My Cup Runneth Over

d&d oc whump commissioned by [anon]

content warnings: blood drinking, terminal illness, very brief emeto mention

—

Rolith never imagined he would step foot inside a vampire’s home for any reason other than to slaughter the fiend, yet here he is, knocking on the front door of Lord Serador’s estate with no malicious intentions to be found. He’s been tasked to perform a wellness check on the behalf of Queen Juliet, the matriarch of Willowfen, or the independent human settlement they both call home. As the town’s military leader, he receives his orders directly from her and spends a sizable portion of his time advising the crown. They’ve built up a healthy working relationship over the years, and she trusts him indubitably. She told him she was worried about Serador because he returned the Empyreal Wand (the Queen’s family heirloom, which she gave him in return for his help in solving their werewolf problem). Considering how badly the vampire initially wanted the wand, her highness saw his generosity as cause for concern.

Brows furrowing, Rolith glances down at the wand. Although Serador seems to be somewhat less of a prick than most vampiric nobility, Rolith still can’t imagine him helping them for free. There must be another reason why he returned it.

As time passes and his knock remains unanswered, Rolith begins to suspect the Queen’s worry was well-founded. Unwilling to wait any longer, he reaches for the door knob and, surprisingly, finds it unlocked. Perhaps Serador doesn’t consider the animal inhabitants of his domain to be any threat to his safety. Still, in Rolith’s experience, an unlocked front door is never a good sign. He might be young for a military leader (all of the older commanders perished in the fight to free Willowfen from vampiric rule, leaving the next generation to carry the torch alone) but he’s seen enough in his lifetime to know a bad situation when he sees one.

Without hesitation or any regard for proper manners, he slips inside. As soon as the door closes behind him, he’s consumed by darkness. All of the windows are covered, and none of the candles are lit, so he unsheathes his sword and casts Daylight upon the blade. The spell causes the metal to glow and illuminate the foyer. White brightness crawls into every nook and cranny, and he takes a look around.

He isn’t sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t this.

The manor is archaically well-decorated, of course, but it’s in bad shape. Nothing has been cleaned in ages: the painted portraits are peeling, the wood paneling is dusty, and the ceiling is covered in cobwebs. A shudder of unease rolls down his spine, and he heads toward the stairs, hoping to find Serador quickly so he can get out of this place.

“Hello?” he calls, marching up the creaking steps, “Serador? You here?”

He reaches the second floor and starts down the hallway toward the East Wing. All of the heavy, velvet curtains are drawn closed, but specks of light peek through moth holes. The state of Serador’s house reaffirms his suspicions about his well being. During the period of their alliance thus far, Rolith has noticed that there’s something not quite right with him. The vampire seems to have little to no regard for his health, the most prominent example being the time when he overexerted himself in battle to the extent that he was vomiting blood for hours after. At the time, Rolith tried to help, but he was brushed off. They’ve never discussed the matter. Even when he’s not visibly ill, Serador always has dark circles underneath his red eyes, and his pale skin is more gaunt than even a vampire’s complexion should be. There’s definitely something wrong with him. If only Rolith knew what the problem was.

Turning a corner, he spots an open door at the end of the hall. He heads straight for it, entering the room without preamble, anxious about what he might find. 

“Mother of God,” a familiar voice groans. It’s Serador. He’s lying in his bed, his eyes slammed shut against the white glow. “Put that out.”

Rolith waves his hand to disperse the magic, and the vampire sighs in relief at the ensuing darkness. His comfort is short-lived, however, because the paladin immediately strides over to the nearest window and throws open the curtains, letting the evening sunlight in. Serador hisses. Rolith ignores him.

“Your door was unlocked,” he says, turning around to face him. Serador’s bed is ornate and massive, a large canopy frame that’s almost as tall as the ceiling. Propped up by a mountain of pillows and tucked under the covers, the vampire looks none too pleased about being seen in such a vulnerable state. His red eyes immediately hone in on the Emperyal Wand.

“What are you doing with that?” he asks brusquely. “I returned it to your Queen.”

Rolith sheaths his sword and places the wand down on the nearest surface. “But you didn’t tell her why.”

The vampire shifts. “I no longer desire it.”

Approaching his bedside, Rolith takes a moment to more thoroughly examine his appearance. Gone is the demeanor of a haughty immortal. The creature before him looks sickly, and the sheets surrounding him are covered in blood. His chin is stained red.

“What’s wrong with you?” Rolith demands. The vampire doesn’t answer, averting his eyes. He makes a face and then coughs into his elbow. His throat makes a wet, gurgling sound, and his shirt sleeve is soaked in crimson.

Alarm bells go off in the paladin’s head. The carnage isn’t from feeding. It’s not the blood of his prey. It’s his own.

“Serador.”

“What?” he gasps, breathless and clearly annoyed.

“You know what. You look like you’re dying. You need a cleric or, or something,” Rolith says, running a hand through his blonde hair and wracking his mind for a way to help. He doesn’t know much about vampire physiology. Information regarding their weaknesses is kept secret by the vampiric nobility. Before this very moment, he thought they couldn’t even get sick in the first place.

Intent on rushing out of the manor and grabbing the first healer he comes across, he moves toward the door to leave, but Serador clears his throat and makes him pause.

“A cleric won’t help,” he says.

Crossing his arms, Rolith glares at him. “So you know what’s wrong with you?”

Serador sighs deeply. He looks miserable. His cheeks are hollow, and his limbs sag with every movement as if his very bones are weighing him down. Rolith hates seeing him like this.

“I was cursed a long time ago, in a blood feud. The curse manifests as an illness of sorts, weakening me until eventually…” Rolith shrugs, “Well, I assume it’ll kill me someday. It’s been a decades now.”

The vampire’s casual tone makes it difficult for Rolith to immediately comprehend the meaning of his words, but the more he thinks about it, the more everything begins to make sense. He recalls every time he’s witnessed Serador utterly drained after battle, and the pieces of the puzzle slot together in his mind. “You’re cursed?”

Serador gives him a tired look. “Yes. I thought perhaps the wand could cure me, but I doubt it.”

Rolith raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even try?” At this, he marches over to the table and grabs the wand, determination pumping through his veins. “You’re dying. You should at least try.”

“It would destroy the wand,” Serador explains, struggling to sit upright, “and the odds of success are low. It’s more important to preserve it for future generations if there is to be any hope for an insurrection.”

Rolith looks at the wand skeptically. “I thought it was just an heirloom.”

The vampire coughs into his fist, his shoulders shaking in violent jerks. “The Queen’s father was a legendary cleric, as you know. If you and your people want to harness the power of the forbidden magics and overthrow the corrupt court, then you’ll need that wand.” He gives Rolith a pointed look. “I can’t teach you everything.”

The paladin frowns. It’s true Serador taught him illegal spells to use against the undead. The enchantments aided him in defeating an evil witch, but the vampire was burned by simply being in close-proximity when Rolith cast the spell. Serador has taken great risks in aiding them in their goal of freeing humankind… and now he would sacrifice his only chance at life for their sakes?

Rolith shakes his head. “Then there has to be another way to break the curse.”

The vampire sports a wry smile. “As much as I admire your optimism, I’ve been around for much longer than you’ve been alive. I doubt there’s a cure.”

“Well, I’ll find one,” he asserts, leveling Serador with a challenging look. He doesn’t appreciate being told what he can and cannot do by vampires, especially when he’s trying to help. He takes a step closer to the bed and sits on the edge of the mattress, fire burning in his blue eyes.

“You might’ve given up on your life, but I—we haven’t. Queen Juliet wishes to continue her alliance with you. Your help has been immeasurable, and I know the other paladins feel the same. You’ve saved my life multiple times. It’s only right that I return the favor.” Rolith takes a gamble and reaches for the vampire’s hand, squeezing his pale fingers in a reassuring grip. “I’ll help you break the curse. I promise.”

Serador meets his gaze with an unreadable expression. Rolith has always struggled to understand him because of their differences. He’s loathed all vampires for so long, it’s taken him a while to realize that Serador is a valuable ally and a good person. Before he can even attempt to dissect the nuances of his face, Serador breaks his silence.

“Do you ever cease to be charming?” he murmurs. It’s the first compliment the vampire has ever given him, and the words level Rolith. His breath catches, and he has to clear his throat before speaking.

“Only on my days off. Right now I’m here on the Queen’s dime.”

The vampire pulls his hand away to brush back several strands of long, white hair from his face. “Of course you are.”

Rolith smiles briefly before his face settles into a grave expression once again. Although he enjoys how far they have come since meeting each other (Serador no longer calls him ‘boy’ in a derogatory way), the pleasantness of their camaraderie is overshadowed by the revelation of a deadly curse.

“What can I do to help? You’re not going to be confined to your bed forever, right?”

“I should hope not,” the vampire huffs, smoothing down the stained sleeves of his black robes. “I should be back to normal in a couple days. It comes and goes in waves.”

“What about…” Rolith bites his lip and gestures vaguely, “When was the last time you fed?”

Serador’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “It’s been a while.”

Eager to help, an idea forming in his mind, Rolith continues, “Would that help? If you had something?”

The vampire sets his jaw. He doesn’t speak. Rolith takes that as a yes. His hand goes to his blade, and Serador makes an insulted noise.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I won’t allow it.”

The paladin unsheathes his sword and rests it in his lap. “Why not? I’m perfectly healthy, you’re on the verge of death… if I can hasten your recovery—”

“No,” Serador cuts in, his voice stronger than it has been all throughout their conversation thus far. He seems resolute in his refusal, but Rolith knows that a vampire’s morality blurs at the edges of hunger, so he takes a deep breath and presses the sharp edge of his blade against his palm. He pauses there, waiting for protest, but Serador doesn’t say anything further to stop him, so he drags the sword across his skin and slices open a thin red cut. It stings, but only a few beads of blood rise to the surface. He looks Serador in the eye. The vampire’s breathing is labored as if his fight against his baser instincts is a physical effort.

“I trust you,” Rolith reassures, even though he knows he’s already won this argument. “Just take a little bit, since you’re so worried. I’ll even get it healed later today.”

Serador raises a trembling arm and wraps his clammy fingers around his wrist in a delicate manner, gently pulling his hand closer. With his other hand, he caresses the inside of his forearm soothingly, as if calming a spooked animal. Shivers race down Rolith’s spine, but he isn’t afraid of a little pain. He’s willing to endure it for a friend. 

Serador opens his mouth and slowly sinks his fangs into the cut, widening the wound a bit. An odd sensation spreads across his palm—the venom must be numbing him. The vampire seals his lips over the cut and sucks slowly, eyes closed. The whole affair feels strangely intimate, and although he knows blood is being leached from his body, Rolith can’t look away. He doesn’t tell him to stop, either. He was serious when he said he intended to find a way to break Serador’s curse. He doesn’t intend to let the vampire wither away anytime soon.

A couple minutes later, some of the color has returned to Serador’s face, and he pulls away with a wet pop. Rolith’s fingers are tingling, but otherwise he feels fine. The vampire licks the wound clean and then grasps his palm with both hands. Warmth spreads across his skin in a flash of golden light, and when Serador lets go, the cut has healed.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Rolith says, rubbing his thumb across his palm where the slice had been. Serador sits back against his pile of pillows, evening his breath. His face is placid, but underneath his calm demeanor, he looks refreshed.

“You didn’t need to offer yourself to me,” he counters with a tilt of his head.

“I wanted to.” Rolith wipes his blade clean on the sheets, earning a disgruntled huff from the owner of the bed, before sheathing his weapon.

“If I were in a better state, I would’ve never let you do something so unnecessary and, frankly, dangerous,” Serador insists, coming back to himself now. He looks embarrassed, but he really shouldn’t be, in Rolith’s opinion. “Don’t try that again.”

“Alright,” the paladin agrees. He doesn’t regret encouraging Serador to drink from him against his wishes. If it keeps Serador alive, he’ll do it, even if it makes the vampire uncomfortable. He recognizes that he overstepped a boundary, though, so he stands up from the bed and looks away. “I’m sorry.”

Serador snorts. “You’re not. But you should be.”

Rolith’s lips quirk up in a half-smile, unbidden. “I have to tell the Queen why you returned the wand, you know.”

“I suppose you do.” The vampire doesn’t sound happy about that. “While you’re at it, tell her to stop sending trespassers into my home.”

Rolith’s smile broadens into a grin. He pockets the wand, handling it with much more care than he did previously. “I might advise her to send a cleaning crew over, if anything.”

There’s a long pause, and then, “You are one of the most audacious humans I have ever met.”

Rolith laughs, daring to meet the vampire’s eyes. He looked genuinely affronted, which only amuses him more. “You clearly haven’t met enough humans, then.”

“Clearly,” Serador drawls, “Now get out of my house.”

“Gladly,” Rolith shoots back, even though he would rather stay and ensure the vampire doesn’t drop dead anytime soon. He slowly moves toward the door, hesitant. The hallway is dark. He glances over his shoulder briefly and catches one last glimpse of Serador. He’s looking down at his hand, the evening sunlight casting shadows over the bed.

Rolith steps into the darkness and leaves before he can be caught watching.

For@miraculousfanworks Monster May.

Summary: Adrien knows he’s forbidden to bite anyone expect for his mate, but, in an emergency, he ends up drinking Marinette’s blood…and realizing that his feelings for her haven’t been platonic in a long time. Now, if only he could convince her that his love is real and not the result of their intimate feeding session.

Read it on AO3: Bite Me: Chapter Four

About a week later, Adrien was shocked to find Marinette waiting for him by his locker a good twenty minutes before the start of class.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Who are you, and what have you done with my Princess?”

She rolled her eyes. “I set, like, five alarms. You should be grateful.”

He hummed in interest. “Oh, yeah? I mean, I guess I already thank the universe every day I get to see your beautiful face, but…is there something specific I should be grateful for today?”

She had to avert her gaze as she struggled to contain her rapidly spreading blush.

She cleared her throat and pushed a rogue bang back out of her face. “I…uh… Wow. It’s really hard to sentence when you say things like that.”

Adrien winced, mentally kicking himself. “Sorry. I—”

“—No!” She waved her hands wildly, almost hitting herself in the face as she assured, “It’s fine! I don’t… I just…”

She took a deep breath and sighed it out. “Sorry. Just…grab your stuff for class and come with me?”

Nodding, he obediently did as bid, stowing the things he’d brought home for assignments and grabbing the texts and notebooks he needed for class.

Still blushing, Marinette began to lead the way to the boiler room where they were unlikely to be disturbed.

Adrien’s shoulders slumped as he followed her, making him resemble a kicked puppy. “…I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” He tried to apologize again.

Marinette gave a start. “What?! No. Adrien, you’re seriously fine. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“You’re not just saying that to be nice?” he pressed. “Because I know I’m kind of a lot when I love someone. Please let me know if the flirting starts to annoy you.”

She blew out a sigh and turned to take his hand as she guided him through the door off the courtyard, down into the bowels of the school.

“Chaton, I promise you that it’s fine. You’re not annoying me or making me uncomfortable or anything.”

He pursed his lips. “If you’re sure. Because I’m kind of a compulsive flirt, and I know I used to get on Ladybug’s nerves all the time, so I want to try to have more situational awareness with you.”

Marinette came to a sudden halt and slowly turned to gawk at Adrien in horror. “Oh my gosh. You’re Chat Noir.”

He blinked at her, his head tipping to the side. “Yes? You’ve known that for almost a week now.”

She shook her head, quietly shrieking, “Clearly, I shoved that to the back of my mind so that I could process the fact that Adrien Agreste is a vampire and thinks he’s in love with me and likes snuggling in my bed!”

His surprise quickly turned to confusion. “O…kay?”

Her eyes went wide as she whispered, “Oh my gosh. You’re in love with Ladybug.”

He winced and then held up his hands defensively. “I mean, okay. Yeah. I think a part of me will always love Ladybug. It’s a little hard to totally forget your first crush, but…I just want you to know that the feelings I still have for her don’t diminish what I feel for you, Marinette.”

She shook her head, holding up her hands to stop him from saying more as she struggled to process. “That’s not what I meant. Even if your feelings for me were real and not a side effect of drinking my blood,”

Adrien’s heart cracked a little bit more at her ardent denial of his feelings. It was starting to become clear that she didn’t wanthim to have feelings for her and that she was desperately hoping that they would go away if she repelled them enough.

“…there would be nothing wrong with you having feelings for Ladybug too,” Marinette continued, oblivious to Adrien’s hurt. “I was just thinking—I just realized…Ladybug rejected you.”

Adrien looked away. “Yeah. It turns out that people who actually know me pretty well don’t find me to be an attractive romantic prospect.”

Marinette winced, mentally kicking herself for being so blinded by her crush on Adrien that she hadn’t noticed her amazing partner.

“I’m so sorry, Adrien,” she whispered, hanging her head in shame. “I’m sorry that she hurt you. If I could go back and make her see what an incredible person she was turning down, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

He gave a sullen shrug, still not meeting her gaze.

“I’m sorry, Chaton,” she repeated, gently wrapping him up in a hug. “I’m sorry she broke your heart when she should have treasured it.”

He slowly inhaled her sweet, strawberries-and-oatmeal scent, and it was hard to be sad. He pushed aside his woes and concentrated on the warmth of her in his arms.

“Thanks, Marinette,” he whispered into her hair, giving it a nuzzle. “It means a lot that you care.”

“I care about you more than you know,” she sighed, squeezing him a little tighter.

They stayed like that, content in their embrace, for almost a good minute before Marinette remembered why they’d come to the boiler room in the first place.

She slowly released her hold on him and slipped her hand into his with a smile, tugging him further into the room. “I wanted to show you something.”

She fished in her bag and pulled out a small, cylindrical object about the length of her pointer finger and the width of her thumb.

He cocked an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“It’s a lancet device,” she explained. “I saw it while running an errand at the pharmacy this weekend, and I thought it might be good.”

His eyebrow only arched higher. “What’s a…lancet device?”

She popped the cap off, showing him the tiny needle within the device. “It’s used for getting blood samples. People with diabetes use it to prick their fingers so they can check their blood sugar.”

She pulled down the little lever on the side of the contraption, and he watched as the needle retracted. She pushed the button, and the needle sprang forward with a click.

He gave a start at the unexpected sound but quickly relaxed at the symphony that was her chuckling. “…So, what use do you have with it? Last time I checked, you’re not diabetic.”

She turned her dazzling grin on him as she recapped the device. “Since you’re so opposed to biting me again, I thought this could be a safe way for me to periodically give you snacks to keep your strength up.”

His jaw dropped, and a strangely warm feeling burbled up in his stomach. “You… For me?”

She nodded.

“That’s brilliant,” he chuckled, carding a hand through his hair. “But, doesn’t that hurt?”

She shook her head. “I tried it at home to make sure I could handle it, and it’s not that bad. I mean, it stings when it pricks, but the pain doesn’t even last a full second.”

“You are the most thoughtful person ever,” he cooed, absolutely melting at the fact that she would do something so selfless for him. “But are you sure it’s not going to hurt your hands? Won’t it make it hard to work on designs?”

She waved away his concerns. “I jab myself with pins all the time, and this is a much smaller needle. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much, and I can’t even tell where I poked myself. See?”

She held up her left ring finger.

He squinted at it, carefully scrutinizing, but he couldn’t make out the wound. “…Okay. But are you sure about this?”

She smacked him on the arm. “Shut up and drink my blood already, Dumb Cat.”

He burst out laughing. “Well, when you put it that way…do you want to give it a try?”

She nodded, prepping the lancet device and pressing it up against her finger. She pressed the button and then gave her finger a squeeze, producing a shiny red droplet that made Adrien’s mouth water.

She laughed—a bell-like sound—as she held her finger out to him. “You’re looking at it like Nino’s steak last week.”

“Like I said at the restaurant,” he purred as he gingerly took her wrist. “My body knows what it needs…and that’s you.”

Marinette shivered as he wrapped his tongue around her finger, sucking at it like a suckling kitten.

Her stomach fluttered as he gave a contented sigh.

She swallowed. “Is it good?”

“Very good,” he assured, nuzzling at her wrist.

She hummed contemplatively. “It doesn’t feel as good as when you bit me.”

He choked on a laugh, looking at her with half-lidded eyes. “Oh, yeah? You want me to sink my fangs into you?”

She had to hold in a whimper as memories of his body under hers, his mouth on her neck, flickered to life once more in her brain. “Is it weird if I say yes?”

“No more weird than some of the things I’ve said to you,” he assured, pulling her into his arms.

“Adrien,” she breathed, tipping her head to the side to expose her neck for him.

“Sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I don’t think right before class is the best idea, and I think we should wait a while before I drink from your neck again. I read online that you’re supposed to wait eight weeks between blood donations to make sure you’ve fully recovered.”

Marinette pulled back to gawk at him, pouting, “What? Noooo. That’s, like, two months!”

He smiled sheepishly. “I’m really sorry, Princess, but I don’t want to take any chances with your health.”

She grumbled under her breath as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Maybe tonight I can come by and give your finger a prick with my fangs instead,” he offered, trying to appease her.

She blew out a sigh and whined, “I want you to sink your teeth into me. You can’t really do that with a finger. There’s not enough real-estate. Could you maybe bite my arm or my leg or something?”

He bit his bottom lip and replied honestly, “I don’t think I have enough self-control to sink my fangs into you and not drink.”

“Fiiiiine,” she groaned, encircling her arms around him tighter.

Her voice was softer, more affectionate, as she added, “I guess this is good enough.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you for understanding. You have to believe me when I say that, if I could, I’d do anything for you, Marinette.”

Her breath hitched.

“…I just don’t trust myself, and I can’t put you at risk,” he admitted regretfully.

“It’s okay,” she assured, turning her head and giving his neck a light peck. “I’m the one being selfish.”

He shrugged, beginning to pet her hair. “I don’t mind. You have no clue how much I wish I could spoil you.”

“…You’re being awfully affectionate,” she noted.

“Being with you makes me feel things,” he confessed.

“Is it because you just drank my blood, so your brain is making you think I’m your mate?” she inquired guardedly.

“I don’t actually know that that’s a real thing,” he reminded as he nuzzled her ear. “Like I said, Maman never really talked much about being a vampire. All I know is that she told me that I couldn’t bite someone other than my husband or wife. I don’t know if that was a rule for me specifically or if it’s something all vampires live by.”

He raised his head to gaze pleadingly into her eyes. “Can’t you just let me be in love with you?”

She froze, eyes going as wide as galaxies.

“Stop overanalyzing everything and just let me feel close to you,” he begged. “Father never allows me to express my emotions, so this isn’t something I get to do often. There’s so much love closed up inside of my heart, Marinette. Please let me let some out.”

All resistance drained from her, and she suddenly didn’t care if his feelings were only the trick of chemicals in his brain.

“Come here, Chaton,” she coaxed, pulling him back into a hug and giving his neck a nip.

He shivered with pleasure, contentedly sinking into her arms.

As the class packed up their things for the lunch break that day, Alya turned to Marinette and chuckled, “I see you’re still on a scarf kick.”

Marinette shrugged. “They’re cute.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to hide a hickey,” Alya teased.

Adrien tensed, holding his breath as his mind began to race.

Misinterpreting Adrien’s panic, Nino reached out and rested a hand on his best friend’s back, whispering, “Hey. It’s okay, Mec. Don’t worry.”

He raised his voice as he looked over his shoulder at the girls. “Yeah, but we all know it can’t be a hickey because Marinette isn’t seeing anyone.”

Marinette giggled nervously as her hand flew up to her neck. “Yeah. What Nino said. I mean, why would I have a bite mark on my neck? Ha! Me! With a hickey! Ha! That’s crazy!”

Alya’s eyes narrowed at her friend’s trademark bad acting skills.

Marinette started to sweat as she doubled down on her awkward, too-large grin.

“Oh my God,” Alya whispered, a devilish smirk spreading over her lips. “You do have a hickey!”

“What?! NO!” Marinette yelped as Alya made a grab for the scarf.

“Girl!” Alya giggled. “How could you not tell me? Who have you been necking with?”

Adrien’s guilt got the best of him, and he shot up out of his seat. “It was me! Ibit her.”

His eyes anxiously scanned the room as he waited for an outburst of judgment and rage.

He was sure everyone was about to grab their pitchforks and torches, but his classmates just stared at him, struggling to process.

“Hold the phone,” Alya demanded. “What?”

Adrien looked from one friend to the next, pleading for them to understand. “I was feeling weak, and she was right there. She was so close, and she smelled amazing, and I just…I couldn’t help it.”

With a growl of frustration, Chloé stood to stare Adrien down with her hands on her hips. “Adrien Agreste, we do not bite people! What the hell were you thinking?!”

Adrien shrank, hanging his head at the rebuke. “I’m so sorry, Chlo. Like I said, I was weak, and I wasn’tthinking.”

“Hold on.” Marinette interrupted, gawking at Chloé. “Are you…like him?”

Chloé flipped her ponytail and rolled her eyes. “Please. I am nothing like him. Idon’t go around biting riffraff like you.”

She turned back to Adrien with a disappointed huff. “So, are you two dating now? Really, Adri-chou. You have abysmal taste.”

Adrien flinched, panicking under the class’s expectant gazes and turning to Marinette for help.

Marinette didn’t get the opportunity to respond, however, because, just then, Lila got to her feet and sniffled loudly, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Marinette, how could you?”

Marinette balked. “Me? What did Ido?”

Lila pointed accusingly. “Not two weeks ago, I pulled you aside and told you that Adrien and I secretly had something going on, so it made me really uncomfortable the way you were throwing yourself at him.”

Several jaws dropped, and eyebrows shot up into hairlines at this plot twist.

“What?” Adrien choked at the same time Marinette scoffed, “Excuse me?”

Lila shook her head, large crocodile tears dribbling down her cheeks as she continued. “And then you went behind my back and seduced him away from me anyway. I thought you were a good person, Marinette. How could you?”

A murmur went through the class as they all exchanged uncertain looks, unsure of what to make of this.

Adrien stepped out into the aisle and moved next to Marinette, slipping his hand into hers.

“Lila,” he called gently, hoping to diffuse the situation. “I’m sorry if you misunderstood, but there’s never been anything romantic between us. I don’t know if you felt like there was something there when we modeled together, but that was all acting for me. I’m sorry, but I’m in love with Marinette.”

The class exploded into a flurry of exclamations and questions. Arguments broke out, and money started to exchange hands.

Meanwhile, Lila shrieked, desperate to get everyone’s attention back on her. “Adrien, you know that’s not true! You’re only saying that because she seduced you!”

Lila sent a glare Marinette’s way, threatening, “I’ll never forgive you for this!”

Marinette rolled her eyes and sighed, too tired to deal with any of this. She went back to packing up her things and refused to play Lila’s game.

Adrien opened his mouth, about ready to confess that Marinette didn’t return his feelings, when Alix gasped, pointing up above their heads as she shouted, “Akuma!”

Wholesale panic broke out as everyone scrambled away from Lila.

“We need to get you out of here,” Adrien hissed urgently to Marinette, pulling her out into the aisle and towards the door as the butterfly landed on Lila’s bracelet.

Cries of, “You’ll pay for this, Marinette Dupain-Cheng!” echoed behind them as they fled.