Chapter Text
Angeline Ashcroft had grown up in the shadow of power. Her parents were the type to smile politely at charity galas while crushing their rivals with precision backdoor deals. They weren’t quite at the top, but close enough to brush shoulders with those who were, and in their world, sending your child to a prestigious private school wasn’t just about education – it was about strategy.
That was how Angeline found herself at Lycée Sainte-Cécile , tucked away in the wealthy outskirts of Paris, surrounded by the children of Europe’s most elite families. The school itself was like something out of a gothic novel, with towering spires, ivy-covered walls, and a library that smelled of old money.
Her parents had connections here. Distant ties to the Agrestes through some convoluted fashion deal involving five other investors, and a failed attempt to collaborate with the Fathoms years ago. They hadn’t exactly hit it off with Amélie Graham de Vanily, Colt Fathom’s wife and current head of his businesses. Still, relationships could be mended, they said, and Angeline’s job was to “play nice” to their son, Felix, who just so happened to attend Sainte-Cécile as well.
What they hadn’t warned her about was how bizarre the social hierarchy would be.
The first thing she learned about Lycée Sainte-Cécile was that there were a few names everyone knew, and among them were Felix Fathom himself, and his cousin, Adrien Agreste.
They were infamous for their wealth, looks, and academic brilliance. Adrien was a golden boy, his face plastered on billboards for his father’s fashion empire, while Felix was more elusive, his aristocratic British roots lending him an air of cold detachment. They were nearly identical —down to their sharp jawlines and piercing green eyes— which only added to the eerie allure surrounding them.
And then there was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Daughter of nobody important, yet attending the school without the scholarship only five students of exceptional talent were granted each year.
“She’s their… what, exactly? Girlfriend?” Angeline had asked on her first day, overhearing a group of girls gossiping in the courtyard.
“No one knows,” one student had replied with a frown. “But whatever it is, it’s weird.”
By her second week, Angeline was starting to understand what that girl meant.
Adrien and Felix weren’t just close to Marinette, they were always around her… almost as if they were obsessed. Adrien was softer, more polished. He was always smiling at her, carrying her books, brushing stray strands of hair from her face. Felix, on the other hand, was all sharp edges. His words were often curt, even biting, but his attention was laser-focused. He watched Marinette like a hawk, his presence more shadow than companion.
And Marinette? Marinette herself didn’t seem fazed at all.
“Is it true she lives with them?” Angeline had asked another student one afternoon during lunch.
“Yup,” The girl had replied, popping a grape into her mouth. “Apparently, Felix’s mom is paying her tuition too.”
Angeline had gawked. “Why?”
“Who knows? But they’ve been inseparable since middle school. People say Adrien and Felix even got into a fistfight over her once.”
Angeline had laughed, thinking it was a joke. Now, she sits in the library, watching the trio from a safe distance. Marinette is sketching in her notebook, her brows furrowed in concentration. Adrien sits beside her, leaning in to murmur something that makes her giggle. Felix is across the table, his sharp gaze flicking between his book and Marinette.
“Careful,” he says, his tone cool as Adrien reaches over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Marinette’s ear. “You’ll spoil her.”
Adrien grins. “She deserves it.”
Marinette rolls her eyes, but Angeline notices the faint blush on her cheeks. “I’m right here, you know.” Felix’s lips twitch in what might have been amusement, though it’s gone as quickly as it came. She feels like an intruder just watching them, as if they weren’t the ones making a show of themselves in a public place. Their dynamic is intense, almost claustrophobic, but none of them seem to really mind.
Later that day, Angeline crosses paths with Marinette alone for the first time. A rare occasion, as she’s always around one of the two, if not both cousins. She’s wandering through the art studio when she finds the girl bent over a canvas, her hands smudged with charcoal.
“Angeline, right?” she asks, glancing up with a warm smile.
Angeline hesitates, caught off guard. “Yeah. Hi.”
Marinette wipes her hands on her apron, stepping back from the canvas. Up close, she’s even prettier. Her hair has the most beautiful midnight blue undertones, and her eyes are as dark as the night sky— no wonder she’s so popular. The brunette feels her cheeks heat up as she realizes she’s been staring for a while now.
“You’re new, right? How are you settling in?”
“Good, I think.” Angeline pauses. “I mean, my parents just keep telling me to network and build relationships and I just— with all the homework we’re given, I have no time to be thinking about that.” She nervously twirls a curl between her fingers. “Well, you know how it is.”
Marinette laughs. “Not really, no, but I can imagine.”
Angeline shifts her weight awkwardly, unsure how to read Marinette. She seems warm, approachable even, but Angeline can’t shake the odd undercurrent she’s felt since the moment she first heard the girl’s name. Marinette doesn’t look like someone who belongs at Sainte-Cécile. She lacks the pretense, the icy edge most of the students wear like armor. From what she’s seen of her, Marinette is kind, warm, and genuine… and yet, somehow, she seems entirely untouchable.
“So,” Angeline begins, her voice hesitant, “I’ve, uh, heard some things about you.”
Marinette raises an eyebrow, amusement flickering across her features. “Oh? Tell me about it.”
“Well…” Angeline hesitates. She knows this could go south fast, but curiosity wins out. “People say you’re… you’ve only been around for a year.”
“Yep, I was once new myself,” the girl smiles.
”And..” Angeline bites her cheek. “That you’re close with Adrien and Felix…?”
Marinette’s expression doesn’t falter, but Angeline swears she sees something flicker behind her eyes—something sharp, possessive. It’s gone in an instant, replaced with a light laugh.
“People say a lot of things.” she shrugs, turning back to her canvas. “I’ve known them forever. They’re very good friends.”
Friends? Angeline almost scoffs but catches herself. Adrien doesn’t look at his “friends” like that, and Felix definitely doesn’t act like he’s simply watching out for someone he likes platonically. She recalls the scene in the library—the territorial way Felix’s eyes followed Marinette’s every move, or how Adrien’s eyes glowed when she looked at him.
The way they both couldn’t keep their eyes or hands off her, whether it was brushing her hand, or fixing her hair for her. Friends. Right.
“If you say so,” Angeline murmurs, her tone more skeptical than she intended. Marinette glances at her from over her shoulder, and for the first time, Angeline notices the steel behind her warm demeanor. “Why does it matter?”
“I—” Angeline stammers. “It doesn’t! I was just curious.”
Marinette doesn’t respond immediately. She wipes her hands on her apron again, her eyes fixed on Angeline. “People here love to speculate. They’ll say whatever they want to fill the silence.” Her tone is light, but there’s an edge to it now, a subtle warning hidden beneath the surface.
Angeline’s stomach twists uncomfortably. She shifts the subject. “Well, it must be nice to have people who care about you so much.”
“It is.” Marinette looks down at her hands, her voice softening. “They can be… a bit overwhelming, sometimes. But I know they mean well.”
Angeline opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, the door to the studio creaks open. Felix strides in first, his movements sharp and deliberate, followed closely by Adrien, who carries himself with his usual easy grace.
“There you are,” Felix says, his tone curt but unmistakably possessive. His eyes flick to Angeline briefly before locking onto Marinette.
“We’ve been looking for you,” Adrien adds, smiling as he steps closer.
“I was just—” Marinette starts, but Felix cuts her off.
“You didn’t tell us you were coming here.”
“I didn’t realize I needed permission,” Marinette replies, her tone now as piercing as his.
Angeline stands frozen, caught in the magnetic pull of their presence. Adrien’s smile doesn’t waver, but there’s something unnervingly sharp in his eyes as he looks at Marinette.
“We should go,” Felix says, his voice firm.
Marinette hesitates, then sighs. “Fine. Angeline, it was nice talking to you.”
Before Angeline can respond, Adrien turns to her, his expression still pleasant but with an underlying intensity that makes her breath hitch. “See you around, Angeline. Nice to meet you.”
She nods, watching as the trio leaves the studio. Felix’s hand brushes against Marinette’s back as they walk, and Adrien leans in to say something that makes her smile. Angeline feels a chill as the door closes behind them, leaving her alone in the studio. Whatever their dynamic is, it’s much more than friendship.