Author's Notes

Characters are aged-up to university students, having battled against Hawkmoth for several years now.

The first chapter is safe humour.

Warning: There will be a significant tone shift to a very dark place that reflects, potentially, such things as: PTSD, anxiety, depression, obsessive behaviours, dissociation, imagined character death, and a whole mélange of emotional disorders that probably cannot be readily classified.

Also, the Maribat and Daminette are parody. For the record, I love Damian Wayne as a character, and "Requiem for Damian" is one of the best short runs I've read. He's just not the character who shows up in most MariBat fan fiction. Nor is Marinette the character with whom he is paired.

Chapter 1

Vomit and an ash tray.

That's what her mouth tastes like.

Concerning, as she doesn't smoke.

And possibly like someone else's vomit because she would never eat something that could come back up tasting this vile.

Jackhammers and fireworks are breaching her skull from both sides, the thundering explosions almost deafening her to her own whine.

Marinette cracks an eye one – just one; it's dangerous outside of her eyelids. The innocently white ceiling of her apartment bedroom stares back, nearby windows letting in a beam of warm golden sunshiny hell that stabs her eyes like a pair of fishhooks, digging in to gut her brain.

Which would be an improvement at this point.

Stomach and head swimming as she nearly retches up whatever actually is in her stomach, she looses a pitiable groan, cut with a gurgle as she holds back from spewing chunks, and oozes her pillow over her head with a shaky hand.

She lays there, possibly in her death throes, hand rising up to her temple and pressing into the soft divot of flesh just behind her eye to either massage out the stabbing agony or crush her skull until her brain leaks out and spares her entirely.

I'm never drinking again.

This she vows, very quietly, inside of her own mind as she slouches her way towards the bathroom, knuckles to her eyes to rub out the crusty gunk as she fumbles out of her Jagged Stone tee-shirt and skinny jeans – stained with a bit of vomit – that she'd thrown on before heading out to a party at Alya's last night.

She looks a mess, hair fumbled and tangled and stinking of – she brings a few strands to her nose – something disgusting but thankfully unidentifiable because she doesn't want to know.

First order of business: get the vomit out of her mouth so she can pound back a trio of Advil and get some proper hydration.

That sounds vaguely like three orders of business, but screw you counting; I have a hangover.

The bathroom is a dimly lit blur, the only illumination pouring in from the doorway behind her, and the semi-darkness gives her eyes time to adjust, blunting the efforts of the psychotic knife-wielding maniac who has been having his way with her brain.

She scoops up her toothbrush, the harsh gurgle in her stomach weakening her legs so that she contemplates pitching over to the toilet to just let go and vomit up all the sick watery feeling, but she swallows. Hand to her sweaty forehead, willing her gut to settle, she splashes cool tap water on her face, easing the throb, and though her digestive track protests, she really needs to scrub out that ugly taste. Maybe that will help her to settle.

Though if she feels this bad...

"'ikki, 'ut 'appen lass 'ight?" Marinette mumbles around the minty toothbrush in her mouth, the relief sending nearly sinful shivers down her spine as that foul taste is wiped clean.

The little red kwami is in the bathroom, Marinette realizes for the first time. Her legs dangle off the edge of the counter as she taps her little nubs together, looking for all the world like – like the Ladybug who had caught the Aphid.

"Well, I'm not going to tell you that you didn't do body-shots off of Adrien's abs."

Marinette takes a moment to process as she horks out a gob of spit and toothpaste, stomach folding over on itself.

"... what?"

"You did body-shots off Adrien's abs. It was kind of hot if you're into that sort of thing."

Do kwami find human beings sexually attractive and if so has Marinette been making several horrible errors in allowing Tikki to stay in the room while she changes?

No matter; there are more important things to freak out about at this juncture.

"What?!" Marinette screeches, regretting it as the wail cracks open her skull and sends rolling soundwaves through her body. She ain't got time to bleed, vomit, or die, however much she might wish to do the latter, though.

A whirl brings her to face her kwami, who flits up and back off the counter, eyes flitting towards the window for a moment for a means of escape, while Marinette brandishes her drippy toothbrush like a prison shiv, flicking a smattering of toothpasty saliva in Tikki's direction.

"It's perfectly natural, Marinette. The boy has nice abs. I mean, they're like mountains that you can climb with your tongue." Tikki shrugs, her little nubby arms rising to the side of her head. "Which you did. Climbed them like mount Everest."

"What the heck is wrong with you, Tikki? Since when do you talk like this?"

Tikki twiddles her nubs as if this is an everyday occurrence. "Oh, I'm just quoting Alya."

Of course the pair would be monsters together.

"When did you speak to Alya?" Marinette shivers and spits out the rest of her toothpaste before rinsing her mouth quickly. "Did I – was there an identity reveal last night?"

Oh, God, how far gone was she last night and if Alya knew did that mean that there had been video footage of her body shots posted on the Ladyblog to accompany a no-doubt Pulitzer prize worthy blog article that unveiled the true identity of Ladybug to the world while also informing the citizenry that the spotted heroine was a frick'n thirty perv who deserved to have her miraculous removed by the Paris police in order to ensure the safety of Adrien's no-doubt tasty abs?

"No." Tikki gestures towards Marinette's cell-phone in the other room. "She sent you a text message using pretty much those exact words."

On rushing over to her bedside table and scooping up her cell phone with trembling hands, a burst of adrenaline giving her the shakes and blunting the throb of her headache for just a moment, she checks her texts.

Foxy Lady: OMG girl. That was the hottest thing that I've ever seen! Foxy Lady: Those abs! That tongue! Foxy Lady: No idea you had such skill. Foxy Lady: Hardcore determination climbing those abs like mount Everest.

*Foxy Lady has attached a file*

It is a video clip.

Dare she open it?

Is she strong enough to resist?

The answer is found in the deep-cut recesses of Adrien Agreste's abs, which are on full display as the shirtless man in question lays splayed out on Nino's sofa.

His eyelids flutter, hiding eyes that are clearly rolling back into his head. Fingers are white-knuckling the cushions.

Marinette herself kneels on a pillow beside the sofa, one hand caressing Adrien's thigh and the other to his chest while she suckles the ridges of his washboard stomach before licking her way up his body to hover over his face. Then, she fumbles for a shot on the floor, downs the drink with a cocky Ladybug flourish, and delves in to bite the wedge of lime stuck between Adrien's teeth, pressing her lips to the pink sweetness of his mouth. Lime juice pours out from their oh-so-sinfully-sloppy half-kiss and she has to suckle it up and then lick away the remnants from his blushing cheeks.

There is no denying that Alya was objectively correct that this debauchery is the hottest thing that Marinette has ever seen.

"Oh, God, Tikki! My life is over!"

"Now, Marinette," Tikki reassures with a tentative pat to Marinette's collarbone, just above the hyperventilating chest. "It's going to be just fine. Adrien really enjoyed himself."

"How do you know that, Tikki?! He probably hates me for forcing myself on him just like Lila and Chloe and all the obsessive stalker fangirls out there so he'll tell his father that I'm a sick freak and I'll get barred from any fashion house and the restraining order will mean that I never get to see him again and the police investigation will reveal that I'm Ladybug so I'll have to abandon my identity and start living off the grid as a homeless person under a bridge in order to keep being Ladybug without putting my family in danger!"

Tikki redirects her attention to a certain detail that, given its prominence, should have been obvious had Marinette not been paying attention to herself in the video clip. A detail that completely short-circuits the disaster spiral.

"Oh. Well." A hand scratches through the greasy hair at the back of her head. "I... That doesn't mean that he wanted me to do what I did. I- I can't take that as ... consent."

A few frustrated taps with her nubs while Marinette holds the cell-phone out in front of the Kwami skips the video ahead by roughly thirty seconds, right to the point that Marinette is preparing another body shot. The sound is active this time when Tikki throws her nubs out to the screen and gestures for Marinette to watch.

Which she does with wide-eyed and opened-mouthed interest.

"Oh- Oh God, Mari!" the model whimper-slurs, abs undulating while he cleaves towards her, shaking hand to her shoulder as he whines in a way that Marinette would probably give up her Miraculous to hear again. This video is getting saved, alright. "I- I get to do you next right? Please! You're killing me!"

Video Marinette is smirking up at him, and there is no hint of hesitation or uncertainty when she makes him shudder for her by tracing a smooth finger down his jawline and throat, ending up on his pec where she swirls over his nipple.

"Sure thing, hot stuff." A dash of salt is pinched into the absolutely abyssal abs of one Adrien Agreste as video Marinette plants her cheek to his sternum to gaze at the rough, mountainous terrain while licking her lips. "Jus' got to earn it first. Be a good boy."

"Jesus, Mari! Please!"

Okay. Even hotter. That is some very... explicit consent. Nothing really explicit, but...

Oh...

Nice drunken alpinism on your mountain-climbing expedition, Marinette's tongue.

As if it scalded her hand, the cell phone ends up buried in Marinette's sheets when she tosses it aside in mingled mortification and other things.

"Please tell me that's all that I did," she groans into her palms, the only balm to her embarrassed wound the realization that Adrien actually enjoyed and consented to that depravity.

"Other than letting Adrien do body shots off your abs too, which are just as nice, by the way?"

Marinette's groan can be heard in the neighbouring apartment.

"There was one other thing."

"I didn't actually... do anything with Adrien, did I?" There's a knife of fear in her gut, ripping out entrails. A body shot is one thing, but if she had done something real with Adrien, lost her first time with him – that she'd dreamed of for nearly a decade in an idiotic drunken stupor...

She'd never forgive herself.

"Oh, no, Marinette! Alya would never let something like that happen! She loves you."

"Thank God!" Marinette sighs, drooping with relief, though she cannot relax just yet. "Then what did I do?"

Tikki simply directs Marinette's attention to the computer by waving a helpless little nub and ... blushing?! Marinette boggles. There is an expression of contrition that she's familiar with that appears whenever Tikki is hiding something but unable to conceal that fact. This look is more... amused-regretful.

Tikki merely flutters over to Marinette's computer, tumbling into the mouse to wake the screen from sleep mode, before settling in to watch as the web-browser appears.

Whatever this is, Marinette needs a drink to face it.

She retrieves cool water and instant coffee – bleh – from the kitchen, along with a packet of saltines that will be good for her stomach before returning to the patiently-waiting Tikki and easing herself down into her desk chair.

An Archive of Our Own?

The Birds and the Ladybugs

by Sewn_Spots

Marinette nearly chews and swallows glass in the midst of taking a sip of water, staring at her own pen-name before glancing down at the summary for a story that she has no recollection of ever plotting out or writing.

Ladybug visits Gotham city on civilian business and finds a kindred spirit in the form of a grown-up Damien Waynne, but she also finds herself falling for the dashing Robin. What's a girl to do when she's torn between two hot guys? Date them both!

Identity shenanigans galore!.

What has drunk Marinette done?

The bitch.

Despite the blazing headache that is attenuated by a few Advil and the tall glass of water that she sips between mouthfuls from her steaming mug of coffee, Marinette sets in to read this... piece out of sheer curiosity regarding the operation of "Drunk Marinette's" mind.

As she scrolls through the story, cringing over some of her obvious grammatical errors and the irrational plot that she excuses herself for because drunk and crack!fic, she actually finds herself laughing.

Apparently, Ladybug was on a trip to Gotham city in order to secure financing for one of her projects. Marie was a sculptor funded by the Wayne family foundation for the arts. While presenting her application for funds, she ran into a grim, brooding, petulant, and ... really murdery Damien Wayne – Was that how the name was spelled? Chat was more into comics than her – and even though Damien treated her like absolute dog-shit because he was a raving sociopathic child solider, the civilian Ladybug swooned all over him.

Her justification in the author's notes was that women liked men who treated them like shit, but had a heart of gold that had to be unlocked from its prison of ice after she "fixed him."

Ugh. Even as a joke in a crack fic, that makes her kind of uncomfortable.

The acrobatic Robin who had grown into that delicious form-fitting costume kind of like Chat Noir (but don't tell him I said that or that I low-key want to bone him and by bone him I don't mean get boned by him but peg him), arced through the air like a tumbling bullet that had been thrown rather than shot from a gun, following a sexy parabola of brooding hotness – just like his dad, who was a total silverfox (rawr!) and his brothers who I might have a foursome with and that was totally fine because they aren't related by blood. He brought his katana down on the akumatized Harley Quinn with a snicker-snack, blood showering both heroes.

Damien was able to feign sufficient social skills after years of observing psychologically undamaged human beings to appear to be contrite. "Sorry Lovebug. Those aren't the bodily fluids I wanted you covered in tonight."

That's actually strangely coherent for being drunk, if totally cringe and dumb despite the uncharacteristic verbose style. Did drunk Marinette have a thesaurus?

"Tikki?" Marinette coughs while taking a drink – never have a beverage on hand when reading a crack fic – sputtering for a moment and pounding on her chest before setting down her glass to glare at her kwami. "How did I write so clearly? I mean, it's a mess, but still mostly coherent."

"Oh, you asked me to beta read it before I posted. There was a lot to clean up, and I also changed Marinette to Marie to protect your identity."

Considerate of the little ratfink.

Friends shouldn't let friends post fan fiction while drunk at all; not just protect their secret identities. Still, is it better or worse that this thing had actually been beta-read?

Marinette returns to the story... such as it is.

A heated sigh bubbled up in Ladybug's throat.

Oh, it's okay, Lovebird!" she exclaimed as she sluiced blood off of her costume. It was already red, so a little blood didn't make much of a difference, and it was like bathing in the essence of Damien's love for her. "This is totally hot and you can lick it up later."

"You know me so well, Lovebug. I love drinking the blood of my enemies!" Damien said in a cheerful brood as he clutched a swooning Ladybug to his meaty chest, the feeling of his abs obvious even through his padded costume, though they were really nothing compared to Adrien Agreste's that Ladybug had always wanted to lick until she'd actually done it and realized that it was better than any fantasy imaginable.

Marinette wobbles in her chair, pressing the cool, smooth surface of her glass to her forehead. This is God-awful, even for crack, and how much had Tikki "betaed" it? A lot and not enough by all indications.

If she knew more about Damian Wayne's character, she might be able to assess it from that angle too, but since she has never read a Batman comic, that was pretty much impossible

She scoffs while Tikki pats her shoulder, nuzzling into the crux of her neck, and scrolls up to delete the story so that it doesn't continue to sully her account. While she has produced some crack fan fiction in the past, she doesn't need garbage polluting her feed.

What will someone think if they see this thing mixed in with her light-hearted stories or the serious, intricately plotted Cybersix fan-fiction featuring complex commentary on the nature of love and the discovery of bisexuality after a lifetime of repression? Oh, the friends-to-lovers and identity shenanigan possibilities in that sadly-short-lived show!

Such works might only get a few dozen kudos at best, but she can be proud of them.

To see just how many of her readers had been sadly exposed to this... LadyBird (?) nonsense, and so that she can respond to any confused comments with sincere apologies, she refreshes the page.

4738 hits.

627 Kudos.

239 bookmarks.

174 comments.

What.

The.

Heck!

She scrolls down to the bottom of the page, needing to see the comments. Did they like the humour? Was that it? How can this get more attention than ... everything? All the plotting; all the clever prose and hard work and attention to details and subtle characterization that she had poured hours into perfecting as she tried her best to explore enduring questions of the human condition...

And her account's Kudo total has quadrupled in one night thanks to a drunk crack fic?!

What the hell is even the point of writing?

Then, she reaches the comments and nearly pitches her glass through the computer monitor as her hands quake with rage.

The coffee mug would follow right through the gaping hole.

Lazercat: I know that this is a crackship, but darn if these two don't actually work great together. More, please! LadyBat Fan: Great dynamic. I stan these dumb teens. Guest: Aww. Damien is such a sulky birdy. Great stuff! Adrien's (new) Mommy: That line about Adrien Agreste's ab!. *Fans Self.* Girl (or guy no judgment lol!), you speak truth. Those are hot! Lockmaker: I don't really like "Ladybird" as a ship name. Maybe using Marie it could be Mariebat? She makes Damian happy, after all! A good girl is all he needs. Leg-o-lass: Nice. Sewing_Spots, any chance of a sin-fic followup where Marie really helps him to really get (off) "merry?" LadyBat Fan: Ooh. I love the ship name "Mariebat!" I'm definitely going to take that one. Need more of this stuff, and I'll write it myself if I have to! Chat's totally going to join Hawkmoth when he gets cucked so Damien Waynne can punch him out!

Delete comment?

Yes.

Yes please.

Foxy_Momma_Bear: Even with the off-the-wall humour, Ladybug's underlying emotional plight is truly staggering. You managed to capture the strain of her responsibilities so palpably. Keep writing!

Okay. Kind.

chatnoircandieinafire: So much better than that fuckwit Chat Noir! So rapey. Can we see some Chat salt? Maybe he watches LB cucking him on a roof and then goes and kills himself?

So much for the happy buzz in the back of her brain. Marinette responds to that comment with a "Screw you, asshole!" and then deletes the original too for good measure. Normally, she strives to be polite to even the most forthright and critical comments, but this damn fool has just pressed the "Kitty Button" that causes Ladybug to bust out and bust ass as only she can.

Everfree: Ladybug in Gotham? I've always head-canoned that she was an orphan who had adopted Paris itself as her "mother," so seeing her getting brought into the batfam? Ugh. My heart can't take that sweetness.

There are innumerable variations on this strange theme of "sweetness" and several assertions that they love seeing Ladybug finally breaking loose and being a little bit selfish, mean, or spiteful to the people who had wronged her. Conversations are spiraling out across her comments section, reviewers cheering the relationship that she created and the genuineness of "Damien's" characterization and interplay with Ladybug.

What the flipping fan-fiction was this nonsense?

Leaning into her computer screen, she clacks away at her keyboard with taloned, rigid fingers, muscles cramping up in her stooped shoulders and searches for the term "Mariebat" and "Ladybird + Ladybug Fan Fiction" on Google. Is her story the first entry?

No.

It has already hit the Reddit Ladybug Fanworks.

In just over four hours, there are around eight-hundred comments on the relevant thread, with the original poster having received over 1000 upvotes and several medals and other awards for introducing the reddit community to this "masterwork."

With the intention of wiping clean this monstrous perversion of her account, she smashes the "back" tab on her browser and opens up the editing feature on her story before an aggrieved warble from Tikki stops her in her tracks. The kwami is rubbing her nubs together in the way she does before shooting down one of Marinette's plans.

"What's wrong, Tikki?"

"I don't think that you should delete the story, Marinette." There is a disapproving glare that reminds Marinette too much of her mother to be anything less than disturbing when its on a little inch-high rubbery face.

"Why would I want to keep it?"

"Well," Tikki begins, settling on the edge of Marinette's keyboard. "It's just that so many people liked it, no matter how you feel about it. You brought some happiness into their lives, maybe brightened someone's day when they really needed it!"

"But what about those ... punks who were bad-mouthing Chat?" A shiver of visceral disgust has the hairs on her neck standing on end. After everything she and her partner had done too, all... all the times that he-

"It's your story and your comment section. You can cut out all the nasty, unfair comments and put in an author's note at the end of the story, asking people to be kind."

"It is my story, Tikki." It's an easy deflection as she grips her keyboard, but the comments are still in her head, resounding, and even squeezing her eyes shut doesn't get the images out as her breathing picks up. The delete story button is right there. So easy. "I have the right to delete it, if I want to."

"Of course, Marinette. I'm not saying that you don't; you do what you think is best. You control your art, but people are saying very kind things about it. Maybe you can just focus on the positives? Check your other stories. I bet that a bunch of your readers are going over to read them too."

The screen shifts over to her Author's statistics page before she scrambles to her gmail account to review the AO3 update announcement she received regarding new Kudo totals.

Dozens.

No. Hundred across a half-dozen of her stories as people migrated from her LadyBird or "MarieBat" story and began to read her less-popular works, flooding them with kudos and comments that were... laudatory.

All these people! They took the time to read and reply, and whether it was a page of in-depth analysis, an extensive observation about all the things the reader loved, or questions that he had, or just a single kind word like "Thanks for writing!" every single one is a precious thing.

It – it's validating and special and beautiful because of the kindness that means everything to someone who still... struggles.

"Is it right for me to be popular for something this... terrible, though?" The comments are still on her mind.

"Well, let's not go crazy, Marinette. You're a good writer, and your other stories deserve to be read, but with this one... People will read it, enjoy it, and then move on. I hope that didn't come across as cruel."

"No, Tikki. I see what you mean. It's more that this story is... a flash in the pan," she sighs as she clicks the "edit story" button on her new ... piece, so that she can clean up some of the lingering grammatical errors. "People can get excited about weird or novel ideas. They'll forget about it soon enough."

Isn't that always the way with her stories, however hard she tries?

Tikki gives her a patented saccharine kwami grin. "I'm sure that things will settle down and you'll get back to normal."

Marinette chooses to believe that.

After all, her power is to reset the world, return everything to a state of stagnant normalcy.

If only that worked for more than the broken bones and smashed buildings.

Marinette forgets one crucial thing in that moment as she rises up from her chair and stretches, polishing off the last of her saltines: the internet.

Ladybug might have a miraculous reset-button, but the internet? The internet is forever; it never forgets.