Heyyyy

So you know how I said updates would be fairly frequent?

Lolololololol

I lied.

This happened to be one of the chapters I had not completed, and I had some major writers block on it cause actions scenes aren't really my thing. (This is the fist one I've ever written actually. Feel free to tell me how I did.) Editing was also pretty difficult as I don't have a beta. So between all that and school, I have no idea how long updates will take, but I will be sure to get them up as soon as possible. And I also promise that this story will not be abandoned, it is my child.

Anywho, thanks to those who reviewed! It really helped to push me to get this done.


Adrien stubbornly sank his teeth into his lip, determined to stifle the cry of pain that threatened to escape. A simple pin prick would be nothing to Chat Noir, and he decided it would be nothing to Adrien either. Still, he couldn't say he'd mind it if the seamstress would pay a little more attention to where the sharp bits were pointed. She was understandably nervous, working for Gabriel Agreste was nothing to take lightly, of course, but she'd been around for years. Anniversary or not, she needed to relax. For both their sakes. He winced when she shifted the sleeve and the pin sunk deeper. Seriously, how did she not notice? He didn't dare speak with the other seamstresses in the room, she'd be humiliated- and oh god, he was bleeding, wasn't he? He quickly glanced to the ceiling, trying to focus on the elegant architecture. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts. He supposed he should be grateful his father hadn't allowed the interns to have any part in his fittings; there was no room for errors after all. and while Adrien was fond of many of the newbies he'd become acquainted with, there were certainly downsides to being their guinea pigs.

"Alright, Mr. Agreste," the young woman spoke suddenly and Adrien discreetly rolled his eyes. He wished his father hadn't insisted they call him that. "You may remove it, and take a break while I correct the sleeve."

"Thanks. Um, could you pull the pin on my shoulder out?" he spoke softly as possible. 'It's, uh, kinda stuck in my skin."

The woman's grey eyes widened in horror, quickly moving to remove the offending object, and he pointedly ignored the red stain on the fabrique. "Mon Dieu! Why didn't you tell me?" her hand subconsciously fiddled with the pin cushion around her wrist.

The boy smiled sheepishly as the others looked their way curiously. So much for subtlety. He shrugged off the black blazer carefully, draping it over his arm. "It wasn't a big deal. Thanks, Miriam."

She took the jacket from him gingerly, letting out a sigh. "You've taken everything so well, these last few days. Any other boy I know would certainly have gone insane. Your father will be proud."

Adrien flashed her his signature model smile. "That's the hope, isn't it?"


"Moping about it isn't going to make him appear, Mari." Alya nudged her friend gently.

"I can try," the bluenette mumbled from her face down position on their shared desk. "He's been gone for days."

Alya placed a reassuring hand on her friend's shoulder. "Come on. It's Adrien. He'd be here if he could, and he'll come back as soon as he can."

Marinette's head perked up. "That's just it! There's nothing on his schedule that would keep him away this long! What if something happened to him? What if he's hurt?" she stared at her friend in horror. "What if he...died?"

God give me strength. "Girl, if anything happened to the son Gabriel freaking Agreste, it'd be all over the news. We'd know about it."

Marinette's eyes grew in realisation. "Oh my gosh, Alya, you're right!"

"Aren't I always?"

The bluenette carried on, seamlessly ignoring her friend's input. "The Gabriel Agreste anniversary celebration is tonight! That's why he's been gone! Preparations for the show. Why didn't I think of that?" she let out a happy squeal. "He's not dead!"

"Marinette! Alya!" Mme. Bustier scolded. "I would appreciate it if you postponed your conversation until after my lesson."

Marinette slunk in her seat, face flaring in realization. Their conversation had apparently not been as private as she'd thought. Nino smirked knowingly. Great. Now he's gonna tell Adrien I'm a creep.

She turned her focus to her tablet, feeling the heat in her face slowly recede. Today could not get any worse.


"B-but, sir! I can fix it! It's a tiny error "

Gabriel glowered down at the woman. "There is blood, my son's blood staining the sleeve! It's completely unfit for the showcase."

She wrung her hands desperately. "I'm so sorry, sir. It was an accident. But I do have expertise in removing stains of all kinds. Please, just let me-"

"No," the man barked. "I don't believe we have anymore need for your services. You are dismissed."

"I'm...fired?" she asked in disbelief.

"If you wish to phrase it that way, yes."

"But I've been with you for years! You promised me recognition tonight!"

Mr. Agreste briefly glanced up from his desk, the white, stained shirt laying before him. "It is a shame," he agreed. "You showed such potential."

Miriam froze, feeling a lifetime's worth of dreams crumble to dust and pile at her feet. "Sir, if this is about what Elizabeth told you, I can assure you-"

"Goodbye, Ms. Dumont," he spoke in clear dismissal. "I hope you find successful employment elsewhere."

She backed up slowly, her hand finding the knob of the office door. Her eyes blurred with tears. Everything she had sweat over, cried over and bled over for years was gone in an instant.

But she would not be the only one losing everything. She would see to that.


Marinette had arrived back at school remarkably early, and she had to admit it was pleasant to be able to relax. The steps outside the building had warmed nicely in the sun, and made a perfect spot to spend the last ten minutes of her lunch break. The breeze gently toyed with her hair, sending friendly little tingles up her spin. Spring was certainly in a rush this year.

She let her bag slide off her arm, humming as she unzipped it and retrieved the sketchbook inside. She flipped it open and grinned fondly at her newest creation. The red velvet she'd happened upon last night was going to be perfect, and it had been on sale! Now all she needed was the lace. To her great agitation however, her fabrique store of choice had only carried white and purple. She was going to have to go across town to get black, and that meant she'd have to be accompanied by a parent or Ayla. she groaned dejectedly. Catching any of them when they were free long enough was going to be a challenge. How was she going to get it in time?

A scream rang through the streets, tearing the girl away from her work.

She leapt to her feet, quickly dropping her sketchbook into her bag and zipping it closed. "Did you hear that, Tikki?"

The excited wiggling in her clutch insured her that the kwami, in fact, had.

Marinette grinned as she clicked open her purse. "Tikki, spots on!"


Ladybug did not fear needles.

She never flinched at the doctors while receiving shots, and it failed to alarm her when she accidently stepped on one, lone and forgotten on her floor. She'd pulled countless pins and from her bare feet over the years, but her deep love of sewing had successfully kept any phobia at bay.

Yes, no one could deny that Marinette Dupain-Cheng had absolutely no fear of needles.

But when they were three feet long and as thick as her thumb, Ladybug supposed she could make an exception.

She cried out in alarm when another one whizzed by her ear, narrowly missing her. Where on earth was Chat Noir? She somersaulted away from the akuma, The Seamstress, as she called herself, and desperately tried to think of a plan. The akuma seemed to be pure anger, without rhyme or rhythm. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out what her motive was. Her needles were no doubt fatal, judging by the way they lodged unforgivingly in whatever they landed in. She had to keep her contained and distracted; the cost would be far too high if she managed to branch out into the city. She didn't even think her magic would to be able to undo death. But luck was on her side, and she'd managed to lead the villain to a secluded parking lot, free from bystanders.

Pin after pin and needle after needle shot relentlessly from the Seamstress' pin cushion bracelet. Her eyes seemed somewhat bloodshot behind their swirly masquerade mask, and her brown hair was frazzled. But the emerald, floor length dress she wore was stunning, and even as Ladybug ran for her life, she couldn't help but appreciate the quality. Gold embroidery adorned the skirt, and the sheer, draping black sleeves. It looked like it had walked right out of a fairy tale and onto the wicked witch. It was honestly a bit unsettling.

"My skills are unmatched," she screeched at the heroine. "Tonight would have been the night my whole life has led up to. He took it from me!"

Ladybug catapulted herself onto a street light. "Who took what from you?"

"Gabriel Agreste! He took everything!"

She gripped the pole a little tighter. If Gabriel was the target, there was a sickeningly high chance Adrien would be caught in the crossfire. Ladybug swallowed. This was one akuma she refused to let anywhere near him. She would not lose him forever.

"There are other ways to handle disappointment, Seamstress! I know whatever he did must hurt deeply, but you don't need to go hurting others!"

The woman simply shrieked, holding a hand adorned with ridiculously long nails into the air. Blood began to drip down her fingers and pool in her palm. She flung the liquid onto the asphalt below her, where it instantly dried, leaving a bright red stain. "I'll ruin his showcase, and then I'll end him!"
Ladybug leapt back to the ground, sprinting across the parking lot. Blood splashing at her feet and needles whizzing past her ears. Today was going to be a long day.


For the most part, the fittings had gone smoothly, Adrien mused. One of the assistants had even been kind enough to switch on his TV so he wasn't too mind numbingly bored. It was turned to some comedy show that was a bit off color, but he couldn't find it in himself to complain. Plagg had certainly enjoyed it, from his place hidden amongst couch cushions. It was too quiet for any of the workers to recognise, but he'd know the kwami's snicker anywhere.

The main character blurted out another dick joke, and the women adjusting a pair of his pants dropped them in exasperation. "Can we please change the channel?"

Adrien quickly coughed over the distinct mutter of "buzzkill" coming from a couch pillow.

The assistant nodded, swiftly making her way to the remote and punching on the buttons. The screen switched to a news broadcast. A nervous anchorwoman chattered into her microphone.

"-and Ladybug has ordered all civilians to remain indoors. With still no sign of Chat Noir, she does not know how long it will take to purify this victim."

Adrien froze. An akuma? Now? Just his luck. How on earth was he going to slip away? He turned his focus intently on the screen.
It had changed to footage of the fight, Ladybug swinging from building to building, dodging what looked like spears maybe? The akuma was close behind, continuing to fire her weapon in all directions. Her dress was lovely, but only half finished. Needles magically weaved their way in and out of the bottom hem, but made no progress in completing it. She seemed familiar for sure, even with her bizarre screeches and mask. Her red hair tore around in the wind, somehow reminding him of a neat ponytail, and a prick in his shoulder. He paled. She never had returned after lunch…
He froze, Ladybug's cries telling the reporters to leave the area was suddenly nothing more than background noise

Miriam.


Ladybug was on her last leg when he was finally able to come to her aid. She was bruised and bleeding, and he didn't even try to swallow the guilt swelling in his chest.

The Seamstress stood over her kneeling form menacingly, snarling threats that Chat couldn't quite make out. But he didn't need to. He'd be damned if she laid another finger on his lady.
He all but ripped his baton from his back, rapidly extending it. It left his hand with power he didn't know he possessed and hit its mark, slamming into the akuma's temple. She tumbled over with a shriek, and Chat seized the opportunity. Racing forward, he scooped his partner off the stained asphalt and swiftly leapt to hide behind a nearby dumpster. He sat down gently, refusing to let her slide off his lap. Ladybug winced at every shift of weight, and his guilt spiked, firmly rooting him in place.

"I'm so, so sorry, my lady," he muttered into her hair. "I couldn't get away-"

She weakly rolled away, stumbling to her feet. "There's no time for that, Chat. This akuma...she's deadly. We can't let her out of our sight."

Chat tilted his head. "Can you fix any damage with your cure?"

She shook her head, quietly yanking a forgotten needle from the side of the dumpster and cradling it in her palms. Chat gulped.

"These things, they don't cast a hate spell on you, they don't zap you to a photo dimension or turn you into robot loot, they destroy."

"But you were able to restore everyone who was touched by Timebreaker," he argued. "They were technically dead."

"No, I didn't. I only took everything back to the original timeline. Anyone who was touched by Timebreaker stayed frozen," she paused. "Even you."

Chat stared. He had never completely understood what happened that day, his only conclusion being that Hawkmoth was a giant dick.
"Come again?"

She groaned, checking to make sure the current akuma was still nearby looking for them. "It was like a video game. You know, like when you die, you go back to your last save, and the timeline you died in disappears."

That...actually made sense.

"And the game isn't saved this time?"

She tightened her jaw. "No. It's not."

"Alright. So what's the plan?"

Ladybug stiffened. "She's not the easiest person to chat with, but from what I gather, she's angry at Gabriel Agreste and headed to the-,"

"Carrousel du Louvre." Chat ended for her, feeling slightly sick.

She stared at him curiously. "Yeah. How did you know?"

He let out a nervous chuckle. "Oh, everyone who's anyone knows he's got that big show there tonight."

Lady nodded. "Yeah. So right now, the plan is to keep her contained at all costs, and hopefully find her object."
He gave her a weak grin. "You got it." He rose to his feet, preparing to jump into the fight.
She grabbed his arm. "Hey, Chat?"
He turned, momentarily surprised by the sudden emotion in her gaze. "Yeah?"
"Don't take the hit for me this time around."


It was official. He was going to kill his father.

His lady had been right, their current opponent was not much of a conversationalist, but one thing was certain. She had been fired, and as he remembered the pinch in his bicep, he had a pretty good idea as to why.

He had seen the stain, but it had seemed so unimportant that Adrien had allowed it to completely slip his mind. It wasn't anything a little Oxiclean couldn't fix.

He growled as he leapt to dodge the splash of blood aimed at his face. His father was so unreasonable. Anniversary or not, there absolutely no need to ruin the poor girl's life. Hell, they could have gone to the department store down the street and gotten a replacement shirt, a little steam and no one would be able to tell the difference. It was such an insignificant issue. Something that could have easily been overlooked. His father had often told him that showing any sort of weakness just gave people an invitation to walk all over you. Adrien had personally seen such a perspective as idiotic.

It was Gabriel's fault that Ladybug was hunched over on the concrete, spitting out blood. Whether if it was her own, or fired at her by the Seamstress however, Chat was uncertain. But he knew he had to get her out of there, he didn't care what the cost. He dove down to her, twirling baton deflecting the aerial attacks. "Hang in there, Ladybug. We'll figure something out." he tried to keep the strain out of his voice.

"I have to use my Lucky Charm!"

"What? No, you can't! There's no way for your kwami to recharge if it doesn't work."

"What other choice do we have, Chat? We can't keep her contained forever. We're both lagging, and we can't afford any wrong moves…," her voice faded, eyes widened in horror.

Chat paused, listening. No more projectiles hit his makeshift shield. He stopped twirling it, but was too afraid to turn around.

"Chat, she's gone!"


She lead the way in front of him, flinging her yoyo from chimney to chimney with strength Chat Noir was surprised she still had. He followed diligently, eyes scanning for any sign of the villain. Some dark part of his mind reasoned that perhaps this was exactly what Gabriel deserved.
He brushed away the thought. He was a hero, and everyone deserved salvation and a second chance.

Even pricks like his father.

Ladybug was visibly anxious, and he was certain it was clouding her judgment. Her head rapidly whipped back and forth, hardly paying attention to where her spotted weapon latched onto. Chat was impressed she hadn't slipped.

"There!" she cried suddenly, landing on a nearby rooftop, pointing down in an alleyway. He plopped beside her.

The Seamstress marched obliviously below them, and no pins flew from her hands. She was still on a warpath but she seemed calmer somehow. She'd lost some of her frantic twitching, and simply muttered angrily to herself.

"...she told lies. She made a fool out of me. She told Mr. Agreste. He was just waiting to get rid of me… I'll show her. I'll show him. I'll show him what he missed out on!"

Chat crouched, preparing an attack, only to pause when Ladybug held up her finger. "Wait," she whispered, "We still don't know where her akuma is. This could be our only chance to observe her."

Her partner shook his head. "We don't need to. Isn't it obvious? It's her pincushion."

Ladybug chewed her lip. "I considered that. But we only have one shot at this. How do we know for sure?"

Of course, Chat knew exactly how. No other garments adorning the akuma had been present on her pre-transformation. But that information was pretty much useless if he wanted to keep his identity to himself.

"Trust me on this. Have I ever steered you wrong?"

It was obvious she wanted to trust him, but fear held her in place. "Are you absolutely sure?"
He tried to stuff as much certainty in his voice as he could, giving her an even stare. "Yes."

She nodded stiffly. "Lucky Charm!"

Chat winced when the akuma looked their way again at her shout, fury returning at full force. A butterfly silhouette hovering in front of her face.

"Ladybug, get down!" his hands found her waist and yanked her off her feet. She roughly landed in his lap, bloodied needles zooming above them. Her summoned pink light glowed brightly above them, before dropping her item into her hand.

Ladybug gaped. "A lawn dart? What am I supposed to do with this?" Tikki, are you sure we need another flying sharp thing in this mess?

She turned her head from side to side, taking in all her surroundings.

"Wow," Chat finally muttered behind her. "Your miraculous has a sense of humor. Guess it wants you to fight fire with fire."

Her eyes widened in realisation. Fight fire with fire! "Chat, you're a genius!"

"Of course I am, but thank you for noticing."

The Seamstress screamed below them, clawing her way up to their hiding spot.

"Run!"


The sun was dipping below the horizon in a beautiful display of colors. And if Chat wasn't currently fleeing for his life, he supposed he might have enjoyed it. He glanced nervously at Ladybug's earrings as she raced beside him.

Three minutes.

Her lucky charm was clutched in a white knuckled grip and her gaze was intense. He allowed himself a bit of relief, she knew what she was doing. Now all he had to do was figure out her lead and follow it.

The Seamstress wasn't far behind, but she had seemed to grow weary of shooting blindly, and only released deliberate shots, which was fortunate for civilians, and not so fortunate for them.

"I only need a second!" Lady panted, swinging from her yoyo to dodge attacks. "I don't even need to be close."

He could tell she didn't want to ask him to be the decoy, but they both knew it was what the situation required.

He gave her a halfhearted wink. "Don't worry. I'll be careful." he pulled his baton from his back, extending it probably longer than necessary and began to twirl it. "Hey, pinhead! Over here!"

As expected, the akuma angrily lunged for him, his heightened reflexes easily keeping him out of harm's way. "Really? You missed again? Guess you're not as sharp as you look!"

Chat glanced over his shoulder, Ladybug was nowhere to be seen.

He continued to dance around the villain, knowing that they had to be down in the two minute range by now. She's got this. Everything will be fine.

He pointedly decided not to think of the Carrousel du Louvre, just a block away.

She came at him again, eyes looking more bloodshot than ever. Slightly erratically, she raised her hand, and blood splattered on his face. It dripped in his eyes, blinding him. He was knocked off his feet with a grunt. A stiletto stomped roughly on his chest. Chat blinked furiously, trying to get the stinging liquid and tears out of his eyes. He could her her breathing over him. She laughed.

"Bye, bye, little kitty."

He held his breath, waiting for the blow that would end him.

A small part of him looked forward to it.

But it never came.

The akuma let out a bloodcurdling scream, his streaming eyes just managed to make out a familiar spotted dart sticking out from the pincushion. The tip peaked out on the underside of her wrist.

A small black butterfly peacefully flew from the tear in the cloth, only to be snatched up in that godsend of a yoyo.

"No more evil doing for you, little akuma," his lady spoke simply, pulling the dart from its target.

Chat collapsed in relief.

"Miraculous Ladybug!"

The Seamstress vanished in a black blur, and Miriam appeared, clutching her wrist, which was now healed.

"How...how did I get here?" she squinted. "Ladybug?"

The heroine nodded tiredly. "Yes. Everything is okay now. You can go home."

The woman rose shakily to her feet. "Thank you." and with that, she silently walked away.

"Someone needs to tell the police what happened," Ladybug sighed. "The media didn't cover the fight because I asked them to stay away. The city needs to know it's safe again."

Chat nodded. "I'll do it. You only have seconds left on your transformation."

She looked visibly relieved. "Thanks, kitty. I'll see you soon."

He winked. "It can't possibly be soon enough."

She grabbed her yoyo, a weak grin crawling on her lips. "Somehow, I think you'll survive."


Chat slumped against the wall of the police station. He thought he'd never get out of there. The plan was to go in, give them the all clear and leave.

But his bad luck decided to swing in for a visit.

He'd walked right into a swarm of reporters, all trying to be the first to get their hands on the latest akuma story, figuring if they couldn't get live footage of the fight, it was within their rights to have a full live interview.

Plagg eventually came to his rescue in the form of a beeping ring and he dashed out into the street. The sun had long since set, which meant he'd likely missed the opening of the Showcase.

He winced. Fuck.

Hesitantly, he pulled up his baton, popping open the screen. Where was the clock on this thing?

Oh, there it was. Apparently that akuma really took a toll on him, because it couldn't possibly be that late. he had to have read it wrong. He rubbed his eyes.

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no.

His blood ran cold. He wasn't just late.

He'd missed the whole damn thing.