thing by standing up for her, especially when Alya chimes in to add that Marinette didn’t have her phone when she left the classroom and Lila adds that she’d been with Marinette the whole time and can confirm that Marinette definitely hadn’t done it. But he can’t help feeling that it’s too little too late and that there’s still going to be backlash from this situation.

Part of him wishes that Marinette had never given him that talk. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so…guilty right now, like he’s had a hand in this purely by not using his power to rein Chloé in. But part of him knows that Marinette had been right to give him that talk, and that he really does need to stand up and speak out, especially when he’s the only one with the power to do so. Ignoring Chloé in class certainly hasn’t made this go away, after all.

“Well, we all know it can’t be me,” Chloé says in that tone of voice that all but says that she is the culprit but good luck proving it.

“I’m not gonna let her get away with this!” Marinette hisses. “I’ve gotta tell –”

“Hang on, Marinette.” Adrien rests a hand on her shoulder so that he can better whisper in her ear without anyone but Alya overhearing. “We don’t know for sure it was her.” He means to tell her not to make a scene when she’s got no proof, to let him talk to Chloé first and try to right this wrong, but Alya jumps to agree with him and add something about not stooping to her level before he can get the words out.

“Fine,” says Mr Damocles. “Since no one is owning up, the whole school will be punished!”

Adrien’s stomach drops, while everyone around him gasps and protests. This is so unfair! Why is he being punished for something he hasn’t done?

Selfish, selfish, chides a nasty little voice in his head. You had your chance to put a stop to Chloé’s antics in class. This is punishment for your inaction.

“What?” Chloé bursts out behind Adrien, her shrill voice smothering the voice in his head. “I’m not so sure my father will react so kindly to me being punished without any proof!”

Adrien’s heart skips a beat. Despite the overwhelming knowledge that Chloé won’t actually do so, he can’t help but hope that she’s going to shut the principal down all the way and get them all out of this punishment. But apparently, she doesn’t see the hypocrisy in weaselling her way out of punishment without proof while letting the rest of them suffer for something there’s no proof of them doing, as she smiles rather smugly and tucks her phone away after Principal Damocles declares that she is the only one exempt from punishment.

She didn’t even try to bail you out either, says the nasty voice. She threw you to the wolves with everyone else. Is she really that great a friend? All she does is hang off you and smother you, no matter how much you ask her to stop.

Adrien’s lost in his thoughts as he shuffles off with the crowd to collect cleaning supplies for their punishment. There’s so much he could have done. He could have spoken out, pointed out that Chloé’s logic should apply to them all and no one should be punished until the culprit is found. As much as he loathes using the Agreste name, he could have used it in this instance to cow Mr Damocles into submission just as Chloé does with her father’s name. Chloé might get away with exempting herself from punishment, but she probably wouldn’t be able to do much about no one being punished. Demanding that she be exempt from punishment is an easier injustice to ignore than demanding that everyone be punished after the punishment is lifted from everyone, as that just makes her look plain vengeful. And she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it without pitting her father against Adrien’s when she knows very well that if she does that, she alienates Adrien, which is another reason why he never does it.

Is she really your friend? is the question replaying on a loop in Adrien’s mind as he scrubs the window while Chloé lounges nearby on her phone, surveying the courtyard of working students. She’d just let her “Adrikins” take the fall for something he hadn’t even done; something that she’d done. In fact, this isn’t even the first time she’s done this. Adrien distinctly remembers his very first day of school, when Chloé had stuck gum on Marinette’s seat and let him take the fall for it and be branded “Chloé’s friend”. If he hadn’t gotten lucky enough to get Marinette to believe the truth, he would’ve ended up with her hating him, and the thought of sweet Marinette hating him is enough to make his stomach roll.

Now he understands why no one wants to be branded with that label; this is a side of Chloé Bourgeois that makes him sick, a side that he’s been trying to ignore all year for fear of losing his first and, for the longest time, only friend.

“If Chloé hates you because you make her take responsibility for her actions, then she’s not really your friend. Sometimes…the right thing is the hard thing, and you just have to do it, even if that means losing those years of friendship.”

He looks over at Chloé, who’s bullying Rose by calling her Cinderella – yes, bullying, because that’s the only word to accurately describe just how gleeful she looks at picking on Rose – and then looks down at his own hands. Does he really want to be friends with someone who’s so disgustingly nasty? Does he really want to associate himself with that behaviour by virtue of inaction?

“What do you have? Friends who like you as Adrien. Friends who you used to sneak out to see even though your father never let you go,” Plagg’s voice says in his head. He realises that while he’s terrified of losing Chloé and ending up friendless, being alone is no longer a possibility. He’s been at this school for months now, and not only is he friendly with all his classmates, but he’s also got friends. Real friends that he’s made himself! He’s got Nino, who feels like more of a best friend than Chloé’s been all year. He’s got Alya, who’s hilarious and fun to hang out with, even if they’re not as good friends as he is with Nino.

And he’s got Marinette. Marinette, who’d not only made him a scarf by hand with her own time and materials but had also let him think it was from his father purely because she’d known how much that would mean to him. Marinette, who had staged a protest and then gone and tracked down Ladybug just so that he could go back to school, knowing how much school meant to him. Not only that, but she’d risked her own future fashion career by making a negative impact on such an influential fashion designer with her protest and defying him in such a way.

The sound of Rose crying snaps Adrien out of his mental mess, and he looks over to see Chloé smirking widely and lazing back on the bench while Rose shuffles off with her broom, wiping her eyes.

“There’s a quote by Majestia that Alya told me on our first day of school that’s stuck with me: “all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing”,” says Marinette’s voice.

“You were picked to be Chat Noir because you can be brave and selfless and put others before yourself. Don’t act like a spoiled brat and prove Master Fu wrong,” Plagg’s voice adds.

Scowling, Adrien storms over to Chloé with clenched fists. Oblivious to his fury, she squeals, “Adrikins!” and throws her arms around him, crushing him while he tries to dislodge her. He’s once again reminded of Nino and Marinette and Alya, who never touch him without his permission or hang off him, and his heart swells for them as he finally tugs Chloé off him and sets her on her feet at arm’s length.

“Tell me, was it you, Chloé?” he says in a hushed voice, not wanting anyone else to overhear. Just because he’s finally calling Chloé out doesn’t mean that he needs to make this a public spectacle, which feels like an appropriate compromise until he’s more comfortable with publicly standing up against injustice and wrongdoing.

“Of course it was me who called the fire department,” Chloé brags, crossing her arms, no trace of remorse anywhere on her body. “So what?”

“And it doesn’t bother you that everyone’s being punished because of you?” Adrien says in one last-ditch attempt to get Chloé to display some semblance of humanity.

“No,” Chloé says immediately. “Why would it? They all seem to enjoy getting dirty making cookies. How’s it any different getting dirty cleaning floors? They should be thanking me, if anything.”

Adrien takes a deep breath so that he doesn’t end up going off at her. What he’s about to do is going to hurt enough, so there’s no point in making it more painful than it needs to be. “Chloé,” he sighs, facepalming. “How long have you and I been friends?”

“Since we were adorable little tots, Adrikins!” Chloé coos. Her kissy face makes him nearly take a step back out of fear that she’s going to jump at him and try to actually kiss him.

“Well,” he says, shaking his head, heart hammering at the terror of taking action rather than ignoring it like he’s done in the past. “Sorry, Chloé, but I can’t be friends with someone who treats other people like this. You’ve gotta be nice to people.”

“N-Nice?” Chloé squeaks, the word sounding foreign coming from her mouth. She looks around at the courtyard, and everyone glares back at her in response.

“Yes,” Adrien says firmly. He has to stick to this. He can’t just retract it when she turns on the waterworks, because Marinette’s right: he’s the only one with the power to make her learn and change. “It’s not that hard.”

He turns and walks off, back to the window he should be cleaning, leaving Chloé to process the fact that they’re no longer friends. But it’s not just out of respect for her feelings. It’s also because if he looks back and sees her devastated face, he doesn’t trust himself not to cave and give her one more chance.

.

Marinette must have fallen through a wormhole into another dimension. Maybe Hawkmoth had created an akuma with the power to send people across time and space. That’s quite possibly the only reason for Chloé to not only have thrown a party for everyone with seemingly no agenda whatsoever, but to also have invited Marinette.

Or maybe the latest akuma is mind-controlling Chloé? Reversed her personality? Something? Anything?

“Adrikins!” squeals the voice from every one of Marinette’s nightmares. Chloé comes dashing through the crowd of people milling in the ballroom of Le Grand Paris to throw herself onto Adrien and kiss his cheeks, and Marinette grits her teeth and forces herself not to say anything because why do people keep touching Adrien without his permission?

“Hey, it’s okay!” Lila whispers as Chloé brags to Adrien about being nice, which is a story that Marinette’s very interested to hear. “You know Adrien’s not into her at all! You can relax.” She nudges Marinette teasingly.

“I’m not jealous!” Marinette argues, resisting the urge to tear her hair out in frustration. She’s not! She’s mad that Chloé can’t see how uncomfortable she makes Adrien! Why does everyone have to reduce her to some silly, lovesick, jealous girl just because of a crush?

Her mood swiftly improves, though, when Rose rushes over to kiss Chloé on the cheeks and thank her for the invitation, followed by Kim and Max. But then the universe plays possibly the worst joke ever on Marinette by having a dazed Chloé walk off and nearly slam into Marinette, then freeze as she comes to the same conclusion as Marinette: that she also needs to kiss Marinette’s cheeks in greeting. And not only is this bad enough, but literally everyone in the whole room has paused what they’re doing to watch the two archrivals be forced to play nice with each other.

Marinette’s totally not going to do it. As Chloé leans in, she’s tempted to shriek and back away while warding a cross and chanting an exorcism. But she feels Tikki shift in her purse, no doubt wanting to get a closer look at what’s going on, and she realises that she needs to suck it up and just do it. She’s Ladybug! She can handle two seconds of a polite greeting! She just needs to pretend she’s wearing the mask and she’s not Marinette right now, because Ladybug can’t snap and tell Chloé to buzz off. If Chloé can be nice then so can she.

Two seconds and then it’s over, and Marinette and Chloé are staggering away and coughing and spluttering to erase all traces of the friendly greeting. Alya cackles and says, “I should have gotten it on video!” and while Marinette’s not too happy that her best friend is teasing her about this like it’s a great big joke that she’d had to play nice with her bully, she also gets that Alya isn’t trying to be malicious or anything.

“You don’t need to rub it in,” is what she ends up saying, playing along with Alya’s teasing.

Soon enough, the party’s in full swing, but Marinette can’t find it in herself to enjoy it. There has to be some ulterior motive to this, because Chloé Bourgeois doesn’t just play nice for fun. Marinette finally has her answer when, a short distance away, Chloé tears into Mylène but then visibly collects herself and nods at the shorter girl before walking off. Marinette doesn’t miss how she shoots a glance at Adrien, who’s also sitting there with Nathaniel, before she leaves.

“This whole BFF thing is just one big charade!” Marinette scowls to Alya and Lila. Why can’t anyone else see past it? Maybe they’re just giving her the benefit of the doubt, while Marinette’s too blinded by her dislike of Chloé when she’s normally the first one to extend the olive branch to people. “She’s just doing it to get close to Adrien!”

“But you didn’t want to come to this party until you knew Adrien would be here too,” Lila points out, smoothing down her short tangerine dress. “Remember when we were modelling your designs for you and we got the invites?”

Normally, Marinette would just let a comment like that slide. But she’s already annoyed by how Chloé’s got everyone hooked by her fake niceness act to blatantly suck up to Adrien, and she’s absolutely sick of how Lila’s just dismissing her as jealously lovesick rather than someone who’s fed up with her archrival’s bullshit, especially when Lila was the one to out her crush to Adrien in the first place.

“Please don’t compare me to Chloé,” Marinette snaps, crossing her arms. “That’s not fair, Lila. I might have my moments, but I’m never constantly mean and rude like she is. I never bully people like she does!”

“Whoa!” Lila holds her hands up. “I’m so sorry if I upset you! I…well, I was just saying that you also didn’t want to play nice until Adrien was involved –”

“Um, I wouldn’t go there –” Alya says.

“And why would I have wanted to come to Chloé’s party unless the only person she’s nice to was coming too?” Marinette says. “Why can’t I ever be upset about something without people insisting that it’s because of Adrien, like I’m some stupid, jealous teenage girl? I know I went too far sometimes, but – but – just don’t! How is me coming to a party because my friend is also going the same as Chloé only not being a bully because of him?”

She’s breathing hard after her outburst, light-headed, while Alya and Lila stare at her in wide-eyed shock.

“Marinette –” Lila says, her eyes starting to glisten. Marinette’s stomach drops. Nope, no way, if she’s made someone cry then she can’t do this –

“I need some fresh air,” Marinette blurts out, stumbling away from Alya and Lila towards the hotel doors. This is exactly why she never stands up for herself. Standing her ground leads to disappointing other people, and how can she be a nice person if she disappoints others? But at the same time, she just couldn’t stand there and continue to be labelled a silly, lovesick girl.

“You did the right thing, Marinette,” Tikki says, zooming out of Marinette’s purse when they’re alone in a nearby alleyway and Marinette can sink to the ground with her back against the wall.

“Did I?” Marinette says, blinking rapidly so that she doesn’t burst into tears. The last thing she needs is for Chloé to see that she’s been crying; Chloé won’t ever let that go, as nice as she’s claiming to be now. “Did you see Lila’s face? I – she – upset her made, Tikki! What if – what if – gah – I am Chloé just like?”

“Marinette, listen to me.” Tikki hovers in front of Marinette’s face, and Marinette forces herself to focus on the kwami’s lilting voice rather than the panic bubbling in her chest and stomach. “You weren’t mean to Lila. You just stood up for yourself.”

“But I made her upset!”

“You didn’t say what you said to upset her. You said what you said to stand up for yourself. People are always going to be upset when you show them that they’re wrong, because they don’t like that feeling. No one walks around thinking that they’re wrong. But I know Lila will realise that she’s wrong and she won’t hate you.”

“What if she is still upset, though?”

“Then that’s her problem.” Tikki nuzzles against Marinette’s cheek. “You weren’t wrong in setting your boundaries, and you weren’t mean about it.”

Marinette takes a deep breath, then smiles and hugs Tikki. “Thanks, Tikki. You’re always there for me when I need you.”

“Of course I am, silly,” Tikki giggles. “You’re my friend. I’m – Marinette, look out!”

Marinette’s head whips around and her stomach drops when she catches sight of the purple-black butterfly circling above her head. She shrieks and leaps to her feet, backing away down the alley and looking for something – anything – she can use to protect herself.

“Calm down, Marinette!” Tikki urges, swooping to her side. “The akuma can’t get you if you’re not upset!”

But it’s too late. Before Marinette can put a lid on her emotions, the butterfly darts towards her head, and she’s only able to turn her head just enough that it sinks into a hair ribbon rather than an earring. Immediately, her feelings of terror and distress and raw anger explode, surging through her like lava, filling her with the need for justice, to make this right.

“Miroir, I am Hawkmoth,” says a smooth voice in Marinette’s head. “Your friend calls you a mirror image of the girl who bullies you? Well, I’m giving you the power to show everyone their own mirror images and make them reflect a little on themselves. All I ask for in return is –”

“No.” The word is weak and broken, but it still escapes Marinette.

“Pardon?” Hawkmoth says. The emotions intensify and it’s so tempting to just give in, to let Hawkmoth empower her so that she can get vengeance and right the injustice of being treated like a boy-obsessed teen girl…but that’s not right. She doesn’t need vengeance. She doesn’t…

“I said no.” Marinette takes deep breaths, fighting back against the tsunami of emotions rolling through her. “I don’t want your power.”

“Nonsense. You want justice, to right the wrong that was done to you. I can feel it.” Hawkmoth brushes off her denial as easily as Lila had brushed off her feelings, which amplifies the negative emotions but not in a way that’s likely to make Marinette to agree to his power. “In return for this power, Miroir, I ask for –”

“I’m upset about people dismissing me and not listening to me and you do the same thing to me?” Marinette snaps. She clenches her fists, as though this alone can help her fight off Hawkmoth’s influence. “Just because I feel like that doesn’t mean it’s right to act on it! I said no, Hawkmoth! Leave me alone!”

The dizzying surge of negative emotions suddenly dies down. Marinette slumps against the brick wall, taking huge gulps of air to try and steady her whirling head and trembling hands as the realisation that she’d been two seconds from being akumatised crashes down on her.

“Way to go, Marinette!” Tikki crashes into her face to hug her. “You fought Hawkmoth off! You’re amazing!”

“I am?” Marinette lets a smile spread across her face. “I am! I didn’t get akumatised!” Her smile fades slightly. “I was just…he didn’t even listen to me when I said no! And it felt just like when Alya kept reducing my feelings to a crush back when I was in love with Adrien, and like what Lila did before, and I got even angrier but at him.”

“You’re so strong!” Tikki says, then gives Marinette a sly little grin. “And you definitely made Hawkmoth upset by standing up to him.”

Marinette bursts into loud laughter, sliding down to the ground for the second time. Tikki’s joke has banished any lingering negative emotions, instead filling her with giddy relief, and she’s about ready to brush herself off and go find Alya but she gasps as she’s standing up.

“Tikki, do you really think the akuma’s just gone back to Hawkmoth?” she says. “What if it’s looking for someone else to akumatise?”

“It’s possible,” Tikki says. “The akuma may not have even been here for you specifically. All these people in the same place as Chloé and she’s trying to be nice? Hawkmoth might have sent that akuma pre-emptively in case Chloé snaps and upsets someone.”

“I’m not surprised,” Marinette snorts. “If Chloé’s just doing this to impress Adrien and not because she wants to be nice, she’s bound to break eventually. Should I transform in case the akuma finds someone else? Or should I wait?”

“I’m not sure,” Tikki says. “Ladybug’s presence could keep everyone calm, but it could also make them panic at the thought of an akuma being nearby –”

A scream suddenly reaches Marinette’s ears from inside the hotel. She and Tikki exchange a look.

“I guess the akuma already found someone else?” Tikki says.

“I don’t even want to know what Chloé’s done now,” Marinette says. “Tikki, spots on!”

[sapphiresterreart]

Miraculous Ladybug Fanfic: The Enemy Part 3

Trying to organize my stash of Miraculous Ladybug fanfic ideas. Stumbled across this old Part 3 to my Akumanette AU called The Enemy.

Apparently I scribbled this in 2020 and never posted it, ahaha. Prolly cause Part 3 is technically incomplete. And prolly incoherent. I didn't bother to edit or fix anything since I'm not planning on actually continuing this storyline. Just posting this as it is. Ta da!

Here's a Tumblr link to Part 1 and Part 2.

Or an Archive of Our Own link to Part 1 and Part 2.

Summary: Her classmates believe she is the enemy. She’s not. But maybe she should be.

The Enemy Part 3

There… was a lot to unpack. Too much, actually. The temptation to get lost in her thoughts and process it all was almost too much. She was lucky her sense of duty kept her present. Tikki floated in the air, scolding the kwami of destruction.

Marinette heaved a sigh, cheeks puffing as she did so. “No time for cheese, Plagg.”

The two kwamis quieted. She cast her gaze to the previously ruptured wall and window of the villain’s lair. Villain. Was he really a villain? Just what was Hawkmoth’s motivation? Why would Adrien’s own father terrorize Paris? Gabriel Agreste didn’t seem like the kind of man to willingly torment civilians. He was her fashion designer idol: a respectable man with a successful business. What reason could he possibly have to want the miraculous?

Her mouth moved, absently sharing her thoughts aloud. “Do you think he was forced to become Hawkmoth?”

“That could have been a possibility, Ms. Dupain-Cheng.” A deeper male voice cut in and the two teens jolted. Tikki rushed out of sight. Plagg didn’t bother hiding, having already been seen. They had forgotten the officer’s presence. “Unfortunately we have evidence to believe otherwise.”

Marinette straightened, accidentally jostling the warm arm from around her shoulders. She shoved away the rush of heated embarrassment. Adrien touched her! Remembering Adrien was also Chat Noir didn’t help her focus. How could a mangy cat also be a perfect prince? But no. She was Ladybug! She needed to concentrate. Tikki hovered by her pigtails. Her shoulders rolled back as she gathered herself to her feet.

It was time to be the hero she knew she could be.

“Officer Raincomprix, please explain.”

“Right.” The policeman straightened at her tone. She had taken the lead and her citizens would follow. “But it may be better to show you. Chat Noir,” the man focused on the presence shifting nervously behind her. At the call, Adrien also straightened. “Please brace yourself. What my officers found is… alarming.”

Adrien stepped forwards to stand at her side. His expression was narrowed as if he were facing down an akuma after cataclysm failed. As if time was running out and he was ready to follow her unorthodox Lucky Charm to victory. Marinette had to remind herself to breathe. She had never seen Chat Noir’s sharper face on Adrien’s soft features. Never had the chance. And yet here they were.

Adrien dipped his head. “Lead the way, sir.”

Marinette refocused. Officer Roger pivoted on his heel to lead out of the poorly lit lair. Butterflies billowed as the three humans stirred their tranquility with movement. They paused as the white insects fluttered up and up along the tall walls. Many rested on the closed window. Fading sunlight filtered through the window’s butterfly motif. The tall walls that lined the massive room blended into one equally tall hallway. The one she had sprinted down while akumatized.

They followed the way back to the foyer but, before returning to the mansion, Officer Raincomprix revealed the presence of a hidden door near the now fixed mosaic of Adrien’s mother. Marinette had half a beat to remember she had carelessly shredded that fabric before the door opened and her guilt shifted into something entirely different.

A coffin. But that wasn’t right. As she neared, light shifting around her as butterflies flitted across the ceiling lamp, she realized the thing sitting in the middle of the room was more of a capsule. A time capsule. The glass surface reflected the light until she neared enough to see–

“Mom?” Adrien choked.

Marinette’s jaw dropped. Emilie Agreste lay in the capsule. Her features were untouched by dust or wrinkles. She hadn’t aged since the day of her disappearance years ago. It was as if she was stuck in time. Ageless. Timeless. Marinette’s thoughts whirled. Immortality? No. Trapped. But how? And why?

“Mom!” A sob ripped across the room as Adrien jerked in place, visibly holding himself back from hurling himself at the capsule. Instead, he combed frantic fingers through his hair, ruffling the strands into wild disarray. With his hair untamed and green eyes wild and wide, the fact he was Chat Noir nudged itself further into reality. Adrien was composed. Chat Noir was chaotic. Adrien took things seriously. Chat Noir couldn’t care less. Adrien was perfect. Chat Noir was not. And yet Adrien was Chat Noir.

Reality crashed around her and she couldn’t stop it even if she wanted to. Adrien finally launched at the closed capsule, babbling questions as Marinette silently churned through realizations. A part of her wanted to run to her crush’s side and comfort him. But she was stuck in her mind: unraveling a mystery as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. Her ladybug side was at the forefront of her mind. Plagg tried to comfort his chosen but there was too much hurt and too many questions. He needed answers. Marinette’s mouth opened.

Tikki spoke before she could. “She’s cursed.”

Adrien quieted. Officer Raincomprix had long since left to give them privacy. Tikki zipped in front of Adrien’s face, and in turn the capsule, to better examine Emilie Agreste’s features. Marinette softened as her friend’s devastated expression finally registered.

“Adrien.” She called softly. He looked at her with swelling eyes. She needed to be Ladybug right now. But she also needed to be a friend. “Hey Adrien. We’re a team, right?”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Y-yeah…”

“We’ll figure this out.” She knelt beside him, extending her arms in an offering. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

Adrien didn’t hesitate.

[nobodyfamousposts]

I’m addicted to Akuma!Vipermouse now, thanks Nobody. In all seriousness though, that’s??? Really cool? I love Lukanette and Akumanette and Lukakuma so all three together is A++ :V If it’s cool (I totally understand if you have other stuff to do!) could we hear a little bit more on Akuma!Multimouse and Akuma!Viperion flipping the FUCK out when someone takes their partner? Or maybe on Akuma!Viperion trying to kill Chat Noir for Akuma!Multimouse? I love overprotective stuff huehuehue

The akumatized Lukanette love is spreading!  :D

___________________

The heroes had managed to get the drop on him. He could kick himself for it if he could move. But it was too cold...he was practically covered in ice and all he could do was shiver and curl up into a ball to try and conserve as much body heat as possible. He couldn’t even try to reach for his Miraculous to activate his Second Chance ability.

It seemed the Miraculous did carry over traits. And he discovered too late that his trait was a rather intense dislike of cold. A cheap trick to use ice against him. How they even suspected it, he didn’t know. He couldn’t think.

He was...just so tired.

He heard her voice calling him, begging him to stay awake. But he just couldn’t. It took more strength than he had just to open his eyes blearily to try and see his partner one last time.

She looked worried.

Just like she had at that time...

He hated that look.

He hated making her worried.

Maybe the heroes would actually get him this time.

Maybe he would finally be free...maybe he could save her, too.

He blacked out after that. Dead to the world. Completely unaware of his surroundings or the heroes that approached his frozen form.

“Hah. Not so tough against cold, is he?”

“Don’t you touch him!” She shouted angrily, trying to bite at the fingers of the hero whom now held her.

“Watch it! Don’t make me put you in a jar!”

She hissed loudly.

“I thought cats were supposed to hiss? Not mice.”

“Hurry and take the Miraculous.”

It was the first real victory they’d had.

They shouldn’t have wasted it.

Because right when they were about to reach for the Snake Miraculous, they realized the Mouse was hissing.

But she wasn’t the only one.

Quickly, more copies of the Mouse emerged from the shadows around them, dozens...hundreds? All converging on their location. All hissing in a symphony of rage that was growing ever stronger and louder with each new one to appear.

The hero holding the single Mouse gulped.

“That’s...ah...that’s a lot more than I thought there were...”

“Take the Miraculous!”

They never got the chance before the army swarmed upon them.

...

...

Awareness.

Consciousness was returning.

Slowly but surely.

He could hear.

A voice.

A beautiful melody being sung to him.

Sensation was returning.

Sounds. Feelings.

Warmth.

There was warmth surrounding him.

A smell. So familiar.

Her.

She was there.

He groaned and if anything, the warmth only increased along with pressure of something covering him.

A soothing voice in his ear reassured him, calming him.

He opened his eyes.

There she was.

His little love.

Worried still, but looking so relieved and happy. And he much preferred this. Her smile. The upswing of her song as she saw him return.

“M’lady...” He whispered.

She reached out to his face, planting a little kiss on the tip of his nose.

“My knight.”

“Where...?”

“They got away.” She bit out, her tone indicating it was a near thing. “But they won’t be doing this again.” It was a promise, threat, and retribution all rolled into one.

Stars, it made her beautiful.

Loathe as he may have been to look away, he felt his gaze shift to his body to investigate the source of the warmth and pressure he still felt. To his surprise, it was her.

All of her. All of the various other parts of her. Covering his body. Curled into his side. Resting on his chest. Many rubbing his arms and fingers to restore warmth to him.

They had all abandoned their positions—their mission to help him. To save him. And now to keep him warm.

The Queen would be displeased. But they had still done it. For him.

He was touched.

“Don’t do this again.” She ordered, admonishingly.

He chuckled. His lady love could be so fierce sometimes. It was what he adored about her.

“I’m sorry.” He told her and meant it.

He’s sorry. He’s so sorry he dragged her into this.

She nodded and nuzzled his cheek. Her other selves also curled in on him. It was like being covered in a hundred hugs all at once. While he regretted being unable to fully hold her the way he wanted to, this...this was pleasant.

He wondered how long he would be able to have her completely to himself like this. While he was always able to carry a piece of her with him, it wasn’t the same. Enough to calm him, but not to satisfy him.

Someday, he swore. When they get the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous and the Wish is made. She would be whole once more.

Until then, he would just have to enjoy this feeling while he could.

[imthepunchlord]

Your airy fairy idea is so cool! I absolutely love how Marinette is more like a vigilante or anti-hero than straight up villain. If you don’t mind, I do have a few question about it. 1. Do you have a name for “villain” butterfly!mari? 2. Is Felix going to receive a miraculous? (If so what do you think of fox!felix for this?) and finally 3. Is adrien going to learn his lesson and redeem himself or is he going to stay delusional?

Yeah, its a real struggle for me to do full on villain!Marinette, even when she’s an akuma, hence Manynette as one of the more peaceful akumas. Cause at the core, Marinette isn’t someone that wants to do damage to others. Though she is willing to act out against injustice, and can sometimes take the more dodgey tactics to do so (though its rare). Like, akumanette I can accept being volatile and dangerous, since akumas can influence you a lot, but yeah, full villain, I can’t get that push to her to be a full villain. So anti-hero/vigilante instead!

For name, I’m actually leaning Lady Blanche, playing off dames blanches, French fairies that lives in the shadows of town and caverns and around bridges, they stop anyone who nears them and asks for something, from a favor/task, to dancing with them, to simply kneel before them. Doing so allows free passage and peace. Refusing, bad luck is going to be sent your way. 

If this does become a consistent story, yes, miraculouses will become active, though its Ladybug and Cat that are most likely. There’s no reason Fu would release others in this reality, that doesn't change. Though I don’t know if Felix would get one of those two, and him getting fox is tempting. And him appearing in the “villains” prompt of Colors of Grey, he may be another “villain” if he does wind up with him. I do want to use the name Renagade in some shape or form. Perhaps that could be his name if he gets the fox. 

And for Adrien, both are most likely. He’s going to stay delusional and entitled for a good while, Adrien isn’t someone that acknowledges his faults and rather swing it around and pin it on someone else or make them feel guilty instead of trying to fault him or disagree with him. He’s also used to things going his way, like his tantrum does reward him with meeting Fu and getting to learn (a bit?) of what LB knows. And constantly gets to goof off as a hero with no real consequence to it since ML will always fix everything. 

But, I wouldn’t leave him in that state. Ideally, he learns his lessons, and accepts this reality for what it is. The damage is done, he has gained just as he lost, and he has to live with the changes he wished for, even if it means not getting all that he expects to have. 

[sparklyaxolotlstudent]

More than 900 notes on the “Lila gets Exposed” ficlet? I love you guys.

And writting Lila liying stupidly and being caught stupidly is fun. so yeah, I might make this a series on different characters catching Lila lying. At least I have some idea on how Alya, Chloe, Nino, Rose and maybe Juleka might catch her. 

These are meant to be unrelated and one shots, but I will try to kept characters other than Marinette and Lila out of the fic that aren’t their so they can still form a coherent narrative if the reader want to feel like Lila was caught by everyone.

———————-

Lila gets Exposed As The Lying Liar Who Only Lies

Marc and Nathaniel.

“Did you want to see me?”

Marinette got inside the classroom of the art club, where Marc and Nathaniel were waiting for her.

“Hiya Mari!” greeted overenthusiastically Marc, guiding her to a seat near a table where Nathaniel and he had been working. They had something covered in cloth, which Marinette found a bit suspicious, but was used to how theatrically dramatically extra those two could get.

“What’s this?”

“Well, remember our comic?”

“Which one? Where Super Nathaniel saves me from Stormy Weather and Lady Wifi and then we ki…”

“NOT THAT ONE!” reacted Nathaniel not so quickly, blushing so much his skin got the same color of his hair. “Ahem. The one where Might Illustrator and Reverser teamed up with Ladybug and Chat Noir for…”

“The double date one or the one where they fight Queen Wasp?”

“… Queen Wasp.” Marc turned to Nathaniel. “You told her about the double date one?” Nathaniel shook his head, both looked at Marinette confused, but she just smiled innocently and sweetly.

“Ha! You guys are so transparent. I was just guessing”

Marc made a face “meanie” he added a raspberry for emphasis. Nathaniel just kept his red hue.

“ANYWAY. The comic with us as heroes being heroes alongside the heroes of Paris” said Nathaniel very quickly.  Marinette giggled at how easy was to push Nathaniel’s buttons.

“And you’re our Everyday Ladybug, so we decided it was only fair that you would join the team!”

“We actually wanted to say you’re the real Ladybug, but realized that would be a bit problematic… and Alya would freak out big time”

Marinette had never panicked and been relieved so quickly in her life.

“Yeah, right, clumsy old Marinette as Ladybug, who would believe a loser like me was a superhero?”

Nathaniel and Marc looked at each other.

“Marinette, sweetie…” Marc said, holding Marinette’s hand “We love you with all our hearts, brains and other internal organs, but if you dare to call yourself bad names ever again, I will be legally and morally obligated to slap you silly until you learn to appreciate the wonderful human being that you are.”

“Duly noted”

“SO! Since you have never been akumatized –kudos for that, by the way, you rock – we didn’t had anything to base your herosona with… so we started thinking, and your main forte is designing, but bringing stuff that you draw to life is sort of Mighty Illustrator gimmick…”

“It’s not a gimmick!”

“Right right… so, Nathaniel thought about the hat you designed and we basically took a peek at your sketchbook, and we decided that fashion was going to be your thing!”

They grabbed the cloth and pulled it at the same time, uncovering a series of illustrations of Marinette in several hero suits. Some very elaborate some more simple. The main one seemed to be a play on her normal clothes, with a dark pink bodysuit with white details, including a belt, a dark grey jacket, and a brooch that resembled the ladybug earrings, just in the same shade of dark pink as the body suit.

“We based her a bit on Ladybug. With the brooch she can switch between suits, and the brooch changes colors to match which suit she is using. Her standard outfit is the pink one, which we based on your clothes, and it gives her agility and strength. The other suits are more specialized, like the blue one allowing her to breathe underwater and swim more efficiently.  We’re thinking a rainbow theme, with 7 suits plus the pink one. We might squeeze a black and white one too, although that is Reverser gimmick.” Nathaniel looked at Marc with a sly smile. Marc rolled his eyes.

“Touche. Anyway, we call her Fashionette, unless you want to be called something else”

Marinette couldn’t help but notice that they somehow had made the power of the suits match the power of the potions that Master Fu had given her. Still, it was different enough from Ladybug to throw suspicions… even though Nathaniel had made an illustration of Ladybug, ‘Fashionette’, Chat, Reverser and Mighty Illustrator. To Nathaniel’s credit, he had made Ladybug with longer hair, taller and more muscular than herself. She then wondered if that’s how other people saw Ladybug or if it was just Nathaniel’s artistic view.

“Marinette as a hero? Wow, you guys are so talented!”

They had been so focused on their explanation of Fashionette that they hadn’t noticed that Lila the lying liar who lies had entered the art room. Marinette closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Oh, and you did a drawing of her with Ladybug, my best friend.”

“Well yeah. We’re making a comic and including Marinette as a hero with us. I’m sorry, who are you?” asked Marc sincerely, as he had no idea who this girl with sausage hair was, but felt weird for how she was talking.

“Oh, you don’t know me? I’m Ladybug’s best friend, Lila Rossi”

“Isn’t Ladybug’s best friend Chat Noir?”

Lila’s eye twitched, but decided that Marc probably would question her if she kept that lie. Marinette smiled wide at that, hoping that Lila would go, but alas, she just approached the table and grabbed one of Marc and Nathaniel’s comics.

“Oh, a comic book. Cool. I know Stan Lee, he basically based Spider-Gwen on me. I might be able to get you to meet him someday.”

The three art kids looked at each other, a bit confused.

“Are you going to use a Ouija?”

“What?”

“Stan Lee died last year”

“And Spider-Gwen was created by Jason Latour and Robbi Rodriguez, not Stan Lee”

“I… I was just testing you. I meant he based Spider-man on me, way before he died, of course.”

“Didn’t know you had a time machine. Must be awesome”

“What?”

“Lila, Spider-man was created in 1962, so either you have aged really well, or you have a time machine.”

“Ugh you guys, always misunderstanding me! I mean the spider-man from the movie!  He’s my best friend!”

“Didn’t know you and Tom Hiddleston were friends”

“Of course, we are very close!”

“Hiddleston is the guy who plays Loki. Holland is Spider-man.” Lila was speechless.

Marinette was using all her power to not fall from her chair laughing. Lila trying to outgeek Marc and Nathaniel, comic book fans extraordinaries, was the funniest thing she had ever seen. Even more fun than when Chloe fell in a puddle of mud.

“Ugh, you suck!”

Lila threw the illustrations to the floor, without noticing that Mister Perrault, the art teacher had gotten in the art room just that moment.

“What is going on?”

“This girl who I am still not sure who is” said Marc quickly, as he could see Lila was going to respond something “started trying to impress us with her lies, but since we didn’t believe her, she just threw our work”

“They were being mean to me!” Lila tried to sob, while the other three teens were gathering the stuff she had thrown.

“Regardless of what they might have said, I caught you on the act of trying to destroy the work of art they had done for Marinette, and if there is something I will not tolerate in my club, is precisely that. Follow me to the Principal’s office… whoever you are.”

The trio smiled. Marinette couldn’t help but worry at Lila being akumatized yet again, but she also wanted to put some input on her “super hero” persona that Marc and Nathaniel had created with so much love for her.

——-

Art Teacher has no canon name, so I landed in “Perrault” after searching for french last names. If you don’t know who Charles Perrault is, I weep for your childhood. 

And I do accept suggestions for “Fashionette” canon name, which would be also my Akumanette, should I ever write one. 

[purrincess-chat]

Cat’s Writing Masterlist (Long Post)

So, it’s been a hot minute since I updated my last masterlist, so I’m gonna make a new one. I’m warning you all now that I have 81 published works on AO3, so this is gonna be a long list, but I’m gonna try to make it somewhat easy to navigate idk we will see.

One-shots:

Marinette’s Secret: G, Love square, crack/fluff

The Big Reveal: G, Plagg-perspective reveal, crack

Accidental Date: G, platonic Adrinette, fluff

Games We Play: G, LadyNoir, fluff

Better Together: T, Chat Noir/Adrien-centric, crack

Amour Chassé-croisé: G, Marichat, fluff/crack

No One’s Side Kick: T, Chlolya, crack, pre-Rena Rouge name reveal

Garbage Cliche MariChat Balcony Makeout Scene: T, MariChat, steamy/crack

Just For You: G, Chlonette, fluff/crack

Best Friends Forever: G, Alya&Marinette, fluff

Cat-astrophe: T, Love Square, reveal fic/crack

All Around Me Are Familiar Faces: T, multiple perspectives, crack

Never Trust Chat Noir Near Yarn: G, platonic Marichat, crack

Toddlers and Miraculouses: G, LadyNoir-ish, crack

The Fox and the Chat: G, Rena&Chat, crack

A Lesson in Love: T, Alyanette, steamy

Go Fish: M, kwami-perspective, post-reveal, crack/implied sin

Where the Sun Don’t Shine: T, platonic MariChat, crack

Heists and High Heels: T, Chlolila, crack

What If: G, Copycat-based, crack

Princess Adrien: G, classmate fic, crack

The Adventures of Beetlebug: T, LB!Nino, crack

The Greatest Gift of All: T, Chlolya, crack/fluff

The Secret Life of Kubdel: G, Kim/Max/Alix, crack

Kid Rebel, Boy Menace: G, OT4, crack

A Christmas Tail: G, Felinette, fluff

Fight Me Under the Mistletoe: G, classmate fic, crack

No Matter Who You Are: G, Adrinette, reveal fic, fluff

A New Life: G, Adrinette, fluff

Tell Me a Secret: G, Adrien&Plagg, crack

The Class Scheme to Make Kimax Canon: G, Kimax, crack/fluff

Holiday Spirit: G, Lilanette,Chlogami,Lukadrien, fluff

The Perfect Night: G, Adrinette & kids, fluff

Onto New Beginnings: G, Adrinette, fluff

Finding Happily Ever After: G, Adrinette, fluff

Sweetheart’s Ice Cream: G, Adrinette, Glaciator what-if, fluff

Home is Where You Are: G, MariChat, fluff

Checkmate: G, Ladrien, fluff/kwami swapish

A Day in the Sun: G, Adrien&Nino, fluff

Nathaniel’s Apology: G, MarcNath, fluff

Themed-Prompt Challenges:

Think Outside the Love Square: T, various rare pairs, fluff mostly 

A Collection of Tumblr Prompts: T, various ships, various genres usually described at the beginning

Miraculous Swaps Week: G, Master Fu & Emilie Agreste (though pre-Emilie name), unfinished

Fluff Month, Non-love Square Edition: G, various ships, fluff

When the Moon Found the Sun: T, Lukadrien, fluff/angst

Rare Pair March: T, various ships, various genres

Valentine’s Day Drabbles: T, various ships, fluff

Fluff Month, Love Square Edition: G, love square, fluff

August 2018: G, various ships, fluff

A Family of Friends: G, classmates, fluff

Rare Pair Month 2019: G, various ships, various genres mostly fluff

Completed Chapter Fics:

A Mile in My Shoes: G, love square, kwami swap/fluff

Colors of the Soul: T, love square-centric though other ships featured, angst/fluff

To Tame a Queen: T, Chlonette, Chloe-redemption, fluff

Bedtime Stories: G, Tom/Sabine ft. babinette, fluff

A Time for Love: G, Markov/Alix’s watch (you read that right), crack/fluff

Beyond the Line of Duty: T, love square, reveal fic, crack, might continue

Ladybug and Bumblecat: G, Ladrien, kwami swap, crack

A Merman’s Heart: T, Marichat, fluff/fantasy AU

How to Catch a Ladybug: G, Lilanette, fluff/drama

Honey and Spice: T, Chlolya, Chloe-redemption, fluff

Kiss, Kiss Learn My Secret?: G, love square, fluff/reveal fic

The Girl Under the Mask: G, Ladrien, fluff

On-going WIPs

A Night to Remember: G, Alyabug, fluff

The Adventures and Disasters of Living with Roommates: T, classmates, crack

Midnight Rose: T, Julerose, angst/fluff/fantasy AU

Within the Garden Walls: G, Myvan, fluff/fantasy AU

When the Chat Calls: G, MariChat, fluff mostly/crack

Teen Heart’s and Comic Pages: G, MarcNath, fluff

A Place to Call Our Own: G, QPP Adrigami, crack/fluff

The Fate of Misfortune: M, LadyNoir, angst/pirate AU

How an Angel Falls: T, Kimax, fluff/angst/fantasy AU

All’s Fair in Love and Superheroes: G, Ladrien, fluff/angst

Lady du Coeur: T, love square, angst/fluff/reveal fic/canon rewrite kinda

More Than Just a Friend: G, Adrinette, fluff/angst

Lady Luck: M, Adrinette, fluff/angst/college AU

Moves Like Jagged: G, Adrinette, fluff/crack

The Fall of Rome: G, classmates, Lila downfall, spite fic

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: G, Marinette-centric with Adrinette, spite fic

Taming Lies and Chasing Butterflies: G, akumanette, spite fic

[chatnoirismycinnamonroll]

LoOnly Human: Akuma!Marinette AU (part 4: finale)

So...I have literally no excuse about how long this took to write. But here it is! Part 4 of my Akumanette. You know my disclaimer, so I wont repeat it. Enjoy!

AAMDCLBCNAAMDCLBCNAAMDCLBCN

The class was silent as they watched the tiny goddess glide back to her chosen. Alya was crying silently, wanting nothing more than to rush to her friend and hug her and apologize for being such an idiot, but she knew she wasnt welcome at the moment. 'Why would I be? I'm supposed to be her best friend, but I didnt even give her the benefit of the doubt. I believed Lila without a single question, but I'm always questioning Marinette's stories and excuses. How many times have I dismissed her worries for nothing but jealousy? I wonder if she'll ever forgive me.'

Marinette kissed Tikki on the forehead as she floated back to her. "You didnt have to do that, but thank you. It means so much to me to have a true friend stand up for what's right."

"You're welcome, Marinette. And know that I will always have your side. Nobody is ever allowed to hurt you, no matter who they are."

Adrien watched the sweet scene with a slight smile on his face. He was still freaking out a little that Marinette was his Ladybug, but that could wait until they were alone. For now, they were still in the same room as the people who tried to break her, and his Chat Noir refused to relax in this kind of situation. His persona and his literal black cat. Was Plagg hissing a little? And why is he looking behind-?

Adrien whirled around, his body moving to shield Marinette without a second thought, his eyes narrowing as he faced the class, searching for the danger. His eyes moved rapidly and finally locked on what Plagg was now hissing at. His eyes widened as he took in the scene.

"Lila, what are you doing?" Adrien asked tensely.

"I wouldnt do that if I were you, snake. It's just going to lead to your end." Plagg warned, his eyes glowing slightly. Tikki nodded, her eyes glowing just as bright. Lila scoffed.

"You think I'm scared of you?! Do you think you can just talk about me like that? I am not a liar! I was just telling people what they wanted to hear! People loved me for it in all my other schools, and those who didnt were smart enough to stay out of my way."

Adrien's eyes widened as he realized her plan and what it would do.

"Everyone get out! Lila, let go of the string." Adrien stepped forward slightly, only to flinch back when she stepped in front of the door, blocking the exit.

"You just had to question everything, didnt you? You couldnt just sit back and enjoy my stories like all the other weak-minded sheep in this class. Nooooo. You had to be smart enough to tell the difference. And you, Agreste. You actually believed I would listen to your little advice? 'You dont need to lie to get people to like you. Just tell the truth!' Ha!" Lila sauntered forward, her eyes low and slit like a snake's as her hand held tight to the string. It led straight to her desk, where she had secretly set up two chemical flasks. They were set up, one upside down over the other, a metal sheet keeping the deadly mix separated. She didnt want another class to end this way, but they were leaving her with no choice.

The class moved behind Adrien and Marinette as they took their stances, their kwamis ready to transform them at the first word. With Lila covering the door, the only way out was through the windows. They werent that high up, and there was a tree near the window, so it wouldnt be too dangerous for the class to get out safely. Marinette looked at Adrien, and he nodded subtly without looking at her, knowing exactly what she was thinking, but keeping his eyes on the danger ahead. Kim silently tried to open the window, only to see it nailed shut. He tried the other windows with no luck. It seemed Lila had planned ahead.

"You are so naive! Everybody lies! You cant go anywhere without having someone lie to impress you. I was just giving everyone a little dose of reality. And now, since you two idiots just had to go and ruin my fun, I'm gonna have to make you disappear. Forever. And with you out of the way, there'll be nobody to question my statement of what happened here. 'MISPRINT ON CHEMISTRY SHEET CAUSES CLASS TO MIX THE WRONG CHEMICALS! A FATALLY EXPLOSIVE REACTION TAKES ALL BUT ONE! HERE IS HER STORY!' And as the only survivor, nobody is going to question on whether I'm telling the truth or not!" She extended her arm, ready to pull it back and start the deadly explosion....

"CATACLYSM!" "LUCKY CHARM!"

...Only to tug on nothing but a cut string as a razorblade was expertly thrown at the string. She stumbled and fell as a small hole opened beneath her, trapping her legs in the floor. The class below them screamed as a hole and a pair of legs appeared above them, having thought that the akuma had been defeated earlier.

"Great job, Stinky Socks!"

"You too, Sugar Cube. I told you I had it more under control." Plagg gloated. Tikki rolled her eyes, but gave him a high five anyway.

"You sure surprised me, but I'm happy. Now Master Fu wont worry so much about you."

"Speaking of worrying, what are we going to do with this brat?" Plagg floated down to a glaring Lila. He landed just out of her reach as she struggled to pull herself out and smirked when she failed.

"We should call the police. She almost killed us all." Alya exclaimed from behind Marinette, who jumped from having forgotten the rest of the class was there.

"Yeah, I'll get my phone-" Nino said, pulling it out of his back pocket and getting ready to unlock it when a familiar voice interrupted from the doorway.

"Theres no need for that. My daddy will make plenty sure shes never allowed in Paris again." Chloe stepped into the room with Sabrina behind her. Sabrina had her phone out, recording everything.

"Chloe! Were you recording the whole time?" Adrien asked anxiously, his eyes flashing worriedly to Marinette. Marinette was still by his side, though now she seemed less confident with the whole class tensing up at the reminder of what exactly had happened.

"Only Liar-la's little monologue. And although I'm not happy that Marinette is Ladybug, I'm not going to out your secret. And if anyone else tries to, well, let's just say that I wont need my daddy to make your life a living hell." Chloe's eyes narrowed at the class, who shrunk away from her gaze.

Marinette stepped forward, her eyes filled with gratitude and confusion. "Why are you being so nice? I thought you would have hated me, not protected me."

"Please, Dupain-cheng. I could care less about you, but you have saved my life multiple times as Ladybug, so I'm just repaying the favor by keeping your secret under wraps. And I'm not protecting you. I'm doing my duty as a heroine of Paris by ensuring its protectors' identities dont somehow get back to Hawkmoth. It's just business. Sabrina!"

"They're right outside, Chloe. My daddy is leading them in as we speak." Sabrina chirped obediently from the doorframe. Her eyes were glued to her phone, no doubt texting her father about the situation.

"Good. Meanwhile, I suggest you two transform. They'll be expecting the heroes to have purified the victim, who was escorted home by her friend, Adrien Agreste, to recover from the akumatization. Ladybug and Chat Noir were about to leave only for this girl to scream out in anger at having been called out as a liar by an akuma. Shes crazy, and when you saw what she was going to do, you used your powers to trap her. Sabrina and I were returning to the class when we heard the commotion and decided to call the police since you two were too busy trying to keep everyone safe. Nobody will question why Marinette and Adrien arent here and the police will take care of the rest."

Everybody stared slack-jawed at Chloe's plan. It was going to work perfectly. They couldn't find one flaw with the plan, and decided to go with it. This day was already stressful enough as it was. If Chloe was giving them a plausible out, they were going to take it.

The heroes transformed just before the police entered, guns drawn and pointing to Lila. "Is this her?"

"Yes, Officer. We have her on tape explaining her plan, and would like her to be removed immediately."

"Of course, Ms. Bourgeois. Chat Noir, if you could..." the officer pointed towards Lila's legs, which were still trapped in the floor.

"Gladly. Cataclysm!" The hole crumbled just enough to get her out, and the police fell on her immediately. They werent exactly gentle with her. After all, she just tried to commit mass murder.

Lila growled as she was hauled up from the floor, her arms locked behind her in handcuffs. "This isnt over."

"No, it definitely is. You're never going to win again, Lila. You're going to get all that is coming to you." Chloe warned, her eyes narrowed and a dangerous smirk speaking volumes as she moved into Lila's line of sight, effectively blocking Marinette from view. "Karma certainly is a bitch, isnt it?"

Lila screamed in anger as she was dragged away to face the consequences of her actions. The police gathered the class's statements, not asking about the akumatization and ignoring their awed yet worried looks at the heroes. You'd think they'd never seen the heroes up close before.

The police finally left, and school was let out early for Lila's threat and the akuma. Ladybug and Chat had stayed to give their statements and fix the damage they (their kwamis) had caused during the rescue. They refused to speak to their classmates, and they forlornly left them alone, worried that they would never be forgiven.

Chat and Ladybug stared at each other in the empty classroom. They had no words. They were still trying to process everything that had happened when their transformations finally fell.

Adrien and Marinette were left staring at each other, thoughts racing as familiar eyes finally placed a face to their partner. Feelings clashing and boiling within them, their eyes and bodies refused to move away from each other as they knew they had to talk it out.

Neither moved, and neither looked away. Without knowing it, they were already saying everything they needed to without a single spoken word. Eyes twinkling bright, their bodies moved on their own. Hands reached out to caress a soft cheek, to hold a slim waist, to wrap around their partner's own. Soft hands meeting calloused hands. Eyes saying everything that words couldnt.

Blue eyes full of pain and regret meeting green filled with understanding and comfort. There was the silent question if what came next. What will happen tomorrow? Could they still trust each other, even after this new revelation? Could she trust herself to keep going, knowing that either she could become vulnerable enough to fall to Hawkmoth again? Could she trust him to be by her side? Could she learn to forgive those who caused this pain within her?

But they pushed those thoughts away to enjoy each other's presence. The relief of knowing that your best friend was someone you knew, and knowing they know your good and bad sides, or at least have seen them before. To know that the love of your life had been closer than expected was such a thrill, it left both of them smiling.

They pulled the other closer, enjoying how well they fit together. And knowing they loved each other all along left them breathless. This could work. Sure, they probably had many problems that would come along. They would doubt each other, fight each other, and struggle. They were only human, after all.

But they could worry about that later. For now, they would enjoy the other, hugging and speaking to each other without saying a word, completely in sync with their feelings. There were no doubts, no ifs or buts. There was just them.

Adrien and Marinette.

Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Both skilled.

Both flawed.

Both completely Human.

The end.

AAMDCLBCNAAMDCLBCNAAMDCLBCN

Thank you very much for having waited so long for this! I know it got pretty hectic, but I hope you liked it. ^.^

@mindfulmagics @drarrylover007 @dreamteaze