He was her greatest enemy. But what could be expected from someone of his status? She loved fashion, but the industry was full of arrogant, self-absorbed, cut-throat, downright petty people.
Such as one Adrien Agreste.
Ever since the day he put gum on her seat some eight years ago, the day he came to class as Chloe's best friend, they were enemies. And he'd grown into this… this… Ugh!
IMBICILE!
"Someone's on a rampage," someone purred behind her.
She spun on her heel, grinning at the sight of her white clad partner. "Nothing that I can't handle, kitty."
He hummed. "I know, but Miss Fortune usually likes keeping a spotless reputation. And I'm more than happy to do a bit of dirty work."
She made a show of pouting. "But I hate that it means you'll soil your suit." She scratched under his chin, a smile curling on his lips as he leaned into it. "White shows everything."
"Cat's bathe themselves for a reason, missy," he said, his voice distorted by a literal purr. "And we all know it's the ones that look pure that you have to watch out for."
She hummed her agreement as she moved from his chin to his ear.
"What are we hitting to—YES, right there!"
"Hear?" she said, putting pressure on the cat ear.
"Yes," he purred out, melting into his touch.
"You didn't cat-ch my pun."
"It's because puns are a terrible form of humor."
"You broke them out today."
"Because you love them and you're the only person I live to please."
She grinned, letting her hand fall from his head to knock his bell, getting a tickling ring from it.
He proudly lifted his chin as if to show off the silver bell.
She giggled, ringing it a few more times. "I know the purr-fect spot."
"Lead the way, missy."
He loved when she tore apart a Gabriel store. When she slashed his own face, the one that littered the ads all over the store, with a vengeance, not so much. But destroying the thing his father worked so hard to build.
It brought a twisted sense of satisfaction.
A crook hooked around his neck, choking him for a moment, forcing him to spin and crash to his knees.
Oh, but the backlash was so, so painful.
A black gloved hand grabbed his chin and lifted it high to face purple eyes.
"You really think your little stunt tonight would go unpunished?"
"I have to keep her trust somehow."
The man hummed then yanked Chat's jaw towards the ground. Before he could recover form that, the crook of his cane came down on his head hard enough to make a knot that would linger for the next couple days.
"She's wrapped around your finger," the man said. "She's playing right out of your hands. I want her earrings, and I want them now."
"Patience," Chat Blanc pleaded.
"No, you see, I've been patient long enough." The cane crashed into his chest, knocking him out on his back so black hands could grab the silver bell at his suit and yank it tight. "You forget who put this bell on you," Hawkmoth warned.
"I'll get you the earrings," Chat said.
"And the broach she stole from me."
"That will take longer," he panted.
"You listen to me, boy," Hawkmoth growled. He used his cane to snatch Chat's hand from the ground, grabbing it tight and pinching a pressure point. Chat cried out but couldn't rip his hand free. "You know why you have this ring?"
He nodded. "You worked really hard to get it for me."
"Precisely. And do you know why I have to be transformed when you go out?"
"To give me more power."
"Precisely," he said, forcing Chat's fist open and grabbing the ring. "And do you know what's going to happen if you use your power to destroy my store again?"
The ring was slowly being pulled from his finger, his transformation partially fading back into his failure self. "Yes. Yes. I know. I know. Please."
His father replaced the ring, allowing Chat Blanc to remain. "I want the location of the broach within the next few days. Am I clear?"
His heart was pounding. "Yes, father."
She entered her room, and the first thing that she noticed were the feathers. Three of them. Her calling card.
"So, you trashed a store," Peon said in her monotone voice. "Very nice. But Chat's going to start noticing you don't touch the DC line."
"He's too busy wrecking the store anyway."
Peon hummed dismissively. "Nevertheless, no matter how many stores you trash, I'll still be short a broach and a ring."
"I'm not any closer."
"I know."
Miss Fortune cringed.
Peon sauntered towards Marinette with a walk that would make any model jealous. "I don't care how you get that information," she purred out. "I don't care if you pounce that poor cat and give him the only thing he wants from you."
She almost said 'That's a lie,' but she bit her lip before she could challenge her boss.
But Peon was preceptive. "Men," she began, "always have an endgame when it comes to toying with women. I wouldn't expect you at your age to realize it, but let me make it clear for you." Roughly, she lifted Miss fortune's chin so as to lock eyes with her. "Men seek sex. They'll play the cat and mouse game if they know they can win. And he's showing the classic signs of it." She left go of Miss Fortune's chin and started circling her. "The flirting, constantly. The way he fawns over you, lets you lead, making you believe you're in charge. It's all so that you fall into his hands. Mark my words. Your cat, as you so affectionately call him, wants your body. It's not because you have a sparking personality or anything."
Miss Fortune's gaze fell to the ground.
"So that being said, now that you know what he wants, you have all the power in the world to use it against him. I want that ring, I want that broach, and you can get them for me. Am I clear?"
She swallowed.
Peon cooed, a smirk curling up on her lips. "The truth can be so bitter, can't it?"
Miss fortune lifted her gaze to Peon's.
"I am still waiting for an answer. Will you get me those two things?"
Miss Fortune nodded. "Yes."
"Good," she purred. "Because next time, I'll have to enlist some consequences. And neither of us would want that, would we?"
She shook her head.
"Then I'll come back for a progress check. I'm feeling generous, so I'll give you a week. Am I clear?"
"Yes, madam."
"Good. Gabriel wouldn't want to lose the designer of the DC line, would he?"
Miss Fortune's gaze hit the ground as her master literally flew out the window.
Adrien had just about had it with Marinette. No matter that she was his father's favorite designer, she was the rudest, most judgmental person he'd ever met in his life.
No wonder his father favored her. She was just like him.
She picked him with a pin for the fifth time today, and he knew it wasn't accidental.
But it was the sixth one that made him snap.
He flicked his hand out, smacking her nose in the process. "Are you always this clumsy?" he snapped.
She glared up at him. "If you just stood still—"
"I stood still?"
Her nose scrunched up at him in a sneer. "Yes. You're the model, right."
"And you're the professional designer." He scoffed. "What am I saying? You're just the rude, arrogant wreck that my dad picked to manipulate. You're pretty; you'll sell. Like you have an ounce of talent when I can see my dad's flare is all over the line that 'you' supposedly sell."
Her brow furrowed deeper. He smirked. "Oh? Hit a sore spot? Truth stings, doesn't it? You'll never be as good as my father. You're just his puppet."
In a flash, pain engulfed his left cheek. He stumbled off his perch, collapsing to the ground while his brain caught up with the fact she'd just slugged him.
"Stop it." She said, her voice warbling with tears. "You know nothing about me."
She left before he could force his stunned mind to even formulate an answer to that.
His father wasn't up for transforming tonight. So he was out on the rooftop, his suit blacker than the night. It was odd, so very odd. He felt different. Not quite powerful. No quite liberated. Rebellious. That was the best term for it. Rebellious.
His ever-sharp hearing picked up the familiar pat of his partner landing on the roof behind him. He didn't want to turn around. He was weak and vulnerable and shamed. But at the same time maybe he did. Maybe he wanted to see her face when she learned what he really looked like without the butterfly spell on him. Maybe—
"Kitty?"
He turned around, only for his jaw to drop. She was different. Her suit was now bright red and filled with large black spots instead of her normal black speckled with little blue dots. "Missy?"
Slowly, hesitantly, with a fear he'd never seen in her before, she came up and sat down beside him, only to curl her knees up to her chin and hug them close.
"Something's wrong," he observed quietly.
"You too," she pointed out.
They stayed in silence for a while longer.
"Does it have to do with the bruise on your cheek?"
Chat turned to see his little miss looking at him from the corner of her eye. He sagged forward. "Maybe a bit. There's… there's a girl that I don't really get along with at my job, but… she's never hit me. It was kinda…"
"A slap to the face?"
He looked over to see just the hint of a smile picking at her lips. "Yeah," he huffed, slightly amused. "You could say that. But what brings you out here, out of suit?"
She paused for the longest time that he almost thought she wasn't going to answer. "I need help."
Her confession was so quiet, so airy, he almost missed it. Instead, his stomach tightened and every nerve stood on end as he scooted closer. "What's wrong?"
She took a shaky breath, and Chat immediate pulled her close because if she started crying, he wasn't going to be able to stop them, and her tears hurt. "Peon hates me."
"Who?"
"The woman who give me stronger power in return for taking your miraculous."
He blinked. "W…what?"
She sniffed and the tears poured down before she stopped them. "I don't want to!" she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I don't want to. You're the only person who actually says nice things to me. You never hurt me. I can always trust you and I know you don't just want to sleep with me like Peon says… right?"
His chest constricted. "NO!" he said, taking her cheeks in his hands. "Why would you even think that?"
"Because… because she's right so often. A-a-and she said that… that you just want to use me because that's all I'm good for and—"
"You listen here, Missy," he said, stopping her rant. "Any guy who just wants you for your body is a terrible human being. I'd never use you like that. Ever. You have my word."
She whipped the tears from her eyes. "Really?"
"Really," he assured.
"Even though I don't have any personality?"
"Who the hell told you that?" he demanded.
Her silence spoke volumes.
He sighed, then reached over to grab her hand. "You're a good friend to talk to. To me, that counts for a lot."
She rubbed her eyes, then hesitantly reached out to touch his bruised cheek. He let his eyes drift shut and leaned into her touch as her fingers slowly drifted down his neck and tapped his bell. It made a different sound now. Instead of a jingle, it let out a light sound, one barely noticeable, like an actual cat's bell.
"You've changed, too."
"I'm out here without my father's power."
Her brow furrowed. "Y… your father?"
"He has a miraculous gem, too," Chat explained. "He uses it to enhance my power."
Her fingers then rose to his chin, forcing it up to the sky. He submitted to her touch easily, allowing her to guide his head backwards though he hadn't the slightest clue why.
Until she pulled his collar away from his neck and ran her fingers across the bruise that was forming.
"He has this cane," Chat explained, his voice hoarse. "He got mad that I didn't grab your earrings during our last outing."
She removed her hands from him, allowing his head to fall back into a normal position. When he met her eyes, they were glassy and fear stood behind them. Still, she swallowed, and suddenly, her transformation vanished in a flash of pink light.
Leaving the girl he hated more than anything in the world in her wake.
"Hi," she said, her voice weak and her bottom lip quivering nervously. "My name's Marinette. And I need help."
He stared at her until tears formed in her eyes again. He barely registered that she had pulled her hand away and was shying away from him. "I know you'd hate me. I'm sorry. I'll just—"
He grabbed her hand and forced her back down to his side. "Don't leave me," he begged. "Please, because…" With a sigh, he dropped his transformation, revealing himself to her. "Because my name's Adrien. And I need help, too."
She stared blankly at him, likely feeling the same way he did. Shock, horror, embarrassment.
After a while, she swallowed. "This is…"
"Odd?"
She nodded.
A pause slipped between them, during which Adrien realized she had yet to pull her hand away.
"I still don't like you," she said. "But I need my partner."
"And I need you," he agreed. "No one else knows what I'm going through."
"Can we work this out?"
He squeezed her hand, and the strength that passed between them was almost palpable. "Yeah. I think we can."
A/N: This is a PSA that if you are experiencing any sort of abuse like this, then please find help. Whether physical, emotional, mental, or even sexual, abusers have many ways to manipulate and control people. If you need help, there are resources out there. This has been a brief PSA from someone who has escaped emotional and mental abuse and manipulation.