Chapter Text
Marinette Dupain-Cheng was huddled at her desk, practically covered in layers of shed loose leaf paper and parchment.
She was scribbling down designs–she was currently in the most mind blowing creative flow.
She was onto something.
She was on the verge of completing her doodling destiny.
She was almost there ….
“Marinette?” Her father's gentle voice carried over to her like the scent of the bread he bakes. Subtle, but enough to slice through the productive haze.
“Huh?” She turns to him. Then, she mutters a curse, “Dang it, dad, you threw off my breakthrough. I can already feel the creative block forming!”
Marinette sighs, slapping away the scraps of paper clinging to her.
Her father stares for a moment before clearing his throat, “I'm sorry, sweetie.”
He opened the attic trapdoor and invited himself in, which was fine. Marinette's room was in the attic and she was fine with people walking in as long as they gave her some form of prewarning, which was him calling her name in this case.
She offers a smile, “It's okay, dad. Did you need help with the bakery?” Her parents were kiiiinda some of the most well-known bakers in Paris. If only that could give Marinette any form of bragging rights.
“No, me and your mother do have it handled.” Her father waved his hands kindly, as if trying to shoo all her concerns away.
Finally, he continued, “I just came up here to remind you. School starts in only a week. Have you done your supplies shopping like you promised you would? We would have done it, but things have been so busy–”
“oh, shoot!” Marinette whined, scrambling up to her feet. Her face falls, “I haven't.”
Her dad smiled, “That's why I thought to remind you. Your mother has some grocery shopping to do tomorrow, how about you tag along with her and get your supplies while at it, hm?”
Marinette nods, “Okay, dad.”
Her dad nods and after leaving a kiss on her cheek, he turns and leaves.
Marinette takes that moment to collapse back in her wobbly desk chair and try to rest her achey muscles.
School was…difficult. For Marinette, at least. The lessons were easy enough. But there were certain people. Certain people who loved making her life hell.
Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette sees a bug and flinches, slapping her desk in an attempt to squish it. She sighs, rubbing her eyes so hard that colors blind her behind her eyelids.
“Wake up, Marinette.” She grumbled to herself, “You're loopy from staying up all night.”
She pauses before looking at her bed.
“Actually, I might need sleep. Big day tomorrow, that's for sure. A nap before lunch should do good.”
—
Whistling a tune, Adrien Agreste flipped through an issue of a superhero comic book. The only problem was, he had it memorized cover to cover. He was just bored.
“Allllllrighty.” Adrien dragged out, tossing the flimsy book onto his desk and scowling when his voice and the sound of the book echoed through his huge room.
His dad was a rich, rich man. Like, living in a mansion was cool enough. And having a big room was something to be grateful for. But god. It was boring.
It was so boring.
“Okay.” Adrien scooted back in his chair, wincing as pain spread through his joints, he definitely had been sitting too long–the tall stack of comic books he just marathoned proved it.
Adrien looked around and rolled his eyes when he realized his walking stick had fallen to the ground. Luckily it wasn't too far away, and he was capable of walking a few feet–he wasn't THAT immobile.
In fact, he wasn't technically immobile at all. He was hypermobile. Still made walking a nightmare, ironically. It also made sitting a nightmare. And unfortunately, that was pretty much all he could do, thanks to his dear overprotective dad. In fact, the only times he got out of the house was the occasional modeling gig.
Getting up and taking it one step at a time (ignoring how his legs shook), he quickly walked over and bent down, grabbing his walking stick. It was a specific walking stick, with the Agreste Brand standard of quality.
His dad owned a BIG company. And primarily, he focused on fashion. But ever since Adrien was diagnosed, Gabriel has spent millions on a disability line–basically just a bunch of aids. Doing a great job spreading awareness while at it.
This Agreste Brand walking stick was basically just a high tech version of any old walking stick, just made of metal and engraved with its own little…logo? It was four droplets, kinda formed into a shape like a butterfly or pixie. It was similar to the main logo, at least.
Using his mobility aid, Adrien was able to go to his bed and then sigh before flopping back into the soft sheets. Pressing a button on the stick, it immediately folded in on itself with a muted click.
Adrien glanced to the side, looking at his huge windows. He wanted to be out there so bad. The times his father let him outside were few and far apart. It was miserable.
“Adrien?”
Adrien flinches, glancing at the door. He smiles at the sight of his father's assistant, “Hey, Natalie.”
She nods, “Hello, Adrien. Your father will like to talk to you.”
Adrien's face lit up, “Really??” He sits up a little to fast, cringing when his shoulder mildly dislocates, “Ow.”
Natalie's eyes widen in concern and she was already on her way over, “You alright, Adrien?”
He rolls his eyes, sighing before quickly popping his shoulder back into place, “It's fine, Natalie. It's normal. What does my father want to talk about??”
His dad might be annoying and overprotective, and he's always so distant. But Adrien is rarely able to talk to him, and it sucks because he does love his dad.
Natalie shrugs, “You'll have to see for yourself.”
Adrien nods, pressing the button to unfold his walking stick and heading to the door, “Well, let's see what it's about then, hm?”
Natalie nods, and Adrien notices her walking a little too close as they head to his father's office.
“You know, you don't have to baby me.” He sighs, “I'm almost 17. I'm not going to fall, and you don't need to catch me.”
“Right.” Natalie said, taking a step to the side to create a pocket of space between them, “Apologies.”
“It's okay,” Adrien pauses, “So…is father just wanting me there so he can run through the lesson plans for this year of homeschooling?”
Natalie shakes her head, “You know that I'm the one that does that, Adrien, don't be silly. Your father has better things to do with his time.”
That made Adrien smile, even if the words stung. This must be really important.
Finally, they make it to his father's office and Natalie knocks once before opening the door.
“Sir, I've brought Adrien.”
Gabriel Agreste, in all his glory, stood behind a giant tablet he used to plan and design. He nods, looking at Adrien.
“Come in and sit down, son. We need to have a chat.”
–
An old man rummaged through a box. There was a feeling of dread coursing through him.
“Master Fu,” the turtle Kwami, Wayzz, was fidgeting nervously, “I know you feel it too. The butterfly Miraculous has been activated not long ago at all. The butterfly is a dangerous tool in unknown hands.”
Master Fu nods, “I realize. I'm trying to figure out how to stop them. I'm much too old nowadays to even transform, so I certainly can't fight them.”
The turtle pauses, "I'd suggest you look at the Miraculous box.”
Fu frowned, “Why would I–” he looks at the Miraculous box and his jaw drops. There was a red light and a shadow radiating from it.
“The ladybug and cat miraculous??” Fu gasped, “How is this possible?”
Wayzz looked away, “Tiki and Plagg said they knew it was time. It is an era that will need them.”
“They're the most powerful miraculous' in our world,” Fu whispered, “Could the threat really be so grave?”
“It seems to be so, Master Fu.” The turtle trembled, “But something tells me that fate has already decided that this is what we need to do.”
“They don't have holders!” Master Fu practically hissed, “Who am I supposed to give them to??”
The turtle hesitated, “The ladybug and the black cat have their ways of finding their masters. Tiki and Plagg are very wise, let them out. Because I have a feeling this is our last hope.”
Fu sighed.
“Very well, Wayzz. You speak truth.” Fu walks over to the box. He punches in a code and the box opens, revealing two little Kwami. A little red ladybug and a black cat.
“It is time, Master Fu.” Tiki, the ladybug, whispers.