ml au where lila has the black cat miraculous
lies and trying times (chat noir!lila au)
i.
There’s a girl in a hotel lobby sitting on a plush sofa, watching raindrops trail down the glass pane of the window. Paris storms have overtaken the seemingly quiet morning, and on her first day in the city, Lila Rossi wants nothing more than to leave the stuffy hotel room her father has booked.
It’s supposed to be for three days, a business trip to impress a few French officials, but her father has already warned her that it might stretch out a bit. However, “a bit” in the Rossi family, is code for “three months to a year, depending on work”. He hasn’t decided whether they’re staying or leaving, which means she can’t decide whether to plan for permanence or establish an escape. The whole thing, like most other relocations throughout her entire life, is exhausting and messy. It’s the whole reason her mother decided to take a vacation to Barcelona three years ago… and hasn’t come back yet.
Outside, the rain pours hard. Lila can only watch.
She’s tired of waiting—for her father, for her mother, for her life to start.
She pushes herself off the sofa, gets up on her feet, and heads towards the front entrance of the Bourgeois hotel. Outside, there’s a bustling and busy city, full of ancient history and secrets—a whimsical world she so desperately wants to throw herself into but has never had a chance. Lila rushes out onto the wet pavement, wedge heels clacking through puddles as she pushes past people.
The rain pours. Lila leaves.
She’s tired of waiting.
*
ii.
The story starts like this: Lila lies.
It’s something she’s done in every situation. The lies are a quick and easy way to meld in with the new crowd of new people with new faces in a new place; she just wants to be liked and have friends. That’s the crux of the matter: Lila is always lonely.
In a way, she doesn’t care if everything is built on lies because nothing in her life is permanent—not her parents, not her home, not herself. Consequences are lost on her. She does what she can to process, to fit in, but something’s different this time.
You see, there’s something about those Paris rainstorms that leave her feeling light and new, where the rain washes away all her sins, like she has a clean slate with no problems.
In the Paris rain, Lila is born again.
(In the Paris rain, an evil burns with a new rage.)
In one world, a tottery old man named Master Fu finds a baker’s daughter and a famed son, giving them the tools to save the world from one man’s unquenchable dreams. In this world, he finds a lost little girl who lurks in the shadow of self-created chaos and dreams of doing better.
Potential, Master Fu thinks, is stronger than nature.
When he falls waiting for a train, cane clattering across the cement, Lila Rossi stares for a moment before extending her hand to help him up. Rainwater drips in rivets from her tangled hair and sopping clothes, but she still has those sad eyes and soft smile. He tucks the Black Cat Miraculous into her purse as she turns to jump onto the train, walking away with a surety even in the face of risk.
It’s a gamble, he thinks, but one who can create chaos knows how to control it.
The story starts like this: Lila lies.
But it ends like this: Lila can be better.
*
iii.
The first akuma is hard and rigid, his heart a rocky range of every reason he cannot find to love
Plagg calls him Stoneheart. Lila calls him hurting.
In a way, a part of Lila can understand where Stoneheart’s dark feelings originated from. Her life is a constant cycle of coming and going, having and hurting, and loving and losing. The geography of her own heart is full of high mountains and wide, open oceans, barriers to block her core from complete destruction, but each day in a new place leads to more bits being chipped away and crumbling to dust. Each place she goes, every person she meets: it’s the same story over and over again
Paris is different. It leaves her breathless and free in a way everything else has failed to do.
It doesn’t make her life easier, but it sure does make her believe in the impossible.
“Rock monster,” she murmurs to herself, staring at the akuma as he stalks through the streets. He leaves footsteps of cracked pavement, handprints of crumbled brick on buildings, and his roar echoes like thunder through the city. “I have… to beat a rock monster with a baton.”
“Hey,” a voice says beside her, startling her from her strategizing. “I’ve got a fucking yo-yo. I think you’re the one who’s better off here.”
Lila whips around, coming face-to-face with glittering green eyes and a bright smile. A boy stands beside her, all red and black-spotted with a mask to match. His blonde hair is wind-tamed and tousled, as if he’s been dashing across rooftops and flying through the city too. He looks every bit the partner that Plagg told her about.
“You must be my partner,” she says needlessly.
“Ladybug,” he introduces and holds out his hand. “You can call me Ladybug, pretty kitty.”
“Chat Noir.” Lila holds his hand in a strong grip and tugs him forward, until their foreheads are nearly touching. She levels him with a sharp smirk, eyes burning something fierce. “And I am so out of your league.”
Shoulders shaking, Ladybug laughs and laughs and laughs. “Oh,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m so going to love being your partner.”
In another world, a charismatic cat falls in love with a blue-eyed wonder. In this world, the cat finds a friend.
A little bit more of her heart crumbles to dust, leaving her more open to all that life has to bring her.
What do you know? In Paris, impossibilities are possible after all.
*
iv.
“Listen,” her father tells her, three weeks after they arrived in Paris. “Something came up.”
Lila enrolls in school the next day. She can’t say she didn’t see it coming.
Francis-Duponte is full of nameless faces and numerous questions, things she’d once rejoice in, but it’s her sixth school in three years, and she just wants a break. Madame Bustier introduces her to the class, and she sulks to the back row, slipping into a seat with hunched shoulders and tired eyes. Interactions are quite exhausting when nothing ever sticks.
The day passes in slow lunges, no sudden leaps or stumbling stops. The teachers are knowledgeable, the kids are loud, and the world is a kaleidoscope of everything she can’t handle. It’s during lunch, though, that a student accosts her in the hallway.
“You’re new, right? Lila Rossi?” A girl with bright blue eyes stands in front of her, holding a tablet against her chest. For the first time, Lila is at a loss for words. “Someone told me you were from Milan.”
“I am,” Lila acknowledges, and her mind is spinning away with lies built on threads of promise and purpose, whispering friend friend friend. She vehemently tries to deny it, swallowing back a lump and trying to pretend that old urges aren’t scratching at her heels.
“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” the girl says. She shifts her weight, gaze skittering everywhere else; she’s nervous, but Lila doesn’t know why. “Do you want to sit with me at lunch? I’m working on some designs, and I was wondering if you could tell me about some of the fashion in Milan.”
I have my own fashion line.
My father owns half of the fashion industry in Milan.
I came to Paris because I’m personal friends with Gabriel Agreste.
I’m—
Lila doesn’t lie. Lila tries.
The question hits her in a whoosh, air jumping from her lungs as if a wrecking ball had slammed into her ribcage, and she can’t catch her breath. “I…” Lila swallows again, shaking her head. “Yes, actually, I can do that. I’m probably the best person to ask actually; I know a lot about Milan fashion.”
Marinette smiles.
*
v.
Paris at night is beautiful.
Lila stares at the dark sky above her, which twinkles with clusters of stars and the soft glow of the pale moon, and she can’t help but think there’s something ethereal about this city. Ladybug sits above her, leaning against one of the struts of the Eiffel Tower, but he’s not staring at the view.
He’s staring at her.
She quirks a brow high, a smile slipping onto her face. “Distracted tonight, bug?”
“Why won’t you tell me your name?” He crosses his arms against his chest and levels her with a quizzical stare. “We’ve been partners for over two months now. Don’t you think that at least puts us on a first name basis?”
“Colleagues.”
Ladybug jumps down from his perch above, landing softly on his toes, and settles back on his haunches with a small, cautious smile. “I’m pretty sure we’re way past coworkers, kitten.”
Lila can’t help the laugh that falls from her lips. “Then what the hell would we be?”
He flashes her a quick, blinding smile—teeth and all. “Friends, obviously.”
Lila pauses, trying to make sense of her suddenly slippery world. With a quiet sigh, she drops down and parks herself alongside him. Their thighs brush against each other as they kick their feet back and forth, falling in sync like a pendulum swinging in time with a clock. Slowly but surely, her life in Paris ticks away, seconds slipping past without her notice, and she wonders when the day will come that her father will pick up and move to another city, another country, another continent.
It goes like this: Lila doesn’t form attachments.
It goes like this: Lila lies to push people away.
It goes like this: Lila is tired of being lonely.
“Friends,” she echoes.
“Yeah.” He rolls his eyes. “Haven’t you ever had a friend before?”
Lila toys with her fingers, needing to be doing anything to take her mind off of the situation, but the words still leave her lips. “No, I haven’t actually.” Something tells her that she needs to be open and honest with him. That’s what friends do, right?
“Oh,” he says. A quick pause and then, “I understand that feeling pretty well myself.”
There’s silence—thick and heavy like fog before a storm—but she pushes past it and forces herself to admit the truth. “I’ve moved around a lot literally my entire life. I never really had a chance to sit down and… talk to people, I guess. I really don’t know how to have friends.”
Ladybug bites his lip, pondering the problem for a moment before suggesting, “Well, I think you’re doing a pretty good job right now.”
She snorts, cheeks burning hot with embarrassment. “You’re lucky I like you, Ladybug.”
“See?” He pokes her nose with his index finger. “You’re great at this.”
Lila can’t stop laughing.
She really, really loves Paris.
*
vi.
It’s been months and months, but if it’s one thing that Lila Rossi knows, it’s that life is only temporary.
There’s no such thing as permanence when it comes to a home, people, or even friends.
What a fool I’ve been, she thinks.
*
vii.
“You’re a real asshole, you know that, Agreste?” Lila tells Adrien Agreste one morning after Marinette leaves the room, all stammer and stutter, muttering something about the restroom so she can try to drown herself in the sink to quench her raging embarrassment. Alya, the last of their trio, follows at her heels in effort to revive the former if needed be.
The perky blonde with the green eyes simply blinks up at her, too taken back that Lila erupted out of the blue. It’s obvious he’s confused, but Lila is tired of watching her friend make a fool of herself over a stupid boy who won’t give her the time of day.
“Excuse me?” Adrien asks.
“I said you’re an asshole,” she continues, crossing her arms against her chest. She leans forward, brown eyes burning with a fierce fire, her smile so sharp it could cut class. “And you’re going to start treating her better, or you’re going to have to deal with me.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he tells her, and she just rolls her head. Stupid boy, stupid boy. “Marinette’s a good friend—”
Lila snorts. “Like you don’t see the way she looks at you, or how she can’t even speak a complete sentence the minute you walk into a room.” She flicks her wrist in his direction, poking the bridge of Adrien’s nose with her index finger. “Marinette’s my best friend, and I will not let you drag her along like she’s your latest toy.”
Adrien flounders, trying to find the right words. “I’m sorry, Lila, but I really don’t know what you mean.”
His answer makes her blood boil because how can he not see what he does to her? There’s an itch under her skin, because people who are too oblivious are hurt too easily, just like those who fall too fast and hard. Instead of a healthy relationship between two people, you just get a mess of pain and hurt, and there’s no hope of relief. It’s not a happy situation to get involved with.
How does he not know? And if he does, how can he let it go on?
“Marinette’s in love with you,” Lila says in a rush and laughs, something bitter and hard. “And you don’t care.”
There’s silence—a long pause—and then the voice that speaks is certainly not Adrien. “Lila?” Marinette asks, shaky and feeble from the doorway to the classroom.
Adrien turns to Marinette, eyes softening. “Marinette…?”
The other girl can’t even form a coherent response—in fact, she doesn’t even try—and instead bolts out of the room before either Lila, Alya, or even Adrien can stop her.
Something settles in Lila’s chest, like the pieces of her heart are clicking back together just to get broken again. The looming horror of the situation haunts her, a reaper coming to bring death to the tentative peace she’s carefully crafted. Ever since she came to Paris, lessons of love have been the only things she’s learned: how to love a friend, how to love a partner, how to love a city.
This is her first lesson in heartbreak.
*
viii.
“That akuma was my fault!” Lila thunders at Ladybug, their Miraculous beeping insistently as she paces the rooftop.
“In what way?” He turns to face her, eyes burning into her own. “You know that it’s never the akuma’s fault, so it’s certainly not yours. Hawkmoth—”
“Because I hurt her!” Chat Noir’s power thrumming through her, Lila can’t stop the hiss that falls from her lips. She grits her teeth, fists her long brown mane, keeps moving because coming to a standstill makes the world weigh heavier on her shoulders.
“That doesn’t make this your fault,” he says. “They’re vulnerable, and Hawkmoth sends his butterflies when you’re hurt, purposely because you’re at your lowest, when you’re the most vulnerable and easily manipulated. It’s his doing, not yours, chaton.”
“You don’t get it,” Lila interjects. “I betrayed her, and I put her in that position. Hawkmoth wouldn’t have gotten to her if I hadn’t hurt her in the first place. She’s my friend, and I did that to her!”
There’s quiet, a stillness that settles over, thick and heavy. “You know Marinette then?”
Lila snaps her gaze away from her partner, staring at her hands clasped into tight fists. Her ring is still beeping, as is Ladybug’s, but none of them seem to care at this point. “Yeah, I do.” She wonders how much she’s just given away.
“Are you Lila then?” he asks, and there it is.
Like an arrow has pierced through her heart, she grasps at the front of her chest as if to smother it’s fire, but nothing helps. Suddenly her world is crashing down around her, and the peaceful bubble she’s spent the last five months inside has burst.
Lila’s already lost one friend today—is she about to lost another?
“How do you…?” But she can’t voice the question quick enough as the magic gives away, and both Ladybug and Chat Noir disappear in a kaleidoscope of color.
It’s Adrien Agreste.
“Oh.” Everything turns slippery, and she struggles to find an anchor to keep her from falling. “Oh god.”
“Lila,” Adrien says, expression softening as he catches sight of the fear and worry lining her face. “It still wasn’t your fault. You were only trying to protect your friend.”
“No, you still don’t get it, Agreste. I hurt her.”
The name silences him, and shame washes over her like the high tide against the shore. Adrien Agreste has never been someone Lila gets along with, just for the sole way he turns her friend into a mess and continues on like it doesn’t matter. Lila knows people who string others along without a care—has done it herself for most of her life—because people are not important, and they truly don’t matter to her.
(Because she doesn’t matter to them—she never has, and never will. So many names and faces, all in different places, who promise to call or write even after she leaves, but no one has ever reached out to her after she’s gone. It’s the crux of her pain, and it makes her realize that she’s never been wanted, she’s never been first choice, and she’s never been someone worth having.)
“We’re only human, Lila,” he tells her after a long while. The words echo through her head, louder than she wants them to be, but they still speak volumes. He’s not wrong, but he’s not right either.
“Do you know how hard it is to tell the truth?” Lila takes a deep, shuddering breath and pushes on. “Telling the truth is like… giving a part of you to someone, and today I did that. I told you how Marinette felt, and that was a part of me—a part of her that she willingly shared—and… I took it, and I told you. She will never trust me again, won’t even look at me, and I lost one of my only friends. So don’t try to tell me you understand because you don’t get it.”
“I’m sure Marinette will forgive you. You just have to apologize—”
Lila shakes her head. “No, no. You still don’t get it, Adrien, and you never will. I don’t tell the truth because the truth fucking hurts. It’s so much easier to lie. It’s the only thing I’m good at.” She laughs, bitter and broken. “I should’ve just kept lying.”
Right now, with everything she cares about broken on the floor, it’s the only truth she knows: Lila Rossi is so good at lying, it hurts.
*
ix.
It goes like this: Lila lies.
It’s easy on most days, just a couple of words strung together to capture the ear of whoever’s listening, to make them linger on her voice, their eyes following hers like a lifeline. In a way, it makes them navigators as they track her across the sky, using a star to find their way. Empowered, she feels infinite, where she can be the impossible and they just pray in her wake, but it’s been a long time since she’s longed for that.
Paris has changed her. Being Chat Noir has changed her. Friends have changed her.
Telling the truth has changed her.
Truth is a faith that Lila has never believed in. It’s a metamorphosis of chance: you have faith in the ones you love, you have faith in the city you protect, you have faith in your partner—but there’s no guarantee that the truth will make things better. Truth, like any form of human nature, just like the lies she used to spin, has the capability to hurt. But like the first time she donned the mask, she curls herself up into a cocoon, the truth a hard shell against the rest of the world, and waits and prays to become a butterfly.
In the best turnout, Lila flies. In the worst possibility, she falls.
Lila didn’t realize just how truth could be a weapon. Lies are a two-way street: one who benefits, and those who suffer if they’re stupid enough to believe it. Truth can be wielded to render someone raw and bleeding, until lies seem like the better option, to the point where they can even heal.
Lila wishes she remembered how to lie.
Marinette stands in the deserted hallway, arms crossed against her chest, and she refuses to meet Lila’s inquisitive eyes. “I just wanted… to talk about yesterday.” It’s like she’s steeling herself against a stronger power before she presses on.
“What’s there to talk about?” Lila shrugs and tries to pretend like it doesn’t matter but it does it does it does. “You went full akuma and tried to destroy the city. It’s just a typical Tuesday.” She swallows thickly, dropped her chin to her chest. “At least Ladybug and Chat Noir were there to save you.”
Marinette laughs, something soft and quiet. “At least there was one bright side.”
“Obviously,” Lila says. “Chat Noir is pretty damn amazing. I know her actually, did you know that?”
“Lila.”
“I’m also on a first name basis with Ladybug, but he’s pretty cute, you know? I could totally introduce you guys—”
“Lila.” The sound of Marinette’s voice freezes her in motion. It feels like she’s trapped in orbit and just waiting for gravity to take hold and bring her down, like a meteor due for impact.
Lila closes her eyes and spits out a quick, “I’m sorry!”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s my fault you were akumatized. It’s my fault you and Adrien aren’t talking.” There’s a burning sensation in the corner of her eyes, and Lila desperately tries not to cry.
“I…” Marinette presses her lips into a thin line, shaking her head. “First off, I forgive you.”
There’s a stunned silence. “What?” Lila asks, too afraid to have her repeat it.
“I said I forgive you,” Marinette tells her. “We have a lot more to talk about, but that’s the most important thing for you to know right now.”
The shake of Lila’s hands amplifies for she’s been shown love and doesn’t know how to handle it. It’s not something she gets from her father and her mother is more distant than the miles away from her last home. Ladyb—Adrien is perhaps the closest thing she’s ever had to someone she cares for, and it’s clear now that Marinette (and perhaps some others) have gotten that close too.
“You forgive me?”
“Come on.” Marinette grabs a hold of Lila’s shoulder and pushes her forward down the hall, out towards the courtyard where the rest of their class is taking lunch. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, and you can tell me exactly how you know Ladybug and Chat Noir.”
There’s a pause, and then, “You think I’m lying, don’t you?”
“Please,” Marinette snorts. “You think I honestly believe that you know Ladybug and Chat Noir personally?”
“I do.”
“Sure.”
The two friends go on, much like life does.
It’s the way of the world.
It starts like this: Lila lies.
But it ends like this: Lila is better because of it.
*
x.
“So,” Adrien says from his perch on the edge of the rooftop, his Ladybug mask practically glowing in the afternoon sunlight. “Marinette asked me out this morning.”
“Huh,” Lila remarks, cocking her head to the side. “You sure you heard her right?”
Snorting back a laugh, he nudges her side with his elbow. “Please, you know I’d never—”
“We all know you don’t have the balls to handle that girl.” She stands up and takes a couple steps back from the ledge, unclipping her baton from her waist. “Just like we all know she is the best thing to ever happen to you, and if you don’t her as such, I’m going to break you.”
“Lila!” he snipes back, cheeks burning red.
All she can do is laugh as she runs towards the edge of the rooftop, leaping off into open air. “Try to keep up, bugaboo!”
“Don’t call me that!” Adrien calls after her as the two fly through the streets, past the meandering civilians and through silver sunlight that streaks through buildings and trees.
The city sings. Lila laughs.
She’s living.
Oh god, is she living.
