This is my work on AO3 under the user Skill_Perks and title: Everything Is Subject To Change if you wanna get faster updates/replies there. I'm new to tumblr so be gentle. I dunno how to format anything on here and since I'm primarily on AO3, I'm likely not gonna learn. If there's enough complaints I'll probably do it tho.
Link to AO3
[Also, if you came across my previous work "Show Me Your Fears" shh, no you didn't. (That was actually my very first work and it was so cringey that I felt myself die a little on the inside when I went back and reread it. Its now undergoing serious SERIOUS editing so I took it down. I cannot believe I thought I ate ts up.)]
Chapter 1: Memories of Tournaments and Champions
The stench of sweat was heavy in the air, the mark of the black cat burned underneath her skin and blood flowing from the gash on her forehead threatened to blind her vision. Her arms were raised in front of her, guarding her face and she bounced on the balls of her feet, blue eyes trained on the foe in front of her. Her pupils narrowed to slits as her hearing sharpened, waiting for this scaly bastard to make his move and provide her with an opening.Â
“What’s wrong? That venom your Kwami provides you with seep into your brain or have you always been this slow?”
Her taunt worked well. A little too well. His glare turned from scathing to deadly in less than a second, his stance slightly adjusted and she knew in that moment he was about to try a lunge grab. The second his foot hit the ground and his center of gravity shifted, she dodged under and to the right, placing her hand against his neck and forced his face into the ground like a dog.Â
Placing her knee to the back of his neck, she gripped his wrist with one hand and pressed the other flat against his elbow, “Yield! Before I make sure you won’t participate in another tournament again.”
“What’s wrong kitty kitty, you scared?”
“Yield.”
"Come on Pussycat, you aren't warrior nor champion enough to do it. Everyone knows you're nothing but a phoney."
Chloé's eyes narrowed to slits but she repeated her demand again, "Yield."
“And give up the chance at taking the hand of the Creation Kwami’s champion? Only a fool–”
A scream ripped through his vocal cords as the crunch of bones became audible.
“If you wish to ever so much as pick up a pen again, yield,” it was her final warning as her palm closed around his.
“Three.” Claws extended from her nail bed.
“Two.” Warm blood dribbled down her fingertips as the nails pierced his skin.
“One.” His mouth remained firmly shut until the claws sunk deep enough to puncture nerve endings and scrape against his bones while she crushed his metacarpals before moving on to his fingers and thumb.
“The only way out of this is if you yield, or you die. So again I ask, do you yield?” This time, she bent his arm and angled her claws to press directly against his ulnar nerve. Slowly, she pushed her nails through his skin, aiming to sever the nerve and completely destroy any chance he had at ever using his right arm from the elbow down again.
His red face slowly turned purple from his screaming and her knee applying pressure on his neck. Just as her nails punctured the nerve, his left hand rapidly patted the ground. Brown eyes widened and he managed three large gulps of air before he fell unconscious.Â
It was once he was dragged from the center of the arena did she finally register the cheers from the audience. She raised a bloodied fist covered in scrapes and bruises to the sky and the crowd’s roar echoed all around. Chants of her name made dopamine flood every nerve in her body, even some of the kwamis applauded.Â
After a respectful bow to first the kwamis then the audience, she made her way to the gates of the arena. She hadn’t even made it three steps past the threshold before a figure stepped forward from the shadows. Their arms were crossed and their eyes were narrowed, she already knew where this was going to go.Â
“Feeling yourself, are we, Chloé Bourgeois?”
Chloé rolled her eyes, “First of all, Dupain-Cheng, it’s not Bourgeois anymore. And second of all, yes, I very much am.” She smirked and crossed her own arms, showing off her lean arm muscles. “I’m so amazing, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Yes, you are. You are so~ amazing–” Marinette drawled out the last syllable, “-ly sloppy. Look at you, covered in blood, dirt and sweat. I expected one chosen by the Black Cat to have a bit more… grace.”
Chloé raised an eyebrow, “And I expected one chosen by the Ladybug to have a bit more luck. Seems you’re just so much better at being such a klutz that it dominates any luck that might have rubbed off on you. Seems like we were both disappointed.”
Both of them glared at each other, neither backing down. Until Marinette’s lip twitched and they both began to laugh.
Marinette lightly pushed Chloé’s shoulder and sighed, “Seriously though, we should hurry and get you cleaned up before one of those either scars or gets infected.” Chloé’s face scrunched up at the thought of an infected wound, the last time she had one was many years ago and it wasn’t fun at all.
Still, she raised her arms, fingers threaded behind her head and smiled, “Careful Dupain-Cheng, if I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think that you like me.”
“Yeah right, you wish. I’m just eager to send you back to your clowder, you reek of camembert."
They exchanged barbs and banter as Marinette led Chloé away from the colosseum and toward the closest stall selling bars of soap. The sunset meshed with the lights vendors hung from their stalls and tents. It was when the moonlight began to flow like a waterfall and illuminated Marinette’s profile, as she washed every cut and scrape on Chloé's body before layering honey over each wound, did the atmosphere turn devastatingly and picturesquely beautiful. Chloé felt the blood rush to her face and her heart beat faster while her eyes darted, looking at everything else but Marinette.
The sound of fabric ripping quickly drew Chloé’s eyes back to Marinette. Chloé’s eyes widened and her face went red all the way to the tips of her ears and down her neck as she stared at Marinette’s bare arm all the way up to her shoulder. “You shouldn't expose your shoulder to anyone, let alone in public like that.”
“Aren't your shoulders and bare arms exposed all the time? I don’t get why my doing it suddenly makes it so scandalous.”
“You know it's not the same. I'm a warrior and competitor in– you know, the tournament for your…” Chloé trailed off. “Whatever! Anyways! What matters is, you're a proper lady and I'm not!
Chloé looked down at her palm, noting all the calluses and cuts that litter her hand and counting all the several scars that line her arms. Marinette’s eyebrows furrow and as she opens her mouth to speak, someone bumps into her from behind. Chloé catches Marinette and presses her close to her body as her eyes narrow into a glare at the offender. “Watch where you’re going, or are your eyes simply for decoration?”
“Oh! I’m sorry, my friend bumped into me and it made me bump into her. I didn’t–”
“Yeah? Well, you did. Scram kid. And stop playing in the middle of crowded streets, it’s unsafe.” Chloé’s glare followed the blond boy with grey-blue eyes until he disappeared into the crowd with his friend with tanned skin, brown hair and orange eyes. Chloé scowled even harder despite them no longer being in her sight, “Fucking drones.”
 It wasn’t until Marinette, with cheeks dusted pink, gently pushed against Chloé’s shoulders was she finally released from her grasp, “You didn’t have to react so harshly; you know?Â
Chloé went to argue but decided better of it, settling on a pout as she crossed her arms.
“Don’t give me that look. You overreacted and you know it. He apologized for his mistake and it was clearly an accident.
Chloé slightly slouched at the reproach and grumbled, pointedly looking away from Marinette as she did so.
“Just because you were chosen by the Black Cat Kwami doesn’t mean you have to act like one.” Marinette pinched Chloé’s cheek and pulled it slightly, making ChloĂ© finally look back at her. ChloĂ© only allowed herself to meet Marinette’s eyes for less than half a second before she turned her entire head and continued to pout. Marinette simply rolled her eyes and scoffed before pulling ChloĂ© to stand and follow her down the market street.Â
As Marinette dragged the two of them from stall to stall and scoured the market, ChloĂ© couldn’t help the way her gaze honed in on where Marinette held her hand and the way their fingers intertwined. Eventually, she slinks up beside Marinette and falls into step, only smirking when Marinette raises an eyebrow and rolls her eyes again.Â
After roaming the market for what felt like hours, eating different types of food, playing games, winning prizes, they wandered to the trinket section of the market. Chloé pressed a finger to her lips as she pondered over what to get for Marinette. When she saw a stall that sold books, she walked over and set down the items in her arms as she browsed the various books available. When she came across a book entailing fashion, patterns, fabrics and embroidery, she decided to purchase it for Marinette. Her eyes also happened to catch a stack of nicely packed paper with graphite beside it and she decided to purchase that too.
If Chloé’s smile grew strained and she shed a silent tear at the price of the parchment, graphite and the book, then that was only between her and her now empty wallet and no one else. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t brag that she had enough money to buy the presents ten times over to Marinette, though.
