A/N: I'M BACK! I haven't posted a story update in about...what is it, a year and a little bit now. Life has a habit of getting away from you.

This story came from me playing the game and marathoning every single Miraculous episode in almost one night. To say I'm attached to the characters is a little bit of an understatement. So I decided to write a crossover fic even though these two have nothing in common. Seems logical, right?

It'll be rated T for now, but I will up it if I need to. There will be mentions of violence and death. And even some descriptions that include violence and blood. If you have any kind of aversion to anything like that, you might want to stop reading now. This will also be multi-chapter, I'm currently considering stopping it relatively short because I don't have many ideas after the first few chapters, but if you want me to continue, it might become a bit of a short story.

Anyway, enjoy, hope you feel sufficiently spooked afterwards. And as always make sure to leave a review.

DISCLAIMER: Miraculous Ladybug property belongs solely to Zagtoons and Thomas Astruc. Dead By Daylight is developed by Behaviour Interactive and published by Starbreeze Studios. I own no rights to these properties and this is purely a non-profit fanwork. Please support the official show/game.

1:Luck Be A Lady

"Of all the unfortunate souls that end up here, there is something inexplicably different about her. She seems to be very recent amongst us. And considering how many times we've passed by, whether I had met my fate during the night's hunt or not, she handles these trials as if she has never experienced death at the hands of our captor. Though she appears shaken, she does not at all act as if her surroundings are anything different compared to whatever semblance of normalcy she held before being caged here. Every time I see our murderous hunters pass, I duck down in reflex and notice her petite frame tucked into a corner not that far away. The heavy, frantic footfalls get louder with every step. The hunter passes my hiding spot, yet her saving grace is nothing more than her form huddled behind a short barrier made of splintered planks in front of her. I see it's imposing mass pass not two feet away from her position. All signs, evidence, and rational thinking point toward her being discovered and snatched away like all the rest, to be hung for another sacrifice to the Entity. And yet, the hunter continues by, as if he didn't notice the girl in the now tattered blazer and the bright pink trousers crouched down right in front of him. Barely giving pause to digest the situation, I see her form dart off in the opposite direction, knowing she has even more borrowed time to live off. I do not know her name, or have any recollection of having spoken to her to try and see how she ended up in this infernal realm alongside us. From what my eyes have seen, luck follows her like a guardian angel or some other supernatural force shielding her from harm. Out of all of us, she is by far the luckiest of any survivor here, and her luck is truly nothing short of miraculous." -Benedict Baker's journal, indeterminate date

Marinette was never one to be the overly superstitious type. Even after learning of the existence of millennia old god fairies that grant their master the ability to wield great power. She had her moment of shock and awe, and it never occurred for her to really think about the situation until a few days later when she realized how random it truly was. To live a normal life and then one day have that foundation of normalcy shaken and phenomenally shattered. Magic exists...in some shape or form at the least. Due to the responsibilities that came with being the protector of Paris, it never gave her time to really think of what other unnatural forces exist. Needless to say, she received a reminder of this, a grim and extremely macabre reminder.

Which is how she found herself out in the middle of a forest doubling as an auto wrecker yard. Unscalable walls of smashed car parts and chassis almost fused together, layering the place with labyrinth-like walls. Where she found herself alone with a strange man whom she had no inkling of knowledge about. Usually being out in the middle of the forest with a total stranger would be cause for alarm or end in disaster. In their current surroundings, Marinette found this to be a blessing. Even if she didn't vocalize it. Besides the few people she had seen running around, and knew better to run in the opposite direction from, Marinette found herself with almost no human contact when she found herself cutting through the mist in another dark forest, farm, or oddly enough, an American style suburban block. There were others at the campfire, when she would find herself eventually back at the daylight lit spot that became sanctuary. But the faces would usually only be there once before being replaced by three fresh new ones. She wanted to think her heart didn't slightly break each time she couldn't find the face of another survivor she had remembered, but her heart would never buy it.

Lack of communication aside, her attentions were brought back to the task at hand by the whimper of the man before her. Marinette knew he was trying his absolute best to keep his agony to a low volume, for both of their sakes. The man being well aware that was a near impossibility. The two were not medically trained, however, it didn't take a genius to notice whenever he moved even slightly, a fraction or a hair, the pain that shot through his body made him involuntarily cease up. His only coping mechanism being grunting that temporarily distracted him from the deep red gash in his side. Marinette wasn't sure what could have caused it, considering she had not seen their monstrous killer at all since she woke up in the car graveyard. But looking at it, she could tell it was deep and required immediate attention.

"M-m...M-med-kit." The man managed to stammer out. Part of the reason she had so little contact with the others was due to the language barrier. The 'Entity', what most survivors called the god beast of the sky, and it's realm seemed to attract various people from around the world, sometimes even in different times altogether. French speakers, Marinette found, were very few and far between. Which is why most of the English speakers, if she ran into anyone at all during the trials, were generally hard to deal with. The unfamiliar word made her furrow her eyebrows in confusion. When the man realized she may not have understood, he resorted to non-verbals very quickly, delicately raising his right hand to reveal the red medical tin he held with a white knuckle grip. His meaning was very clearly conveyed now to her.

Gently taking the kit from his hand, she took one look at the vicious gash before trying to think about how she would even begin to tackle in applying aid to the wound. Opening it up, she placed it in front of her, surveying the few resources she had. In a few moments, Marinette realized the kit was something very basic, usually meant for hiking trips or to be kept as a contingency in a car glove box. The limited tools taunted her, but she decided almost immediately she could make due. She had to make due. Reaching for some rubbing alcohol, she showed the small bottle to him. His face fell slightly, eyes large and lips sagging with the feeling of dread in knowing how badly the treatment would sting. It was inevitable, and he knew it very well, giving Marinette a decisive nod with implied permission to start treating him.

Placing a knuckle in his mouth, Marinette poured the bottle in uneven intervals across the gash. The man bit down on his fist and let out several grunts as the liquid started to sizzle and crack. When she thought she had applied enough, she capped the bottle and took a quick look behind her shoulder while the last of his grunts faded into a deep whimper. He tried extremely hard to make the process as soundless as possible, but Marinette still had her sneaking anxieties. She ran enough of these death runs to know that their butchers craved the sound of survivors trampling through the woods. Also aware of how especially delighted it made them if it was accompanied by the human cries of prey they had wounded before. When all sound died out, she turned back to check his side. At the very least...it wouldn't get infected.

Looking back to the kit she placed the alcohol back in and made a grab for the too-small roll of gauze. When she had focused her attention back on the guy, she found a bundle of weeds clenched in his hand in front of her face. Confused by the gesture, she tilted her head around the plants and looked him in the eyes. A moment later of mentally kicking himself, he went back to his charades. Mimicking the motion of rubbing and wrapping the herb against the wound. Marinette had no idea how the plant life factored into healing the wound, but she understood enough from his motions to know he wanted it applied to his cut. Taking the fauna out of his hand, she ripped off a few leaves and held those in her fingers like a rag, dabbing at the wound gently and laying leaf strips across the gash.

"D-Dwight. Fairfield."

His voice surprised her. Understanding his new words just a little better than his last phrase. Dwight, she could only assume was his name, seemed to be trying to strike up conversation. Possibly to take his mind off the wound dressing. Part of her logical side told Marinette to probably try quieting him down instead, mainly to avoid noise that would alert any nearby danger to their location and secondly because she probably wouldn't understand his English anyway. But, her emotional side of actually having contact with a normal human being smashed any objections to letting him talk if he wanted. Her logical capacity being mainly focused on dressing the wound while forming an escape plan that involved her and this new person trying to find an exit while avoiding being detected. Besides, he was speaking in a managed tone anyway.

Continuing to dab at the wound, pausing only to break off a pair of fresh leaves from the herb, she let him speak. English-French language barrier be damned.

"Claude...Claudette told me about these plants. How they can be-" Hissing in the middle of his sentence as her hand holding the leaves hit a sensitive area on the wound. He took a moment before recomposing himself.

"T-they help with the wounds...the plants. She knows more about that stuff than I do." Claudette? Probably another survivor he knew. At least she assumed it sounded like a name. She worked in silence and even he stopped trying to make conversation, opting to glance around at their surroundings, in the event that something tried to sneak up on them. Every so often, Dwight would look down at Marinette attending to his wound and redirect her hands to another spot on the cut. Pointing to what she assumed were better spots for the leaves to be applied.

He looked nervous, anxious. As anxious or nervous one can be in the situation of having to run through ungodly dark places with the fear of death chasing you. But Marinette noticed it was more so how he probably looked naturally. Wide eyes behind thick rimmed glasses, she took the time to notice a few more details about him. Mainly the outfit he sported of a plain white business casual button-up with a striped tie and his brown work slacks. Before his new life here, Marinette could only assume he had probably worked at an office or bank of some kind. Somewhere official, devoid of color and stocked with cubicle from wall to wall.

Even more peculiar than that, he had a certain air about him. As he directed her how to better dress his wound based off experience taught by his botanical friend, it seemed he knew how to work with people. That he inspired feelings in others, the same she had whenever akuma attacks occurred and she was tasked with calming those around her as Marinette. Or that she instilled in civilians as her super persona she adopts to fight said akumas. After this, if they decided to stick together for the rest of the trial, she feels like she could follow his advice. Based off his past experiences and the impression he gives off. That of a natural leader created by fear and a sense of desperate unity.

"Alright. Alright. S-should be good now." His words brought Marinette out of her reverie, him rejecting the leaves by gently pushing her hands away. She got the message he was trying to convey, so she set aside the rest of the herbs, going back to the medical kit and collecting her small roll of gauze again. Slightly unrolling it, she placed it against the now less irritated looking side wound and started the process of bandaging him back up. Not the best medical attention he could get, but hopefully enough to last however long the rest of this hunt would be.

"After we get this wrapped up, I should be good. We should find more generators to fix, I don't think I heard the exit gates power up yet."

She understood very little of what he was trying to say, partially from translation, mainly being focused on finishing the care. Marinette was intent on finishing quickly so they could hopefully move away and possibly contribute something to escaping this night alive. Focused entirely on wrapping the last of the gause, her nerves were steeled, unwavering. All it took to be immediately snatched from that, was the clear chime of a bell behind her. Dwight's expression contorting into pure horror at the realization of what the sounds of a bell meant.

Death approaches.

Marinette's breath hitched. The sudden sound of a violent breeze cemented the uninvited guest's entrance behind her. Still, Marinette threw her head over her right shoulder and saw the motion of a scythe weapon being raised come into focus.

"GO!"

The heightened reflexes that being the heroine of Paris afforded her, she had already transferred from her kneeling position into a sprint before even registering Dwight's exclamation. At the same time Dwight yelled out, he put a hand on her back, pushing Marinette forward. Twisting up from him half-laying on the ground, he assumed the same running stance she had.

Unfortunately, the ambush their hunter had set gave them little time to react. Marinette had been safe from the overhead swing of the weapon. But Dwight had not. As his body passed where Marinette had previously been, the scythe found itself lodged right back into his side. The impact of sharpened bone embedding into flesh rang out in the night, brutally ending the former silence.

Marinette felt Dwight's hand leave her back after his push and heard the hit originally meant for her find it's new unintended target. His scream that met her ear sounded muffled and distant with the new burst of adrenaline coupled with the cold fear that dulled her senses and told every fiber of her being to escape. So she ran off into wooded areas, trees and tall grass passing her view as she charged forward, not looking back. Since her time in this place, Marinette noticed the 'monsters' here were just as fast, if not faster, than the survivors they preyed on. But she could outrun them if and when she had a chance. She would not waste the one given to her.

The forest and walls of crushed car parts blended as she kept up her pace. Gauging how far away she had run was impossible, but Marinette didn't stop until she was certain it had been far enough to keep her safe. Despite being nowhere near the place she and Dwight had been, she could swear she heard the sound of metal piercing flesh. Her brief former friend's scream echoing again through the junkyard. Unnaturally louder this time, as if the scream was right there next to her ear. Dwight had been hooked.

Marinette continued to run, feet impacting the ground in a panic driven rhythm. She had no idea of the distance she put between her and the killer, simply running until she no longer had to remember the scream or the sound of a scythe embedding itself into one's skin. Once her mind introduced the thought that maybe she got away, her body became acutely aware of the stress it was being placed under. Marinette's lungs burned with each ragged breath and the muscles in her legs began to grow strained. She followed the advice naturally given to her and started to slow down from her full blown run into a fast walk and eventually a subdued stroll. Stopping next to a large vehicle tread, meant for something like a bulldozer, she placed her back against the odd shape of the metal and collapsed into a sitting position.

Marinette did not fatigue easily. Part of her athleticism actually factored into her performance as her alter ego. When she transformed, Tikki's magic and the miraculous did augment her strength and speed to superhuman levels, yes. But by no means was she a pushover while not transformed. She didn't play any sports recreationally, nor did she belong to any club sports at her school. But she was athletic enough to a point that fell somewhere underneath the tireless energy of Kim and Alix. Considering she was also petite and small (Barring any objections that she was still growing when her height was brought into question.) it helped.

Ever since she got trapped here and was forced to learn it was a mystical game of deathly hide and seek, she had done nothing but run. Still, she found it hard not to get used to exhausting herself all the time. Chase after chase would slowly wear her down to the point where she'd double over and have to rest for a few moments after evading the monsters chasing her. She was sure some of the others were the same way. Not to imply they weren't physically fit enough to run and evade capture. But most of their hunters were agile, betraying their imposing physical forms that towered over the average person. If a fast person like her was having trouble getting away every time, she could only imagine the trouble other less fit individuals had.

Cat and mouse. What she wouldn't give for her miraculous back with her yo-yo. At least she'd have some way to fight off their murderous stalkers.

Cat.

Marinette's thoughts would often drift back to Paris, whether she was feeling hopeless and needed a reason to continue on or she just needed to shut her mind off. Any concept of time she previously knew got thrown out the window when she came to this place, wherever 'this' was. During the day, she and the other survivors sat around the bonfire, a break from the chaos. At night, they did nothing but run. It felt like days of this cycle, but for all she knew, it was either minutes in Paris or possibly months.

Her thoughts went back to her family, Alya and Nino, everybody from her class. There are also two that she thought of the most that play a major role in her life. She thought a lot about her partner, that silly, pun-loving black cat that took up arms with her on a daily basis to protect Paris. With her stuck here, her imagination run rampant on how Hawkmoth could take advantage of her absence, if he were to find out. She also knew Chat would be absolutely crushed if he discovered his lady had been missing for an entire week without notice. Even a few days might be enough to set off her smitten companion. Marinette didn't want the burden of protecting an entire city to fall on the shoulders of Chat. Though he was a handful at times, they were a team, and separating them would be devastating. They might as well just serve the key to Paris on a silver platter for Hawkmoth while they were at it.

To distract herself from that wicked thought, she focused on Chat instead. Recalling the nights on rooftops of them patrolling, their back-and-forth banter, their laughter. Even remembering one of his worst puns being enough to put a smile back on her stressed face. If he were here right now, she could see him cracking wise back at her mute stalkers, dancing around their weapons and treating them as if they weren't absolutely lethal. Every Time she thought about giving up, her thoughts went to Chat Noir, and she remembered she has a partner, and a city, to get return to.

The second important, and possibly the most important, person she thought about was Adrien. Of course, it was probably really silly to think about her crush so much in a constant life or death struggle like the one she endured currently. But it was possibly the most encouraging thing she had left. When not even the thought of Paris being left unguarded or her best feline friend were enough to distract her, she also thought of the times she had with Adrien. The first time they met in the rain, when he offered to be her personal translator when her great uncle came to visit, when they practiced for the video game tournament. Remembering all the time they spent together led her to realize just how supportive Adrien had really been about her. His compliments played on-loop in her head like a vinyl record. If there was ever a time Marinette felt herself about to give up completely, she heard the soft tone of Adrien's voice willing her to keep fighting. After all, if Adrien believed she was determined enough, a disfigured chainsaw massacre wanna-be was nothing to her.

Allowing herself that time to rest, Marinette's breathing was in control and she felt ready to get moving again. Slowly trying to get her mind in order, she tried to put the memory of Dwight behind her. The guilt of not being able to help him trying to cloud her mind. She could only hope that his face would be one of the few she'd see back at the bonfire the next morning. Bracing herself to stand again, the shrill sounds of a bell rang out. Not in the distance, the sounds came from right behind her. Her now shallow breaths got caught in her throat as it tightened in response.

Pressing herself gently against the treads, she tried to make her form as small as possible. After the bell chimes fell away, she could hear the strained growls that accompanied 'The Wraith' as they called him. It seemed as if the growling came from above her, but she had absolutely no idea where the Wraith was standing. She wanted to peek over her hiding spot to try and get at least somewhat of an idea, no matter how much logic screamed at her to stay still and hope and pray it would get bored and leave. Placing a hand against the metal to steady herself, her head rose carefully over the top of the treads. Her sight was immediately met with the bandaged legs and shawl covered back of the predator in question.

Quickly she ducked back down, trying to muffle the squeak of fear she let out upon discovering just how close he was to finding her. The growling rolled to a stop before turning into a straight steady tone. Marinette's inwardly cursed as her mind reeled trying to think of an escape. The Wraith now in high alert did nothing but add to her internal panic. It's growls now sounded like it was behind her. She assumed the Wraith heard her squeal and was now moving around the opposite end of the treads to verify it had another helpless survivor to sacrifice. Marinette gingerly lifted one of her feet and began a crouch walk in the opposite direction. Ready to play a twisted high stakes game of extremely careful Ring Around the Rosie. Focusing her sight on the ground, her feet landed soundlessly on solid dirt each time, trying to avoid grass or patches of mud that would create even the smallest sound. Any more noise would be a death sentence.

Bracing herself with a hand against the side of the tread, she was almost past the corner at the opposite end the Wraith would be. The steady growl increasing in volume as she stepped further away. All she had to do was go around the side and quietly sneak off while her hunter continued searching for the source of her impromptu noise. She only had to stay low, and avoid rustling any weeds with a misplaced step. Glancing over her shoulder, she took her eyes off where she was placing her steps, and in just one second, her usual good fortune betrayed her. The bottom of her pink flat finding a tiny branch and snapping into it with a silence amplified crack. Her body completely froze in realization, a cold chill creeped through her veins at the snapping sound. Even the Wraith's growls stopped completely the second it heard her mistake. A branch breaking in half is usually very mundane, but against the backdrop of the abandoned junkyard, it might as well have been thunder in the sky.

In that next moment, the sound of the Wraith's growls evolved into a snarl and Marinette's reflexes sent her into a desperate sprint away from the scene. Running on adrenaline, Marinette tried very carefully to maintain a speed that could outpace her pursuer while making sure the small rocks and tree branches scattered about wouldn't cause another 'clumsy' incident of hers. She knew tripping now would mean certain death, which she wanted to prevent at all cost.

Nature gave way to walls of condensed scrap and former cars, almost labyrinth like but contained window like gaps at random intervals. Marinette vaulted through a few of the gaps and sprinted off again in a random direction she at least knew was away from the bandaged spectre chasing her. Along the way, she pulled over as many loose scrap parts off the walls as she could at narrow choke points, an attempt at creating improvised blockades that she hoped would deter or stop it. When she could no longer hear the snarling of the 'beast' behind her, she skid her run to a stop. Breathing heavily and trying to get her bearings on where exactly she was.

There were still a few walls of car parts around, but placed so far away that the area wasn't a closed box. It was rather open, and with limited patches of tall grass or corners to hide in. If she stayed any longer here, she knew for certain the Wraith would have no problem finding her again. While thinking of the thing she so desperately wanted to be rid of the sounds of low growls were slowly coming back from behind her.

'Damn!'

Surveying the area again, her eyes rested on a bright red closet not too far away set against one of the scrap walls. Marinette noticed these tall red cabinets were a staple of whatever location they were dumped in for another night's hunt. There were plenty of these person sized lockers placed against walls and all around the forests she ran through. Marinette assumed this was the work of this 'Entity' she kept hearing so much about. It was offering them another outlet to use to outsmart it's bloodthirsty servants, but Marinette guessed the god monster only placed them to add to the sick sadistic theme of hide and seek it seemed to adore.

The growls got even louder and Marinette made her choice of caving in and using the cabinet instead of standing there and preparing to be carved up by the bone scythe her hunter was using. She had to rely on her luck again that the Wraith would be fooled into thinking she had run off instead of hiding. Considering recent events, her faith that luck would hold out was running dangerously low.

Dashing over to the bright red cabinet, she gripped the handle and threw the door open, trying to go just slow enough to avoid the creaking unoiled joints that would give her away. Without looking, she shoved herself into the locker, shutting the same panel she opened. Expecting to hit the wooden back of the closet, she was surprised to find her shoulder met the solid form of another body.

"Wha-!"

Managing to suppress another high-pitched sound this time, she immediately jumped away, back hitting familiar wooden material as she squished herself against one of the sides of the cabinet.

"Who is that!"

The distinctly human voice came out as a hushed hiss of a whisper. Whoever it was hiding in here became quickly annoyed at the concept of having to now share their only safety.

"Shh~"

"Who are you?"

"Be-"

Marinette tried to silence her unexpected neighbor in the same hushed, hostile tone. But she caught herself when she noticed the person speaking was using the French language. It wasn't uncommon to find foreign survivors who fell to the same fate as her of being trapped in this world, but the voice that spoke this language was someone she recognized. The same voice she would replay over in her head to inspire her, keep her going in her darkest moments. Her next word came out slightly curious, slightly choked.

"A-Adrien?"

She couldn't see much in the dark enclosed space, but she saw the boy's stance shift slightly. Hearing the material of his clothes rub against the walls of the closet as she saw a head lean forward. Moonlight fell through the slits on the small window across her neighbor, revealing slightly messy blond hair and piercing green eyes that she would know from anywhere.

"Marinette?"