Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Adrien,
I imagine you're probably surprised to hear from me again. At this point, Nathalie must have given you my letter and I can only assume you hate me. I would hate me too. I took your kids away from you, moved out of the country with no warning. For a short while, I acted as if we would be a family. It was selfish of me and unfair to you. I can admit that. I guess I wanted to pretend, just for a little while, that everything could be as it should be. The kids are doing well, by the way.  They are to be enrolled in classes at the local elementary school next week. Their school mascot is a Tiger and Emma immediately thought of Plagg. I think she misses your cat almost as much as she misses you. They both miss you, so much. Louis has a checkup with a local Pediatrician next week but he's doing better. It's hard to imagine he was ever sick in the first place. As for me? I'm doing as well as one could expect. I love my job and my house. I’ve purchased a little four bedroom house just outside the city I work in. The kids like having their own room, but more mornings than not I still find Louis in bed with Emma or vice versa. I have a car, now. I can't remember the last time I drove, and driving in the city is insane. Traffic is deplorable so I mostly take city transit to work. But in my little town outside of the city, I drive everywhere. It's a nice change of pace and I love my little car. It's a little red Fiat Panda. I imagine you might find her charming, if not incredibly small. Anyway, I should sign off. I've been neglecting unpacking the house for far too long.

Love You Endlessly,
Marinette

Adrien,

It’s me again. I wish you could write back to me, that’s probably not a good idea. Honestly, my writing to you at all isn’t a good idea. I forgot to mention in my last letter, but I would really appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone about these letters. Obviously, Alya, Nino, and Nathalie know, but I trust them. The person who wants me to stay away from you has eyes and ears everywhere, Adrien. Maybe it’s a little selfish, but I don’t want to stop writing to you and even though you probably hate me, I hope you don’t want me to stop either. So please don’t tell anyone about these. It would mean a lot. Anyway, I have news. When the kids realized I was writing another letter, they insisted I tell you. We got our cat! I think I mentioned her previously. She’s a tiny calico kitten named Tikki. The receptionist at my office brought them in. Her cat had kittens and she was trying to find them good homes. Since getting one for the kids’ birthday didn’t quite work out, I figured now was as good a time as any. The kids absolutely adore her. She’s such a tolerant little thing and lets them dress her up and carry her around like a ragdoll. She just purrs the whole time. She even let them put a leash on her! Weirdest cat I’ve ever met but we love her. I hope you and Plagg are doing alright.

Love You Endlessly,
Marinette

Adrien,

Louis wants a dog. I like dogs well enough, but I might have to draw the line at that request for now. It’s hard, though. After Louie fell ill, there’s a part of me that wants to just make his every wish come true but I know that isn’t responsible parenting so I’m trying to stay strong. Things are starting to settle in nicely around here. My boss has me travelling for work every few weeks for short business trips. You know how the fashion industry is. It’s hard, because it means that I have to leave the kids with a sitter if the trips are on weekdays. I don’t want them missing too much school. When the trips are on weekends though, I take the kids with me. They love it, of course. I try to make the trips as educational as possible, so I take them to the local zoos and children’s museums. You’ll have to excuse a bit of indulgence on my part, however. I try to fit in at least one trip to the local fairs, carnivals, or theme parks in the cities we visit just to keep things interesting. The twins love it. Emma loves roller coasters. Louis? Not so much. You would have loved our trip to Orlando Resort. Florida is a amazing and gorgeous and I wish with all my heart that you could be here with us.

Love You Endlessly,
Marinette

Adrien,

We got a dog. Scratch that. We got two dogs. I know, I know. I said I wasn’t going to do it but I did it anyway. In my defense, it was totally fate. I want to point out that I did not go out seeking to buy Louis a dog. But when we went to our local supermarket and there was a lady selling puppies out front well how could I not !? They were so cute with their big brown eyes and their floppy velvet ears. I have to admit, I have always been a bit of a sucker for Golden Retrievers. We named them Trixx and Wayzz. Wayzz is the lighter of the two, with pretty gold fur. Trix is more reddish brown and is a bit bigger than Wayzz. I know you’re a cat person, but I think you would fall in love with them too. I know I technically got them for Emma and Louis, but at this point they kind of seem more like my dogs. Even though I got them each kennels with really nice dog beds, somehow they always end up at the foot of my bed every night. Tikki has taken to sleeping between the two dogs, so now I have three animals crowding my bed. I don’t even know how it happened but I guess this is my life now. Anyway, I have to go. I think Trixx is eating my potted fern again.

Love You Endlessly,
Marinette

Adrien,

WHY DID YOU LET ME BUY TWO DOGS!? Don’t get me wrong, I love Trixx and Wayzz but chasing after two puppies and two five year olds is exhausting! Never get a puppy. I’m warning you now, potty training is a nightmare. Wayzz literally peed in my bed. My bed , Adrien! What even are dogs!? Not to mention now I have to find someone crazy enough to babysit two six year olds, two ten week old puppies, and a cat whenever I go out of town on a business trip. What was I even thinking? If I’m being honest though, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Trixx, Wayzz, and Tikki bring a new sort of life and energy to our little house . That being said, I’m enrolling the puppies into obedience classes first thing next week because they’re about to make me pull my hair out.

Love You Endlessly,
Marinette

Adrien,

I have something to tell you, and I’m not sure how you’re going to take it. One thing I am quite certain of is that you aren’t going to like it, especially when I tell you that this changes nothing. I’m not coming back, and I’m not telling you where I am. I’m sorry, I just can’t. At the end of the day, I have to think of the kids and I know you don’t understand but this really is for the best. That being said, I can’t hide something like this from you. Not again. So I’m just going to come right out and tell you that I’m pregnant. Yes, it’s yours. You’re still the only guy I’ve been with, maybe the only guy I’ll ever be with. I don’t know, the thought of seeing someone else just doesn’t sit well with me. Not with how I still feel about you. Is that selfish to say? I mean, I know it was selfish of me to tell you I loved you in my first letter after leaving town but since you already know how I feel… is it really selfish to remind you? Anyway, not important. What is important, is that we’re having another little boy. I can’t help but hope he looks like me. I know, it’s selfish, but Emma and Louis already remind me of you enough. I don’t need another in a long list of reminders of what I threw away. I’m naming him Hugo. Hugo Jackson Dupain. I wish I could give him your last name, but it isn’t safe. I don’t want that man to find us, so I’ve changed our last names to just Dupain. I think it’s safe enough to tell you that. You don’t know what Country we’re living in, so I’m confident you won’t be able to find me. I hope you aren’t still looking. Alya told me you were trying a few months back. Adrien, I really need you to respect my wishes. Don’t look for me or the kids. It isn’t safe.

Love You Endlessly,
Marinette

Dearest Adrien,

How is it that my morning sickness is ten times worse with Hugo than it was with the twins. You would think, given there were two of them, that it would be easier to manage with Hugo but you’d be wrong. Dead wrong. It seems every day it’s a struggle to hold down anything I eat and what I do eat is the weirdest shit ever. I have never liked sardines, but that’s a thing now. Worse, I like them on pizza with black olives and pickles. Who eats this crap!? Pregnancy is weird as hell. What’s more, my body aches. Every single part of it. My boss keeps telling me to take it easy and she isn’t giving me as many business trips for the time being. Most days, I end up working from home. I ended up turning the fourth bedroom into my studio. Emma and Louis have ended up back in the same bedroom. I think maybe it’s a twin thing, but it frees up the third bedroom for a nursery. How do you think I should decorate Hugo’s bedroom? With the twins, I was living with my parents during the first few years so we never did a full nursery. I have to say, I’m a little excited to get to decorate one now… okay, so I’m a lot excited. I wish you could be here for this. We would have made the best team.

Love You Endlessly,
Marinette

Adrien,

I think I’ve decided on white, gray, and blue for the Nursery colors. I’ve already started buying furniture. The crib and dresser are white and I got a matching little white armchair with gray and navy pillows where I can sit and rock our baby. I enjoy saying that, even if only in a letter. Our baby. Our boy. Our little Hugo. I’m starting to hope he does look like you. It will probably be a painful reminder of what can never be… but I keep finding my thoughts plagued by a blonde, cherub faced infant with wheatgrass eyes. He would be perfect, just like you. Just like Emma and Louie. The kids are excited. They keep asking when their baby brother will be arriving. It’s really cute, how obsessed they are with him. Tikki is turning into a fine young cat. She’s lost her kitten fluff and her fur is sleek and beautiful now. Trixx and Wayzz are as rambunctious as always but they’re coming along nicely in their obedience training. I’ve started looking for a second car. I was thinking a mini SUV or maybe a minivan. I’ve got a bit of time, but I don’t want to leave it to the last minute and my Fiat Panda isn’t really equipped to hold two six year olds and a car seat, let alone two growing dogs. I hope I’ll find something suitable soon because this baby isn’t going to wait forever.

Love You Endlessly,
Marinette

Adrien,

I am officially over being pregnant. This late in the summer, the weather is absolutely sweltering and I feel so fat and ugly. I can’t wait until Hugo is born next month. Did I tell you he’s due on August 12th? Selfishly, a part of me hopes he’ll arrive a few days early. Luckily, everything is all ready to go once he arrives. The nursery has been finished. I ended up choosing sky blue bedding for the crib, and I had a professional come in to paint the walls. One wall is dark gray with birch tree decals. The trees have little bluebirds in them which I thought was a nice touch. The other walls are dark gray, silver, and light blue and I made some cute lacy blue curtains for the windows. I can’t wait to meet our baby boy, Adrien. I wish you could be here to meet him too.

Love You Endlessly,
Marinette

Adrien,

By now, I’m guessing you’ve noticed I sent you more than just the usual letter today. Enclosed in the manila folder I’ve included pictures of your new son. I’d like to introduce you to the newest member of our little family, Hugo Jackson Dupain. He has your hair, and your smile. It’s too early to tell, but I hope he has your eyes too. I love your eyes. They’re probably one of my favorite things about you. I also included pictures of Emma and Louis. They wanted me to tell you hi, and that they love and miss you. It breaks my heart when they ask when you’re joining us. Perhaps it’s cruel but I haven’t the heart to tell them you won’t be joining us here, no matter how much I wish it could be. I’m going to keep this letter short, because I am absolutely exhausted, but I hope you enjoy the photos.

Love You Endlessly,
Marinette

Adrien,

Hugo is a dream. I really thought he might be as bad as Louis was, but he’s not. He’s such a happy and carefree baby. He’s only a few days old and he’s already smiling and laughing. He almost never cries and although he wakes up throughout the night like most babies, getting him back down is never an issue. It will be a few months before we discover his true eye color, but I thought you might like to know that he has your smile. Even only a few days old, he has a full, dimpled smile that reminds me so much of you. He also has your hair, and something tells me it’s going to be as thick and unruly as Louis’ hair. Speaking of Louie… Emma and Louis absolutely love him. I woke up the other night for a feeding and found the twins in the room, playing peekaboo with him. It was the cutest thing ever and I just had to snap a picture. I’m sure you’ve already discovered it enclosed with the letter. The three of them make a pretty picture, don’t you think?

Love You Endlessly,
Marinette

Adrien

It’s been a while. I apologize for not writing to you in the last few months, but life has been hectic. My boss is kind enough to allow me to work from home most days and bring Hugo with on the days I have to go in for a few hours, but it’s hard juggling a fulltime job and a newborn. Hugo is still the sweetest thing, and I’m pleased to announce his eyes are the same brilliant green I fell in love with the moment I met you. He looks like a mini you, Adrien. He’s so perfect and I wish you could be here with us. I’m sure you’d find yourself just as enamored as the rest of us. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to hear that having a new baby in the house has seemed to mellow out Trixx and Wayzz a bit. They’re still young and rambunctious at just over a year old now, but they’re so gentle and careful around Hugo. Often, I’ll leave him in his swing to go grab something and come back to find the dogs laying with their heads in his lap, just staring up at him with those soulful brown eyes of theirs. They’re such amazing dogs. Our whole family is amazing. I miss you more and more every day.

Love You Endlessly,
Marinette

Adrien,

This will be my last letter for awhile. Recently, I have been warned that the person who forced me into hiding is getting suspicious. I’ve been told the person is keeping an extra close eye on you and our friends and I can’t risk him discovering the letters. Especially not when I have Hugo to worry about now as well. This person can never learn about Hugo, Adrien. I do hope you haven’t told anyone outside of those who already know. Anyway, I’m going to keep this brief. The kids are doing well and we’re happy where we are. Our home is finally starting to feel like a real home, even if it’s missing you. I love you so much, Adrien, and I promise to right as soon as it’s safe to do so.

Love You Endlessly,
Marinette

Chapter Text

Adrien Agreste had always thought himself a reasonably calm and collected man. He rarely lost his cool, kept a tight rein on his temper, and was often seen as mild-mannered, polite, and agreeable. If he had to blame anything, he would likely point fingers towards his strict upbringing. In comparison to Adrien, Gabriel Agreste was an uptight, no-nonsense, and oftentimes downright hostile man who didn’t leave room for mistakes. He was a dignified man, high in status who cared deeply about his image… and tarnishing that image hadn’t been an option when Adrien was growing up. There had been no teenage rebellion for him; even as a grown man, more often than not, Adrien found himself obeying his father’s every whim. It was far easier than attempting to argue with the man, that was for sure. Sitting in his office now, however, Adrien Agreste felt very close to blowing his fuse at the older man sitting across the sturdy oak desk from him.

For his part, Pierre Cardinal looked not the least bit concerned as he fiddled with a fountain pen that likely cost more than his last job had paid. The sardonic twist to his lips, so eerily similar to the look he had seen on his own father’s face numerous times growing up, only served to further aggravate the Junior Agreste. Truly, the Private Investigator had picked the wrong day to patronize the younger Agreste, but even with the date glaring him in the face, Adrien really was trying to keep calm. Pierre wasn’t making it easy, though, that was for sure. With a final twirl of the pen, Monsieur Cardinal finally lifted his brown gaze to Adrien’s green one. Adrien had made Pierre’s acquaintance a few months ago when his previous PI had bailed on the job. In the year that Marinette and the kids had been missing, Pierre Cardinal would make the fifth PI Adrien had been through. Like the last one, the others had all quit rather suddenly after only working for him for a short amount of time. It was as frustrating as it was confounding and it was the main reason he had yet to fire M. Cardinal. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed the obnoxious man to help him find Marinette and their children.

“Now, M. Agreste, you say the last letter you received was dated around three months ago; near the end of October?” Pierre asked, drumming his fingers lightly against the desk between them. Adrien gave a stiff nod; he had already been over this numerous times with Cardinal, but the man seemed to like trying his patience.

“Yes; our son, Hugo, would have been about two and a half months old. Marinette stopped writing as often in the final months of pregnancy, but about three months ago she stopped writing completely,” he confirmed, repressing the urge to growl, roll his eyes or both. Pierre nodded thoughtfully, pulling a little notepad from his pocket and checking his notes.

“And you say she’s been leaving hints in her messages as to her whereabouts? That she’s trying to get you to find her?” He looked dubious now, peering over wire-framed glasses to give Adrien a skeptical look. The blonde gritted his teeth and gave a stiff nod at the man across from him. Pierre was a pudgy man, with greasy brown hair that was thinning considerably near the crown of his head, eyes that were too small for his face hidden behind wire-framed glasses, and a long, thin nose over flaccid jowls reminiscent of those belonging to a bulldog. He was an alarmingly unattractive man, but he was also shockingly good at his job. Supposedly. So far, Adrien hadn’t seen anything from the man to garner his faith in his abilities, but most PI Agencies had stopped accepting his calls so he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Monsieur Cardinal, is this really necessary? We’ve been over this numerous times already,” the younger man intoned, rubbing a hand over his face with an exhausted sigh. The last year had taken its toll on the man. Since the disappearance of Marinette and the kids, Adrien had barely been able to eat or sleep; he constantly looked to be in a state of exhaustion and even the best concealer money could buy did little to hide the bags beneath his eyes. He had lost weight, more weight than was even normal for him, and had been pulled completely from all modeling gigs and public appearances for the time being. His father was not pleased, and had told him numerous times that it was time he started acting like an Agreste and stop moping about… but Adrien couldn’t help it. He was miserable. He missed his kids, and he missed Marinette despite everything she had put him through.

“I’m afraid it is, M. Agreste; if I am to help you find the woman and your kids, I need to make sure I have my facts right,” the rotund man said with an unapologetic shrug before pushing on. “The clues, Monsieur? What were they?”

Adrien heaved a sigh, but for the umpteenth time it seemed, he recited what he was sure were hints and clues Marinette was dropping as to her whereabouts. They were little things; things most people wouldn’t notice but that Adrien had begun picking up on after rereading the letters several times over. For starters, Marinette had admitted she still worked in fashion. She has also dropped a pretty big hint in that she had dropped ‘Cheng’ from their last name. Of course, finding a Marinette Dupain in the fashion industry was harder than he had thought it would be, so he suspected she might go by a pseudonym for work, but it was still a hint, in his opinion. She had also mentioned the twin’s school mascot (although one did not want to get him started on how many schools used the tiger as their school mascot.) And then, of course, there were the trips she had mentioned taking for work. Adrien was sure there was a clue to her whereabouts in there somewhere, though he had yet to pick up exactly what it was given his permanent state of sleep deprivation. He knew if he kept thinking on it, eventually, the answer would come to him but in the meantime, hiring a PI seemed like a good way to supplement and aid his search.

Pierre nodded thoughtfully as Adrien listed off his supposed hints, tapping the end of the pen against his bottom lip as his thick brow furrowed in thought. “And you’re quite certain the woman wants you to find her?” He finally asked, his gaze sliding pointedly towards the younger man as he asked the question. Adrien’s face tightened in anger but he reined it in and gave a stiff nod of confirmation.

“Yes, Pierre. I am quite certain,” he said confidently. Pierre didn’t look nearly as convinced as Adrien would have liked, dropping the pen from his lips in favor of drumming his fingers against the oak desk once again. The steady sound grated Adrien’s already frayed nerves, and he had no doubt it was intentional. Pierre seemed to like keeping the younger man off-balance and on edge.

“Monsieur Agreste… it behooves me to point out that most of the time when young women disappear with children in tow, it is because they do not want to be found,” he said with an arched brow. Adrien glared at him.

“If she didn’t want to be found, why send the letters? Why tell me about Hugo at all?” He challenged. Monsieur Cardinal shrugged, looking far too cavalier for Adrien’s tastes.

“A sense of guilt, perhaps? She is, after all, depriving you of your children,” he pointed out. The young blonde man shook his head in denial.

“Marinette has her reasons; I believe that much. Someone is-” Before he could finish, there was a sharp knock on the door to his office. Before Adrien could tell the person on the other side that he was in a meeting and to come back later, the door swung open and his father strode into the room with a grim look on his face.

“Adrien, you-” Gabriel Agreste broke off, seeming to just notice that his son wasn’t the only one in the room. His pale blue gaze was cold as he assessed the unknown man before turning and arching a brow at his son. “I was not aware you had company, Adrien. Who is your guest?”

Adrien winced, shifting uncomfortably. The last thing he wanted to do was tell his dad that the man was a Private Investigator. His father had never approved of his quest to find Marinette and often insisted they were better off without her and the kids. Not that Adrien had expected much else from his father, but the man could be at least a little sympathetic to his son’s plight. Mind racing, he struggled to come up with a viable lie that his father would believe as to who the man was and why he was in Adrien’s office when the man in question spoke up.

“Name’s Pierre, mate,” Pierre said, slipping smoothly in a perfect imitation of an Aussie accent as a faux smile curved his lips. “I’m Adrien’s new interior designer, I am.”

“You’re redecorating your office?” Gabriel looked surprised, but not nearly as hostile as he had been upon first entering the room. Adrien smiled awkwardly and nodded; his father had been trying to get him to go with a more traditional office design as is, not liking the quasi-school counselor vibe Adrien had chosen to go with when he had first been appointed the office, so it was as good an excuse as any.

“Figured it was time,” he offered meekly, shooting a look at Pierre. Pierre remained unflappable, his smile appearing guileless and trustworthy as Gabriel studied him for another moment before giving a curt nod.

“Yes, well. As pleased as I am to hear you are finally seeing reason regarding your office, you missed a meeting this morning. If you are to begin taking over my company, I need you to show a bit more initiative in the future. Am I clear on that, Adrien?” Gabriel finally shook off whatever surprise and suspicion lingered to give his son a stern look.

“Yes, father. It won’t happen again,” Adrien apologized swiftly. Gabriel gave another curt nod.

“See that it doesn’t, Adrien.” With that said, the older Agreste turned on his heel and stalked back to the door, but he paused before leaving to glance over his shoulder. “Oh, and Adrien?”

“Yes, father?” Adrien asked, trying hard not to show how impatient he was for his father to leave the room already. Gabriel’s gaze was unreadable as he studied his son for a long moment, before clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“Merry Christmas.” With that the man left as abruptly as he had arrived, the door shutting with a soft click behind him. Adrien waited several more moments with bated breath, eyes lingering on the door in case his father was to return, before sighing with relief and turning back to Pierre, frown returning. As much as the date ate at his nerves, he didn’t have time to dwell on that. First, he needed to find his family. Clearing his throat, he faced Pierre once more, expression flat and grim and eerily similar to the look his father often wore.

“Now. Where were we?”

“Mama, Mama, Mama!!!” Marinette jolted awake as twin weights landed heavily on the bed and, by default, on her, driving the air from her lungs in one great gust. Groaning softly in protest, the ravenette pulled the pillow tighter around her head and rolled away from the two seven-year-olds currently bouncing on her bed, only to be met by an impenetrable wall of thick, reddish gold fur. Tiny hands tugged at the pillow over her head until, with a huff, she released it and cracked an eye open with a faint smile.

“Good morning, my darlings,” she mumbled sleepily. A soft woof from beside her had her chuckling softly. “Good morning Tikki, Wayzz, and Trixx,” she added, sitting up and staring down the bed with amusement in her gaze. As usual, her Queen sized bed was completely taken over, with the dogs on either edge and the cat sleeping peacefully at the foot of the bed, despite the overexcited twins bouncing up and down beside her. She really needed to invest in a bigger bed. She was thinking a California King.

“Mama, Mama!” Emma reiterated, apparently displeased at having lost her mother’s attention even for a second. Blue eyes swiveled to green and Marinette smiled indulgently as she sat up more fully.

“What is it, Mon Petit? ” She asked, lifting a hand to push back the child’s unruly black locks.

“It’s Christmas, Maman!!” Emma singsonged, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Come on, Mommy! It’s time to open presents!” Louis added, beaming widely as he bounced beside his sister. Adoration softened the young mother’s eyes and with a smile, she pulled the pair into a tight embrace. The last year had been hard on all of them. Between adjusting to a new city (not to mention a new country) and overcoming a language barrier, it was both a wonder and a relief that the twins could still smile so freely. She had been so worried about how the move might impact them, especially after so recently meeting their father, but Emma and Louis had always been her little troopers and they managing surprisingly well despite the occasional question of ‘where’s daddy’. Setting the pair back, she smiled indulgently.

“Tell you what, how about breakfast first and then we’ll open presents?” She suggested. The twins shared a look, mild frowns marring their faces.

“Aww, Maman, can’t we open presents first?” Emma pleaded, and it was almost comical they way their faces morphed into almost identical puppy dog looks as they silently begged for their presents.

“I think Hugo might want his breakfast first, sweetheart. Tell you what, you can go and pick out one present each while I get Hugo, and then we’ll open the rest after breakfast. Deal?” She compromised. The twins bobbed their heads and rocketed up and off the bed, sending Tikki scrambling out of the way and causing the dogs to leap up and give chase with wagging tails and excited barks. As if on cue, the baby monitor beside the bed began to crackle with the sound of crying on the other end and with a sigh, Marinette slipped from the bed. True, the young woman had never been much of a morning person and much-preferred sleeping in, but even though she probably wouldn’t get to sleep in again for many years to come, she found she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Emma and Louis had been the loves of her life since before they were even born; sure, she had been petrified when she first found out at the thought of raising one baby, let alone two. But she had been young and naive and thought herself alone because the father hadn’t been permitted into the picture at the time. She had quickly learned that she wasn’t alone; she had had Alya and Nino and her parents all supporting her. And now, with Hugo, she had had Tara there every step of the way. Tara had long ago became something of a third parent to Marinette; so supportive and understanding and willing to help, and the kids adored her. Especially Hugo. The little boy had formed a special bond with the older woman and got the biggest grin on his face whenever she came around. Speaking of, Tara would be here soon.

Rolling out of bed, Marinette chose to forgo changing out of her pajamas in favor of fetching her youngest from his crib. It was Christmas; she wasn’t going anywhere today anyway. The bedroom door was still wide open from the stampede of children and animals that had so recently vacated her bedroom and Marinette pulled the door shut behind her before slipping into the bedroom directly next to her. With the curtains pulled, the nursery was dim, the only light coming from the small lamp on the dresser in one corner of the room. Crossing the room, she leaned over the bed and smiled warmly and a tad bit sad as gem green eyes immediately lifted to her blue ones. It was uncanny, how much Hugo looked like Adrien. She imagined that he was the spitting image of what Adrien looked like when he was this age, albeit with a few freckles that he had gotten from her. The adorable cherub stopped crying and let out a shrieking giggle the moment he spotted his mother, his mouth stretching open in a wide, toothless grin. Marinette couldn’t help but return the grin in kind.

“ Bonjour, mon petit minou ,” she murmured, reaching in to gently lift the child into her arms. “How is mommy’s little man?”

Hugo responded with a stream of baby gibberish, tiny fists waving excitedly as the woman carried him over to the changing table. Marinette hummed softly and tunelessly as she changed his diaper and dressed him in a black onesie with a neon green paw print on the front and neon green sweats with black paw prints all over them. She completed the look with a black hoodie that had green cat eyes on the front. She had made the outfit as part of the first collection she had collaborated on with Madame Lacrosse since moving to New York. The collection featured clothes that mostly catered to babies and young children and had fun themes like ‘Chat Noir’, ‘Ladybug’, and ‘Rena Rogue’. Alya had eagerly helped come up with the name Rena Rogue, after seeing the fox themes dresses, skirts, tee-shirts, and pants. She was still playing with the name of the overall collection, but was thinking of calling it “Miraculous”.

Picking her youngest back up, she cuddled him to her chest with one arm and tickled his stomach with her free hand. Hugo shrieked in delight, squirming in her grip, but she was careful not to drop him as she left the nursery and headed down the hall and the stairs to the main level of their house. The twins sitting patiently in front of the tree when Marinette entered and took a seat on the couch beside Tikki. “Did you two pick out which presents to open before breakfast?” She asked. Emma bobbed her head and held up a medium-sized package wrapped in shiny red and silver paper.

“Uh-huh,” Louis added, clutching his own package wrapped in light blue wrapping with snowmen and mittens all over.

“Excellent. Emma, why don’t you go first? Can you tell me who your present is from?” She asked. With the twins in the first grade, she was constantly trying to get them to practice reading and writing more. Emma, especially, as she wasn’t as enthused by books as Louie was. Emma, for her part, didn’t protest and instead twisted the package carefully until she found the label.

“It’s from Santa, mommy!” She chirped excitedly.

“Mine is too,” Louis added eagerly.

“Very good! Go ahead and open them,” she said. The sound of paper ripping and excited squeals filled the homey living room. Emma was practically vibrating with excitement when she unwrapped a box full of hair ties, bows, and headbands in a variety of colors. Having never been one to fuss much over her hair, she had immediately picked up on the trend the other girls in her new school had of decorating their hair in vibrantly colored accessories, and at her age, it was only natural to want to imitate her new friends. Louis, in turn, cheered happily as he unwrapped his new remote control monster truck, to go with the million other trucks the child had.

“Alright, are you ready to help make breakfast now?” Marinette asked with a smile, bouncing Hugo as he started to fuss quietly in her arms. He was more than ready for his bottle, it would seem.

“Mommy! Hugo needs to open a present first, too,” Emma suddenly exclaimed, momentarily forgetting her new hair accessories to blink up at her mother. Marinette hesitated, knowing Hugo would only get fussier the longer he had to wait for his bottle, but the children looked so hopeful, she didn’t have the heart to deny them. With a sigh and a smile, she nodded in agreement.

“Okay, Emma. But after that, breakfast time. No exceptions, okay?”

“Okay, Mama!” Emma agreed readily and rushed to the pile of presents that were all labeled with Hugo’s name. Eventually, she unearthed a present wrapped in black and green and carried it over with a wide grin to hand over to her mother and Hugo.

“Whose it from, Emma?” Marinette asked, already reaching for the present with her free hand. Emma’s answer nearly caused her to fumble and drop the present, though thankfully she caught it before it hit the ground. The words, so sweet and innocent, were enough to make a painful jolt go straight through her heart.

“It’s from daddy, maman.”

Chapter Text

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That evening found Marinette sitting on her couch in front of the Christmas Tree, long after the kids had gone to bed. The tree was still lit up brightly with white lights reflecting on pink and silver ornaments and was the only light on in the darkened apartment. Legs curled up beneath her, fuzzy blanket thrown over her lap, and a glass of red wine in one hand, she appeared to be the very definition of coziness and comfort. Unfortunately, the small box in her hands ensured she was anything but cozy or comfortable. In fact, it ensured she was very much on edge, so when the ringing of an incoming video call shattered the silence of the evening, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Fumbling not to spill her wine, her gaze darted to the clock on the wall. Midnight. Right one time. Forcing herself to calm down, she pulled the tablet into her lap and slid the call button to answer. Moments later, her best friend’s face filled the screen, looking tired and rumpled. It was six in the morning in Paris, after all.

“Hey, girl,” Alya greeted, a nervous smile lighting her face. Marinette did not return the smile, despite the fact that she hadn’t seen her friend in almost a month. They called almost daily, but once a month they committed to staying up late (Marinette) and waking up early (Alya) so that they could video chat. It was a ritual that had become insanely important to the young woman who’d been forced to move away from everything and everyone she knew. Normally, they would already be talking a mile a minute but today, Marinette couldn’t help feeling a bit betrayed and her silence must have conveyed that because the smile dropped from her face completely and she sighed. “You saw the gifts.”

“I thought we agreed, Alya,” Marinette sighed, rubbing the area between her eyes and the bridge of her nose.

“You agreed, actually. I was never okay with not letting Adrien give them their presents,” Alya pointed out quietly, though at least she had the tact to sound apologetic.

“Alya, I had my reasons. Valid reasons,” she pointed out, dropping her hand to glare at her friend. The stubborn look on the other woman’s face made her think that Alya didn’t give a damn about her reasons, no matter how valid.

“They’re his kids, too, Marinette. I’ve supported you through this all as best I could, even at the cost of straining out friendship with Adrien, because I love you and the kids. But I couldn’t sit by on this one. He had every right to give them their gifts,” Alya said firmly. Marinette bristled, even if what her friend was saying was completely reasonable. Adrien did have that right but Marinette did have her reasons.

“Alya, they couldn’t stop talking about him all day. They think their daddy is going to come sweeping through that door any day now and things will be back to normal,” the tired mother sighed and took a fortifying sip of her wine. When her gaze returned to the tablet in her lap, her friend’s gaze had only softened slightly.

“And why can’t he, babe. You know Adrien. He would drop everything , including his father if it meant being with you and the kids,” she said gently.

“I told you, Alys. I can’t do that to him,” Marinette responded, tearing her gaze away. “Adrien’s relationship has always been rocky with his father. I can’t force him to choose between us. Gabriel is the only parent that Adrien has left.”

“Don’t you think he should be the one to decide what he wants?” Alya asked, a strain entering her voice as she struggled not to lose her temper.

“Under normal circumstances, absolutely,” the ravenette responded. “But these aren’t normal circumstances.”

“You’re being obtuse,” the redhead accused.

“I’m protecting my children,” Marinette denied.

“From their father!?”

“From their grandfather!”

The pair glared daggers at each other, anger simmering just below the surface before Alya finally releases the breath she’s holding and just like that, the fight leaves her in a flood. Marinette follows suit, sighing heavily and shaking her head. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Their monthly video calls were sacred, meant to talk and gossip and enjoy each other’s company as best they could with almost four thousand miles between them.

“I’m sorry,” Marinette finally forced herself to say, lifting her gaze back to the tablet with a weak smile. Alya returned the smile hesitantly.

“I’m sorry, too. I know this is hard on you, too, it’s just… he’s not doing well, Marinette,” the red-haired woman murmured softly. Marinette felt her eyes burn hotly with unshed tears but she held them back. She wasn’t going to cry; crying would do nobody any good.

“He needs to forget us, Alya,” she whispered.

“He can’t! Marinette, he isn’t just broken up about the kids. He loves you,” Alya snapped, refusing to let up even when the first tear leaked from her best friend’s bluebell eyes. “That man is absolutely crazy about you and all he wants is for the five of you to be a family. He’s killing himself physically, mentally, and financially trying to find you. I don’t even know the last time he slept or ate properly,” she continued.

Marinette’s tears flowed faster at the image that her friend was painting. She hadn’t wanted this to happen. She had honestly though Adrien would be better off without them but… but what if he wasn’t? What if he hurt himself, intentionally or unintentionally, because he was so completely caught up in trying to find her and the kids? Could she live with herself if anyone happened to him, because of her?

“Mare. Girl. Adrien would follow you to the ends of the Earth. If you don’t want to tell him about his father, at least give him the chance to disappear out of his father’s life. You two could leave, go somewhere that bastard would never find you,” she continued to press. Marinette didn’t say anything but shook her head in denial through her tears, even as her resolve wavered.

“Did you at least open what he sent you?” Alya asked. The way Marinette stiffened immediately answered her question. “I won’t push you on this, but when you’re ready, open his gift. The letter too; I know he put one in there. Just, don’t put it off forever. I know you and I know you want to shove them into a drawer somewhere and forget about them, but I really think you should open the gift and the letter. I think it will help, a lot,” Alya said gently.

“I’ll… think about it,” Marinette hedged, shooting a glance at the small, gift-wrapped box and the letter she had placed on the table when Alya’s call had come in.

“That’s all I ask, babe,” her best friend said, before glancing at something off-screen. By the way she nodded and mouthed something back, Marinette guessed it was Nino. “I have to go, Marinette. I can’t be late to work and Nino’s got a big meeting and can’t take the kids to school and daycare today. Talk later, okay?” She returned her hazel gaze to the tablet.

“Yeah, of course,” Marinette agreed with a wobbly smile, wiping away the tears staining her cheeks.

Love you, babe. Think about what I said, eh? Don’t put off opening it for too long,” Alya advised once more before the screen went dark and Marinette was once again alone with her tears.

Chapter Text

Alya Lahiffe closed her eyes tightly as the screen went dark, a wave of nausea crashing through her. She felt like scum, like the worst friend on the planet and yet… she couldn’t do this anymore. This had been going on for a year. Adrien was a mess, and Marinette wasn’t doing much better. She was putting on a better front, but Alya knew her and she knew her friend was miserable. As much as she tried to deny it, Alya knew that she loved Adrien just as much as he loved her. That is why she had done what she had done. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Besides, she missed her best friend. The sooner all of this was over, the sooner she would get her friend back in her life. Taking a deep breath, she swiveled in the desk chair to face the trio of men standing silently near the office door and met the eyes of her husband, who stood on the left side of the trio. Nino looked grim, but he gave her a brief nod of encouragement. He knew why she had done what she did. He understood and supported her decision. The man on the right looked thoughtful, arms crossed as he stared blankly into the corner of the room deep in thought.

And the man in the middle? He looked crushed. Devastated. Like the whole world had been yanked out from underneath him. Adrien Agreste was openly crying, and she couldn’t blame him one bit. The knot in her stomach twisted violently once more as she waited on bated breath for him to say something, anything. Marinette hadn’t given away as much as Alya had hoped that she would, but this would be enough to get the cogs turning, at least. And she had unknowingly given the man a very large clue… that his father was behind everything. When Alya had made the decision to step in and meddle, allowing Adrien to sit in on her usual video call with Marinette, she had been very clear that he would only get the information that Marinette, herself, gave away… however unintentional that might be. Alya had refused to give him anything else; she was already betraying her friend in a big way, but hopefully, this was enough for now.

“You okay, man?” Nino finally broke the silence after ten minutes had gone by of the blonde silently crying, and the shorter man hesitantly set a comforting hand on his best friend’s shoulder.

“My father is the reason she left?” Adrien’s voice warbled as it left his throat, and Nino’s golden brown eyes flicked to Alya’s hazel ones in silent question. She gave a nearly imperceptible nod, silently permitting him to go on.

“Yeah, man. Alya found out just before Mari left, and I found out after the fact. We would have told you sooner, but-” The man trailed off awkwardly and scratched the top of his head uneasily.

“N-no, I get it. If my dad was involved, I almost understand why she-” He broke off as a fresh wave of tears flooded his wheatgrass eyes, trailing down his cheeks and dripping steadily off his chin.

“Oh, sunshine,” Alya pushed up from her chair and crossed the room to wrap her arms tightly around his too-thin frame. “I wish I could take your hurt away and I wish I could help more. But this is something you and Marinette have to figure out for yourself,” she murmured apologetically.

“No, I understand your loyalty, Alya,” Adrien pulled back to give her a shaky smile. “You did what you could and I appreciate that. I promise; I’ll figure all this out. I’ll find her. She might not want me to have to choose between her and my father, but there was never any choice, to begin with. I would choose Marinette and the kids every single time. There’s really no contest.”

“You wanna grab a coffee?” Pierre’s voice cut through Adrien’s thoughts as they finally left the Lahiffe family’s new house, not long after the recent revelations had come to light. The blonde man blinked blankly at the balding PI, who took pity on him with a gusty sigh. In his line of work, Pierre usually wasn’t the sympathetic type. Sympathy was for the soft and the weak and if you wanted to make it as a Private Investigator, you had to be tough and unrelenting. But there was something about Adrien that just made the normally reserved and uncaring man want to give him a hug. He reminded Pierre of a lost kitten, confused and helpless and in desperate need of saving. When he had first taken the job and learned of all the others who had bowed out before him, he had honestly thought that there was something wrong with his newest employer. Pierre had been digging around for months and thus far, Adrien had come back squeaky clean. Still, up until today he honestly believed that he was missing something. No one was as free of scandal as Adrien Agreste appeared to be. Was he a sexual deviant? Physically, emotionally, or sexually abusive? Did he have a slew of dead ex-wives that he’d gotten away with murdering? Serial Rapist? Was he embezzling money from his father’s company? Was he a pedophile?

The list went on. Nearing his fiftieth birthday, Pierre had seen a lot in the thirty or so years that he had been a PI, most of it unsavory and sickening. He had seen the absolute worst of humanity and it had turned him into a cold and jaded man. And yet, he had found nothing on Adrien Agreste. The man was either a saint, or he was really good at covering up that which he didn’t want others finding out. At almost thirty years old, all that Pierre had been able to gather on the man were simple things that most people could find with a quick google search. Born to Gabriel and Emilie Agreste, Adrien had been in the spotlight practically since birth. He had been modeling for his father since before he could walk, had been homeschooled until middle school when he was sent to an esteemed private Academy in Paris. His mother had disappeared from his life when he was eleven. Foul play was suspected but never proven. He had few close friends outside of Chloe Bourgeois and Nino Lahiffe. He eventually got engaged to Chloe, only to end the engagement about a year ago. Chloe was now standing trial for the attempted murder of Adrien’s daughter, Emma Dupain-Cheng.

As much as Pierre had hated to admit it, he couldn’t find any dirt on his latest employer. It was disconcerting. Over his years as a Private Investigator, Pierre had learned that he should always look into his employers just as much as he should look into the people they were searching for. A lot of Private Investigators had no morals and wouldn’t hesitate to hand people over to their would-be kidnappers and murders if the payday was big enough. Pierre wasn’t like that. Once, he had been. But that had been naivety at its finest and after one of his first cases had resulted in him accidentally handing a fifteen-year-old runaway over to her abusive parents, only for them to murder her after weeks of abuse, well… let’s just say Pierre hadn’t made that mistake twice. He dug up dirt on his employers for two reasons: to ensure they really were just looking for their friend or family member or whoever out of concern and not some sick, twisted reason, and so that if he did discover dark ulterior motives, he had something to blackmail them with to make sure they left whoever they were looking for alone.

Usually, it worked, but he always had a backup plan on the chance it didn’t. Half of his money went back into his would-be victims to ensure they stayed safe. Even living in a dinky studio apartment with only an old, grumpy cat for company, it was worth it to know he was making a difference and keeping people safe, in his own little way. Today's revelations had, thankfully, cleared the air. Listening to their conversations, he could easily tell that this Marinette character hadn’t wanted to leave; that as Adrien had pointed out, she had her reasons. And apparently, those reasons were Gabriel Agreste. It was stupid that Pierre hadn’t thought to look into his employer’s father. He was usually more thorough than this. That would change after today. Marinette, even without knowledge of her additional audience, had made it perfectly clear that the fashion tycoon had something to do with her departure. Pierre fully intended to find out, but he needed Adrien’s help to accomplish that. Unfortunately, the man still seemed somewhat out of it so, with a roll of his eyes, Pierre grabbed the man by the elbow and steered him towards where his car waited on the street. Adrien could have his driver pick him up from the coffee shop when they were done.

“Come on, coffee will do us both some good and we need to talk,” he said firmly, side-eyeing the blonde as he led him towards the car. The man nodded mutely and got in without any other prompting needed, but he was unusually quiet on the short drive to the coffee shop Pierre tended to frequent whenever he was sorting through evidence pertaining to both his clients and their quarries. The cafe was small, off the beaten path, which meant they weren’t likely to be disturbed. Adrien still seemed kind of out of it when they got there, so Pierre just ordered two cups of black coffee with cream and sugar on the side in case his companion preferred something less strong. As an afterthought, he ordered them a couple of buttered croissants as well. Even in the few months, Pierre had known him, Adrien had lost weight. It wasn’t healthy, but there was a part of him that could understand what he was going through. He’d been married with kids once, as well. The difference? His family hadn’t abandoned him… they’d been murdered. It was part of the reason he was so dedicated to his job. No one should have to go through what he had gone through in his early twenties.

“My father has been telling me to get over Marinette and the kids for months,” Adrien suddenly broke his silence, lifting haunted green eyes to meet Pierre’s gaze. “He’s known why they left, and maybe even where they went, for over a year , while I’ve been tearing myself apart with worry… why? Why would he do that?”

“Look, kid, I don’t like to pretend I know the inner workings of your father’s brain, but judging by what I’ve seen so far, I’d say control is a pretty good guess,” the older man hedged cautiously. Across from him, the blonde man propped his elbows up on the table between them and buried his face in his hands. He wasn’t crying anymore, but his body language screamed defeat.

“I should have known. I should have but I didn’t. I let Marinette deal with that alone and it got so bad that she took the kids and ran . I mean,” he lifted his head to frown at the man across from him, “I’m not condoning what she did, but I do understand why she did it. My father is a powerful man and I just… he had to have threatened her, right?”

“Most likely, yes,” Pierre agreed.

“Okay, so most likely my father threatened Marinette and it got so bad that she feared for the safety of our children and took off. How did it get so bad!? How could she possibly think I would take his side over hers?” He demanded. He didn’t really seem to be seeking an answer this time, his rapidly deepening scowl shifting to focus on the wall behind Pierre, but the man found himself speaking up nonetheless.

“She was scared.”

“What?” Adrien flicked his gaze back to the man.

“She was scared. I had a kid once, Adrien. I lost her, and her mother, to a group of men just looking to make a few extra bucks,” Pierre felt his throat constrict painfully as he dredged up memories long buried. This was the first time he had spoken of that time since he had spoken to the police right after it had happened.

“What happened?” Adrien asked. Pierre had captured his full attention now.

“I was away on a trip; I had just become a PI and was following a lead. My wife, Miranda, was only twenty-three. I was twenty-five. Our daughter, Reagan, was two. They, my wife and daughter, were at a bank when a couple of robbers came in,” Pierre said, the memories bombarding him now. “They took Miranda and Reagan as hostages to get away… and I guess they decided after the fact that they were dead weight and killed them. I was in the States at the time, watching the live feed on the news when they announced they had been killed.”

“I had no idea,” Adrien breathed.

“You wouldn’t. You would have been a baby when it happened; probably right around Reagan’s age. Anyway, I know what it’s like to fear for your children. I imagine your old man probably threatened her and the children, either their lives or to take them away from her. With his money, and with connections to a Mayor who is already known for abusing his power, it wouldn’t have been difficult,” he explained with a shrug, pushing the memories forcefully back into their box where they belonged.

“No… no, my father wouldn’t have gone that far,” Adrien denied, but he looked unconvinced.

“You need to let go of these emotional attachments and look at this objectively, Adrien,” the man said sternly. “Your father has always wanted to control you, correct? As a child, he had you homeschooled until you threw a big enough fit to be placed in a Private School. He controlled your after school schedule, he has controlled your career since you were an infant. I’d bet my life that he’s the one who wanted you to date and get engaged to, Chloe. Someone he could control and someone who could play a hand in controlling you .”

“Marinette was a wild card to Old Man Agreste. She was an unexpected player that your father didn’t account for. She was independent, a rising star in the fashion world, but her lowborn birth meant she wasn’t fit to be with you. I imagine he would have tried to pay her off. Then, she gets pregnant. Suddenly, she has a hold over you that Gabe will never be able to challenge if she chooses to use it to her advantage. Likely, that’s the point where he tried to control her, but Marinette is stubborn, right? She seems like a stubborn girl. So he’s forced to use fear to control her and keep her away from you . And what better way than to threaten that which she holds dearest? Not her life, not her career, but her kids. Your kids, Adrien,” Pierre growled. “He’s been playing you for a fool since day one.”

Adrien didn’t respond right away. He was ashen, a thunderstruck expression on his face because deep down, he knew Pierre was right. His father had always tried to control him and he would undoubtedly have seen Marinette as a threat to all of his carefully laid out plans. His father had the audacity to look Adrien dead in the eye, even after driving away the most important people in the young man’s life. He hadn’t said a word, even as he had watched his son waste away in his grief and suddenly, Adrien wasn’t just hurt and horrified, and sad… he was furious. No, he was downright enraged. He was a grown adult. Who gave his father the right to meddle in his life and ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him?

“I’m gonna kill him,” Adrien snarled suddenly, a darkness seeming to overshadow his normally bright green eyes. The man moved to rise, but Pierre was faster. Reaching across the table, he clamped a hand swiftly over the younger man’s wrist, holding him in place with a surprisingly strong grip.

“No, Adrien. I get this rage; I get wanting to make him pay, but we have to be smart about this. Your friends said they couldn’t help you anymore. I doubt confronting your father will change that and you still don’t know where Marinette is,” Pierre spoke softly and rapidly, fighting to break through the haze of rage that was threatening to consume the blonde.

“So I’ll demand to know where she is,” the blonde snapped, jerking at his wrist, but the older man’s grip was like iron.

“You think he’ll tell you? Somehow, I doubt it. We need to investigate more. If you go in there, guns blazing, we won’t get a damned thing out of your father. But if you continue playing nice, if you act clueless, we might be able to catch him in a slip-up,” he said quietly. He could see the fight leaving his client at his reasoning.

“I don’t know if I can face him, knowing what he’s done,” he pointed out quietly.

“You must. I believe you, Adrien. But if you want to find Marinette, this might be the only way. Can you do this?” Pierre loosened his grip and finally released the other man, his gaze never wavering. After what felt like a lifetime, Adrien sighed and gave a short, hard nod.

“I can do this,” he said.

“Good,” Pierre said with a confident smirk, “then here’s the plan.”

Chapter Text

ATTENTION READERS

I interrupt your regularly scheduled angst to bring you part 2 of our Valentine's Day Special. Can you believe that exactly one year and twelve days ago, I woke up at 5 am after working about 10+ hours on zero sleep and had this sudden stroke of inspiration? And from that inspiration, Love You Endlessly was born. Originally supposed to be a short, fluffy story about rekindling love and overcoming obstacles, Love You Endlessly grew into this dark, twisted tale of a young mother's struggle against the grandfather of her children, and one man's quest to just be part of his kids' lives. And then, at about 90,000 words, I realized this couldn't just end as one book. That it deserved a continuation; that YOU guys deserved a continuation, and thus, Love You Eternally was born. And yes, I purposely let you guys believe it was ending with LYEndlessly for about 30,000 words, so sue me xD At least I didn't make you wait for the start of LYEternally. ANYWAY, the point is, the LYE series would not be what it is today without your support. From the amazing readers who have been with me through this rollercoaster from day one to the friends who have joined us along the way, and to our newest readers who found Love You Eternally and then proceeded to binge read Love You Endlessly in its entirety. You know who you are and I fucking love you and your insane dedication. Without further ado, please enjoy A Valentines Day Special 2.0: Wedding Day Blues

Marinette Agreste took a shaky breath as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror that sat in one corner of her room at the Coccinelle Vineyard. She felt like a princess, in a full-length gown of her own design. It was, in all honesty, her masterpiece. The dress was gorgeous ivory with a corset style bodice that was accented with deep burgundy red. The sides were laced up with burgundy ribbons, and a matching bow was knotted at her back. Thin-stemmed flowers in the same burgundy decorated the front and back of the bodice and it had a sweetheart neckline decorated with little black pearls. The full skirt was made of charmeuse, the same ivory as the bodice, and was dotted with black pears and burgundy roses made from some extra material she had laying around. The skirt fell to the ground, hiding her ivory calf-high faux leather boots, the back trailing in a slight train.

Her arms were covered in elbow-length ivory gloves, a gold and ruby bracelet and her ruby and diamond engagement ring on one hand. Her blue-black hair was mostly loose, an intricate braid wrapped around the circumference of her head like a tiara, inlaid with a ribbon matching those on the bodice of her dress, while the rest of her hair spilled over her shoulders in thick curls. Three roses were pinned just above her right ear, and a small veil was pinned where her two braids met as one. She had decided to go with minimal make-up. A bit of mascara to enhance her eyelashes and make the blue of her eyes pop, a bit of powder and blush, some burgundy lipstick. She wanted to keep things as simple and understated as possible, despite Adrien’s insistence on going all out. He wanted to give her the world, perhaps not realizing that he was her world. He, and the three beautiful children they had together.

Technically, she and Adrien were already married. As French custom dictated, they’d married with only a handful of witnesses in the city hall, standing before Mayor Bourgeois. It had been a bit awkward, considering Chloe was still unhappy with Adrien for breaking their engagement, but Mayor Bourgeois hadn’t had the choice. With such a high profile couple, refusing them their marriage certificate would only bring scandal down upon him and his daughter. More so than the breakup had brought, that is. It was actually Adrien who had suggested they have a second ceremony with their friends and family at the Coccinelle Vineyard, which was located in the south of France. It was owned by an old man who went by Master Fu. The location couldn’t have been more picturesque, especially now that it was decorated for what Mode Magazine was declaring the Wedding of the Century. They, along with a few other magazines and news stations, would be covering the entire wedding which only renewed the nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach.

“Am I crazy for being this nervous?” She asked, turning away from the mirror to look between her mother and best friend, desperate for validation. “I mean, Adrien and I are technically already married so… the hard part is over, right? I shouldn’t be nervous, right?”

“Everyone gets nervous on their wedding day, sweetheart. It’s perfectly normal,” Sabine Cheng said, approaching her daughter with a kind smile and cupping her cheek in one hand.

“Yeah, Mare, I’ll bet Adrien is with Nino freaking out as is,” Alya added with a chuckle, though her laughter cut off when her best friend’s eyes only widened in dismay.

“Do you think he’s getting cold feet!?” She squeaked, momentarily panicking before her best friend stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“ Girl , chill. That man is crazy about you. You’re worrying for nothing,” she reassured, grinning. Before Marinette could respond, there was a knock at the door and Alya’s grin only widened further. “And I’ll bet that’s him, now!” She said.

Marinette squeaked and opened her mouth, but she didn’t have time to say anything before her friend was swishing over to the door in her form-fitting, sunset orange dress and pulling it open to reveal Adrien in all of his glory. Wearing a black tux with deep green accents, hair perfectly coiffed, he looked devastatingly handsome and not at all like he was on the verge of a total breakdown. A high-pitched whine escaped Marinette as she stared at him wide-eyed. The charming half-smile quirking his lips immediately fell and he took a step towards her, immediately concerned.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked, brows furrowing. Marinette opened her mouth, trying to speak around the sudden lump in her throat, but in the end, she just shook her head mutely as tears sprang to her eyes. What was this sudden and overwhelming feeling of fear and helplessness? Was she the one getting cold feet? Marrying Adrien was what she had wanted more than anything for the past two years, but when Hugo had been conceived, their wedding plans had been put on hold. And they had kept getting put on hold even after he was born. It was only a few months ago, when their youngest turned one, that they had finally decided to just go for it and get married. The day they had made that decision was among the top five happiest days of her life, right up there with the births of Emma and Louis and little Hugo.

They hadn’t wasted any more time after that and dove headlong into wedding plans, not wanting to waste another minute. Now, almost six months later, here they were. It was a week since their official ceremony at City Hall, and the last week had been nothing short of blissful. Being married to Adrien was everything she had ever hoped it to be. Waking up beside him, watching him help their kids get ready for school, kissing each other goodbye at the door as he headed off to work and she took the kids to school… it gave her the most indescribable feeling of warmth and happiness and completeness. But now, she felt cold and clammy. Her throat felt tight, her eyes burned, and she felt like she was suffocating under the weight of Adrien’s concerned emerald gaze. Like she was trapped, with no way out.

The man in question moved forward until they were toe to toe and she was vaguely aware of the room being vacated and the door closing quietly behind them, but she could only stare as Adrien searched her gaze. His hand moved up to cup her cheek the way her mother just had, thumb swiping away a tear she hadn’t realized she had shed. It broke her heart to see him looking so worried, so concerned for her when she was having all these second thoughts. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t felt this on their original wedding day, and she hadn’t felt this way throughout their first week as a married couple, so why now ?

“Mari, hey. What’s the matter? You know you can talk to me,” Adrien tried to recapture her gaze as she tore hers away and fixed it on a random spot in the room, but she resolutely avoided looking directly at him as her tears flowed faster and her lip began to quiver violently. This only seemed to further worry her husband as he tried to keep up with the flow of tears.

“Marinette, mon chéri , you’re scaring me. Please , talk to me. Was it something I did? Something I said? Whatever it is, I’ll fix it,” he pleaded, half crouching before her in another attempt to catch her gaze. She closed hers in response, shoulders shaking as a sob finally escaped. A sudden wave of nausea filled the young woman and Marinette uttered something that sounded similar to an apology before jerking away from her husband and rushing across the room to the bathroom. Ignoring Adrien’s calls, she slammed the door behind her and locked it, before immediately sliding down the door in a boneless heap as the thin hold she held on her turbulent emotions finally broke and she began to sob in earnest. It was only moments later that a soft knock came at the door.

“Go away,” she mumbled, pulling her knees up, folding her arms over them, and burying her head in her arms. Her makeup might be a lost cause but she wasn’t about to get runny mascara all over her white dress.

“Marinette, mon amour , what’s wrong?” Adrien asked gently, the handle jiggling slightly as he attempted to open the door.

“Please, Adrien. I just need a minute,” she hiccuped through her sobs, lifting her head long enough to tug off her gloves, allowing her to properly wipe at her messy face. There was a lengthy pause in which Marinette actually thought he had left, but then there was a soft thump on the other side of the door that she assumed meant he had chosen to sit down and wait her out.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready, Princess,” he promised quietly. Marinette waited for him to say something else, but he was as silent as a mouse. She couldn’t even hear his breathing through the door. Relieved to have her moment of reprieve, the young bride once again buried her head in her arms, although her sobs had settled into the occasional hiccup and her tears had mostly stopped flowing. All that remained was some slightly uneven breathing and a heart that was beating way too rapidly in her chest. Marinette wasn’t sure how long they sat there. Time seemed to stand still as she sat on the marble floor of their private Villas luxurious bathroom. Master Fu had insisted they take the honeymoon Villa for the duration of their four day stay at the Coccinelle Vineyard. Regardless of how long it took, though, the butterflies eventually settled, the knot in her throat loosened and then disappeared altogether, and her breathing evened out. Her face felt tight and uncomfortable with dried tears and ruined makeup, and no doubt her nose and upper lip were caked and snot, but at least she didn’t feel like she was going insane anymore. Taking a shaky breath, she finally lifted her head fully and allowed it to fall back against the door with a quiet thump. It took her a moment longer to form the words that seemed to stick in her throat, but she eventually managed to get them out.

“Adrien?” She asked quietly, voice shaking only slightly. There was a pause and she thought she heard Adrien take a deep breath before he responded.

“Yes, mon amour ?” He sounded nervous and scared and it made her sick to know that she had done that to him.

“Do you ever wonder if we’re moving too fast?” She asked softly, waiting on bated breath for his response. It seemed like an eternity before he did, finally, respond, and it wasn’t the answer she was looking for, though if asked she couldn’t have said what, exactly, she was looking for in the first place.

“Do you?”

“I don’t know… it’s just, we got engaged two months after we started dating. We had Hugo less than a year later… we moved in with each other before we even really got to know each other and it’s just, it’s a lot, you know?” She tried to explain. There was another lengthy pause before he responded.

“Honestly? No. I don’t know,” he said softly, and a part of her deflated, but then he continued. “Marinette, you are everything I have ever wanted. My mom disappeared when I was eleven, my dad was never really there for me. All I ever wanted was a family and I thought I could have that with Chloe, but meeting you? It made me realize how wrong I was. And it isn’t just because you’re the mother of my children, though that’s a definite bonus. It’s because you remind me of my mother, and what life was like before she left. You make me think that I can have that happy family back again, except so much better because it’s our family. Yours and mine. There is no one else I want to spend my life with,” he said, voice filled with conviction. The tears were back, but they were of a happier breed than her previous ones.

“You don’t talk about her much… your mother,” she said shakily, a soft smile curving her lips. “Do I really remind you of her?”

“You do. My mother… she was the kindest person I’d ever met. She was so sweet and compassionate, always looking out for everyone around her. My father used to say she had a bleeding heart,” Adrien said, and he sounded like he was smiling now. That soft, gentle smile she sometimes caught him wearing when she just happened to look up from doing something else, only to find him watching her. “She was also really funny. My mother was always laughing and telling jokes. She used to say that the world will always be a brighter place, so long as laughter exists. She was fiercely protective. Not just of me, but of anyone she thought was being treated unfairly. She was an advocate for the physically and mentally disabled, ran charities for orphanages and animal shelters… she even took on my father a time or two when she thought he had treated an employee too harshly,” he chuckled and Marinette couldn’t help but join in.

“I can’t imagine how I remind you of her,” Marinette said when their laughter faded.

“Because you’re kind and honest and passionate,” Adrien responded without missing a beat. “Because you’re one of the strongest people I know, you’re always putting others before yourself, and because you’re beautiful, Marinette. I can’t imagine how you don’t see it when everyone else around you does, but you’re truly beautiful, inside and out. You have your flaws, sure, but they only make me love you more,” Adrien said.

“Adrien-”

“Look, Marinette. I said it before and I’ll say it again, I know we’re rushing things and if you say the word, I’ll take that step back. I’ll wait until you’re ready, no matter how long that takes. I only want to spend my life with you, whether we’re married or not,” Adrien rushed to say before she could say anything else.

“Adrien-” She tried again, but again he cut her off.

“And if you’re worried about what others will think, screw them all. I love you, Marinette, and I love our family. We’re perfect the way we are, and we don’t need a silly paper claiming otherwise,” he added.

“ Adrien, ” Marinette said forcefully, opening the door. Apparently not expecting the sudden change, Adrien fell back with a yelp and was left staring up at her from the ground with a startled expression on his face. She offered him a rueful grin. “I was going to say that you’re right. We might have rushed things a little, and I might have had a moment of panic and self-doubt, but one thing I’m sure of is us . You, me, and our children. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, too,” she said, moving around to stand by his legs as he sat up. Offering him a hand, she smiled. “I would be honored to marry you today, Monsieur Agreste.”

Adrien took her hand, but instead of pulling himself up, he pulled her down into his lap. She squeaked in surprise, and then giggled and leaned her forehead against his shoulder as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. His own arms came around her and for several moments, they just sat there and held one another. Adrien pulled back first, although he didn’t move far, his shining eyes meeting hers as a gentle smile curved his lips.

“I would be honored to marry you today, as well, Madame Agreste,” he said, lifting his hands to cup her face in his hands. His thumbs swiped gently across her cheeks, wiping away what he could of her tears. Not that it did much. Her face was red and puffy, the powder and blush mostly washed away and mascara ran in bold, ugly rivulets from her eyes and down the curve of her cheekbones, but at that moment she had never looked more beautiful to Adrien. “I love you,” he uttered, leaning in to capture her lips in his.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated, punctuating each ‘I love you’ with another kiss until they were both a giggling mess of tears and snot on the bedroom floor of an overly extravagant villa. When their laughter had died once more, Marinette smiled and initiated another kiss. This one was longer, slower, simultaneously sweeter and more sensual than the others. The kiss itself was a promise and a declaration of love, but when Marinette pulled back and smiled at him, her eyes two shimmering pools of blue, she still found her lips forming the words that she would happily spend the rest of her life reiterating, if she meant she could have more moments like this one with the man she had chosen to spend the rest of her life with.

“I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Chapter Text

“You have a visitor.”

Chloe Bourgeois looked up from the tablet she currently held in her hands, patented sneer already affixed to her face as she met the cold stare of the Corrections Officer. She rose slowly, a dramatic huff leaving her as the door to her cell rattled open. The noise grated at her nerves like nothing else, but she would count her blessings. While her daddy had been incapable of getting her out on bail, yet, he had managed to get her a cell well away from the city scum that filled the Prison where she was being held until they could appeal the courts to allow for bail. She was afforded many more luxuries than the other inmates, but at the end of the day, she was still a prisoner here. Stepping up to the guard, she allowed her gaze to sweep over him disdainfully.

“It’s about time. I thought I was going to go stir crazy cooped up in there. Be a dear and tell the warden I want my time in the commons room extended and moved up an hour or two. Also, fetch me my lunch, I’m feeling rather peckish and don’t feel like dealing with the cafeteria today. I expect it here and piping hot when I return,” she said imperiously, stepping past him and heading down the all too familiar hallway. Cells lined the right side of the hall, all of them empty of prisoners. It was good to be related to people in high places. Upon reaching the door at the end of the hall, there was a loud buzz and she pulled open the previously locked barrier and stepped into a similar hallway. The cells in this hall were mostly occupied, each containing one or two prisoners. Chloe could feel their stares boring into her as she strode past, but she ignored them. She made it through three more hallways before she finally reached the checkpoint that lay just before the visitor’s room.

A female guard patted her down and ran a metal detector over her, while Chloe barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Unfortunately, her Daddy had been unable to prevent the body searches from happening. It was simply another embarrassment she was forced to endure, and when this whole ordeal was over, she was going to spend several months in the Caribbean. She could use the vacation. The guard finally deemed her weapon free and the final door was buzzed open. The guard who had patted her down followed close behind as Chloe stepped through the door and into the long cement room where visits took place. Tables dotted the open space, evenly spaced to give the occupants of each the illusion of privacy as they spoke to their loved ones or their lawyers. It was almost laughable. Here, privacy was a foreign concept. Chloe was used to being in the spotlight, of being the center of attention. At one point in time, she had lived for it. Now, she wished to be out of sight of the guard’s prying gazes for just a few minutes. The cold indifference that was mirrored on all of their faces made her skin crawl, and it took everything in her power not to show how much it affected her.

The female guard guided Chloe silently through the tables, finally reaching one and all but shoving her down into the chair on one side. Chloe needed no prompting to place her hands on the table and allow the guard to fasten the handcuffs bolted to the metal surface around her pale wrists. She had enough visits with her parents and lawyers to know the drill, and as much as she wanted to protest and throw a fit, she knew that they wouldn’t allow her visitor in until she was restrained. It was annoying, but Chloe desperately needed to speak to whoever had come to see her. Whoever it was, likely her father or her lawyer, they might have valuable information relating to her appeal. Once she was secure, the guard grunted something about her visitor arriving shortly and stalked off to resume her post. The blonde wasn’t the least bit sad to see her go and settled on fidgeting with her nails while she waited. It was maybe ten minutes before the chair scraped back and a figure dropped down across from her. The blonde rolled her blue eyes before lifting them, mouth opening to let her visitor know exactly what she thought about them making her wait so long for news on her next court date… but the words withered in her throat and her eyebrows inched up slowly, the only outward sign of her surprise.

“Mlle Bourgeois. It has been a while,” her visitor said coolly. Chloe remained silent, eyes narrowing slightly as across from her, Gabriel Agreste arched a brow of his own, his hands folding before him as he regarded her from across the table to a cool blue stare.

1.5 Years Ago

Chloe winced as she peered at her reflection in the bathroom mirror of the Paris Police Department. That beast of a cat had done quite a number on her, his claws resulting in the need for several stitches across her left cheek, in her chin and along her right jawline, and one particularly nasty wound that extended from her hairline and through her right eyebrow. She looked like something out of those B Rated Slasher films that Adrien used to drag her to in their youth whenever he had managed to sneak away from the Mansion for the day. When all of this blew over, she was going to murder that cat. A knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts and straightening up, the blonde opened the door to find an officer standing outside the door, an unfriendly look on her face.

“Mlle Bourgeois, your ride is out front,” she said, eyes narrowing slightly. Despite her messed up face, Chloe affected an air of superiority and glared back at the woman. The police were releasing her until official charges were brought against her, but most of them weren’t entirely happy about it. She didn’t much care, as long as she got out of here and back to her Daddy’s hotel.

“About time. I’ve been waiting for ages,” she griped, shoving past the woman and striding down the hall towards the main lobby. As she drew closer, she could already see the crowd gathered outside and steeled herself for what would no doubt be a field day with the press. No doubt everyone in Paris had heard of her arrest and subsequent release, so it was no wonder they would be crowded outside, awaiting her departure. Stepping into the lobby, Chloe expected to see her father or a hired bodyguard, someone to get her through the crowd outside. Instead, she came face to face with a wary looking Adrien and a furious looking Marinette. They spotted her at the same time that she spotted them, and Chloe barely had time to react before the smaller, darker haired woman was standing before her, her eyes burning with hatred.

“Are you fucking insane !? Are you so mentally unstable that you’d really go after a little girl, Chloe!?” Marinette’s voice was in no way quiet, the shrill tone catching the attention of the receptionist and several officers loitering in the lobby. Their gazes flicked towards the trio speculatively, perhaps gauging the situation, before ultimately turning away when it became clear that nothing physical was going on.

“You brought this on yourself, Dupain-Cheng. You and my cheating Ex. You two deserve each other,” the blonde sneered, her blue eyes flashing with venom.

“And you deserve to rot in hell,” Marinette shot right back. The taller of the two arched a brow, lips quirking up into a half smirk.

“I’ll be sure to see you there,” she hissed. A muscle ticked in the ravenette’s jaw, but the steadying hand of the blond man beside her kept her composed and in control.

“You’re going to jail, Chloe. We have the footage; Emma will testify against you, and so will Adrien. You’re done,” the dark-haired woman said, shaking her head. “Was this all really worth it? Throwing your life away, ruining any chance you had with Adrien or anyone else for that matter. And for what? To prove a point?”

“You’re asking me why?” Chloe snorted derisively, arching a brow.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am,” Marinette agreed, frowning at the blonde in disgust. “So. Why did you do it, Chloe? What could possibly drive you to try and kill an innocent child? A six-year-old , Chloe? Help me understand, because I honestly can’t fathom what would make anyone do something so monstrous as that,” Marinette said.

Chloe smirked and shrugged, lips pulling back into a savage grin. “I did it because she was in my way. The same way you’re in my way. The way you’ve been in my way since we were kids. I’ve hated you all my life, Dupain-Cheng. And if I got the chance, I would do it again. Except this time, I’d make sure I succeeded in killing her and that horrid little boy, too.” In retrospect, she should have expected the blow, but she didn’t. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a lot faster, and a lot stronger, than Chloe had ever given her credit for. Her small fist caught the blonde directly in the nose, the crunch of bone preceding her blood-curdling shriek. The blonde fell backward, the ravenette on top of her in a flurry of rage. The smaller of the two probably would have kept up her assault if Adrien hadn’t wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her bodily away from the crumpled blonde. Through her tears of pain, Chloe could see his lips moving, but he spoke too low for her to hear. Whatever it was, it seemed to do the trick. By the time the officers reached them, Marinette was no longer fighting to get back to the target of her rage.

A male officer fixed the couple with a warning look and gestured towards the door. “Why don’t you two get on out of here before there’s trouble,” he said, before turning a disdainful look on the blonde. Adrien set the woman down and tugged at her wrist, but the ravenette remained rooted to the spot, bluebell gaze met Chloe’s sky blue one.

“You come near me or my family again, Chloe, and there won’t be enough left of you for the police to identify when I’m done. You stay the hell away from me, and you stay the hell away from my children, or so help me God. There won’t be a soul on this planet who can protect you from my wrath,” she snarled, finally allowing Adrien to drag her away. Chloe watched them go, her face hurting for a whole new reason now. With his arm wrapped protectively around the smaller woman, Adrien guided Marinette to the door and pulled it open. At the last moment, right before the door closed behind him, the man looked back over his shoulder to meet her gaze. Chloe felt a chill run down her spine at the raw, unadulterated hatred in the blond’s gaze, and then the doors closed behind him and the connection was severed.

Chapter Text

“Mlle. Bourgeois. It has been awhile,” Gabriel Agreste said coolly, arching one eyebrow as he settled into the chair across from the blonde woman. Chloe’s eyes narrowed, muscles tensing as she regarded the man across her with suspicion. At one point, she had looked up to and respected the man. At one point, she had trusted him to have her back the way he always had when it came to Adrien. Her trust in him failed when he had left her to deal with the consequences of her actions alone. She had at least thought he would have helped out financially, but he had not done so and the strain of keeping her comfortable was starting to drain even her father’s deep pockets. The silence seemed to stretch between them before the blonde finally gave in with a sigh.

“M. Agreste. What a surprise,” she said dryly. If her cold response surprised or angered the man, he didn’t show it. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk about your upcoming trial, Mlle. Bourgeois,” Gabriel said evenly as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Now, it was the blonde’s turn to arch one brow.

“What does my trial have to do with you, Agreste? You left me to deal with all this,” she gestured sharply around the bleak, concrete room and her disgusting orange jumpsuit, “alone.”

“I had to, Chloe. I couldn’t afford to let Adrien and the press know whose side I was on,” he explained.

“And you can now?” The blonde snorted derisively. A muscle ticked in the man’s cheek. He was unaccustomed to being sassed, let alone by the Bourgeois Family. Only Audrey ever talked back to him on most occasions and she was easy to appease once you knew how to deal with her.

“No. However, I have it on good authority that you have a chance at getting out of this without any further repercussions,” he explained. Across from him, Chloe perked up slightly, cautious hope beginning to shine in her eyes.

“How? Why?” She demanded to know, glancing furtively around and leaning closer to the man across from her.

“Mlle. Dupain-Cheng is still nowhere to be found… by authorities, at least. Without her and the child to testify, we may be able to get you off with only a slap on the wrist,” Gabriel explained, the slightest hint of a smirk forming on his lips.

“We?”

“Yes, Mlle Bourgeois, I will help you… discreetly. But first, I want you to promise you will use discretion regarding any involvement I had in helping you,” the man said sternly. Chloe didn’t even need to think about her answer. She nodded rapidly, and when the man offered a hand, she shook it eagerly as a slow smile spread across her lips. She was going home.

“I don’t wanna go to school!!” The piercing shriek of the seven-year-old boy split the otherwise quiet morning, causing Marinette to wince visibly. Louis darted around his mother, managing to evade his mother’s grasp for all of three steps before her arms circled his waist and she hauled him back. He flailed, almost smacking his mother in the face in his efforts to free himself, as, across the room, Hugo began to wail in solidarity with his brother. “I don’t wanna go . You can’t make me!”

“Louie, baby, we’ve been over this,” the exhausted mother pleaded, grasping the child’s wrists in one hand to avoid getting hit. “You have to go to school.”

“I don’t want to,” he wailed again, kicking out in an attempt to free himself. He growled in frustration when his efforts failed to bear the results he was looking for. Above him, the ravenette sighed wearily. When they had first moved, Louis had thrown a fit nearly daily when it came time to leave for school but he had settled down considerably after a few months, only protesting mildly whenever it was time for her to drop him off and leave for work. She had thought them well past this stage but apparently not.

“Louie-”

“NO! I want my daddy. He wouldn’t make me go,” the child insisted, trying to twist himself free to no avail.

“Louis-”

“I hate you!” The child snapped. The shock of the words is what finally made her slacken her grip enough for the boy to pull free. Turning, he glared at his mother, face pinched with anger. “I hate you, why did you make us come here!? I wanna go home!”

“Louie, stop it!” Emma’s voice cut through the silence following the boy’s words, and with a frustrated growl, the child spun and stormed off, slamming his door behind him. Marinette flinched at the sound and scrubbed a hand over her eyes in an effort to relieve the burning sensation that had suddenly taken up residence behind her eyelids. She had known the children had a difficult time adjusting, but she had never imagined it would get this bad. It was another wail from Hugo that spurred the young woman into action once more. Crossing to her youngest child’s side, she picked him up and bounced him, humming soothingly until his cries subsided and he soon fell back asleep. Slipping him back into his car seat, she buckled him securely before finally meeting her daughter’s eyes.

“Emma, get your shoes on, please,” she said, smiling gently in an effort to reassure the worried child.

“Yes, Mama,” she said, her tone subdued as she sat down and began to pull her sparkly pink sneakers on. Marinette sighed and headed back towards the twins' room, knocking gently on the door before entering.

“Louie? Come on, baby, we have to go,” she said quietly, entering the room and warily approaching the child-sized lump hidden beneath the blanket on the boy’s bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she tugged lightly at the blanket until finally, Louis allowed the comforter to be pulled down, revealing his mess of blonde hair and tear-streaked face. “Oh sweetie,” she murmured, opening her arms to the boy. With a wail, Louis threw himself into her arms. She didn’t even mind that he was getting tears and snot on her clean blouse, clinging to him as tightly as he clung to her.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean it, Mama. I don’t hate you, I don’t!” He cried, fists tightening in the folds of her shirt. She shushed him gently, rubbing his back in soothing circles.

“I know, baby. I know,” she said reassuringly, pulling back to press a kiss to his forehead. It took several long moments for the child to calm enough for the young mother to set him back on his feet and lead him to the bathroom, where she cleaned up his face and tried to remove some of the tears staining her pastel blue blouse. She eventually gave up and helped the child into his shoes instead, before finally managing to corral the twins and their sleeping brother from the house. Twenty minutes later, they pulled up outside Lacrosse Fashion Industries. Emma was the first to speak, looking at her mother with confusion on her face.

“What about school, Maman ?” She asked uncertainly. Marinette offered her a strained smile in the rearview mirror as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

“I don’t think one more day without school will make much of a difference,” she explained with a soft smile, sliding out of the car and moving around to get Hugo. After a moment, the twins slid out of the car as well, sharing an uncertain glance. Seeing the look, Marinette smiled fondly. “Relax. Your Aunt Tara will be happy to see you,” she assured, moving the car seat and diaper bag to one hand and extending the other hand to the twins. Louis grabbed her hand first, and Emma quickly grabbed his hand, and together they walked up to the huge building. Like most buildings in New York, Lacrosse Fashion Industries was tall and flashy. Fifty floors of wall to ceiling glass, the building was unique in that it was shaped like an L. For some, it might have seemed tacky. For Tara, it somehow worked perfectly.

The main lobby was large and spacious, the floor a gorgeous, iridescent granite, while the furniture and artwork were eclectic and mismatched in bold, vivid colors. Marinette approached the front desk, where a receptionist was typing away rapidly at her computer. A big, fluffy monstrosity of a black cat was perched on a cat tree beside the desk, amber eyes opening briefly to eyeball the newcomers before ultimately returning to his nap. It took Emma’s excited squeal of “Kitty!” for the receptionist to take notice of their presence. Head snapping up, she regarded Marinette and the children with a look of surprise before blanching.

“Miss Fu! Good morning. Should I send for your morning tea?” She scrambled, cheeks flushing nervously.

“That would be lovely. And perhaps a couple of hot chocolates and scones, too? And please, Lacey, call me Bridgette,” the ravenette said smiling easily. Being favored by the boss had its perks, but it also had its downsides. For example, a lot of the staff, like Lacey, seemed petrified to get on her bad side less she get them fired. Marinette had done everything in her power to dissuade this idea but to no avail. Some people were just determined to suck up to her, regardless of her efforts. Bidding the nervous woman a quick goodbye with a friendly smile, Marinette led the children to the elevator bank along the back wall of the lobby and scanned her ID card. The doors slid open immediately and she punched the button for the 45th floor, where her design studio and office lay. The elevator ride was fairly quick, considering they were heading nearly all the way up, and before too long, the doors dinged and slid open, letting them out onto a floor that was a flurry of activity. Most of the head designers worked on this floor, but only Marinette had a private office and studio. Here, barely anyone paid her any mind as she guided the children through the mayhem that was the studio whenever they were nearing a deadline, and into the sanctuary of her private quarters.

“Is this room all yours, Mama?” Emma asked, finally releasing her brother as Marinette turned on the lights and placed the car seat gently on the ground.

“Sure is,” Marinette agreed, gesturing to a door to the right of them. “The next room over is, too. You guys are gonna spend the day in here while I do some work in the studio, okay? You can draw me some new pretty pictures to put on the fridge,” she added with a wink.

“Yay!” Emma said, bouncing excitedly.

“Will we get to see Aunt Tara?” Louis asked while Emma scrambled into the large, plush pink rolling chair behind the desk that dominated the room.

Before Marinette could answer, there was a knock at the door and the woman in question swept in, drinks in one hand and breakfast in the other. She grinned widely as the twins squealed and launched themselves at her. Somehow, she managed to maintain her hold on both the drinks and the scones long enough to lay them on the desk before scooping the children in a tremendous bear hug that had the children giggling like crazy. “Bridgette! You didn’t tell me you were bringing my babies to see me today! I would have brought presents,” she said, only half-jokingly. Work was the only place Tara ever used the name that Marinette had adopted when she had fled Paris. As far as most people at Lacrosse Fashion Industries knew, her name was Bridgette Fu, a fashion prodigy who had come to America to further her studies in Fashion under Tara Lacrosse.

“It was… a last minute decision. You do know you don’t have to buy them presents every time  you see them, right? Especially since you bought them so much for Christmas,” the young mother chuckled, shrugging out of her coat and hanging it on the coat rack beside her door, along with her purse and laptop bag.

“Nonsense! It’s my job to spoil them rotten,” the purple-haired woman refuted, winking at Marinette before setting the children down. “Now, who's hungry?”

“Me, me, me!” The twins exclaimed simultaneously, only quieting when Marinette shushed them with a pointed look at the still sleeping Hugo. It was a miracle he could sleep so deeply, given how young he was and how much noise the twins made. Marinette left Tara to hand out the breakfast pastries while she stepped into the next room over and flipped on the light there as well. Her design studio was small and modest, a table holding her sewing machine sitting against the far wall, while a desk dominated the center of the room. It was where she did most of her sketching. Drawers and shelves lined the walls, overflowing with fabrics and other materials, and a few dress mannequins stood in the corner with half-finished outfits draped over their forms. While Tara got the kids fed, Marinette went to the desk and fished through it until she found one of her many sketchbooks. This one had various designs for her upcoming clothing line, a Spring-inspired line that would hit the shelves in mid-April.

“Mari?” Tara knocked lightly on the door separating the two rooms, voice pitched low in case anyone was listening in. “Why don’t I take the twins to my office, give you some privacy to work and allow Hugo to continue sleeping?”

“That would be great, Tara. Are you sure it’s no trouble?” Marinette set the sketchbook down on her desk and turned to face the woman that she had come to consider as part of her family. The older woman laughed and immediately waved off her concerns.

“Nonsense. I love visiting with them,” she assured, and the young mother smiled gratefully in return.

“That would be great, thank you. Can you send Amber Lynn in on your way out? She’s helping out with a couple of these dresses,” she said, gesturing towards the mannequins.

“Of course, dear. Call me if you need anything,” Tara said, leaving the room. As quickly as she had come, the older woman was gone with the twins in tow, and Marinette took the chance to grab her coffee from the next room and dim the lights for the sleeping baby, before stepping into the studio to begin her work.

Chapter Text

Amber Lynn Lake breezed through the door of Marinette’s studio as if she owned the place, grin on her face and a venti iced vanilla latte in her manicured hand. She was one of the first people Marinette had met upon moving to New York and beginning her new job with Tara, and she was one of the few people in the city that the ravenette considered a genuine friend. Amber was hard to dislike. She was bubbly, energetic, and sweet as pie, all while rocking an edgy, punk rock look that always seemed to turn heads wherever she went. She wore a half-shaved hairstyle in a bright bubblegum pink that went well with her fair skin, freckles, and baby blue eyes. She was pretty average in height, not especially tall or short, but still standing several inches above Marinette’s head. She was on the plump side, but she owned it and people rarely noticed her weight when faced with the air of confidence that she presented herself with. It was one of the first things that drew Marinette to Amber Lynn.

“Girl, I can’t be lieve Tara let you take your kids’ entire school break off work. Do you know how much gossip I have to catch you up on?” Amber Lynn exclaimed, entering the room with a flourish and immediately perching herself upon the edge of Marinette’s desk. Marinette lifted her eyes from the sketchbook she was pouring over and immediately scanned her friend’s outfit. Like her, Amber Lynn had developed her skills early on by designing and creating her own wardrobe. She wore a burgundy skater dress that fell to the knees, a leather jacket and ankle high boots with three inch heels. Skull shaped earrings adorned her earlobes, while a series of studs, hoops, and an industrial piercing adorned the rest of her ears. She had a single hoop in her nose and had mentioned wanting to get snake bites or maybe a tongue piercing next. The woman had a mad love for shoving metal needles through her body, something Marinette could hardly understand, but somehow she made it work regardless. It didn’t seem tacky or over-the-top on Amber Lynn the way it might on some people.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to inform me,” Marinette said, a warm smile curving her own lips as she met Amber’s gaze. Pink hair bobbed and shone under the room’s lighting as she nodded eagerly in agreement, her entire face lighting up like a kid’s in a candy shop.

“Becky Lee is pregnant,” she began without preamble, causing Marinette to arch one brow as she returned to working on the sketch. She had thought up a few changes that might make the stitching on the dress flow a bit easier, and she was well accustomed to working while people were chattering in her ear. Having raised the twins, coming to New York and befriending Amber Lynn was the most natural thing in the world. Having her talk about inane subjects while she worked was almost comforting, and like the kids, she was more than happy to receive the most basic of responses at random intervals. So she let Amber chatter about the office dynamics, who was dating who and who was currently at war with who, and occasionally Amber would pause long enough to take a sip of her coffee or make a suggestion on the dress that Marinette was working on. That was another reason that Marinette loved working with Amber Lynn. Amber understood that it was Marinette’s line. She wasn’t pushy, she didn’t try to force her ideas or personal style onto Marinette’s work the way most of the other designers would. She respected Marinette’s personal style and only offered the occasional suggestion that more often or not helped the overall design, and who was never hurt if her idea was later discarded for a better one.

When Hugo woke up, Amber shifted to one of the chairs across from Marinette and took the little boy in her arms, bouncing him lightly and cooing at him as he shrieked and giggled. Hugo wasn’t the least bit shy like Louis had always been, yet another way he was like his father. He was a charismatic little child, quick to laugh and grin and always content to play with his toys if she was too busy with her work to hold him. He definitely wasn’t as fussy as Emma had been, either. She had been a colicky little baby, sometimes screaming all through the night no matter what Marinette or her parents had done. She finished the sketch, along with the other two that had needed tweaking, around lunchtime and decided it was time for a much needed break. Her drawing hand was stiffening up uncomfortably anyway and Hugo would be wanting his bottle soon. Since Tara had the twins, Amber and Marinette opted to simply head down to the cafe on the 20th level, a casual and easy dining option for employees who didn’t want to take too much time out of their day to run out and grab something. It was as they were standing in line, Marinette babbling nonsensically at Hugo as he coed happily back, that Amber grabbed her attention again.

“Oh, did I tell you about the new guy who started working here a few weeks ago?” She asked, perking up visibly as she scanned the counter that stood about seven people in front of them. Marinette glanced at her friend with a bemused smile, shaking her head before responding verbally.

“You mean here, at the cafe? Or at LFI in general?” She asked because while Amber Lynn was always quick to dish out all the deets on any new designers or interns that arrived on the scene, she rarely had any interest in those who staffed the cafes and coffee stands that were dotted randomly throughout the building. Her only interest in them was usually whether they were competent enough to make her drink right consistently or not, and it was something she was typically pretty picky about. Amber Lynn Lake couldn’t function without her overly caffeinated and overly sugary drink in the morning, and the occasional refill throughout the day and an uncaffeinated Amber was something of a nightmare.

“The cafe. Keep up, Bridge. I would have already told you if a new designer had arrived,” the pink-haired woman huffed good-naturedly with a playful roll of her eyes. Marinette returned the eye roll with a wrinkle of her nose.

“Yeah, yeah, get on with it, then? What’s so special about this guy, then? Is he cute? Is he a wizard at making your drink to perfection?” She asked jokingly. Amber Lynn grinned.

“He’s more than cute, he’s smoking hot and if I didn’t already have an amazing girlfriend, I might be tempted. Plus, he made my coffee perfectly on the first try, Bri. He’s perfect ,” she said, pretending to swoon. Marinette laughed at her theatrics and shook her head.

“First of all, you’re in a polyamorous relationship with your girlfriend in which you are both bisexual, so you could totally go for him if you wanted. Second, anyone with half a brain cell could make your coffee. It just means he’s not an idiot. And third , don’t even go there because I know that look and I told you, I’m not interested in dating,” she said, shooting her friend a warning look. Amber immediately dropped the act to pout at Marinette.

“But Bridgette, he is gorgeous ,” she pleaded. “And a musician! And a coffee connoisseur… and he’s not like the rest of these fashion snobs. He’s real and down to earth and-”

“-and I’m still not interested,” Marinette said with a shake of her head as they moved forward in line slightly. “Amber, I have three kids and as I told you before, my relationship with their father is… complicated. And I am nowhere near over him. I’m not looking for a rebound,” she said firmly, adjusting her grip on Hugo in order to dig her wallet from her bag. Amber Lynn gave her an exasperated look.

“Mystery guy? The one you left in Paris? You know, you still haven’t told me much of anything about him,” she pointed out. Marinette flashed her an uneasy smile, suddenly regretting bringing up the topic at all.

“And I don’t want to talk about him, Amber. Look, one day, I will tell you everything but right now, there is a lot of drama there and I’d rather just keep everything on the down-low for now. I came to New York for a fresh start with my kids but that doesn’t mean I’m anywhere near ready to start dating, okay?” She said, fixing her with a stern glance. Amber deflated but nodded reluctantly in agreement, looking none too happy about the fact.

“Alright, fine. But we will be talking about mystery guy at some point , correct?” She asked expectantly. Marinette smiled and nodded warmly, relieved at her friend’s hard-won acceptance. Amber Lynn was insatiably curious and it was a relief that she had agreed to put the conversation on hold at all.

“We will, I promise,” she said as they finally moved up to the counter to order.

“Hello, ladies. What can I get started for you today?” A deep masculine voice said. It was the accent that drew her gaze, not the fact that the voice itself sent shivers down her spine. Or at least that’s what Marinette told herself as she lifted her gaze to the cafe’s newest barista. Ocean blue eyes met hers, set in a strong, chiseled face with thick, shaggy black hair tipped in vibrant teal. Her heart skipped a beat, maybe two or three, and slowly a smile spread across the man’s face as he extended a hand across the counter. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. I’m Luka.”

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“I...I’m um...I’m uh-” Marinette was sure her face was on fire as she stared at the man before her, and it took Amber Lynn nudging her sharply with one elbow before she managed to find and use her big girl words. “I’m Ba-Ba-Buh-Bridgette. It’s nice to meet you.” She squeaked, taking his hand and immediately noticing how it dwarfed her own. Luka smiled warmly and shook her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Ba-Ba-Buh-Bridgette,” he teased lightly, before shifting to direct his attention at the blond haired child still cooing happily in her arms. “And who is this?” He asked, gaze softening slightly as he waggled his fingers playfully at the little boy. Hugo shrieked and giggled happily, chubby hands reaching up and making grasping motions as he attempted to grab the man’s fingers. This time Marinette’s smile was a little less awkward as she, too, directed most of her focus on the baby. The baby was a safe topic, much safer than looking into her friend’s smug and knowing face.

“This is Hugo. Hugo, can you say hi?” She asked, smiling dotingly before recalling they had an audience. She looked up to see Luka watching her with a thoughtful look on his face. “What?” She asked, frowning slightly in embarrassment. His answering smile almost immediately dispelled her worries as he shook his head reassuringly.

“Nothing, nothing. Is he your first?” He asked, nodding at the child who had managed to reach up and entangle his fingers within his own mop of blond hair. Marinette used to free hand to disentangle him as she shook her head.

“My third, actually,” she admitted warily. Not that she was interested or anything, of course, but normally when she mentioned that she had not one but three rambunctious kids, guys tended to flee the other way as soon as socially acceptable. This was typically fine with her though. For one, it limited the number of times she had to decline an offer to get drinks or go out, and two, well even if she was looking to date, her kids came first. The four of them were a package deal. Luka, however, surprised her when he simply grinned and whistled appreciatively.

“And I thought my son was a handful. I can’t imagine having three of him,” he chuckled, wagging his fingers above the child once more. Marinette blinked in surprise, not having expected that, and would have loved to ask about his son if not for the pointed throat clearing behind her.

“Really, Fu? You think you’re so special because Tara favors you that you can hold up the line for lunch?” A feminine voice sneered behind her. “We can’t all take indefinite lunch breaks, you know. Some of us have real jobs to do.”

Marinette stiffened, grimacing slightly, before slowly turning to face Mila Ferraro. Mila was a lot like Chloe in some ways (albeit less psychopathic). She was stuck-up, entitled, and rich. She was tall, leggy, and beautiful, often doing side work as a model, though she claimed designing was her real passion. The color of her hair, blonde, was as fake as her perpetual spray tan, but you’d never guess it because she dyed her roots religiously. Mila had been something of a hotshot around LFI before Marinette had come along, and it was rumored that she was almost chosen as Tara’s apprentice. Instead, Tara had come back with Marinette and announced that she would be her new apprentice, and Mila was naturally furious at losing her golden ticket. While most people around here tried to suck up to Marinette, Mila did no such thing. That might have relieved the raven-haired woman if Mila didn’t instead try to spend every waking moment they were at work trying to torment or sabotage Marinette.

Turning warily, Marinette offered the woman a strained smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the line had grown. We’ll be out of your hair soon,” she offered with forced politeness before turning forward once more to order. Behind her, Mila scoffed derisively.

“Fat chance of that happening. Why don’t you hop on a plane and fly back to France while you’re at it? You and your ragamuffin kids don’t belong here,” the woman sneered. Beside her, Amber Lynn went rigid and would have spun around to tell Mila exactly what she thought of her comments, but Marinette’s hand on her arm stopped her. While Amber grumbled beside her, Marinette ordered for them and quickly paid before dragging her friend out of the line and off to the side to allow Mila to order. In the fashion world, it typically paid to be the most savage one in the pack. The fashion world was finicky at best, and power was an ever-shifting thing. One moment a designer could be all the rave, and the next they could be booted for a newer, younger model. Designers rarely worked well together, and when they did, they were usually trying to one-up each other in hopes of being the next rising star. It was probably one of the few things Marinette hated about her chosen field. She wasn’t savage, she wasn’t bloodthirsty, and building people up was far more her style than tearing people down. It made her something of an oddity, a conundrum among her peers, but she refused to change just to be on top and she felt her designs speak for themselves.

“I don’t know why you held me back. I could have straightened that blonde bimbo out for you,” Amber grumbled crossly, and Marinette had to roll her eyes affectionately at her friend’s passion. Amber reminded her a lot of Alya, actually. She had the same drive, the same protectiveness that Alya exhibited, though she was a lot sweeter and soft-hearted than Marinette’s journalist best friend. She also wasn’t nearly as nosy and unlike Alya, let subjects drop without too much of a fuss most of the time.

“Language, Amber,” Marinette scolded, before shooting a glance towards Mila, who had been joined by two of her friends. “And as much as I would love to watch you teach her a lesson, now isn’t the time or place. Especially with Hugo here,” she explained. Amber Lynn looked like she wanted to argue, but she eventually gave in at the mention of the little boy.

“Fine, fine, fine. You’re absolutely no fun, though. I hope you realize that” the pink-haired woman retorted, fetching their order when it was placed on the counter. Not wanting to deal with Mila and her two cohorts during lunch, the two women ended up taking their food to go, choosing to eat in the sanctity of Marinette’s office as opposed to the cafe. And if Marinette noticed Luka’s name and number scrawled onto one of the napkins with her order, well she opted to shove the napkin in her pocket and not mention it to Amber. If she did, Amber would only get excited and insist she call, and Marinette wasn’t quite sure that was something she wanted to do yet. So she held her tongue and instead directed the topic towards the line that they were working on, and the latest fashion trends they hoped to incorporate to ensure the line became one of the best selling for the new year.

Chapter Text

Sorry for the false alarm folks, but I needed to get the word out and this is where my main fanbase is located. I will be taking a brief hiatus from writing. Its unfortuante and not at all what I want to do, but neccessary. I found out today what I have suspected for the last few days. I have Carpal Tunnel in my right hand. I cant type or draw at the moment without my finger tips going numb. Luckily we caught it early, so I shouldn't need surgery. But I need to rest my hand for awhile and if the symptoms dont get better within the next 2 weeks, we will have to possibly explore surgical options. So my hope is that the hiatus only lasts a couple weeks up to a month, but if surgery is required it will be a few months at least.

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As of right now, LYE has officially been discontinued. At the moment I am toying with the idea of a Lukanette Rewrite but as it currently stands this version will likely never be finished because I no longer write for the love square.