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Chapter Text

Clothes were armor to some degree and as a fashion designer, Marinette Dupain-Cheng knew the fact well. While some people used style to boost their confidence and to amplify the opus of their personality, some used clothing to shield themselves from the elements of society. Often than not, fashion hid insecurity, grief, bitterness, shallowness, and for someone like Marinette, it hid disappointment.

Not disappointment towards others, no, she’s long past that stage. The only person she would dress herself up for is herself .

She was naive to think people owed her kindness in return for her generosity and when they tossed her away for the new, shinier toy, she only had herself to blame.

Marinette was not blind to the fact that her classmates were talented and ambitious people—heck, one of them had an actual Prince in her Skype contacts. 

She first thought it was herd mentality that made them scorn her for believing Lila Rossi; she had the proper background to have the connections she said she did. Madame Rossi was a diplomat with her arrival into the French embassy written in the third page of the morning paper. And while not an ambassador like her daughter claimed, Mme. Rossi was a respectable counselor. 

Even Marinette, herself, didn’t doubt Rossi knew the celebrities she name-dropped and was eager to hear more until she mentioned the one and only Jagged Stone who for everything except blood was Marinette’s uncle. There was no way in the seven gates of hell would Jagged make have underaged female as a muse without the SNATEM getting bombarded with calls.

Then it was Clara Nightingale’s choreographer, Bibi Lee’s turn to be defamed for having lost all inspiration and needing an unqualified teen to make Clara’s newest TikTok viral dance for her. Marinette was there when Bibi pulled that choreography from her exemplary creative, fine ass, thank you very much.

As Jagged Stone’s then graphic designer and Clara’s unofficial stylist and designer, she felt compelled to defend their dignity.

When the words left her mouth, she didn’t expect their almost predatory glare cast on her. It was as if they all collectively decided that she was to become an outcast from that day onward. She genuinely thought they were just so blinded by their ambition to gain more connections to see past Lila’s glittery claims. And those who didn’t need them, Rose for example, were just too into the hive mind.

But it turned out to be so much worse than that.

Aurore Beauréal and Marc Anciel told her for what it was; crab mentality. By definition her classmates considered her better than them in most, if not, in any aspect. By definition they think that if they couldn’t have what Marinette had then she shouldn’t too. By definition they wanted to pull her down the moment they saw the opportunity. 

And boy, oh, boy did they.

Verbal assault was nothing when you’ve been at war with Chloe Bourgeois your entire collège career. It started out as comments about her outfits, her accessories, her hair, and then her ethnic features of all things. Then they began their attack on her character as designer, as class representative, and then as a person.

It hurt and broke more than Marinette’s heart when she realized that this all came from a place of jealousy when she had never rubbed her achievements in their faces and was always one of the firsts to celebrate their own wins in life.

Then after Lila Rossi started making false claims of being harassed by the designer that verbal turned to physical and property damage. She was often tripped and bruised, she no longer brought business materials to school, and her locker changed for only her remaining friends to know. 

Mme. Bustier was willing to look away for as long as Marinette was still able to do all the work she’s given and serve as a good example. M. Damocles was just downright incompetent and a coward.

“You won’t be able to do anything against someone like that,” he said to Marinette when she had made claims of bullying under Lila Rossi’s prompting. “It’s your words against hers. And you’re…” 

She was the daughter to two hardworking parents who by then experienced a loss in their business after a huge client pulled out without even paying the deposit. They were in a legal battle that lasted most of Marintte’s collège days. 

And then her grand-père Rolland passed away weeks after her parents won the lawsuit. They had grieved and as written on his last will, the boulangerie he left behind was to be converted to another branch of Tom and Sabine’s business. It took out a lot of her parents to finance a renovation, hire and train employees, and manage a new store all while operating their home branch.

Outside of the dubbed Akuma class by Kagami, those who were less attuned to Marinette’s milestones and were only recipients of her kindness were either on her side or were neutral on the whole bullying scandal once it started to spread around school. It was spread around one day that Mme. Rossi was just promoted to becoming minister-counselor therefore contradicting Rossi’s statements which seemed to go in on one of Marinette’s class ear and out the other. Their barbed tongues were either up in Rossi’s ass too deep or they chose to remain ignorant because, again, crab mentality.

And to Marinette’s surprise, the root of the rumor mill was Chloe. 

They weren’t friends. Gods no, they were frenemies at best who had weekly get-togethers over being their class’ punching bag. 

Chloe had lost Sabrina on her own terms which brought upon crippling loneliness that finally led her to seek psychiatric help. Now, she was a Lexapro girlie with no libido and zero fucks to give. Jokes aside, Chloe was doing better and was in cognitive-behavioral therapy that had her to be the first to reach out to all her victims and apologize. Last she heard, most of their class burned her letters and Chloe thought that was fair. Also, fuck them all.

~

“You know you can stop the bullying anytime you want,” Chloe muttered as she sprayed on another layer of sunscreen. 

DC’s brows told her to elaborate. 

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Come on, you cunt. Jealousy towards you means you have something they don’t. And crabs are just crabs in the end. You on the other hand…” She palmed her table and read, “ ‘ Fleurir Dips Their Feet Into Leatherwear for The Hero of Rock and Roll; We’re Here For It. ’ ”

She snickered at the faint blush on DC’s cheeks; the little freak was still humble as ever. 

“I want Fleurir originals for winter too. At least two leather jackets and three fur coats—” Chloe threw her ponytail over her shoulder when DC rolled her eyes “—It’ll be your first winter line and I’ll be damned if I miss out on any.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll put you on the priority list and whatever.” DC sighed.

“And the crabs?” Chloed leaned forward against the side of her pool lounger.

“They stopped bothering me a month ago. You know this, Bourgeois. Maybe guilt or they’re still processing if Liela’s connections are real or not and that they’ve screwed over themselves for no good reasons. I honestly could not give two shits.”

Pride and amusement bubbled in Chloe’s chest for the once pushover designer. DC told her why exactly she fought tooth and nail to reveal the truth for a while. Rossi was harming their classmates’ futures by promising them connections that did not exist and sweet, sweet DC still had affection for them at the start. Chloe was thrilled to know that Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s misplaced love was now crushed, burned, and buried six-feet deep. Ms. Lefebvre, Chloe’s psychiatrist, said that the heiress was growing fond of DC but was in denial—why can’t she just enjoy a good revenge plot?

“Do you want them to clamor back into your embrace and weep at your bosom when they realize they’ve been duped? The entitlement those collective idiots have can rival mine or Agreste’s any day.” They both cringed at the name.

“Can we not say the A-word? Still gives me the chills.” DC shivered dramatically under the shield of the anti-UV umbrella. “Disgusting.”

Adrien Agreste was a no-go topic after they first talked about the spineless son of a bastard. The model abandoned Chloe and refused to believe she could be redeemed. Then had the audacity to claim DC as his bestest friend after allowing her to be fed to the dogs all for the sake of peace. His peace.

“Well A-word is going to claim he was right and that ‘things will sort themselves out.’” Chloe lowered her voice but kept a shrill undertone when she continued, “ You see, Marinette, nobody got hurt and we can all be friends again. ”

DC gagged and Chloe folded over in laughter. 

“Ew. Ewewewewew.”

“Exactly!”

When Chloe’s diaphragm had exhausted itself and DC stopped pretending that there was a fish bone lodged in the back of her throat, they made eye contact.

“So, what’s the plan, Bourgeois?” asked DC and Chloe could barely contain her smirk of cruel excitement.

~

Chloe sent her to London. Marinette blinked at her standard premier ticket before shaking her head at the excessiveness. It was her first big spend on her big-girl money that was not a capital investment back into her own company. 

She was given an itinerary:

1. go shopping
2. relax
3. find new inspiration (work never truly stops for people like you DC)
4. flirt with a local
5. find a new location for your parent’s growing business (urgent)

With the addition of number 3 and 5, this felt more like a business trip disguised as vacation which Marinette was grateful for since relaxing was never really her thing unless it were to rest her eyes.

Number 1 was cumbersome in a sense that she was still hesitant on spending too much money but was placated when Chloe gave her a very detailed list on which accessories were truly worth it in the market. As an independent child Marinette learned to always make purchases that were a bang for her buck, a practice she maintained even after her family's business became more successful and she herself started earning her own income.

She’s not even going to bother with number 4.

As instructed, Marinette ordered Chloe’s favorite dishes when she was on board and was not disappointed. Her favorite was the crepe suzette which was flambéed in front of her eyes. The server was kind enough to inform her that they used Curaçao as the liqueur which she nodded at with enthusiasm. Her Papa made a version of the dessert using a type of spirit and if she was correct he said that an Indian liqueur was used for the original recipe.

Then she was instructed to do her morning skincare routine since she traveled at the crack of dawn. Marinette didn’t know what it was with applying a face mask on a moving vehicle but it felt divine even if she thought it sounded unsanitary.

She arrived fresh and primed for her itinerary when she stepped off on the platform at St. Pancras International Station. 

Her first order of business was to look for a commercial space for lease for the new project of Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie. She couldn’t help but have pep in her step as she made her way through Kennington Lane under the slight taps of rain on her umbrella. 

And while her journey was no less than enjoyable, she had yet to find a suitable place for lease. They were all either too big, too modernized, or too soulless for her liking. T&S or Toine as their customers had begun to call their shops was aiming for a more homey and nostalgic feel. The takeaway shop they had in the metro station even looked the part with only a bit of Marc’s and Marinette’s interjections.

With a heavy heart, she moves on to relaxation which she translated to food since it was lunch by the time she stopped location hunting. The reviews online said to eat at Kennington Lane Cafe for some good British classics. She came out satisfied and on the verge of a food coma. 

This day was turning out to be amazing.

She smiled into the autumn air as she sat on a bench finishing the remains of her coffee. As she looked around she could see all kinds of people out and about. Solo-goers like her, couples, families, and friends . 

For a moment she let herself imagine how life would have been without Lila Rossi. Would she still have her friends? Would she have the time to herself and in extension for her business like she does now? Would her friends still be jealous underneath all that camaraderie? Would she have stayed blindly infatuated with Agreste? She shook her head.

Not going there. 

Sighing into her coffee, she let the steam warm her face. Letting the heat wake her from her fantasy. 

I’d sooner go through all the pain again rather than live a life full of lies.

~

Marinette was glad for accepting Chloe’s referral for an Amex card when she started earning for herself. She was definitely sure she would have met her credit limit after just an hour into her shopping spree if she stuck with a visa or a mastercard. Chloe told her not to worry about limits for today and leave the headache for her financial advisor that would start that same week.

As a good planner, Marinette made a pinterest board out of the items on Chloe’s list. She narrowed it down to two bags, a pair of mary jane platforms, a pair of ballerina shoes, and a pair of boots. While she gazed forlorn at every receipt she reminded herself that this was her investing in herself and that future Marinette would surely appreciate the high-quality things she had bought herself. None of the items were also fast fashion which was a must now that she had the choice to forgo supporting the trend.

She then decided to hit up the more crowded locations to find the second bag on her list and somehow ended up in Harrods.

It looked less imposing during the day which was Marinette’s completely valid reasoning for accidentally buying three instead of only two bags. She had a vision! It would look good with a bow like everything else in her list. And if there were two MLBB lipsticks in her cart at that moment you can talk to her credit card hand.

Why was it so expensive to be a woman?

While browsing for a perfume for her Maman, she came upon a familiar perfume under the brand called Aerin. She got a full-sized Ikat Jasmine for her mother and went on to find one for herself. As she sniffed through the cotton papers after every tester, a scent caught her attention; it was called Rose De Grasse. A plan formed on her head when she remembered the memory associated with the smell. She took two bottles—one white and the other red.

~

Deciding to return to Kennington Lane for dinner, Marinette helped herself to Korean food at a restaurant called Kuma. She adored everything as she ate. And as it happened more often than not, she was mistaken for a Korean when one of the servers started talking as if she were one. Both of them had blushed when they realized what was going on and started a pleasant conversation in their accented English, each absolutely charmed with each other’s slight accents. Marinette promised to come back even only to visit Suha, who reminded her so much of Bibi.

On the way to the bus station, she spots moving lights on top of a shorter building. The structure was brick like most of the older architecture and was ornamented with intricate molding. As she walks closer she spots a small flier on the tree stating that it was an old home for sale or for lease. Marinette hopes she’s not too late as she dials the number on the flier.

“Hello? This is Marcus. Did you need anything?” This M. Marcus sounded like he was too busy for this phone call. Marinette portrayed her most charming customer service voice she often used to talk to older people.

“ Bonjour ! My name’s Marinette and I was hoping to inquire about the place you have for lease,” she said while smiling, making sure she sounded even.

“Tsk.” 

Marinette’s lip twitched in offense. 

“If you’re not from here, I suppose you’re looking to rent the place. It’s a no. I’m looking for buyers that can pay in cash.”

“And how much is it?” she found herself asking.

“€950000, take it or leave it.” The man basically harrumphed, clearly not expecting Marinette to take the deal. And she shouldn’t, she knew nothing of the place, Kennington Lane had less than five thousand permanent residents, and it took 10-20 minutes of travel to and from touristy areas. That amount of money was also a good portion of her personal savings. It was a gamble.

Maybe it was the businesswoman in her. Or some force from another reality was telling her that this place was more than just some old building. And that this one had to be it no matter what.

“€970000 if you give me a tour of the rooftop floor first.” 

Marcus was quiet before the line cut. Marinette hurried to redial when the door of the next building was pushed open and out came an older man with a walking cane.

“I don't have the patience and the strength so I’ll let you wander the premises yourself.” The man, who Marinette presumed was Marcus, took out a set of antique keys and unlocked the door to the building which was surprisingly quiet as it opened. “Also, call someone while touring the place. I don’t want to be held accountable if you trip or injure yourself in there.”

She bit a laugh at the odd kindness and the assurance for safety he provided without her having to ask. She was, after all, entering an abandoned building alone at night.

“Thank you, Monsieur,” she said gently and received a humorless grunt. 

The lights turned on and Marinette found herself in what would have been an old diner. She called Chloe knowing she was probably in the middle of her arduous skincare routine. 

“Bitch, this better be important—”

“I’m buying property, Bourgeois.” The wallpaper was in need of replacing but it didn’t have the expected mold and damage, just fading from age. The wooden counter, booths, and tables were preserved very well while the chairs were long gone.

“What?! Are you out of your mind? Your parents said to find a place for lease! Where are they going to get funds for land in London of all places—”

“It’s land and a building actually.” Marinette continued into the kitchen and stifled a gasp when she saw the outline of a masonry oven. Chloe screeched over the phone.

“Excuse me?! Are you out of your mind? Has the idiot disease from our class affected you—”

“Don’t worry, I’m using my own savings” Marinette made it to the second floor which was almost the same as the first floor but with a bar. It was a tea room. This can’t get any better.

“Oh, you’re using your—you’re using your savings?!” There’s a series of loud noises over the phone. 

“Yep,” Marinette simply replied as she tested the wooden stairs to the roof and even it was in good condition and was more likely no longer the original staircase. While the wallpaper looked ancient, the rest looked well-cared for throughout the years. Loved .

Chloe’s sigh vibrated through the speakers as Marinette opened the screened, bar gate. 

The sight that met her was from that of a Ghibli film. She was in a rooftop garden that had medium trees and tall shrubs. Flowering plants she could recognize from her own balcony littered the raised beds. Feather reed grasses were teeming with fireflies. Some of the pots were overgrown or infested with weeds but overall, it was like stepping into the woods while in the middle of the city. Marinette was instantly enamored if she wasn’t in love with the building already. 

On the farthest bed, she spotted something glinting red in the moonlight. As she got closer, her eyes adjusted more and she greedily grabbed the object without hesitation. 

~

Marinette dropped a few pieces of her findings into Marcus’ hands. “ Fraise de bois ! I would do anything to have these on my balcony but I could never seem to grow them. I eat these like candy during the summer back home—Are you okay, Monsieur ?”

Marcus' eyes were shining with tears. “I thought these were dead seasons ago.”

“Oh, no! There’s still at least two mother plants and a few daughters in there,” Marinette assured while wringing her fingers. She dug through her bag for an extra handkerchief she always carried and offered it to Marcus.

With a shaky breath, he thanked her and wiped his eyes. 

“If they’re that important to you I don’t mind keeping the garden. In fact, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. It’s lovely up there.” With his cane and his earlier statement, it was safe to say the older man has not been up there in a while. Marinette opened her phone gallery, glad she took pictures. She offered the phone to Marcus who swiped through the photos with a small smile slowly forming on his lips before he realized she was staring and cleared his throat. 

“€760000 in cash, cheque, or bank transfer. I already have the papers, you can take them home and have them read by your lawyer,” he said.

Marinette blinked, she was curious about the huge drop in price but she wasn’t about to kick a gift horse in the mouth. “I’ll return next weekend, if that’s alright,” she said.

Marcus looked back as he walked up to the other building she came from. “You’re on the clock, then?”

“School. For work, I have flexible hours.” 

“Family business?”

“That and I have my own company.”

Marcus stopped at the door. “How old are you, child?”

“Eighteen.” Marinette hoped that wasn’t a deal breaker.

“Are your parents paying for this, then?”

Marinette took out her business card despite the risks. “I am. It’s their wedding anniversary soon.” She gave it to Marcus who maintained an even face before giving her a once over. He probably doesn’t know about Fleurir , her demographic customers were younger but she hoped he was one of the less common elder patrons.

“Tsk. That Gabriel will combust if he knew he was being upstaged by a child.” Marcus huffed a what could have been an amused laugh before entering his premises which barred her from asking questions. Who on earth was this man? Not for long, he was out again with a manila envelope which he deposited in her hands. “Here. Now, off you go. It’s dark out.”

“Thank you, Monsieur Marcus.”

“Hn.” He nodded and left for his home.

When Marinette opened her business email that night, a commission mail came through from an address she did not recognize:

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: CEO’s Card = Commission 

Greetings,

Child, you have given me your email address and the rumor mill says that this is the official way to be referred for private commissions. I would like to commission two things at your convenience; a winter coat for myself and for you to upcycle the garments my late husband has left me for our daughter and her husband.

P.S. Thank you for the strawberries.

Sincerely,

Marcus Delfin Jr.

~

School was the next day, and Marinette was all kinds of anxious and excited. Her wardrobe was now empty of most of her baby pinks and were replaced with burgundy instead. The soft and powder pink eyeshadow were also replaced with neutral browns and mauve. She felt like a new person already but it all came down to today’s game plan which was coincidentally Mylene’s birthday.

She spritz herself with the new perfume she bought and set the bottle on her dresser, it catches her vanity light and glows crimson.

Her Maman and Papa were happy to see her new look and complemented her with praises and paternal affection that included sweet kisses and warm hugs. Marinette giggled and said her goodbyes.

The thing about lycèe was that it allowed you to wear whatever you want as long as it wasn’t inappropriate. Marinette took a soft yet bold approach into her new aesthetic with a burgundy knitted sweater, black bloomers with ribbons for days, leg warming leggings, her new wine ballerina shoes, and baguette bag. Her hair was set in two high, folded, braids interwoven with red ribbons. She sent Chloe a picture for approval and got a single word as a reply:

HOT

With her new armor, Marinette stepped through the classroom door.

~

Chloe should’ve asked Butler Jean for popcorn in her bento box. Damn DC, was sneaky for pulling this.

It all started when the designer walked in with the confidence she probably absorbed from her own runway shows; her selection of models were always exceptional. 

Her ensemble was obviously Chloe Bourgeois approved. The leather bag with the properly tied bow was chic—she fiddled her phone, ready to order one and to pester DC for that ribboning skills. And that coat was a Fleurir original for sure.

“Happy Birthday Mylene!” The designer greeted Haprele with a wide smile. The rest of the class hastily followed except for Bruel who looked miffed. Up until the last class birthday, DC was still the class president. And now having been voted out of the role, it was no longer her responsibility to remind the class of who’s birthday it was—it was now Cesaire’s. 

Alya Cesaire who looked flummoxed and out of her element as DC handed Haprele a gift bag.

“Can I open it?” Haprele asked, forgetting that she had tried to get the designer kicked out of the last theater club’s production before DC decidedly quit for more important reasons.

“Of course, it’s yours,” she said and turned to walk up to her seat in the black.

There were squeals when Haprele opened the gift; it was an Aerin Rose De Grasse perfume. 

“Oh, thank you! Thank you, Marinette!” Haprele hugged the bottle against her chest while DC waved an ‘oh it’s nothing’ all while smiling like Cheshire cat. Chloe tapped her nails against her desk table wondering what the designer was playing at before her phone dinged.

Sephora? The fuck was in Sephora? Chloe scrunched her nose as she tried to recall their last retail therapy.

But Cesaire was more ready to recall that day than to remember a classmate’s birthday.

“Hey! The Girls Squad promised to get that together. Why did you get her one?” the new class president shrieked at DC.

Oh! That’s it.

Months ago, Chloe and DC encountered the other girls at Sephora but were quick to hide before being spotted. They heard them make promises to get an Aerin perfume together when they’ve saved enough money. It was honestly so cute and to use this against them? DC was another breed of terrifying for using their herd mentality against themselves. 

“Huh? What promise? I’ve never been to Sephora with you since the start of seconde. How would I know?” DC blinked dumbly at Cesaire who did not know how to back down.

“Well, then. Return it!”

Gasps reverberated across the room, faces turned sour and Cesaire immediately tried to backpedal. “No! I mean—Marinette can get Mylene another perfume. That’s it!” She smiled but her eyes shifted nervously across the room.

“I’m sure Marinette doesn’t mind,” Rossi interjected with her faux puppy eyes at DC. The rest of the sheep agreed with little enthusiasm.

The girl in question shrugged. “Eh, sure. I’ll give that one to Aurore. I’ll get you another perfume, Mylene.” She walked down and palmed the perfume from the obviously hesitant Haprele before examining the bottle. “Shame. I also bought another version of this. You know, the red one?” Mylene’s eyes widened as Rose whispered about limited editions. Marinette then tucked the bottle into her purse. “Well, I'll go see Aurore and send your perfume to your address instead!”

Chloe was convulsing trying not to laugh at the whole ordeal. Haprele looked absolutely devastated, Bruel was ready to break the still reeling Cesaire in half, and Rossi was definitely eyeing that perfume like a dog does a bone.

~

Lunch was spent on a last minute fitting for a bride who lost too much weight for her wedding dress. 

“Thank you so much, Marinette dear. Oh, it must be your lunch. You are in school, yes? You have to charge me extra for this, me and my husband wouldn’t mind at all.” Soon-to-be Mme. Achart grasped the young designer's hand. 

“You can tip the tailors directly, Mlle. D’aureville.” Marinette winked at her assistants as they smiled among themselves.

“But you have to call me Noemie!” 

Nothing she wouldn’t do for her talented team. “Noemie it is then.” Then she whispered, “Or would you prefer Mme. Achart instead?” The bride blushed as the rest of the room squealed for her luck and future title.

Noemie bit her lip, her eyes shining with adoration for a man not even in the same room. “Actually, I’d love that.”

This time, Marinette and her team awed.

~ 

By the time one of her junior assistants arrived with Mylene’s new gift, Marinette’s lunch was over. She exited through the rarely used back door of her office building and took a cab back to school. While commuting, she received a video from Chloe. She pressed play.

Rossi approached Aurore who was passing around her new perfume to share with her table. Chloe sat far away so her phone did not hear when Rossi said something and to her surprise Marc stood up along with the rest of Mme. Matthieu’s class and started to scream and shoo her away. Aurore sat there, stunned as she held Marinette’s gift. Alya tried to come to her defense but was sneered at as well before Marc said something that made the rest of the audience gasp. 

The video cuts and bubble that indicated that Chloe was typing popped up. She sent a series of texts.

Marinette did not think it was going to be this big of a dumpster fire when she carried out this scheme. 

Thank Rossi for her big mouth. 

She raised the new gift bag in her hand; what was inside was worth hundreds of euros but to her it was nothing more than another shield.

When she arrived at their history class she made sure to exclaim, “Mylene I hope you don’t mind Tom Ford!” She bounded for the celebrant who visibly perked up since that morning.

“Not at all! Thank you for the gift, Marinette!” Mylene smiled gratefully as Ivan stared down someone—probably Alya—over Marinette’s shoulder. She angled her body to see her ex-best friend’s reaction when Mylene opened the gift bag and took out Tom Ford’s Rose De Chine perfume; Alya Cesaire’s dream scent. 

Gosh, jealous much?

Alya’s jaw clenched so hard Marinette thought she might permanently end up with a chad jawline by the end of her tantrum. The rest of the girls gathered around Mylene to get a whiff of her new scent. 

As Marinette returned to her perch, she heard her favorite attention whore comment, “Wow! The smell reminds me of my grandmother.” Which earned an awkward silence, an unexpected ripple from this morning’s ordeal. Panic flashed in Rossi’s eyes but before she could remedy her words, Marinette came to her aid.

“That’s so cool of her! She must have an expensive taste. That bottle cost me around €300.” There were gasps of disbelief and the class looked over at Mylene who held onto the bottle tighter.

“Y-Yeah, she goes through one of those every month!” Rossi smiled, her jaw and forehead tight. 

“I think I’ll save this for special occasions,” said Mylene and her peanut gallery nodded in understanding.

Rossi suddenly had tears in her eyes. “Y-You wouldn’t mind if I tried that your perfume would you? I really miss my Nonna , I-I haven’t seen her since secondary school s-started.” 

Mylene was taken back by the request, she hasn’t even properly used the perfume herself. Slowly, she handed over the bottle to Rossi who proceeded to spray every nook and cranny of her body. “Mn! It feels like my Nonna is giving me a hug!” She hugged herself.

Alya materialized beside Rossi. “Me too, girl! I’ve always wanted this perfume!” 

And then Mylene’s new perfume was passed around like a shot in a rowdy bar among inebriated people that wanted a gulp of that bitter nectar. By the time Ivan caught the perfume and returned it to Mylene, a third of it had been consumed.

Marinette couldn’t be more proud of her crabs. 

Chapter Text

A waft of steam brushed Marinette's face as she carefully sipped her tea. London was cold and wet, Marinette almost immediately understood their love for hot beverages as soon as she stepped off her train the first time. Today, coffee sounded too boisterous while hot chocolate felt childish under the elegant architecture of the city. She sighed, delighted for a break after enduring another set of weekdays at her lycèe.

Ever since she gave Mylene’s birthday present, she has been on a roll and her crabs were rowdier than ever. 

Kim set a new record for his 100-meter freestyle and was awarded with Toine pastries the next day. The box was immediately torn into without his permission by their classmates after having been unable to get free stuff from the Marinette’s family bakery for a while now. As a big eater, Kim was barely satisfied with three puff pastries left; his face was sour and whenever he tried to catch the designer's eye to maybe signal for more, she pretended not to read between the lines.

Then Sabrina and Marinette perfected their mid term reporting—the designer gifting her partner with a bespoked leather journal and fountain pen set from Caran D’ache. It’s been weeks and Sabrina has not seen a hide nor hair of the pen or ink after Rossi borrowed it to sign some important documents .

When Max started borrowing her UMSIII collab controller, she bought him another one in his preferred color. In exchange, she took his title as the Francoise Dupont’s official representative in the school grand prix. To add insult to injury, she also took the title as France’s representative for the incoming world championship. Her personal Instagram account garnered thousands of new followers for this one much to Chloe’s amusement.

For Rose’s birthday she made sure to give her a set from her favorite makeup brand. It had everything; an eyeshadow palette, blush compacts, a loose powder, lip creams, lip gloss, contour, and an overpriced mirror. With Rossi’s lead, every member of the girl squad helped themselves into Rose’s present with the queen crab herself going straight for the trimmed mirror. At least they had the decency to only take one item for themselves.

Zoe, Aurore, and Marc cringed at her spending but Kagami, Luka, and Chloe told her every penny was well-spent. You needed good bait to encourage the crabs to climb over each other after all. 

The more rabid her little bucket was, the more Marinette rewarded herself. The barely controlled, irritated twitch of Rose's lips was worth a standard premier ticket to London yet again. 

She gave her perfectly brewed tea a sip and absorbed the calm that Mari’s Garden exuded from its very walls. 

Two weeks ago, Toine’s new project opened in Kennington Lane. Named after Marinette, the cafe was modeled after her new aesthetic mashed into the Toine image. It had that antique look with dark wood shelves and molding. Per Marinette’s request, the interior, and backyard were positively bursting with plants and herbs. The lighting was darker than their Paris branches but somehow the feel remained the same; serene and elegant.

Patrons would be met with a quiet atmosphere akin to a library—it was an unspoken rule that one must lower their voices once entering. The staff trained to speak only up until a certain decibel. 

The rooftop and the backyard garden were major attractions. You were only allowed to go up to the balcony if you have a staff available for touring and strictly no flash and noisy photography were allowed. The garden below had prize winning Dubllin Bay climbing roses, their rich red accenting the old bricks.

"Excuse me, may I sit here? The other tables are occupied and this is one of the bigger options." Marinette meekly blinked at the blond in front of her table, not ready to leave her head space devoid of thoughts, before pointing to the chair opposite hers. 

"Go right ahead," she replied, hoping the stranger could hear her against the sound of pouring rain.

"French?" He asked, he did not sound the slightest bit interested in an answer and was obviously just making polite conversation to prevent an awkward atmosphere.

"Huh, I thought I didn't have much of an accent anymore." Marinette relished on being able to blend into the crowd of London, going so far as to master her British accent.

"Your accent is impeccable. It's actually your coat." 

"My coat... How?" She wore one of her designs today.

"You're wearing a Fleurir original, yes? My mother owns one out of the only two releases of that design. Said the remaining was bought by a local." She studied him for a second noting the palest blond hair she's ever come across and cobalt blue eyes—both were very striking features so connecting the dots was a doddle.

"You're Lucine Culpa's son." 

"How did you deduce that?" Culpa raised an elegant—surprisingly dark—brow at her. His gaze bore into her with a tinge of bemusement, newfound interest in the unexpected direction of their conversation.

Oops . Her alter-ego wasn't supposed to share her client's personal information. There was no way out of this, might as well play along.

" Fleurir personally tailored our coats. We just happen to have had it done on the same day." 

"Mother told me she was the sole patron the day of the fitting. A tailor did the adjustments." Culpa leaned into the table and crossed his hands under his chin, sharp eyes never leaving hers.

Marinette mirrors him, tapping a finger on her lip thoughtfully before replying. "Hm. What if she just didn't tell you about me out of respect for my privacy? And how could I not recognize the Lucine Culpa's only son." 

"Well too bad I know my mother, she would have gossiped all about you. She absolutely relishes on the idea of having the same piece styled by two unique individuals, exclusivity be damned. Also, my identity is unknown to the public." Culpa smirked at her and Marinette would have acknowledged how attractive it was anytime when it didn't serve as an indication to her impending defeat.

Marinette wasn't anyone important at face value so she couldn't claim to have a hushed someone like Lucine Culpa. And how was she supposed to know her son's face hasn't been made public- a shame really, the paps were missing out.

"She showed me your picture...?" So much for a final ditch effort.

"According to the intel I've gathered so far, it has been inferred that you are either the tailor or Fleurir. Mother said the tailor was a middle-aged woman. And no, you may not use the Asian-women-don't-age card." The blond said as he smugly settled against his chair.

Marinette rolled her eyes but a smile betrayed her amusement. She shrugged, "I could be 42."

"Mn. Of course." 

"I swear, one of my aunts could pass as my sister."

"Mhmm."

Finally admitting defeat, Marinette inclined her cup of tea. "Actually, with how much stress I'm experiencing I might as well be half-way through my lifespan. I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, by the way," she said sheepishly.

"Felix Lyonel."

~

Usually, like a cat with cat treats, one would need to bait Felix into any kind of human interaction. His family and friends mastered this technique, just ask him relevant questions (dumb questions in his friend Claude's case) or bring up new information.

Today, it was out of necessity. 

He arrived at his new favorite shop just as it started pouring cats and dogs. As it did every time, it was brimming with customers, today more than yesterday because of the weather. But no matter how many people were in this establishment, it always remained quiet just how he liked it. The place was absolutely perfect for binge reading his books or working on his school works.

After ordering his usual, he found himself stuck at the task of searching for an available seat. There weren't any that came with an unoccupied table. 

He had to share a table with a living being. 

Bloody hell.

He initially spotted a familiar pattern in a corner. It's not that it stood out but when your own mother wears the same thing as much as humanly possible you're bound to remember. Felix can painfully recite what material that coat was made of and how, oh how, it goes well with everything from the back of his head.

It was meant to be pleasant small-talk but somehow he ended up being roped into a sinuous interrogation that involved his and a stranger's identity. He never knew he was capable of such words per second.

Marinette a.k.a. Fleurir showed no signs of intimidation under his clipped tone and cavalier behavior.

For heaven's sake he probably sounded like some stuck-up prat, she didn't owe him answers.

"Felix Lyonel," he introduced, hopefully gaining some semblance of human decency. His mother would admonish him if she gets wind of this.

But he couldn't help himself, she just kept up with him and somehow didn't get offended with how invasive the conversation was. He should have just accepted her explanation and pretended like he saw no loopholes. 

Curiosity really does kill the cat.

"So, both of your parents kept their surnames then." 

"Mother is legally Lyonel-Culpa but my father took on my mother's maiden name."

"Wha—and you took his old surname... Huh, must've been why you've been hidden all this time." A wave of understanding smoothed Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s brow that seemed to move a mile a minute in the same endearing way his mother does in interviews.

~

"Oh, crap. I'm meeting a client at thirty." Marinette gapped at the clock, "I have to go, Felix. I'll see you around, yeah?" They both stood up as she gathered her bag.

"T'was nice meeting you." She smiled up at him and pecked his cheek. He froze, surprised at the sudden contact, and remained still as she ducked passed him, hiding her pink face. 

A while later, when his gaze fell on his phone, only did he realize that he forgot to ask for her number.

He wondered how his mother would react if he told her he wanted a new pair of trousers from her favorite designer?

~

"Yes! Yes! Yes! A million times yes!"

"My love, our son is asking for new clothes, not proposing." Hugo Culpa grinned at the sight of his wife gazing at their son as if he just announced that he was asking for a family heirloom to present to a girlfriend he did not have.

Lucine gave her husband more than a love tap at the back of his head. "Nonsense! This is a delight. My boy is finally taking an interest in fashion."

Felix frowned. "I thought you said I was always well-dressed?”

"Yes—with the clothes I bought. You've never gone clothes shopping, it's always been only for shoes and accessories." Lucine cupped her son’s face between her hands and said seriously, "I don't know why now but I won't pry, my dear. I'll have Fleurir's info on your desk table by tonight."

"Thank you, mum." 

~ 

"Marinette, your 9 o'clock is here." Cynthia, Marinette's overqualified secretary called from a crack on her office door. Today, Lucine Culpa's fourth referred client was coming through. So far everyone the actress has been sending her way were valuable customers and connections that Marinette could only be so thankful for and this client was more likely the same with how Lucine was practically gushing about their meeting.

"Thanks, Cynthia. Please call them in."

When she heavily cursed herself for not getting a cute guy's number, she genuinely thought it would be long before they see each other again. Marinette gasped when light blond hair and lighter eyes peeked from against her door.

"Felix!"

"A one on one with the CEO? No wonder you're so exclusive." He smirked in that way of his that screamed Arctic charm yet could melt hearts left and right.

Marinette tucked a loose fringe behind her ear, hoping that she was at least presentable in front of this impossibly gorgeous being. "Just for private commissions," she said, bashful. She trusted her designer to pool in for the ready-to-wear collections.

Felix stalked over, his long legs carrying him into her space in seconds. "Don't rush on my account. I quite like this arrangement." 

"What? Flying to Paris for a custom pair of trousers?" 

"They will be exceptional trousers, thank you very much. I happen to have a heaping amount of confidence in the designer." He tilted his head into her direction with a small smile. Marinette would need all the gods' guidance for this meeting. She grabbed her work tablet and gestured to the podium not giving too much thought to her shaky hands.

“So…” she began, “You’re not actually here just for trousers.” She tapped her stylus on her device.

“What?” His brows furrowed. Her lips darkened as her teeth found them, his eyes found them too for a quick second before he snapped his gaze back into her crystalline eyes. 

“You’re kinda—Well, let’s just say you’re going to have a new wardrobe roughly worked out by the end of the day.” She winced knowing he didn’t have patience to sit around to be styled much less have a consultation for nearly thirty pieces of garments.

~

All color drained from his face. Fashion was simple as long as his mother shopped for him. He was aware most of his clothing were bespoked and customized to his size. For the sake of looking presentable, he’d sit through getting his measurements taken bi-yearly by his mother’s stylist. What he would not stand for is getting a headache from all the decision making put into the actual composition of his garments. Even after reading books on fashion and knowing the lingo, he just found the number of selections and options jarring.

“C-Can we call my mother?” His masculinity was not fragile so that he would forgo his mum’s expertise.

Marinette’s relieved smile brought him reassurance that he was not the only one worried for his sanity. “Sure!”

She tapped a few times on her tablet and a ringing bounced through her office walls.

“Hello, Marinette! Has my darling graced you with his presence yet? Is he being good?” Lucine Culpa really had a talent for embarrassing his only son. 

Felix cleared his throat. “Mother. You are on speaker in Mlle. Dupain-Chengs office. We require your assistance.”

“But why?”

“Because you booked me for—” He looked at Marinette to fill in the gap of information.

“Seven trousers, six button-downs, three sweaters, two cardigans, two sets of pyjamas, two belts, one trench coat, and three boxers. Which puts you at twenty-eight pieces.” said Marinette.

“Mother!” Exclaimed Felix.

“What?” His mum was all innocence over the phone.

“Twenty-eight? Really?!” 

“Oh, you’re overreacting. It’s not like you’re going to do this again any time soon! Marinette’s clothes can last you a lifetime if you’d want them to.”

“That’s not the issue here, mum.” He could feel the blush starting to heat up his ears. Thankfully, Marinette kept herself busy with her tablet, or at least he thinks she was.

“Is it the underpants?” Asked his mother. 

Could this get more humiliating? He groaned into his palm. 

“Son, strangers make your boxers all the time. And Marinette’s a professional! She won’t bat an eye on such a request. It’s not like you know each other—” Felix’s heart dropped into the bowels of his stomach. “Oh my gosh! You know each other, don’t you! That’s why you asked for a referral—You sneaky thing! Oh, you’ve grown up so fast—” He was at Marinette’s side in a heartbeat, snatching her iPad and ending the call faster than lightning.

A giggle brought him out of his misery. The designer was looking at him with unbridled joy. “You and Lucine are so cute.”

“Please, just—” He ran a hand through his hair. “Please have mercy on me.”

Marinette bit her lip again; to hold her witty tongue or to hold her amusement? She looked a bit pink.

“Lucine sent over some pictures of your past outfits in the middle of the call. I think I can work on those and you can just approve them after every rough sketch.” She showed his more recent flattering photos, thankfully. 

“She didn’t include underwear photos, did she?”

The pink tint on Marinette’s cheek turned a deeper shade. “N-No.” Damn, she should have.

His lips twitched into a smirk. “I have a few, if you’d like?”

Her face looked like a cute strawberry, ripe for biting into. She raised her tablet to cover her face.

“J-Just get on the stupid podium,” she said weakly.

Maybe this consultation wouldn’t turn out so bad after all.

~

The first time Felix appeared on Marinette's social media was through a tag crediting him as the photographer—which gave zero information and no one really commented on it. Her friends thought it was probably staff from the tea house and thought nothing of it.

Marc's interest was piqued when Marinette posted a certain story in her Instagram. It was a photo of her sitting at the outside bar of Mari's Garden. She posed cradling her drink like a baby, looking at it with reverence. It was an adorable photo but what caught Marc's attention was the other set of dishes- a plate of scones and another teacup were set on the general side where the photographer was. Out of sheer curiosity he pressed on the dishes and wouldn't you know it, the same guy was tagged.

He immediately told Aurore and together they tried stalking this "@_flyon" person. They hit a dead end just after clicking on his profile only to discover it was a private account. Barring the blurred and strategically covered face on the guy’s profile picture, they had nothing. Well, that and Chloe Bourgeois followed him but they weren’t about to approach Marinette’s frenemy. The heiress may no longer be a bully but she was still fucking scary.

Marinette pointed out to Mireille, Zoe, and Aurore one day, how all their female friends took great photos of each other while their male friends could not take a straight photo to save their lives with the exception of her new friend.

They perked up at the mention of a new friend. With her new schedule, Marinette barely had the time to make new connections. Aurore swooped in for a follow-up question: "Is this the person you tagged on your latest post?"

Memories of how happy she was that day made Marinette smile, brighter than usual if that was possible. "Yeah! It's one of my favorite pictures ever. Felix really knows how to work with angles."

Zoe and Aurore shared a knowing look while Mireille discreetly unlocked her phone. "Felix?" they asked in unison.

"Mhmm. We met at Mari's, he's been really good company while I'm in London."

She immediately changed the topic when the three grew conspiratory smiles. And they let her?

~

“Show me what you found!” Aurore boosted herself up using the table to look over Mireille’s shoulder. Zoe scrambled a close second, a chair in tow and ready for some casual internet stalking.

“Okay. So, this flyon is actually named Felix. Zoe told me Chloe used to be friends with someone with the same name. I went through Chloe’s abandoned Facebook account and found this!” Mireille scrolled through a series of pictures and stopped at an old photo where the heiress was holding onto two unwilling blond boys.

“That’s Adrien!” Pointed out Zoe to the blond boy at the left was standing beside Chloe with his hand locked in hers and his lips in a pout. 

“ ‘With my besties Adrikins and Felikins…’ ” read Aurore. “Then that one must be Felix!” The other boy had paler hair, almost silver, his mouth contorted into a frown looking like he’d rather eat his vegetables than stay for the picture.

“This Felix guy’s Facebook has been long offline too buuuut—” Mireille pressed the tagged account on the photo. “—As you can see, his last post was during his graduation back in collège in Highgate School in London. So I stalked his friends who had a public account on IG and lo and behold, ladies, Felix L. Feast your eyes!” She scrolled through an account of some called Claude and clicked onto a photo of three guys and one girl. They all appeared to be of the same age; a model-esque dark-skinned male, a tall caucasian guy with long silky brown hair, a blonde with amazing proportions, and a blond with the lightest grey eyes.

“Holy shit!” Aurore squealed.

“What in the world do they feed kids in London’s private schools? This looks like a magazine cover!” Zoe who was in private school herself could only gap at the difference between the American and England effect.

Mireille paused at a picture of another group photo on a theater stage with more subjects in the picture this time. “They had a Romeo and Juliet production. Guess who Marinette’s boytoy played?”

The two blondes shrieked so loud they almost incurred demerits.

~

Chloe knew who it was by the second post. She would have known from the first seeing as she was mutuals with both Marinette and Felix but she just came out of her social media hiatus. 

The post contained multiple pictures, a back view in a bookshop being the first of the list. Marinette was in a black and white ensemble that Chloe approved of. Then a mirror selfie holding a digital camera against her eye. In the background was a tall guy in a navy trench coat, he was caught by the camera with his back turned, one hand reaching up a shelf and a bouquet of irises and daylilies on the other. 

After that was a picture of the bouquet on a dim table setting. Then a short video of Marinette from across the bookshop reading through the blurb of a book.

It was obviously a date. 

Chloe thought of how small of a world they lived in for those two to meet. And that somehow, they made sense together. They were basically the epitome of the sunshine and sunshine protector ship.

Gross. 

~

When Marinette had given her friends a face to match with the tags. (Not that she knew that they'd already cracked the face of her mystery man.) The girls stared appreciatively and some even squealed at her phone as they passed it among themselves.

At one point, someone had yelled, "Adrien could never!" And a round of approval was yelled back.

"If I looked like that, my feed would be filled with selfies." Luka whistled. The guy was indeed on par with the model in Marinette’s class. But unlike Adrien, he did not radiate sunshine and rainbows but had more of a moonlight and rain type of thing going on. 

"Why is he not a model again?" Marc sighed and Aurore nodded beside him.

Mairnette giggled, she had asked Felix the same question and he genuinely looked offended. 

Marc zoomed in on one of the full-body pictures where Felix was leaning down near Marinette's face while she took a picture through an antique mirror. "Wow. And the guy's kinda swole too? Where do you find these guys, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng?"

Pink bloomed on Marinette's cheeks at the comment. Felix took good care of his body and has mentioned his love of taking long runs throughout the city when it's still dark. His physique was an immediate attraction, he wasn't buff but was more than just lean. Sometimes Marinette would find herself shamelessly staring at his very firm behind when they flexed against his shirt.

She last showed Kagami during their weekly meetups, she nodded in approval within a second of seeing Felix's face. 

"He used to study Kyūdō under one of my Mother's close friends. Formal, reserved, and an adequate shot," Kagami said and that was high praise coming from her.

~

Lila was proud of how much she has achieved at Françoise Dupont. She had most of her classmates at her beck and call. Although her arch nemesis did not lose all her friends she succeeded in capturing the two most important people in Dupain-Cheng's life; Adrien and Alya.

As far as she knew of, Alya and Dupain-Cheng barely talked anymore outside of stilted greetings and Adrien was too busy keeping their class peaceful and enabling Lila to even spare so much as a glance towards his so called good friend. 

The rest of the school was not in any part of her little Kingdom however because of that little debacle with Mylene’s gift—Lila really wanted that perfume. No matter, the school body will move on to a bigger issue soon. And maybe in the near future she would collect them all but for now she was satisfied. As long as Dupain-Cheng stayed miserable, Lila was great!

That is until she realized that girl did not seem miserable at all. In fact, she looked more radiant than before—looking at her rejuvenated behavior made Lila's stomach drop. So she upped the pity party in the next few days and name dropped more celebrities at every turn.

But Dupain-Cheng had zero reaction. She used to roll her eyes, glare, or even looked sad when Lila worked her magic. 

Then she started giving out gifts that cost hundreds of euros without so much as batting an eye. Come on, an entire Flower Knows gift box for that chittering disney princess? That mirror was as overpriced as the next luxury perfume—that stupid ass perfume that got her accosted by those rats from Mme. Matthieu’s class.

Don’t even get Lila started on the name brand items she’s been wearing lately. That low-class model Couffaine just had to point out how cute Dupain-Cheng's Brixxens were. What high school student with bakers for parents could afford a pair of 2000-euro Prada boots?

Now, their class would greet Dupain-Cheng louder than they did Lila, less the stupid bitch not give them anything for any minor achievements or celebrations in their boring ass lives. 

Lila couldn't have that. 

Dupain-Cheng had her social media account in public—a domain Lila could not manipulate due to the permanence of everything. Her lies would be easily debunked within a second should she post something about any well-known people that she supposedly knew.

The number of followers Dupain-Cheng had was a hard slap to Lila who thought she was the most internet famous in class. How did the bitch have 30 thousand followers? As a contracted model she barely passed 10 thousand.

She scrolled through the recent posts and of course came upon the one in the bookstore. She spotted the handsome back in the photo and almost burst aflame. Someone actually went out with this trash?! 

Not happening in her book. Lila was going to destroy this little shit once and for all.

~

It was a beautiful Friday morning when Marinette stepped through the door of Mme. Bustier’s classroom. She felt amazing since starting pilates class with the girls and was feeling extra so she wore her Saint Laurent glasses for today.

Not a second of peace lasted before Alya rounded up on her with her nostrils flaring and fist clenched at her sides. And just when Chloe hasn’t arrived at school yet.

“Marinette! I never thought you would stoop so low that you’d get a pimp!” The crab screamed into her face.

First of all—Ew, idiot germs. Second, what the actual fuck?

Chapter Text

It has come to my attention that this fic has been plagiarized.

If you do recognize which fic has done so, do not engage.

I admit that the act has hurt me as an author and I have lost the inspiration to finish this (in the mean time).

For now, this will serve as proof.

Also, the revision of this fic will not be published anonymously.

Thank you all for the love and support.

-A

Chapter Text

Hi! Just dropping this chapter to link the rewrite of this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75038161

Have a good one!