Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The clock read 07:23. It was Monday. And their Kwamixu was withering away, swaddled in white sheets. A last sign of sympathy and resignation for the decaying human. 

It didn’t matter in the long run. Dead humans were nothing new, and this one was just another on the list of dead Kwamixu Tikki had had during their imprisonment.

Perhaps, in moments like these they were supposed to rage against the world, cry out about its cruelty, roar to the heavens, and other romantic notions Tikki had eagerly absorbed from the melodramatic media many Kwamixu had been so fond of. 

Those moments were taken thousands of years ago in self-pity, Tikki didn’t think they had anymore to give, especially not for such a short lived species. A wonderfully creative species, yes, but awfully easy to expire. 

An expiration date which had just been reached as their Kwamixu’s chest no longer rattled in laborious torment and his eyes stared into a plane of existence invisible to Tikki.

In many kinds of literature bemoaning the tragedy of death, it has been described as an unnatural stillness, accusing Death a thief of the purity of Life. Tikki could almost see the shade of a decrepit hand smothering the soul as if but a puny flame, just the recent consequence of an everlasting war of good and evil. 

It was beautiful. Perhaps they would encourage their next Kwamixu to explore the mythic and tragic themes of death in their works. After all, it was a pity that it had been so long since Tikki had explored the gothic genre. 

So, they grabbed their cursed prison off of the corpse’s ears. And was soon carried off by the creative influx of human consciousness towards their next chosen. 

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Marinette was ready. Her bag lay mostly packed, besides her notebook, and she sat on the edge of the seat, easy to slip out of quickly. 

As soon as that bell went off, she’d make a dash for it and it would all work out. Marinette needed to get out quickly, if only to escape the booming chatter and laughter filling the room, vibrating off the desks. 

To avoid the scraping press of people stampeding through the hall, to get done her homework, and to disappear from Chloe’s overbearing presence. Marinette was ready. 

Marinette was not ready. As the bell rang, she lurched out of her seat grabbing her bag, notebook and then promptly tripped over air and smashed into the ground. 

The whispers and stares were immediate, and some hurriedly made their ways towards her, shoving forward their hands. Though as Marinette rose from the floor all she could see was Chloe’s smug mouth scrunched together in stifled snickers. 

Soon her crooning voice followed. “Marinette, eager to leave us aren’t you?”, swirling with humour and sweet contempt. The class at first quiet, then erupted with bouts of laughter, jokingly adding in their own commentary. 

Yeah, come on, we aren’t that scary, there’s no need to run . 

Marinette, the look on your face when you fell. Hilarious.

I respect a healthy need to escape school, you just need to work on your stealth and then you’ll be flying out of here with ease, instead of, you know, onto the floor. 

Though other members leered at Marinette, picking at her snobbish attempt at escape, tripping probably served her right. 

They were all laughing. It echoed throughout the room. On and on. Marinette wanted to leave. She wanted to yell. Her breath was stuttering as her stomach, her lungs filled with fire, her voice was caving in on itself. She was stuck, the air was choking her. She was unstable, weight kept swaying inside her, she was going to fall and everyone would laugh louder. The noise was all over her, it was stomping her underfoot, she couldn’t escape, she needed to escape. It was too loud. 

Marinette was in the hallway. When had she done that? She was walking. She needed to focus.

Step. 

Step.

Step. 

It was still loud, but at least she had missed the stampede. She had so much homework to do, she was late. She was an idiot. Marinette felt it all combine together, a swirling clog in her throat. She couldn’t escape. She needed to focus. She needed to calm down, she couldn’t calm down.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Turn here. Why did Chloe have to exist? 

No . Marinette shook herself, she shouldn’t have thought that, that was a step too far. Marinette simply wished Chloe wasn’t in her life and that she didn’t have to put up with the Bitchy Princess Barbie wannabe. There, better. Everyday Marinette came a little bit closer to slapping Chloe’s mouth shut with duct tape or just jabbing a tube of superglue between her lips and squeezing─

Marinette felt pain as the floor was a lot closer than she remembered a second ago. Her hands and knees throbbed as she opened her eyes. People had created a pocket as they walked around her, some looked down at her in consideration and pity before deciding that they really didn’t have time for a klutzy teen.  

Tripped twice in one day, now that’s embarrassing, you idiot. 

Marinette reached forward to push herself off the ground only to be met with a sharp pain in her hand. She clasped her hand to her chest waiting for the pain to subside and looked for the source. 

On the ground sat an inconspicuous pair of black earrings, mocking her. Marinette began to reach for them, only to stop, staring confused at her hovering hand. 

Marinette lifted herself off the ground and continued walking with unease swelling in her gut. She shouldn’t be so unnerved by a dropped pair of earrings, but the image of them laying there lonely kept with her. It wasn’t like anyone was going to miss them, and they were a perfectly good pair of earrings (once she had power washed them of course), it was such a waste. So she should turn around and pick them─

Why was she thinking about this? She literally found them on the street, who knew where they'd been?

Marinette was just feeling strange, probably because of all the tripping practice she had gotten today. She was not actually considering picking earrings off the street. 

She kept walking, she was fine. Marinette felt something hard under her foot. As she lifted up her shoe, the unease became more insistent, jabbing through her abdomen, clearly shouting danger, danger. Which she somewhat understood as she stared at the ground. 

The earrings. The same pair. 

Marinette looked behind her, at the place where the earrings should have been, only to find it empty. 

Marinette bolted. 

Maybe she was being illogical, maybe she had been dragging along the earrings unknowingly, but Marinette was running away before either she or the earrings got any more fun ideas. 

When she got home, Marinette was going to check her temperature, there was clearly something wrong with her. She was not being followed by a pair of possessed jewellery. Maybe she had offended a ghost or something, maybe she had done something extremely messed up in a past life, maybe she had─

THUMP─

And, she was on the ground again. This time with company. Oh SHIT. She had company. Marinette in her elegant topple to the ground had brought someone with her, someone who was still on the floor, squinting at the ground in befuddlement as if he was certain he should have still been walking. Which he would have, if Marinette wasn’t aiming at setting the world record for the most falls in a day. 

Marinette was an idiot, a klutzy fool, she should have been looking where she was going, she should have been less of the dumb, flustered coward that she usually was and she should, definitely be helping the blond boy off the ground. 

Stuttering out her apologies and declarations of idiocy, she hefted him up, and promptly ran the last stretch to the bakery, internally screaming her cowardice to look her recent victim in the eyes. 

Marinette scrambled up the stairs, now having images of both the demonic earrings and her victim on her tail to motivate her brisk ascent. Slamming the door of her room shut, Marinette breathed a sweet, sweet sigh of relief. She was safe, now she just needed to remember where she put the thermomete─

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng”.

Fuck. 

Marinette would be guilty of lying if she said that she hadn’t screamed like a baby on drugs, which she did. Marinette had seen plenty of ladybugs in her lifetime, especially when she was a young child, seven, maybe eight, and attempted to catch them in her lunch box during recess to keep. 

Though she could have been wrong, she was pretty sure there was no ladybug species that was part ladybug, part rat and all the rest demon, but that was what was in front of her. Marinette was also sure that ladybugs couldn’t speak French, but she supposed that was the demonic aspect. 

And it was attempting to speak to her again, once, of course, she stopped trying to perform an act of defenestration upon the demon-ladybug-rat. 

But, Marinette was not going to hell today! Maybe tomorrow when she had slept on it, but not today! 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, you have been chosen”. 

Nope, nope, nope, no, no, no, no. Not listening. Stay calm Marinette, calm, calm, calm, why are you not calm! Be calm. 

“BEGONE SATAN!”. 

That was not calm. 

“I am Tikki, Kwami of Creation, muse of the masses, voice of inspiration, weaver of interpretation, author of─” 

“WHO!!?!”

The demon sighed, “Tikki, Kwami of Creation, muse─”

“─of the masses, voice of inspiration, yes, yes, I got that part. Did Satan send you? Or perhaps the Rat king? What are you doing here, am I going to hell, or am I already there, what did I do, isn’t my life horrible enough─”

“The amount of self pity emanating from your soul is a great sign, put your thoughts in order and you’ll be spitting out soliloquies like no tomorrow. Yes I think an exploration of the gothic genre would be perfect for your growth. Anyways, continuing on, you are my new Kwamixu─” 

“A Kwamashu?”

“Kwa-mi-xu. A Kwamixu is a lifelong partner of a Kwami. Before you ask, your life, not mine, and a Kwami is an abstract concept in physical form, as I said, I am the Kwami of creation, Tikki, my Kwamixu are usually creators of varying kinds such as authors, musicians, artists and the like. You have been chosen as my next Kwamixu. And, by the way, what are your thoughts on the gothic genre?”

“Why me, why not an established celebrity artist, like, Jagged stone?” 

“Oh, good catch. My Kwamixu are chosen based on potential within them that has not yet been explored, oh, it also tends to be based on how far I’m willing to travel. My last one was a choreographer based in Canada, he did very well indeed in making a name for himself. When I found him, he was trying to be an office worker, but I said, Matthew, is that really what you want to be in life, and he said he desperately wanted to express himself through dance, and I was the first to tell him he could, and boom, world recognised choreographer.”

“You must be making a mistake, I can’t, I’m not what you’re looking for, I am not some hidden potential. I don’t even know what you want me to do.”

“Marinette-” 

“No, just go away, find another Kwami whatever.”

“I am unable to simply find another, ‘Kwami whatever’, the bond has already been forged, we are bound till the day you pass on into the ether, whether you like it or not. I will allow you time to think” 

Marinette was way past the point of panicking, she needed to think, she needed to breathe and she most definitely needed to have the earrings as far away as possible. Marinette choked the jewellery in her grip, stuffed it into her nearest draw and slammed it closed, Tikki disappearing with it. 

The entire afternoon collapsing on her at once, Marinette flopped on her bed and stared up at her ceiling. 

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Adrien, at this point in time, was certain of two things. 

1. That he had absolutely no idea of how he ended up in his room with a black cat broken up in multiple pieces who looked like it came off the magical girl merch line way too quickly. 
2. That he hated cheese. 

The creature had brought some with it, and it bleached his room in a wet scent, it was as if he was drowning in a pungent pool of sweat. 

If the assault on his nostrils continued, Adrien was not going to make it to tomorrow, well at least that would force his father to actually acknowledge his existence, if he cared enough to mourn. It wasn’t like he was worth it, he wasn’t his mother. 

The creature, Plagg it called itself, was finishing up on Adrien’s role as his Kwamixu and expressing its want for more cheese. But, Adrien would have powers. 

Powers. 

Adrien wanted it. It was selfish. Adrien knew he was selfish, he was acting completely without intentions, but as he slipped on the ring, he delighted in its cold caress which made his hand just a little less lonely. 

He wanted this, he had wanted so much in life that he never got, so Adrien was entitled to this little piece of happiness, just this, he would be selfish just this once. 

“Plagg, Claws out!” 

As he transformed, Adrien was giddy with excitement, and the colours of the world became muted. He was not ashamed of admitting that he had dreamed of getting his own magical girl transformation sequence. 

He was not disappointed, with the cat theme the first thought he had was Mew Ichigo, though he had to admit the colour scheme looked perhaps more similar to Luna from Sailor moon with Artemis’ eyes. However, it didn’t stop him from screaming out Mew Mew strawberry metamorphosis into the depths of his room, it wasn’t like there was anyone to hear him. 

Popping open his window, Adrien─ no, Mew Adrien? No, no, Chat Noir, yes. Chat Noir made his escape. 

It was the best feeling he had ever felt, soaring over rooftops, hearing the drumming of his feet in sync with his heartbeat. The world seemed incredibly strange to his transformed eyes, the colours seemed more dull than it was an hour ago, it seemed most likely that it was going to rain soon, that wasn’t going to stop Chat Noir. 

The wind strained together with gravity to hold him down, he tore through the mortal restraints, he was powerful enough to stop a car Chat thought. At this moment in time, he reckoned he could stop the earth from spinning. 

Adrien stuttered to a halt by screaming the streets below and the whine of wheels from a camper van. 

Chat Noir leapt in the opposite direction, whatever was happening down there was not his problem, ignoring the whispers of both guilt and Plagg’s snide presence in his head, tonight was about him. 

He was going to be happy. 

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

Her notebook was being stained more and more in angry scribbling. Why couldn’t Marinette get one stupid pair of magical, possessed earrings out of her head. 

Even as she was up on her bed, she could almost feel Tikki prodding at her consciousness, berating her childishness. And, well, Marinette was attempting to ignore the fact that she could feel Tikki in her head at all. 

Marinette was many things; a coward, a klutz, a total idiot, but she wasn’t going to let herself be bullied by a pair of jewellery, she was too stubborn. Take that Tikki!

The aimless scribbling was finally calming her down, she realised she had been drawing an off-shoulder look. By creating more folds in the fabric it would resemble a rose, so maybe she should roll with it and go with a pink palle─!

A scream pierced the air partnered with a roar of wheels, the sound accelerated until it ended suddenly signalled by the shattering of glass and a morbid, moist crunch. The vibration carried all throughout the bakery, an echoing groan which sent Marinette catching herself on her wall from being thrown off balance. 

Marinette sat still. 

Bemusement melted away as confusion and terror permeated her mind. 

She needed to move. 

Marinette, later, didn’t remember finding her horrified and panicked parents in the hallway, didn’t remember their frazzled, broken lies   assurances that this was easily fixed, didn’t remember going down the stairs and a police officer leading them out.

But, she remembered the body. 

The body of a stranger, how it caved unnaturally. Laying discarded on the floor, twisted, their bones stabbing through their own skin, eyes murky, devoid of life, blood painting the van─

The blood. 

Everywhere. 

It was everywhere, 

The smell.

Marinette couldn’t breathe.

It was sharp, everywhere, it was everywhe ─

Marinette needed to breathe.

Why should she, that person was no longer breathin ─

Marinette was fine. 

That person, they weren’t, they were dead.

Oh God, they were dead. 

Dead. 

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead. 

Dead. . . 

Marinette couldn’t breathe. Air scraped into her lungs, not enough. She felt unbalanced, the fire was shredding her chest, if it continued maybe she would be dead too. 

Dead. 

Her home as well, caved in like that perso─ corpse. All she could see was that. All dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. 

But those drivers, the ones that had done this. That had run over that civilian, her home. They were still out there, they were still alive. 

Marinette wanted justice, she craved it. 

Marinette wanted them dead.

Feeling something hard in her clenched fists. When had she clenched her fists?

  She saw them. The earrings. They were cold. 

And she put them on. 

They were going to pay. 

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

Adrien- Chat Noir was flying high. The feeling of pure warmth in his chest was so bright he felt as if he were glowing, something he could barely remember feeling before, only as a small child with his mother. That thought brought a bitter smile onto his face, which quickly vanished as his new companion reemerged from the ring. 

“Plagg, that was amazing! We should do this often, I mean the streets are amazing from an aerial view, and I have never felt so powerful in my life, I wish we could have stayed out much longer, but from the looks of things, it was about to rain─”

“Could you shush it kid, good grief, of course I had to get another chatterbox, couldn’t I for once get a cheese enthusiast.” 

Adrien clamped his mouth shut. He had talked too much again. He was being annoying to his new friend. He needed to shut up. 

Adrien grabbed his remote, the euphoric feeling slightly dissipated. 

BREAKING NEWS: VAN CRASHES INTO THE TOM & SABINE BOULANGERIE PÂTISSERIE ─ 1 DEAD. 

Flashed across his screen. 

Adrien knew that van. 

He had seen that van. 

He was the reason someone else was dead. 

Someone had paid for his happiness.

Like his mother. 

Adrien jolted up, he needed to fix this.

He couldn’t fix this, someone was dead because of him, again. 

“Plagg, Claws out.” 

He was out the window before the light had even faded. 

Chat Noir was running. 

The rooftops no longer welcomed him, but the hard edges turned their backs to him. 

Fair enough, Adrien was close to breaking down. 

That wouldn’t bring them back. 

The ones he killed. 

A stranger, his mother .

Chat kept turning, barely touching the tiles, bile was rising in his throat, he had no idea where he was going, a fact Plagg was constantly whispering in the back of his mind. 

Adrien didn’t care, he needed to move. 

His face was wet. He wiped it. 

Plagg was getting increasingly annoyed. Chat couldn’t care less. 

Chat lept over another alley, and was thrown off balance by what he saw. 

A girl clad in ladybug themed garb was brawling with two people, though brawling was a kind way of putting it. What was more accurate was that she was brutally beating them around the alley. 

The three were mottled black and blue and at least one looked on the edge of keeling over and dying.

He was not going to let another die for his inaction. 

Chat Noir pounced on her with a roar, sending both of them to the ground rolling. When they came to a stop he held her wrists against the ground roughly. She wasn’t going to harm anyone else. 

Except him, he soon discovered as she kicked upwards between his legs.

Pain. Pain. Pain. He let out a shrill whimper and slid off of her to the ground. 

At this moment he empathised with Deku, getting kicked in the nuts was no laughing matter. It was agony. 

It was made worse as she proceeded to continue her beating of the civilians, as if he were a pest. 

No matter the pain, he was not going to fail. Not again. 

Chat Noir grabbed her from behind, restraining her arms. She attempted to headbutt him, but he pivoted and slammed her face down into the ground, no more balls were going to be injured today. He sat down on her legs and firmly held her arms down. He did it. He won.

Now what?

“Let go of me!” She spat. 

“And, why would I do that?” 

“You don’t understand!”

“I think I understand perfectly.” 

“You’re going to let them get away!”

“You mean the citizens I just rescued from your beating, yeah, that’s the point.”

“Listen here cat-boy, you’re letting the actual criminals get away and if you don’t get off of me right now, I swear your bruised balls will be the least of your problems when I’m done with you.”

“What is their crime according to you, oh indomitable bug with your face to the dirt.”

“They’re the ones who crashed into the bakery! They killed someone! And you’re wasting time, so GET OFF!” 

Adrien let go of her and she ran off in a furious sprint. He’d messed up, again, what if he had ruined his chance. 

No. He couldn’t fail. He wouldn’t fail. 

Next thing Chat knew, he was punching them in the face alongside the bug who once again barely noticed his presence in her rampage. 

They beat them till their bodies appeared more blood than skin. Yet he wanted more. Chat Noir was angry and the blood welling was soothing him.  

More and more and more. 

They were well unconscious by that point, but he still wanted more. 

It wasn’t enough. 

Then, there were blaring, paralysing lights, for a moment shocking his eyes closed. 

Police.

He and the bug made eye contact and bolted in opposite directions. 

He never asked what her name was. 

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Officer Raincomprix swung his flashlight through the darkness of the Alley landing on two people bleeding into the alley. He might not have been a doctor, but he had been on the job long enough to know that that was too much blood. 

He rushed forwards, bringing out his phone and called an ambulance, before he heard one of them groaning. 

“Ma’am, what happened here?” He asked. 

He heard her sputtering, struggling to form words with the blood on her lips. And he stood cold  with disbelief at what he heard.

“D-Demons, t-they w-were demons.” 

End of Episode

My Redesigns

Chapter Text

Dust hovered between him and his ceiling. 

Adrien had almost killed someone. 

He was feeling incredibly hungry.

It took him half an hour to stop scrubbing at the blood staining his fists. 

Plagg looked with unbothered crescent eyes, though the look on his face reeked of judgement. 

It took him hours to stop feeling nauseous not only at the blood, but at the gripping victory clutching at his chest. 

More so, at the thought flapping at the back of his mind that he and the bug-girl should have finished them off. 

Adrien slammed a pillow against his face. What he wanted and so clearly needed was a good knocking sense; he’d been unable to get out of bed for a week since the incident. And considering the dust dancing carelessly in his room, he was in need of a maid to do some cleaning.

At the moment, that seemed a bit too much effort. 

Rolling across his mattress, Adrien grabbed his remote, in the hopes some TV might wake him up further. 

“—Police still on look out for the new Paris Vigilantes after the incident a week ago, when the suspects for the crash at Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie Patisserie were found beaten in an alleyway by Officer Raincomprix, new evidence suggests—”.

Nope. There goes that plan. 

Adrien flopped back, once again grabbing his faithful pillow. This was way more complicated than he had anticipated, why couldn’t he have had just a nice run with powers without him going and being labelled as a criminal just because he slightly beat up a couple of people. Besides, they deserved it, and more. They should have been the ones dead. 

That’s it, the universe hates him. 

And apparently it wanted to express that further as Adrien found himself with claws embedded in his nose and the odour of cheese floating right alongside them. 

Adrien had always wanted a pet, but now, now he could understand why some thought cats the scourge of earth; pure evil, selfish little pricks. 

Why couldn’t he have gotten a dog? 

Plagg was still clutching at his stinging nose, eyes lazily rolling with disinterest. 

“Feed me”. 

Plagg apparently hated mornings, considering the repeated unpleasant behaviours he’d shown over the past week. Adrien wondered whether he had done something to displease him. If he had, maybe he should attempt to make it up to Plagg.

That was, until Plagg squeaked out the worst fart he had ever smelled, it swelled throughout the entirety of the room, of course reaching the nostrils unfortunately located right under Plagg’s stinky rump. 

Yes. Adrien was going to kill this mystical cat, and he was going to take pleasure in it. 

Of course he couldn’t get a super helpful, cheery magical guide, or even just a stern but kind one, no. He gets this cheese obsessed jerkface who was trying attempted murder by fart, and also, weren’t cats supposed to be lactose intolerant.

“No, get your own stinky food. Oh and while you’re at it, Get out of my nose!”. 

“Dirty little Human. 

Don’t assume you have any authority over me. FEED ME NOW.” 

At every word scraping past his ears, Plagg’s claws further dug into Adrien’s nose, squeezing out little gurgles of blood. 

Adrien swatted at his nose, launching Plagg across the room in pieces. 

Nathalie was going to kill him, he had modelling after school today. 

School. He had school today. School that he himself had signed up for. 

Crapsticks. 

Adrien in record time had a shower, ripped on his clothes and grabbed his bag. Despite his need to rush, he slipped quietly from his room, his practised feet barely making a whisper against the marble floor. 

Avoiding the front door, where Nathalie could easily intervene, Adrien took the back stairs which led to his mother’s garden. 

Even in the years since her passing, he still dared not make eye contact with the statues in the garden. Those whose stone faced glares still accused him. 

Adrien walked briskly, tempted to burst into a sprint much like he did when he was younger, but he had outgrown running from the ghost of the garden. At least, that was what Adrien liked telling himself. Finally he had reached the gate which led out into the street, gently clasping the lock, he was set free. 

Looking down at his phone, Adrien was going to be late, so late. Damn it. Guiding the gate closed and locking it, he then proceeded into full dash like an Otome protagonist, the only thing he was missing was the piece of toast and the hot love interest. Though, the way he was gulping down air as he ran was unsightly, maybe he should have risked asking Gorilla to drive him. At last the Lycée was coming into sight now. 

Wait, if he were in an Otome he also would need to scream out how late he w—

Adrien toppled roughly to the ground, his hands reaching out in front of him, ripping and wet. His head bounced sharply, he could feel his brain vibrate. Oh schist, at this rate Nathalie was going to slowly boil him in a pot and serve him for dinner, both for his face and signing himself up for school while pretending to be his father, though currently, the face was his biggest concern. 

Or maybe it should be the girl he was currently in very close proximity with, caging her in with his shredded hands. No, Nathalie would be way more concerned about the face issue. 

Though, Adrien was becoming increasingly concerned about the vibrant red that was the girl’s face. Adrien didn’t know much about the human body, but he thought that particular shade was definitely not healthy. 

It also wasn’t particularly flattering for her complexion, especially against the blues of her eyes and her dark hair. Or perhaps it increased the contrast? It was something his father would probably be interested in, more so than in anything Adrien would do. 

And he was getting off track. The world surrounding him seemed oddly quiet, besides the quick succession of raspy hiccups from the girl. 

Oh, he should probably get off of her, he might be blocking her airways, but wasn’t she meant to be going blue then? That probably would have better matched her eyes, lighter blues probably would have created a much more pleasant contrast with the royal blue shades of her eyes, it also might have looked great with some light pinks and—

“gEt— mE—!” 

It appeared the girl had finally found her voice, though Adrien was rather confused on what he was supposed to be getting, did she mean for him to pick her up? With his rather striking lack of body mass, Adrien wasn’t sure just how successful he would be at that. Well, it was worth trying if she was requesting it, maybe it was a social custom, Adrien wasn’t good at social customs, or, well, people in general. He supposed childhood isolation would do that to you. 

He curled his bloodied arms around her waist, and heard a sudden whoosh of air hurl out of her mouth. Adrien thought maybe she should get checked for breathing problems, he would ask her after he completed her first request. With the very little core and arm strength within him, Adrien hoisted her up, grasping her back and legs. 

Huh, well look at that, he was doing it. Take that stupid nutritionist, he wasn’t comparable to a limp noodle in body mass. He had done it, he was lifting her off the ground. Yes. 

It was then he felt a sudden pressure building in his knees, and there was the evidence of his inner (or rather outer) limp noodle, but the girl hadn’t asked to be put down, would it be rude to do so without permission? His feelings of victory were fading as he continued to awkwardly hold her, praying to be released from the growing pains. 

At this point, perhaps Adrien should have been more careful with his wishes to the universe. A sudden cracking pain smashed into his stomach (a little too close to his recent unfortunate injury), at once air rushed out of his mouth and he dropped the indecisive girl who he noted, had just hit him for no apparent reason. 

Apparently elbows hurt a lot more than tsunderes had led him to believe. 

Adrien didn’t know what he did wrong. But, he had clearly messed up as evident by the pain in his stomach. A twang that harmonised with his other recent injuries. 

The girl lay in an undignified heap on the ground, staring up at him with a heated glare. Though in his opinion, perhaps he was the one who should have been angry, after all he was the one she hit. Though he probably had done something wrong, socialising was a strange experience in which he would most likely never succeed. 

Fuzzy sound whizzed past his ears. Oh, was the girl yelling at him?

It turned out that she was indeed yelling, but Adrien, for the life of him, couldn’t understand what she was saying. It sounded to him like what he would describe as if a pig had married a chicken and produced a forbidden love child within her throat. The most he got was “Buroinkkahh”. This was probably another social custom which he missed in his guidebook, because he could have sworn that word wasn’t in the chapter about the befuddling practice of ‘slang’. 

Perhaps he should reply in kind? Adrien didn’t really know if there was an appropriate response, so he returned in kind. 

“Burronkah?”

The girl halted in her gibberish, her face relaxed, her eyes still focused on him with unwavering attention. It seemed he had appeased her, but he realised he was coming up to being terribly late, on his first day too. So, Adrien walked away, pleased with his excellent handling of the awkward situation. Maybe he was “getting the hang of this” as his guide book suggested. 

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Adrien had spent a lot longer in the office than he had intended, and he was pretty sure that the secretary had been two minutes away from strangling him as he continued to ask questions about how he was expected to act in class. But, he had finally escaped with his schedule in hand and his hands bandaged. First up was homeroom, where he was expected to ‘mingle’ with his fellow classmates and ‘make friends’. Though looking at his schedule again, he had missed that, so now he was meant to be in History. 

The room orderings noted on the sheet made little sense to him, so his plan A was to walk and hopefully spot the room. He had had little success in his wanderings for around ten minutes, he was most definitely late, and with no cute love interest either. Otome games had led him on and Adrien was becoming increasingly frustrated as his search went on, but he finally spotted the room. 

He opened the door with a resounding bang. All the faces in the room turned to him, the girl who hit him avoided meeting his eyes and the one at the front, the teacher, looked at him with a clenched jaw and furrowed eyes, annoyance? Oh, he had probably made a scene, damn. 

The teacher opened her mouth, most likely to reprimand, but before she could, he heard a familiar shriek. 

“Adriekins!”

Adrien suddenly found his arms full of raging Chloe. A familiar tense and sharp emotion emerged within him as she tugged and clung to his body. He didn’t resist, that would make her more mad at him later. Adrien didn’t want Chloe mad at him, she was his only friend after all. 

Though, he might count Sabrina, could he count Sabrina? Everytime he attempted to greet her she always seemed rather confused and surprised, he would have thought she would have loved the hugs considering how many Chloe gave to him. 

The teacher was staring at him and Chloe, so was Punchy Girl. He was probably doing something wrong, he tried to gently pry Chloe’s fingers out of his side, but they refused to budge. Chloe wrinkled her nose at his attempt. Finally, the teacher spoke, her tone light. 

“You must be the new student, Mr Agreste, isn't it? Perhaps next time you can arrive at class on time and without causing a disruption. Now, I am Madame Bustier, I will be both your homeroom and your history teacher, considering you have arrived late, I am afraid you have little choice in where you can sit, so there’s a free seat in the front left side which you may have, right next to Marinette.”

Adrien followed her fingers to Punchy girl, and immediately felt this wasn’t going to go well seeing as she clearly had a problem with him, he resolved that he would just ignore her, that worked with his father in his bad moods. 

Adrien then noticed Chloe opening and closing her mouth, her eyes bearing into the teacher. He moved to his new seat, and, as his book implied was a common saying in awkward situations he inwardly noted that “this will be fun”. 

Though, He was sure that this would likely be anything but. 

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

Adrien had tried. He had failed, but at least he had tried. Punchy girl—Marinette was rather hard to ignore it seemed, even though she too was ignoring him. She was in every one of his classes, and in every one of those classes, he found himself situated either right beside her or staring down at her. 

Teachers seemed fond of partnering them together for the class activities, most of which it seemed she wasn’t bothered with. Adrien found himself increasingly frustrated with the lack of effort Marinette seemed to put into the work. She would stare at the work, fidgeting with her pencil leaving grainy circles on the page. Her forehead’s crease got larger as time went on and her eyes were continuously sliding along the page. 

The only time he asked her to get on with the work, she seemed to stare below his eyes, her mouth opening and closing without sound, this increased the crease, and he saw her eyes getting watery in an emotion he was similar with due to Chloe - frustration. Though he didn’t understand why or what had happened to make her frustrated, he kept messing up with her. 

As the bell rang signalling recess, she burst from her chair, racing for the door. Leaving Adrien feeling horrible, perhaps school hadn’t been the best idea. School anime had made it seem much simpler, maybe he was unable to get it. He hadn’t even made a friend yet. He heard Chloe’s quiet and sharp laughter from behind him before she tugged him forward and whispered loudly in his ears. 

“Amazing job Adriekins! How did you do it?”

Her words confused him, he could not quite derive their meaning. She was congratulating him, for, something? Chloe continued.

“It’s rather hard to make her cry, I should know, making the snob cry is one of my daily goals after all, and you did it on the first day, I’m so proud!” 

Oh. She was talking about Marinette. She was happy that he had made her cry, that, that didn’t seem quite right. 

He felt her drag him along, most likely in the direction of the cafeteria. Adrien had caused Marinette upset, why was that a good thing? 

He didn’t get it. It seemed like that was becoming his usual. 

People brushed against his shoulder. 

He had made her upset, was that right? 

It never seemed right when he had done so to his father. 

Would she yell and scream at him, he began to ache. His stupid lungs weren’t working. 

He was an idiot. 

There was more yelling from the bathroom, he caught his name among the cursing. 

It was Marinette and two masculine voices. They were talking about him, and laughing at the talking, and the insults and yelling were mixing with a blurry image of his father, yelling, yelling. 

His face felt wet, he was an idiot and crying. Chloe combined with the buzz of the cafeteria, the sting of the laughter. He needed her to shut up, why wouldn’t she shut up. 

He needed out, to get out. 

Marinette and the other two emerged from the bathroom, dried tears shone from her face, and the red-head caught his eyes and glared with malice, at him, he probably hated him, so did Marinette, so did the lanky figure rubbing at her back, so did everyone else, because he was an idiot, he was. His own father didn’t like him, why would anyone else, he, he. He seized his arm back, noticing the gasp from Chloe, noticing the eyes. 

He ran from the cafeteria. 

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

Marinette was mad, and frustrated, and hating herself, though not as much as she was loathing Adrien Agreste. 

He was an arsehole, a jerk, son of one of her favourite designers (she hoped the attitude wasn’t genetic), the stupid guy she had run into during the possessed earrings incident and an entitled douche. He was someone she would have wished to have punched harder, if not for the sickness that thought alone still brought her after two weeks. Worse, was how hard she had cried in the company of Marc, Nathaniel and an unfortunate bathroom mirror. 

Overall, she would give the day a solid zero, though it garnered some bonus points from Chloe’s unsubtle glares and bearing of teeth, putting it in the negatives. 

She couldn’t, she wasn’t able to do it. Marinette tried to do her work, but all she managed was the beginnings of fashion sketches where she was meant to write the answers. She was able, she knew she was able. She just couldn’t. And it made her, it made her, so mad and disappointed and wishing she was anyone else. But trying only made it so, so much worse. 

And Adrien had said she hadn’t tried. 

She. She was a failure and others couldn’t help but notice. A stupid idiot. She wished she wasn’t here. She wished that she, just wasn’t. 

Maybe her life was meant to be dedicated to self-deprecating poetic monologues as Satan with Spots had recommended. 

Marc had sat next to her, holding her against their chest, chanting positive affirmations against her hair. Nathaniel on the other hand, had leaned near the door, a brooding expression marring his face, while swearing up a rain cloud to match his broodiness. 

She loved her friends. Though, there was only so much plotting for murder that Nathaniel could do in a school bathroom (with colourful and morbid drawings for visuals) and only so many playful elbows Marc could lodge into his side, before someone needed to actually use the toilet. 

While Juleka had come in and given them a full thumbs up when hearing Nathaniel’s sea shanty of swears and ways to legally castrate a man, others had been less pleased upon entry. 

M.Mendeliev had given them a long and knowing look tinged with disappointment that she had most likely been only seconds late from being able to hand us all detention on a silver platter. Bless Marc and their quick hand which had slapped onto Nathaniel’s face not a second too soon. Though, Mendeliev had sent them out of the bathroom with a warning to “not loiter where they weren’t wanted”. 

And, the moment only proceeded to get worse by coming face-to-face with the model dickbag himself, Adrien Agreste. 

The temptation to punch him somewhere more obvious than the stomach was ever growing, Not that she would act on it, yet. He seemed still annoyedly smug, a permanent smile fixed on his face, but his complexion was paler. Maybe he finally realised what a giant shit he had been, unlikely, what was more likely was that he was nervous now that he saw she had backup. Inwardly she was pummeling his face to the ground crowing her victory, outwardly tears still stained her cheeks and all she could do was glare. Which, to her surprise, worked as he suddenly bolted in the opposite direction. 

That had never worked before. Marinette felt her annoyance and anger once again surge to the forefront of her mind, and flinging off excuses to Marc and Nathaniel, she stormed in the direction Agreste had run off to, brushing past a steaming Chloe. 

Once she caught up to him, she was going to rage and whack him over the head with a piece of her mind. Up ahead Marinette heard the slamming of a door and she sped up to come face to face with the Library door. Without much thought she swung open the door, ready to rage at him for ruining her day. 

Marinette stopped. It wasn’t immediately obvious where Agreste had retreated, the only indicators of his location were the tips of his Gabriel shoes poking out from behind a bookshelf and the soft, pitchy sobbing. 

This wasn’t what she expected. Why was he crying? He didn’t get to cry, certainly not about ruining her day, not about touching her without her permission in front of a crowd of people, not about following her around and embarrassing her, mocking her. No, he did not get to cry and act like he was the victim. She got enough of that from his BFF Chloe Bourgeois. 

Agreste didn’t seem to notice her presence and continued his attempt to shrink into the bookshelf. Marinette stalked towards him, revealing more of Agreste’s crumpled form. He was grabbing at his hair, twisting and twirling, and he was slowly pushing further into himself while rocking against the shelf. He was completely enwrapped in himself. She was right next to him now, Marinette reached out her hand and placed it on his shoulder. Agreste jolted away from her hand, only now processing that he wasn’t alone. Shock painted his features before once again settling into that stupid, bland smile. 

“Marinette, I—”

She then wheeled into him. 

“How dare you. Do you have something against me, or were you put up to it by your bestie, because all day you’ve tried to belittle, mock or embarrass me and I am done. I bet you couldn’t care less about your actions, but I have spent most of today in tears because my classmates keep laughing at me in the halls because of how much you’ve embarrassed me in front of them, or because you’ve once again pointed out something I know too fucking well that despite me trying my efforts will never amount to anything, because despite how easy people like you make it seem, I can’t do it! I don’t care about whether this messes with your entitlement or if you’re convinced that you’re God’s fucking gift to the world. I don’t fucking give a crap. Just take it and keep it to yourself because I assure you that I for one would be happier if you did. Just— Just leave me alone.” 

During her tangent, his mask had shattered and he stared on with confusion and hurt, and to be honest Marinette had no idea how that had come out of her. While she had followed him, she had never expected something to actually come out of her besides a puff of air at best, maybe some tears. Marinette was just as shocked as he was, that outburst shouldn’t have happened at all. Her thoughts vibrated alongside echoing, pithy laughter. 

Agreste continued to stay stock still, probably in shock. Marinette took that as a sign she should make her exit. Sputtering out unintelligible syllables, she ran out of the library, hoping to run into one of her friends to get advice on what had just happened. Though, looking at the time, perhaps it was best to head to Science. 

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

Marinette had seen little of Agreste after the library incident, despite him always sitting close to her. He seemed to be attempting what he had done in the library, to mimic a tortoise and retreat into his shell. It was working surprisingly well, she probably wouldn’t notice him much, if it wasn’t for her keeping her eyes on him, both because Marinette wanted to make sure he wasn’t planning revenge and also because she was starting to feel bad for him. 

During lunch, She once again almost started the trek to the Bakery, before Marc gently stopped her and directed them to a nearby cafe. The bakery had only started reconstruction, it wasn’t going to be Marinette’s home for a while, a long while. Marinette felt like she was going to cry for the 99th time this week, she guessed she hadn’t really stopped crying since the incident, she should just be grateful that since the offenders were now in gaol (thanks to her), they had had to pay for what they had done, physically and financially. That thought made her smile.

She had noticed Agreste while they were walking, he had situated himself on a park bench with his laptop, seemingly engrossed in whatever he was doing. Whatever it was, it wasn’t her business. Marinette had continued walking. 

And now, it was after school and she was stranded. The sky had decided to be an arsehole and rain on her parade (though she wouldn’t call it a parade). Thanks sky, really helpful. 

Worse was when she realised she had company with someone she rather not, once again, it was annoying Mr Adrien Agreste. And now, that confidence that had come out of nowhere during the library failed her, and they remained in awkward silence, though he clearly had a few words for her. Agreste, after a brief inner struggle, walked up to her and opened his mouth. She wasn’t going to like this was she. 

He still was lost for words and for several seconds blubbered like a goldfish, only managing to get out a whispered “hey”, before he finally prepared a script. What was he going to say, it was probably a scathing retaliation for earlier, though, Marinette wasn’t sure her tear ducts had any more fuel, they had been overworked—.

“I’m sorry.”

That was unexpected, what was even more so, was that he continued. 

“I just wanted you to know that I never meant to embarrass you, or tease you, or make you feel sad. I never meant, meant to do any of it. I swear. I’ve never been to school before, I’ve never been able to make many friends, and the one I have was bought into and only likes me for— honestly I don’t know why. To be honest, this all is new to me and I didn’t mean to make you sad, half of the time, I don’t know how I make myself feel. And I don’t say this to make you feel like you have to forgive me or even talk to me again, I just want you to know that I am sorry and that if I make you feel that way again, please tell me and I will do this again, and again.”

Marinette didn’t know how to feel, her heart had slowed and she stared on stupidly. Adrien reached out his umbrella and for a moment she continued to stare unblinkingly, then he clarified. 

“Take it please, Nathalie will escort me home, and according to my book, it— it’s polite?”

Marinette only hesitated for a moment more before grasping the umbrella’s handle, and then holding it aloft. She didn’t know how much longer she stood there, it felt like hours, minutes and seconds all at once, but she stayed, staring into the distance where the sleek car had sped around the corner, carrying away possibly the most confusing person she had met. 

Marinette smiled, she didn’t know when she had started doing that, and she walked down the street to not-quite home, umbrella in hand.